Christmas was approaching, and Diagon Alley was decked out in festive lights and decorations. Whether out of love for the holidays or commercial necessity, the wizards had hung fresh mistletoe and holly all over their shop windows, with colorful, exuberant decorative gift boxes suspended along the street as though they cost nothing.
Even the sign of the small, shabby Ollivander Wand Shop sported a few colored baubles engraved with stars. They looked dull and faded, clearly veterans of many Christmases, but still did their best to welcome customers as the breeze gently stirred them.
Brian pushed open the door, and Fred darted inside excitedly. Brian followed close behind and immediately discovered something: those baubles were the greatest concession Mr. Ollivander had made to Christmas.
Everything inside remained unchanged. Wand boxes were piled into small mountains, crammed tightly together. A large tray of candles, glistening with wax, burned on the modestly sized counter. Even the dust dancing in the light seemed to be the same batch as last time.
Mr. Ollivander raised his head, adjusted his glasses, and glanced at the redheaded boy who had rushed up to him. Recalling him, he said:
"Ah, you're-the Weasleys' boy. I remember you had a brother who looked exactly like you.
"Even your wands were almost identical-apart from their length and rigidity."
"Your memory really is something. I'm Fred Weasley, the slightly better-looking one of the identical pair." Fred grinned. "It would be even better if you could use Spellotape to put my wand back exactly the way it was."
He unwrapped a handkerchief, revealing three pieces of wand with clearly visible breaks. Mr. Ollivander frowned, apparently pained by the poor wand's fate.
"Your wand must have been struck by something first, then bent and crushed repeatedly to end up like this," Mr. Ollivander