The Wand

"You're next, child," a short, plump witch said to Jerry with a warm smile.

"All right, ma'am."

Madam Malkin didn't use a wand. With a wave of her right hand, a tape measure flew toward Jerry as though it were alive and began measuring him for his clothes.

It didn't take long. About fifteen minutes later, Madam Malkin told them to buy the rest of their supplies and come back for the finished robes.

Flourish and Blotts stood next to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Books filled its shelves all the way to the ceiling. There were enormous leather-bound volumes as big as paving stones, tiny silver-covered books no larger than postage stamps, books covered in strange symbols, and books with nothing written inside them at all.

Some were stranger still. When Jerry walked up to one, it roared at him. That was downright unsettling.

Jerry made several rounds of Flourish and Blotts. Besides buying all his textbooks, he picked up a copy of Hogwarts, A History. He had forgotten most of the original story by now and planned to leaf through it when he got back to jog his memory.

"Cough, cough! What's that smell? It's so strong!"

After leaving the bookshop, Jerry and Dumbledore went to buy a cauldron. The moment they entered Potage's Cauldron Shop, a pungent smell made Jerry cough.

"Here for a first-year's cauldron? We're brewing Potions out back, so the smell's a bit strong," a middle-aged man behind the counter told them.

Jerry couldn't stand the smell. As soon as they had bought what they needed, he hurriedly pulled Dumbledore outside.

"Professor, do all Potions smell that bad?"

"Of course not. Some Potions even smell different to different people. You'll have Potions Class in your first year, Jerry, and your professor is a Potions Master. Study under him, and you'll grow to love the subject."

Jerry got it. Dumbledore wasn't saying Potions were the problem. The person brewing that batch was.

Jerry nodded thoughtfully. If he remembered right, the first-year Potions professor was Snape.

He glanced at his aptitude for Potions. It should be fine, right? Even the system had said he was unusually gifted. If all else failed, he could keep his head down in class. Snape's attention would be on Harry this year anyway.

Seeing how much they had bought, the owner of Potage's Cauldron Shop lent them a small cart. At his suggestion, Jerry and Dumbledore headed to Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Jerry looked around but didn't buy anything. His purse was too light, so he decided to save the money. Dumbledore had told him the school had owls he could use to send letters.

After spending another half day in Diagon Alley, Jerry had bought nearly everything he needed. All he lacked was a wand.

Jerry followed Dumbledore to Ollivander's Wand Shop—the biggest arms dealer in Britain's Wizarding World.

Ollivander's Wand Shop had an old-fashioned charm. The shop itself was small; the counter stood just inside the door, with Ollivander, its owner and a professional wandmaker, behind it.

"Good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm here to buy a wand."

"Of course, of course. A new Hogwarts student? What's your name? I need to check the list, or the Ministry of Magic will come after me."

"Jerry Green, sir."

"Very good, Mr. Green. Which arm do you use?"

"My right."

After that, Ollivander took all sorts of measurements. He even measured Jerry's fingernails.

"Sir, won't these measurements change as I get older? Will they still be useful then?"

"Don't worry, child. I've accounted for that," Ollivander said confidently.

"Here, try this one. Apple Wood, Unicorn Tail Hair, eleven inches. Best suited to those with lofty goals and idealistic natures. It's at odds with Dark Magic."

Jerry gave it a wave. A faint light appeared at the tip, then nothing. The wand seemed to resist him.

Ollivander snatched it from Jerry's hand. "Not the one for you..." he muttered, then began searching again.

"Try this. Black Walnut Wood, Phoenix Tail Feather, eleven and a half inches. Black Walnut Wood isn't as common as ordinary Walnut Wood in wands. It seeks a master with keen intuition and powerful insight."

Jerry took the wand. Unlike the last one, it burst into dazzling light at the tip as soon as he held it.

"Still not right." Ollivander snatched it back and resumed his search.

"Vine Wood, Dragon Heartstring, eleven inches. Masters of Vine Wood wands almost always have great ambitions and uncommon foresight. Give it a try."

Jerry waved the wand. With a bang, a scorching beam shot from its tip and blew up a table in Ollivander's shop. Jerry jumped.

He's not going to make me pay for that, is he? Jerry thought.

"A picky customer!" Ollivander said, sounding rather excited.

"How about this one?"

"Then try this one?"

Jerry tried more than a dozen wands and blew up several tables. Fortunately, Ollivander had the Mending Charm, so Jerry didn't have to pay for them.

Ollivander wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a box down from the top of a shelf.

"Try this one. I made it when I was young. Yew Wood, Dragon Heartstring, twelve and a half inches. A rare and powerful combination."

"Yew Wood won't choose a mediocre or timid master. It symbolizes death and resurrection, and owners of Yew Wands have a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in dueling and every branch of curse magic. And this one has a Dragon Heartstring core..."

Jerry was beginning to wonder if Ollivander had been a dark wizard in his youth. Why else would he make a wand so perfectly suited to one?

And what's that supposed to mean? I'm handsome and dashing, polite to everyone, and noble and elegant to boot. One look at me should tell you this wand isn't a match!

Still, Jerry took the wand from Ollivander. It was smooth and ivory-white. The moment he held it, he felt his magic flow into it, and it responded as naturally as his own hand.

Huh... It's an unexpectedly good match. Easy to use, too.

"Wonderful! That's it—the wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander said excitedly.

"Child, this wand is rather special. I made it when I was young, and it's sat in this shop for decades without finding a master. I hope you'll use it well." Ollivander gave Jerry a long look.

"Do you come from a wizarding family?" Ollivander asked, studying Jerry's face.

"No. I'm from a Muggle orphanage."

Ollivander: "...An orphan... with a Yew Wand..."