Chapter 3: A new world and a wand
AN: Let's get some shopping done:
Enjoy!
The recognizable sections belong to JKR
Chapter 3
May 6th, 1991
Harry left Gringotts with a big bag of Galleons and an even bigger smile on his face. He had just discovered a brand-new world, found out that he was a wizard, and that he was pretty much financially independent. All from just a look at his trust vault too!
What he really wanted now was a wand! A proper wizard needed a proper wand. Ever since Tom used his and the goblin mentioned that wizards usually carry wands, Harry couldn't wait to get one himself. He imagined that his abilities would become even more powerful when channeling his energy through the piece of wood.
Not wanting to waste any more time, he asked a random customer in the alley about a shop to buy wands.
"You should go to Ollivanders, my young friend. He is the best wandmaker in all of Britain… maybe even all of Europe. Walk down the alley for a couple of minutes and look out for a shop on your right."
Harry thanked the kind stranger and followed his directions. He arrived at a store that read "Ollivanders, makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.".
"Quite an old store", Harry thought to himself as he entered the building.
The smell was very unfamiliar, and the shelves were stacked all the way to the roof with small boxes that seemed to contain wands. Harry couldn't find any salesperson, so he simply walked around a bit and took a look at some of the boxes.
"I must admit, I have not expected you so soon, Mr. Potter. It is very good to see you returning to the wizarding world. However, unfortunately, I won't be able to help you just yet."
"How do you know my name? And why can't you sell me a wand? I have more than enough galleons, sir!" Harry replied heatedly.
"The Ministry of magic prohibits the sale of wands to anyone under the age of 11," Oliverander replied calmly. "You shall return on your birthday in a couple of weeks to buy your wand. However, that doesn't mean that we can't already find a perfect match for you."
"A match, sir? I thought I would just pick any wand that I liked?" Harry frowned.
"Oh no, Mr. Potter." The old man's eyes beamed: "The wand chooses the wizard, always remember that. Every wand crafted by Ollivander is individual in itself. The wands are made of different materials, and all have different cores, lengths, and degrees of flexibility."
Harry nodded his understanding. So far it made sense. Wands were not items one could simply mass-produce on an assembly line. But how does one find a match?
Meanwhile, Ollivander continued: "I still remember your father's wand: eleven inches, mahogany, very pliable, and excellent for transfiguration. Your mother's, however, was ten and a quarter inch, made from willow, very swishy, and perfect for charms. Let us see what kind of wand fits you the best."
Oliver gestured to Harry to move towards him: "Which is your wand hand, Mr. Potter?"
"I am ambidextrous, sir," Harry replied calmly.
"Interesting, very interesting..." Ollivander nodded: "Let me get your measurements, then."
Soon, different tape measures started spinning around him on their own. However, they did not measure the distances Harry would assume. Instead, they measured the length from his nose to his belly button, his outstretched thumb to his elbow, and many other seemingly random distances. Ollivander wrote down all the results on a small piece of parchment with a quill.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. Let us try out a few wands then." The wandmaker hurried over to a shelf: "Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
Harry took the wand and, although feeling rather foolish, waved it around a bit. Mr. Ollivander however, snatched it out of his hand almost at once. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"
Harry tried, but he had hardly raised the wand when it too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. "No, no. Here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
Harry tried. And tried. And tried He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. I wonder, now, yes, why not. Unusual combination this one, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Harry took the wand and for the first time, he felt something. However, it was not a pleasant feeling at all.
"What is it, Mr. Potter?" Ollivander: "Tell me what you feel."
"I don't think this is the one." Harry said with concern in his voice: "It feels wrong, tainted... disgusting... I don't know how else to describe it..."
Ollivander's face fell in disappointment. He seemed to have expected a different reaction from that particular wand. When Harry asked him about it, he explained his reaction. "It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in this wand gave another feather – just one other. It would have been very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar. Oh yes! Thirteen and a half inches, Yew."
Ollivander seemed to be lost in thought after this while Harry's brain went into overdrive. Whoever gave him his scar used a wand, sold by Ollivanders, meaning it was a wizard or witch. The Dursleys told him he got his scar during a car accident in which his parents died...
Since the Dursleys lied about pretty much everything to him… Is this mysterious wizard of witch that gave him his scar responsible for his parent's death?
