Wands

Just as Draco received the praise he had hoped for from his father, Allen and his companions arrived at Ollivander's wand shop.

The shop was small and shabby, and the gold lettering above the door had peeled away. They could just make out: Ollivander, makers of fine wands since 382 BC.

In the dusty window, a single wand lay alone on a faded purple cushion.

They pushed open the door, and a bell jingled inside the shop.

The shop was tiny, with thousands of long, narrow boxes stacked on both sides, almost reaching the ceiling.

This made it seem even more cramped. Apart from the counter, there was only a bench for customers to wait on.

Hagrid gave Dumbledore and Edward the bench and remained standing, blocking one side like a small mountain.

The two children exchanged a glance, doing their best to suppress the strange feeling in their hearts.

"Good afternoon." A soft voice rang out, giving Harry and Hagrid quite a fright.

Allen's heart skipped a beat too. Only his long-practiced composure allowed him to look up with proper poise.

An old man stood on a rolling ladder and glided almost silently toward the counter.

An old man stood before them, his large, pale eyes shining like two moons in the dim shop.

The old man was clearly rather unkempt, with untidy white hair and casually worn clothes. Only his eyes were bright and clear, like two shining moons.

He glanced around the shop, the corners of his mouth lifting. "Oh, Dumbledore! Hagrid!"

Dumbledore greeted Ollivander in turn. "Garrick! I've brought these two children to buy wands."

Edward adhered to his policy of "staying out of everything," sitting politely to one side and dutifully playing the part of a statue.

Allen lowered his hood and bowed like a gentleman. "Sorry for the intrusion, sir. Harry and I have come to buy wands!"

Ollivander looked at him and immediately spotted Harry beside him.

His unwavering stare made Harry feel very awkward. Thinking he ought to say something, Harry said, "Hello."

"Oh, yes," said Ollivander. "At last, I've met you, Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes.

"Ah... the day she bought her first wand here... it feels like only yesterday.

"I still remember. It was made of willow, swished beautifully, ten and a quarter inches long. A fine wand, that was."

Mr. Ollivander stared intently at Harry.

"Your father was different... his mahogany wand was very pliable and excellent for Transfiguration. Eleven inches long.

"Remember, Mr. Potter-it is the wand that chooses the wizard."

Mr. Ollivander leaned closer and closer to Harry, until Harry's reflection almost appeared in those eyes. He reached out a pale finger to stroke the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

This clearly crossed the boundaries of personal space.

There was also something rather strange about his scrutiny.

Allen abruptly pulled Harry back a few steps and said with restraint, "Mr. Ollivander, may we choose our wands now?"

Harry gave him a grateful look.

Ollivander looked at Allen without saying anything, then briskly returned behind the counter. "Well, which of you will go first?"

Allen exchanged a glance with Harry, then looked up. "I'll go first."

"Oh, oh! Then... what is your name?"

Ollivander felt a little annoyed with himself. Only now did he realize that he still did not know this child's name.

"Allen Cornwall."

"Hmm, young Mr. Cornwall, which hand do you use?"

"My right hand, sir!"

Ollivander took out a tape measure and let it begin measuring Allen's body.

Though he did not understand what his measurements had to do with choosing a wand, Allen cooperated throughout.

The eccentric Mr. Ollivander had already disappeared into the back to begin searching for wands.

He handed a wand to Allen with trembling hands. "Try this one?"

But before Allen could take it, he snatched it away.

This happened more than thirty times, and Allen resignedly repeated the slightly foolish motion again and again.

Even Edward narrowed his eyes in displeasure.

Mr. Ollivander, however, grew increasingly excited. "Ah!" he cried oddly. "A choosy customer!"

He paced about, muttering to himself. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he hurried into the back room.

Allen and Edward: "..."

Was everyone in the magical world this mad?

Edward began to worry about whether Allen could cope with this crowd of mentally unstable wizards.

Harry looked at the pile of discarded boxes beside them and swallowed with difficulty, wondering what would happen when it was his turn to try wands.

Dumbledore helpfully explained, "The Ollivander Family has made wands for generations. They are quite obsessed with it all.

"I must also congratulate Your Majesty. Allen is exceptionally gifted-young wizards with powerful magic always take longer to choose their wands."

The wildly eccentric Mr. Ollivander soon returned, saying excitedly, "This one! It must be this one!"

He took a slightly curved wand from its box and carefully handed it to Allen, his eyes full of anticipation. "Try this one?"

