Chương 5: Ollivander's

The bell above the door rang and I heard someone—presumably Ollivander—called out from the back. The sitting area for the store was small with two antique wooden chairs against the wall. I took a seat gratefully, already feeling worn down from the short walk. I was a little worried the chair might fall apart with my added weight, but: magic. I set the galleons down on a little table between the chairs.

After a minute of fidgeting—and wondering why he didn't just use magic to clean such a dusty place—Ollivander emerged. He looked old, but moved with a certain confident ease through the gloom and clutter.

"Ahh! A new student! That time of the year already, is it? Well, come on, let's get a look at you." I got up and approached the counter.

"Ollivander, my dear, Garrick Ollivander." Everyone towered over me these days. However, the dark, and his stooping posture made it more of a loom as we shook hands.

"Lyra Parish, nice to meet you."

"Parish? Parish…? Something about you looks familiar, but I don't recognize the name, a half-blood?" I twitched.

"No sir. I don't know my birth parents. I was raised by non-relatives and took their name. Do I look like someone you sold a wand to?" I hadn't really cared who Lyra's birth parents were before now. They weren't 'my' parents, and they didn't have anything to do with 'Lyra's' life. However, going by the Harry Potter timeline, Lyra would have been born a few months before Voldemort's defeat. There was potential there… I really hoped they weren't Death Eaters. It didn't seem likely.

What Death Eater would leave their child to muggles? If they were wizards, one or both were probably killed by Death Eaters.

"Hmm, maybe? Maybe not? Something about your eyes, but no– that wouldn't make sense, would it?" He muttered that last bit.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Parish. But people– people aren't identical copies of their parents. I must have been mistaken. Don't mind the rambling of an old man. What's important is your wand." I deflated at the turnaround. It'd be something to consider for later, or maybe to ask Ms Parish about. He pulled out a tape measure.

"Now then, which is your wand arm, Miss Parish?"

"I'm right-handed, and please just call me Lyra." It was feeling very weird being called Miss Parish so much after associating the name with Ms Parish. The tape measure began working on its own. Before it had finished, he pulled a box out from behind the counter.

"Here we are, unicorn hair, 10 and a quarter inches, apple. Perfect for a sweet little girl like yourself." I reached out to the wand with eagerness. He snatched back before I'd even pulled it fully out of the box.

"Horrible! Horrible match. You do not pair well with unicorn at all. Oh no, not at all." He pulled out another wand.

"Try this one, dragon heart string, 8 ½ inches, Oak." Why are wands being measured in imperial? Aren't we in Britain? I held the wand just long enough to register how small 8 inches could feel before Ollivander took this one back as well. I tried wand after wand, and was rejected by each in turn. I got far enough to wave a few of them before having them taken back, but most were pulled away quickly. This continued for way too long. My initial enthusiasm began to wither as my legs burned.

McGonagall poked her head in at one point to see if we had finished, and headed back out. Ollivander didn't seem put out, quite the opposite in fact. I really hope he wasn't drawing out the process for the fun of it. Eventually, I had to call a pause just to sit and rest.

"So…" I started as he rummaged through wand boxes, muttering to himself, "Do wands ever expire?"

"Depends on the wand really. Some stay around for generations, eager for the next wielder. Others burn out with their first owner, unwilling to move on without their partner.

"Just don't mistreat your wand. A damaged wand can easily lead to magical backlash. You really don't want to be hit with your own spells, let me tell you." He shuddered a little, then crouched low, below the divide separating the seating area and the employee area.

"Here we are," he said.

"If the common cores I use aren't responding to you, we have to go a bit further afield." He came out from behind the counter and set several boxes down on the seat next to me.

"How much does the core affect the wand?"

"Considerably. I like to stick to unicorn hair for consistency, dragon heart string for power, and phoenix feathers for versatility. Many other beasts just don't have the natural magical power to fully support the wizard, or are just too rare to work with. Still! I do keep a small stock of exotically cored wands for occasions much like this.

"First off: nundu heartstring." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I pulled it out and gave it a halfhearted flick, "Nundu?" He took it back with a shake of his head.

"East Asian beast, lion-like, about as magical—and as deadly—as a dragon. Next up: leviathan grey matter." I always did love swimming, so a wand from a water creature did sound cool. Gray matter though? As in brain material? He took the wand back before I could wave it.

"Thestral hair?" He hesitated, looking at me with narrowed eyes, before swapping the box he was grabbing.

"No—let us try kitsune tailbone." Well, I do like foxes. I reached for it. As soon as the wand was in my hand I felt a surge of power like nothing before. This wasn't something coming off the wand. This was– well it was like coming home after finishing an exhausting day. It was opening a great book I'd forgotten about but found even better on the second read-through. It was the comfort of blankets on a winter morning. Warmth flowed up my arm and a sense of security and confidence filled my body. This was good.

It was an unquestionably good thing in my life. It was the most, unquestionably positive thing I'd ever felt in either life. It was right in a way that I just knew. I swung the wand in a jerky arc. A shower of persisting electric lights flowed forth, hanging in the air like a long exposure shot of those sparkler toys used on the 4th of July back in the states, before fading away.

"Ha ha! Knew we'd get there in the end. Kitsune tailbone, acacia wood, 12 inches." I nodded, still basking in the feeling from the wand. My wand.

"Why don't you use more kitsune bone?"

"I choose cores for the wands I make very carefully, Miss Lyra. They are based both on the power of magical beasts they come from and how easily—and safely—they may be obtained. One of the biggest mistakes other wandmakers fall into is using a lesser core in pursuit of mass-production with easily obtained materials.

