Chapter Six: Ollivanders

The tiny bell tinkled as Hermione led Gwen into the small Ollivanders storefront. Sunlight filtered through the dusty window to light a small part of the musty interior, but it was the shelves in the back of the shop, behind the counter, that drew both their interest. Thousands of long, thin boxes – Hermione knew them to be wand boxes – cluttered the shelves, which themselves stretched up to the three-story ceiling, accessed only by towering ladders.

Hermione settled herself on a spindly wooden chair with a dusty, olive green wool pad on the seat. Gwen looked around expectantly, though just then the wizened proprietor emerged from down one of the side rows of shelves. “Ah, another new Hogwarts student, is it?”

“Yes. Gwen Fischer.”

“Pleased to meet you… Muggle-born, is it?” He said, glancing at Hermione. “Much as your guide… a Hogwarts faculty liaison, if I don’t miss my guess, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir.” Hermione blushed slightly. “I’ve always been a fan of your work.”

“Yes, yes… so… I do sense a bit of an aura about you, though. Quite odd.”

“What do you mean?” Gwen asked.

“Normally, I can sense the auras of one’s magical ancestors, even enough to recall which wand I sold them. Miss Granger here, being of purely Muggle heritage – no offense – has no such aura except her own.”

“None taken.” Hermione waved off Ollivander, but was clearly interested in his assessment of Gwen.

“You… Miss Fischer… have just the tiniest trace. Not even a direct ancestor, but perhaps a great-aunt or some such?”

“There have been rumors of something like that.” Gwen nodded. “I was never told her name.”

“Probably on your mother’s side, since Fischer is not a wizarding name.” Ollivander nodded. “Still, enough prying… time to find your proper wand.” Ollivander disappeared into the shelves.

Hermione explained, “A wand is a witch’s greatest tool. Barring breakage, many keep the same wand their entire life, so it is important to find the wand which suits you best. The process can be a bit unsettling and has been known to take hours.” She smiled. “In addition, the wand has its own intrinsic properties and abilities, often seen to be affected by the nature of its parts. I have even heard of death itself being averted based solely on the content of one’s wand.”

Ollivander reappeared. “Yes, yes, I heard that one too. A quite unusual effect, and not one to be relied upon. But the lad was aware of the connection from when he stood here.”

Hermione blinked, as Ollivander handed Gwen a wand. “I never knew that.”

“Oh, yes. Here, girl. This one is ten inches, rosewood and unicorn.” He paused. “Well, give it a wave or a swish.”

Gwen hesitantly waved it, and the ledger on the counter slid across and hit the far wall, exploding into confetti. “I’m sorry!”

“The ledger is merely a diagnostic.” Ollivander said, taking the wand from her hand. “Nothing was recorded in it.” He passed her a second wand. “This one is eucalyptus and dragon’s blood.”

Gwen waved it, and the chair under Hermione crumpled. She scrambled to her feet, and Gwen apologized. “No, no, it’s all right.” Hermione smiled.

“Not that one, then.” Ollivander said. “Hmm, try this one… eleven inches, a very unusual combination….”

Gwen seized the wand, and just then the air in the shop turned minty fresh and the chair parts sparkled as the dust covering them flew into nothingness. “This it?”

“Yes, it seems so. Hermione smiled. “What’s this one?”

“Very unusual… eleven inches, the core is a phoenix feather – not the same phoenix.” Ollivander winked at Hermione. “The wood is from America… Colorado blue spruce. The tree is known for its hardiness and self-defense mechanisms, but is only rarely used for wands. I don’t know what tempted me to try it.”

Hermione reached her hand out. “Might I see its box?”

Ollivander offered it, though all it bore was the information he’d just given and a date of manufacture – nearly thirty years ago. “This is the date you made this?”

“Yes. Quite a busy day it was, actually.”

Hermione smiled. “I hope it should suit her well then.”

Gwen smiled. “How much?”

“Eight Galleons. That’s the big gold ones.” Ollivander added helpfully as Gwen fished into her bag.