Taken aback by his manner, Allen accepted the wand just as carefully.

When his fingers touched the wand, it felt as though he had been reunited with a long-lost half of himself.

A warm, powerful force surged through his body, and he gave it a gentle wave, following his instincts.

The wands Ollivander had carelessly tossed around the shop seemed to come alive, putting themselves back into their boxes and leaping onto their original shelves.

Stunned by the effect, Allen looked uncertainly at the wand in his hand.

Edward was equally astonished. Though he had always witnessed Allen's unusual nature, this was the first time he had felt it so directly-

His son, this nation's Crown Prince, was a wizard!

Ollivander seemed deeply moved. He could not help taking off his glasses to wipe away his tears.

"This wand has been here for nearly a thousand years. At last! At last, it has found its master again!

"My child, you will surely achieve great things! Perhaps one day, you will surpass all those who came before you!"

Dumbledore looked over without betraying any emotion, his gaze unreadable behind his half-moon spectacles.

Allen examined the wand. It was smooth all over and beautifully maintained, with faint wear on the handle that seemed to have been left by its previous owner.

Edward had mixed feelings.

First, Allen had bought a secondhand item that hadn't sold in a thousand years!

Second, Allen seemed remarkably compatible with that secondhand item!

But the shopkeeper didn't sound as though he was speaking carelessly. Could this secondhand wand have belonged to an exceptionally powerful wizard of the past?

With that thought, he asked the question aloud.

Ollivander was startled, then said firmly,

"I don't know anything more. This wand has been in the shop since my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather was alive. All I know is that its former master was powerful!"

He paused. "Very powerful!"

Edward: "..."

How am I supposed to believe you know nothing when you look so certain?

Ollivander turned to Allen with a slightly apologetic look. "Ah, my child! Whenever I sell a wand, I tell its owner what it is made of."

His expression grew solemn. "But yours is unique and immensely powerful! I don't know what it is made of. Perhaps one day, you will discover that as you spend time with it. Remember, it is the wand that chooses the wizard!"

"Seven Galleons, Mr. Cornwall. Now, next, Mr. Potter..."

Still rather bewildered, Allen stepped aside to make room for Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward. The tape measure immediately flew over and moved around his body, taking his measurements.

Mr. Ollivander darted between the shelves, bringing down many new, long boxes.

"Now, Mr. Potter, try this one. Beech and dragon heartstring, nine inches long. A very pliable wand... give it a wave."

Harry took the wand, feeling that the motion was utterly ridiculous.

Why couldn't he just snatch it out of my hand, like he did with Prince Allen?

He thought rather petulantly, then waved the wand.

He had barely waved it once before Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.

What followed felt as though time had turned back.

Ollivander kept handing Harry wands, then kept snatching them away.

The tested wands piled higher and higher on the bench. Ollivander grew increasingly excited.

"Another choosy customer!"

He circled about in front of the counter, muttering to himself. "Oh, yes! Try this one?"

Harry took the wand and felt a faint warmth pass through his fingertips.

He raised the wand and swished it down, its tip cutting through the dusty air.

A jet of red light shot out, followed by golden sparks like fireworks, casting dancing spots of light onto the walls.

"Truly remarkable... an extraordinary combination, eleven inches long... holly with a phoenix feather core. How remarkable..."

Hagrid clapped in admiration, and Dumbledore blinked softly.

Amid this celebratory atmosphere, Edward and Allen seemed like passing visitors who did not belong.

They sat calmly to one side, watching this curious discussion.

In this atmosphere, Harry asked rather awkwardly, "Sorry, sir, but... what do you find remarkable?"

Ollivander gazed at Harry.

His eyes were pale and colorless, clouded, yet they seemed able to see right through a person.

"I remember every wand I have ever sold, Mr. Potter.

He spoke softly.

"...Dumbledore knows. It was his phoenix, Fawkes. Of Fawkes's two tail feathers, one went into your wand, and the other went into another wand."

He glanced at Dumbledore, his brow furrowing with pity.

"It was its brother, a yew wand, thirteen and a half inches long, that gave you that scar."

Harry drew in a sharp breath.

"I think you will achieve great things, Mr. Potter...

"After all, that mysterious man whose name must not be spoken did great things-terrible, yes, but great."

Allen was growing impatient.

He thought that perhaps this was simply a mad old man.

Ollivander glanced at Allen and said softly, "Seven Galleons, Mr. Potter."