Cold fury rolled like a wave through Harry. Someone took his parents from him. Someone out there is responsible for him having to grow up as an orphan and is responsible for him being bullied and abused his entire life.
Harry swore to find that person and make him or her pay for everything that happened to him. He would become the greatest wizard to have ever lived and he would take revenge for what he was forced to endure over the nine years of his life he was at the Dursleys.
Ollivanders words pulled him out of his trance. "Well, Mr. Potter, it seems we run into a bit of a problem. those were all the wands that could have been a potential match for you... Since I don't seem to have a wand that is a perfect fit for you, I will have to craft one from scratch. Follow me into my crafting shop and help me pick the right materials."
This got Harry very excited. He would receive a handcrafted wand, specifically made to his requirements, from one of the best wandmakers in the magical world. Ollivander led him into the back of a shop and gestured for him to wait at a work bench. A minute later, he came back out of a storage room, carrying a large box with different wooden blocks in it. Then, he placed the blocks in regular intervals on the table and turned to Harry.
"Now, Mr. Potter... I would like for you to raise your hand over every block of wood for a few seconds. Try to block out anything else, even my voice if necessary, and tell me whenever you feel something. Concentrate deeply on those feelings and describe them as well as you can."
Harry had decided to ask his questions later and simply follow the directions first. He hovered his hand over the first wooden block but felt nothing at all. Feeling his disappointment rise, he continued over the next few. However, the result was similar. None of the blocks elicited any sort of response in him until his hand stopped over a red block of very old wood.
Harry was very excited at that. Finally, there was some proof that when it came to wands, he was not a lost cause.
"Tell me how you feel, Mr. Potter?" Ollivander whispered behind him.
"I feel warmth, euphoria, and excitement. As if something good has happened to me, something that I have been looking forward to!" Harry replied excitedly.
"Very good! This is a redwood block from one of the oldest redwood trees in North America. Let us pick your core then."
"But what about the other blocks?" Harry asked curiously. "Perhaps there is a second block I respond ever better to?"
Ollivander eyed him with a raised eyebrow: "Responding to two cores is not unheard of, however, it is very rare, Mr. Potter. Well, since I don't seem to have any other customers, I shall allow you to resume. Continue down the line, tell me if there is any other reaction"
Harry happily continued until his hand stopped over the very last block of wood. His hand hovered over another incredibly old and worn piece of wood, this time, of a very dark type. It seems to literally radiate in power.
"Mr. Potter?" Ollivander's words were but the faintest whispers as Harry stared transfixed on the block below his limb. his hand showed tiny signs of spasms.
"This- This one is even greater, sir, I don't know how to describe it... It feels cold like death but also very warm at the same time. It also feels powerful, as if nothing could stop me. I have never felt this strong before!" Harry explained. Unknowing to him, his eyes started shining just a tiny bit brighter.
"Incredible," Ollivander was in awe.
"What kind of wood is this, Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked, his eyes still not leaving the block: "It looks almost a thousand years old."
"Indeed, my boy, how very curious. That block is made of elder wood. It is a very challenging material for wands. Incredibly powerful, but almost impossible to tame for any wandmaker. So far, any known attempts to tame it have failed. They say it's the wood that Death itself prefers for it's wands. But that is a story for another time."
"This is the one." Harry nodded with determination: "Perhaps in combination with the redwood block?"
"We will see, we will see..." Ollivander just murmured: "Let us continue with the cores. Over here, please."
The process was very similar to the previous one. Harry simply put his hand over weird-looking jars with different ingredients in them. From Ollivanders comments, Harry found that phoenixes, unicorns, and even different types of dragons actually exist, since their respective parts are used as cores for a wand.
Again, it was all the way at the end, when Harry's hand stopped over a seemingly empty jar. Harry looked confused to Ollivander.
The old man's eyes had a strange gleam in them: "Now Mr. Potter, you might just be the most interesting and unique customer to ever set foot in this store. What you are looking at is Thestral hair. Thestrals are large horse-like creatures with wings that enable them to fly."
