In Ollivanders
Location: Diagon Alley
Date: 19th August 2017
Michael walked down Diagon Alley, re-reading Hogwarts's requirement list for the fourth time since he and his mother had left Gringotts. He still couldn't believe that this was actually happening, though the most surprisingly thing was that his mum was actually going along with it. Not that she was enthusiastic about any of this, but until now he had expected that he would have to try to get to Diagon Alley by himself.
"Mum, can I get a wand first?" he asked, tugging on her sleeve when she did not reply, and then noticed an old gloomy looking shop at the end of the street. Its window was dusty and the display was sparse; in fact the only new looking thing on the shop was a sign proclaiming 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382'.
"See, that's the place Professor Flitwick told us about," he pointed out.
"Fine, let's go look inside then," she said with a sigh.
Ollivanders was as dingy on the inside as it looked outside, and full of dust. It was smaller than any other shop Michael had been in, and the towering wall of shelves of boxes on all sides only served to make it even more tiny. No one seemed to be in, and he was thinking of leaving and trying later when an old man stepped in from the back room. He offered no greeting, but stared inquisitively at Michael.
"Um, hi," Michael said nervously when it seemed obvious that he was the only person who would say something. "I'm looking for a wand."
"Of course you are. I am Mr Ollivander," replied the old man, moving towards him. "You are Muggleborn."
It was not a question, but Michael nodded. "Is that a problem?" he asked forcefully.
"Of course not," Mr Ollivander muttered dismissively. "Now, which is your wand arm?" he asked, taking out a tape measure.
"Er, my right? I'm right-handed at least..."
Mr Ollivander seemed not to respond to him, but started measuring Michael's right arm with a sudden burst of energy. The tape measure continued moving around as he left to rummage around the shelves, which Michael found rather disconcerting, but it dropped to the ground once Mr Ollivander returned with five boxes, the top one open to reveal a single wand lying upon white cloth. He handed Michael this wand saying, "Try this one. Oak and phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and sturdy. Just give it a wave."
Michael felt a bit silly, especially with his mum watching, but he waved it a bit. Nothing happened, and Mr Ollivander took it back almost immediately, handing him another. This continued for the next few wands and Michael was starting to have his doubts about the whole thing, until Mr Ollivander gave him one much paler in colour than the others so far, saying, "Ash and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches. Hard yet springy."
The wand felt like a natural part of his body as soon as Michael took it, and he stopped feeling silly, but waved the wand smoothly as silver stars flew out the end and exploded in a series of tiny bangs, leaving white sparks floating through the air. He felt a rather goofy smile appear on his face, and Mr Ollivander looked delighted. Still holding the wand, he turned round to his mum, who looked shocked, but she soon regained her composture, smiling a little.
"Stop making the man wait, Michael," she told him, taking out her purse. "I guess this isn't as ridiculous as I thought it would be."
Date: 19th August 2017
Michael walked down Diagon Alley, re-reading Hogwarts's requirement list for the fourth time since he and his mother had left Gringotts. He still couldn't believe that this was actually happening, though the most surprisingly thing was that his mum was actually going along with it. Not that she was enthusiastic about any of this, but until now he had expected that he would have to try to get to Diagon Alley by himself.
"Mum, can I get a wand first?" he asked, tugging on her sleeve when she did not reply, and then noticed an old gloomy looking shop at the end of the street. Its window was dusty and the display was sparse; in fact the only new looking thing on the shop was a sign proclaiming 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382'.
"See, that's the place Professor Flitwick told us about," he pointed out.
"Fine, let's go look inside then," she said with a sigh.
Ollivanders was as dingy on the inside as it looked outside, and full of dust. It was smaller than any other shop Michael had been in, and the towering wall of shelves of boxes on all sides only served to make it even more tiny. No one seemed to be in, and he was thinking of leaving and trying later when an old man stepped in from the back room. He offered no greeting, but stared inquisitively at Michael.
"Um, hi," Michael said nervously when it seemed obvious that he was the only person who would say something. "I'm looking for a wand."
"Of course you are. I am Mr Ollivander," replied the old man, moving towards him. "You are Muggleborn."
It was not a question, but Michael nodded. "Is that a problem?" he asked forcefully.
"Of course not," Mr Ollivander muttered dismissively. "Now, which is your wand arm?" he asked, taking out a tape measure.
"Er, my right? I'm right-handed at least..."
Mr Ollivander seemed not to respond to him, but started measuring Michael's right arm with a sudden burst of energy. The tape measure continued moving around as he left to rummage around the shelves, which Michael found rather disconcerting, but it dropped to the ground once Mr Ollivander returned with five boxes, the top one open to reveal a single wand lying upon white cloth. He handed Michael this wand saying, "Try this one. Oak and phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and sturdy. Just give it a wave."
Michael felt a bit silly, especially with his mum watching, but he waved it a bit. Nothing happened, and Mr Ollivander took it back almost immediately, handing him another. This continued for the next few wands and Michael was starting to have his doubts about the whole thing, until Mr Ollivander gave him one much paler in colour than the others so far, saying, "Ash and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches. Hard yet springy."
The wand felt like a natural part of his body as soon as Michael took it, and he stopped feeling silly, but waved the wand smoothly as silver stars flew out the end and exploded in a series of tiny bangs, leaving white sparks floating through the air. He felt a rather goofy smile appear on his face, and Mr Ollivander looked delighted. Still holding the wand, he turned round to his mum, who looked shocked, but she soon regained her composture, smiling a little.
"Stop making the man wait, Michael," she told him, taking out her purse. "I guess this isn't as ridiculous as I thought it would be."