"These wands–" He gestured to the stack of boxes with the rare cores.

"All have a magical base equal to that of any unicorn, dragon, or phoenix. However–" he tapped the first box, "Nundu can't be tamed or bred. They will all but kill themselves trying to kill any wizard who enters territory they consider theirs. Even newborns possess this trait." He tapped the second box, "Leviathans are not only rarer than phoenixes, they're hard to get to, and even more deadly than nundu—and both of these cores require the death of the creature in question." He tapped the last box. My box.

"Kitsune tailbone doesn't require the creature to die, but I have never heard of a kitsune giving up a tail for anything. Nearly every one of them was taken by force, and kitsune are both highly intelligent and highly vengeful creatures.

"Your wand's core came from a lucky encounter where a witch witnessed one die of unrelated wounds, then she decided to sell the corpse. The witch was still found torn apart along with her family days later when another kitsune learned of what she had done." I blinked, and looked back down at my wand. What a wonderful story to share with an eleven year old. He traumatized Harry a bit with the origin of his wand too. Does he enjoy being creepy and mysterious?

"Will I be hunted by them for using this wand?"

"No, no– they already took revenge. Kitsune don't have the same burial rites as we wizards do."

"Okay." I sighed, relieved I wasn't being pulled into yet another new direction after this morning's revelations.

"So, if unicorn is for consistency, and dragon is power, what does a kitsune wand provide?" He smiled, the somber tone evaporated.

"Every wand is unique, Miss Lyra, just as no two trees or no two dragons are precisely the same. I can go over the trends I've noticed—quirks common to craft—but just as surely as a Slytherin can be brave, or a Hufflepuff can kick back and relax, a wand is more than their base components. Acacia and kitsune are both fairly rare when it comes to wands, so yours may be more unique than most." Those might be good points. However, a sword is made to cut.

Using one as a hammer is possible, but it would never be the ideal tool for the task. Leaning into something's strengths is how to pull ahead. I was willing to bet the best wand maker in Europe was going to be accurate in his assessments.' Play to your strengths,' as Mad-Eye Moody said… or was that Barty Crouch Jr? Did it matter if he was pretending to be the other?

"I haven't made much use of kitsune, so I can't speak from my own experience. Foreign wand—or staff—makers, on the other hand, tend to report kitsune bone excel at lasting effects. In particular, charms, the magic used in potion making, and curses.

"The well-documented major drawbacks with kitsune wands is that they have a much harder time casting defensive effects. Shields and healing spells will not come naturally to you. They also despise being handled by anyone other than their bonded witch or wizard. We talked earlier of wands that die with their wielder. A kitsune core is one of these.

"A little on the stranger side is that they carry the kitsune's sense of vanity. A kitsune will never let their tails stay dirty, so you must take extra care in keeping your wand clean. There have been reports I've read where they refuse to cast magic at all if not properly cared for. I'll throw in an old polishing kit I have around here, somewhere." A glass cannon then. Fragile, with powerful effects and no natural defense. Definitely not a dueling wand. That was fine. A fair duel was a fantasy.

Battles were decided long before the first spell was cast; through preparation, positioning, and superior equipment. If I ever found myself fighting Death Eaters, I wouldn't care about fighting fair. If both people really were 'equal' in a death match, they would both end up dead by the end. So why be coy about it? Poison your opponent, then bury them in overwhelming numbers.

"Acacia wands, on the other hand, I am very familiar with. It is a very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner. Since both the core and the wood of your wand possess this trait, it will likely present itself very strongly indeed. You may see this as a safety feature, but any of your friends—or even your family—will likely find the wand unresponsive at best, possibly even causing backfire if they attempt to force a spell.

Be very careful about lending that wand out to others, Miss Lyra." As he talked, he returned to the other side of the counter. After rummaging around a bit more, he dropped a few well used items next to the till that looked like they might be the wand care kit he mentioned.

"Acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as 'bangs-and-smells' magic, subtlety is key. Lastly, wands made of this wood don't typically impose any bias on the discipline of magic cast through it. Witches and wizards with an acacia wand have been known to excel in any field they set their mind to." A wood that works well with all magic and a core that doesn't. Hopefully the wood means I won't be completely useless in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I needed to learn at least some defensive spells, having no options in that area would be suicidal.

"An interesting wand indeed. Two uncommon materials known to be very picky in choosing a wielder. I'll be looking forward to what you do with it, Lyra Parish."

"Right. Thank you." He didn't say much more as I handed over the galleons and wrapped up the extra items in a brown paper bag he summoned. I was thankful he wasn't charging extra for them as I only had the seven galleons from McGonagall. It made me wonder more about the price though; seven was supposed to be the most magically significant number according to Tom Riddle back when he spoke to Slughorn. Whatever else Voldemort was, he was unquestionably very knowledgeable about making magic stronger.

There was a certain air about Ollivander that was more than a little off-putting. I didn't miss that he said nothing about ethics when acquiring materials. He called what Voldemort did, 'great things—Terrible! Yes. But great.' as well. It gave me the impression of a neutral actor. Willing to sell to whomever without judgment so long as his rituals were observed. I wondered if that would change for him in the future after being kidnapped and tortured for his wand lore.

I floundered a little when I realized I didn't have anywhere to store my new wand. For some stupid reason, the dress I was wearing didn't have pockets. My school robes better not be the same. I decided to keep the wand in its box for the time being. It was a nice box.