"You cannot see the hair, because only those that have seen death and have understood it, are able to see the Thestrals. I would have thought that witnessing the horrible night of Halloween 1981 would enable you to see it, but you seem to be a special case. Maybe your memory of the event is not strong enough yet…"
Again, Harry was at a loss for words. Something happened on Halloween 1981. This event left him with a scar and dead parents. Ollivander implied that Harry must have witnessed the event as a baby. Did that mean that Harry's parents were killed by the mysterious wizard or witch right in front of his eyes? How did Harry survive and why does he carry this scar? He vowed to find all these answers later. Right now, he finally wanted to witness the crafting of his wand.
"Well. Mr. Potter, we have redwood and elder for the handle. Thestral hair for the core and I have your measurements for the lengths. Unfortunately, you shall not witness the creation of your wand. I am afraid that my work must remain a secret, I cannot risk having other wandmakers replicate my techniques."
Disappointment and anger surged through Harry, but he kept his emotions in check and promised to return two hours later to test the final product. In the meantime, he would continue his shopping.
Looking for answers to his multitude of questions, Harry resumed down the streets to a bookshop called "Flourish & Blotts". Since Harry seemed to be famous in the magical world, he asked the shop owner about a book on Harry Potter, and she directed him to the modern history section, and a book called "Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts".
Harry began reading and quickly felt overwhelmed with the amount of knowledge he gathered in this short amount of time. From the book, he found out about a war in the wizarding world between the pureblooded elitists and their opposition to the "Light". The leader of the pureblood movement was a man called "Lord Voldemort", but everyone was too scared to say his name, so they called him "He who must not be named" or "You know who".
Harry thought this notion was ridiculous. It was one thing to respect a powerful man, but to shiver at his mere name was simply an act of cowardness in Harry's opinion. It had to be a made up name too. After all, what mother would name her son Voldemort?
The war got worse and worse throughout the late 1970s until on Halloween 1981, the Dark Lord suddenly vanished from sight. Apparently on the 31st of October, Lord Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow, the place where Harry's parents lived, and killed them in cold blood. He tried used the same curse on Harry but failed to kill him.
His powers were broken, he vanished from sight, and everyone thought him dead for the last ten years. However, a body was never found. Harry doubted that the Dark Lord was truly dead. If his body wasn't found, then he simply disappeared. More interestingly, however, was how baby Harry survived the notorious killing curse. Especially from the most powerful Dark wizard that had ever existed in Britain.
Apparently, that was why he was famous in the magical world. He is "The Boy-Who-Lived", the only known person to ever survive the killing curse.
"Wow", Harry thought. He was special for witnessing the death of his parents and being raised as an orphan.
Anger surged through Harry. He was supposed to be the hero of the wizarding world, yet absolutely no one cared where he had been for the last ten years? He rid the world of a Dark Lord, yet he had to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs, beaten and starved?
He refused to be their hero, their shining golden boy. He would show them what he thought of them soon enough. He vowed to become so powerful that he never needed to endure the mood swings of others. Strong enough to protect those he actually cared about. Those few that earned his loyalty.
Time passed quickly and Harry bought several books on the introduction into wizarding society. He also bought some simple first-year spell books to read on the theory. He was not allowed to practice magic outside of school, but since he had done so over the last couple of years the "Trace" as the book called it must be connected to the wand and not the wizard itself.
Finally, Harry found a book called "The Mind Arts – A Beginners Guide to Occlumency" that seemed to be all about protecting one's mind against foreign intrusion. Not being very keen on having other people look through his thoughts, Harry quickly added the book to his already formidable stack and walked to the counter.
The sales lady seemed very surprised but quickly accepted the 17 galleons for all eleven books. Harry exited the store and made his way back to Ollivander's. Even though he couldn't actually buy and use the wand yet, he was still very excited to at least take a look at it and try it out.
Ollivander was waiting for him in the back of the shop:
"Ah Mr. Potter, I've just finished your wand. I dare say it might be one of the most beautiful wands I have ever crafted."
Harry opened the box and took a look at the wand. The red and dark timber, redwood and elder, wrapped around the entire length of the wand, spiralling together in a beautiful symphony. The exquisitely crafted handle carried a variety of weird-looking symbols. Deeper carvings wrapped themselves along the shaft of the wand all the way to its tip.
"Perhaps my most unique creation ever. I combined the two kinds of wood around the core of Thestral hair and used runes to stabilize the crafting. In addition, a single, long hair is wrapped from the tip all the way to the handle. I incorporated that particular hair to establish an even deeper connection to the wielder's magical core, by increasing the contact area."
