Wands

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?" Harry asked casually as he licked his ice cream. The slightly haughty little brown-haired girl from earlier had mentioned it.

"Oh, Merlin's beard! Harry, I forgot how little yeh know!" Hagrid patted his shaggy head as though reproaching himself. "Quidditch-now, that's important! It's a very popular sport, in the wizarding world, I mean. Well, it's all the rage right across the wizarding world..."

Hagrid probably did his best to explain the rules of the game, or sport, in detail, but his powers of expression left something to be desired, and his explanation was rather muddled. Most of the time, he kept emphasizing how brilliant his favorite teams had once been, though their results had slipped in recent years.

Fortunately, Harry was a good listener and managed to get the general idea.

Smacking his lips, Harry thought it over. It sounded like basketball or football, except you played it riding a broom!

Come to think of it, wouldn't sitting on a broom's thin handle hurt your crotch?

Harry was a little worried.

"Hagrid, I'd like to buy a few more books. Books introducing the magical world. I feel like I know far too little about the wizarding world!" Harry voiced the idea that had come to him during his brief conversation with the girl.

"Oh, oh, of course! That was an oversight on my part! I can recommend a few. Hogwarts: A History, for instance-that's a good read!" Hagrid nodded repeatedly. "But before that, we still need to buy the most important thing!"

Harry raised his eyebrows. He knew what Hagrid meant. There was only one thing left on the shopping list, and it was also the thing Harry was most curious about-a wand!

If there was one item among all their purchases that interested Harry the most, it was undoubtedly the wand.

Would it be a long staff like Merlin's in the comics, or a spear like Loki's? Or perhaps...

Harry stole a glance at the inside pocket of Hagrid's coat. He could just make out the edge of the little red umbrella. Harry had seen plenty of different wands in RPGs, and in Neil's memories, the wands of that place called the Aegean World came in even more bizarre varieties.

Now that he was about to own a real wand, one that belonged to him, how could he not be filled with anticipation?

With Hagrid leading the way, they arrived outside a small, shabby shop. Most shops in Diagon Alley had small, shabby fronts, yet were surprisingly large inside. That was very magical.

The gold paint on the sign above the door had already peeled away. Clearly, it had been hanging there for quite some time. It read: Ollivander: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

382 BC?

Harry could not immediately place that date in history, but one thing was certain: the people living on this land back then had absolutely nothing to do with the present British Empire...

I wonder if boasting is popular in the wizarding world too? Harry thought rather uncharitably.

Through the window, Harry saw a... wooden stick resting on a pale purple cushion?

If its length had not looked a little wrong, Harry might even have suspected it was one of those fascinating utensils provided in Chinese restaurants in Chinatown-chopsticks.

This was just a little far removed from the wand he had imagined.

Once inside, Harry looked around. His first impression was that the shop was meticulously organized. Several enormous, specially made shelves reached all the way to the ceiling. Thousands of long, narrow boxes were arranged neatly on them. Judging by their shape, they probably contained wands of that sort.

"Good morning." A soft voice sounded without warning.

Both Harry and Hagrid jumped at the unexpected voice. A man who looked very old-or rather, a wizard-stood before them. He had pale gray eyes, not attractive, but very bright. In the somewhat dim shop, they looked a little frightening.

They reminded Harry of certain nocturnal animals.

"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander. Could yeh make a bit of noise when yeh walk next time?" Hagrid muttered.

"Good to see you, Hagrid." Mr. Ollivander ignored Hagrid's little complaint and said with a smile, "Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy? You were quite a choosy customer."

"Your memory's as good as ever." Hagrid gave a good-natured smile.

"That was a very fine wand. A pity-they broke it, I suppose?" Ollivander looked rather regretful as he said this.

"Yes... yes..." Hagrid's gaze wandered, and his hand moved awkwardly toward the hem of his coat. The red umbrella sat in the inner pocket there. "But I've still got it."

"Nothing wrong with keeping a memento, though you can't use it anymore, can you?" Mr. Ollivander shook his head, then finally looked at Harry, hesitating slightly. "I received this year's list from the Book of Admittance, but this young lady is... Granger?"

"Ha ha!" Hagrid laughed happily. "I've been looking forward to this all day, Mr. Ollivander. This is Potter, Harry Potter."

"Good day, sir," Harry greeted him in his croaky voice.

"Merlin's beard!" Ollivander looked him over several times before saying in utter disbelief:

"I thought-oh, yes, you look very much like your mother. Boys often resemble their mothers, but it's rare to see such a close resemblance as yours, Mr. Potter. Hmm, your eyes and hair take after your father... How interesting, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Hagrid laughed heartily. "I reacted exactly the same way when I first saw Harry."

"Ha, a customer I've been expecting for a very long time indeed." Mr. Ollivander looked delighted, though his eyes kept straying involuntarily toward Harry's forehead. Unfortunately, the thick fringe covering it prevented him from seeing anything.