Harry might have barely understood half of what Ollivander had been saying. Partly because he did not know what the man was talking about and partly because his attention was fully drawn to the brilliant craftsmanship laying in a box in front of him.
"Give it a try but be careful. This might be the most powerful wand that ever leaves the threshold of my store."Ollivander advised.
Harry carefully picked up the wand. He was not disappointed... It immediately felt as if a piece of him had been reunited with his body after having been inaccessible his entire life. An incredible surge of power rolled through his body from head to toe.
The boxes around him started shaking and small amounts of dust levitated from the floor. One could feel the saturated magic in the air around him. Harry could almost taste it. He tried to control his euphoria and gave his hand a slow swirl from left to right. Dark red and silver sparkles flew from the tip and rained down over him and Ollivander, illuminating the entire workshop in a faint glow.
"Incredible," Ollivander exclaimed. "I have never felt this much raw power from someone your age before. You have an interesting path ahead of you Mr. Potter. With great power comes greater freedom of choice… but also a greater responsibility. Keep that in mind for future decisions."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander." Harry whispered, unable to tear his eyes off the wand: "How much do I owe you, sir?"
"Usually, I would say watching a spectacular union like this between wand and wielder is something priceless. However, every wand from Ollivanders costs seven Galleons, nothing more, nothing less. I do not expect you to pay that sum right now. When you return on, or after, your birthday, you shall receive your wand and I shall receive payment. Have a good day Mr. Potter… I expect great things from you!"
A small part of Harry's brain was actually thinking about keeping the wand and making a run for it... But that would be rash. Harry thanked the old wandmaker and placed the tool and weapon that would soon be his most priceless possession back into the box.
With a weird, uncomfortable feeling, probably due to leaving the wand behind, he exited the shop. Harry made his way over to a small café called "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour" to enjoy some lunch and dessert. Afterward, he spent some more time in various magical shops, including a pet shop called "Eeylops Owl Emporium".
Walking through the aisles and looking at different magical creatures he noticed a hissing coming from the back of the store. Curiously he walked around the corner.
"Thissss isss ssoo boring… why do the younglingsss only buy those ssstupid birdsss and not me…"
Harry looked around confused. There was no one around him, besides himself and a large snake in a glass container. Did he really just hear a snake talk?
"Do you understand me?" He asked the snake.
"Aah a ssspeaker… I have never met one of your kind before. You ssshall bond with me and take me on your adventuressss with you!"
"I am sssorry little one, but I am not really interested in a sssnake right now. I ssshall visit you in the future and keep you company though!"
"Very well, ssspeaker make sssure to come back and visit me!"
This was very precarious. Harry wondered if it was common for wizards and witches to be able to converse with animals. He should definitely stop by the bookshop once more and figure it out.
He left the bizarre snake and turned to leave the shop. Out of nowhere, a beautiful large white owl flew on his shoulder and gently nipped on his ear.
"Now, who might you be, beautiful?" Harry asked the owl. "Do you want me to take you with me?"
The white owl hooted softly, which Harry interpreted as a "Yes, please", so he paid the required Galleons and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, at the end of the alley.
"Good evening, my young friend. I do hope your shopping spree was a success?" Tom, the barman greeted him.
"Indeed Tom, thank you very much! I would like to eat some dinner before returning back home please!" Harry politely replied.
While Harry enjoyed his dinner, he made light conversation with Tom. Doing so, he learned about a magical bus, called "The Knight Bus" that can pick him up wherever he is. Since he needed a wand to call the bus, he would not yet be able to take it to go back to Diagon Alley. Harry will, however, be able to take the Knight Bus back home to Privet Drive for Tom would call it on his behalf.
As Harry finished his dinner, Tom agreed to put a feather-weight charm on his backpack. Harry was amazed by the simple charm and couldn't wait to try some other charms himself, once he got his wand in July. After paying for his dinner, Harry asked Tom to call the Knight Bus for him.
One rather interesting ride later, he was dropped off at Number 4 Privet Drive, glad that non-magical people or "muggles" as they were called, wouldn't be able to see the bus.
Before going to sleep, Harry dutifully organized each memory in his mind palace and finished the day by opening one of his new books. "Chapter One: Occlumency" he read to himself.
An hour later, the most amazing day in his short life so far finally came to an end. However, this was just the beginning of his journey.