William's final destination was an oddity. The shop was narrow and shabby, its sign marked by golden letters.
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C
William had been explained this part of the shopping experience was one he should do alone, without Professor Flitwick present.
"Choosing your wand is incredibly personal, by boy. I wouldn't dare intrude."
Thus, William gathered his courage and stepped inside.
Projection sorcery had permanently marked him as a proper Jujutsu Sorcerer.
This wand would permanently mark him as a wizard.
After today, there would be no turning back. William will have permanently become a member of the magical society.
Merlin help me.
"What a somber boy you are." A voice said.
William flinched, immediately turning to its source.
It was an old man, with silvery hair and pale skin to match. His eyes held the depth one would expect out of one who had witnessed time's slow march lead him to somewhere impossibly far from where he began. It was a depth William had learned not to expect from anyone for age made people hypocrites just as easily as it made them wise.
William tilted his head. "Have we met before?"
The man smiled lightly. "No, but a glance can tell much about a person. You are here for a wand, I presume?"
William nodded, his eyes wandering to the merchandise. The interior of the shop was filled to the brim with boxes. Do all of them have wands? How many wands does this man make?
The man clapped his hands.
"Well then! Introductions are in order. My name is Garrick Ollivander. May I have the honor of knowing yours?"
"William Zenin." William answered, still eying the absurd number of wands in the shop. Something within him could sense the magic they held, much like how he could sometimes detect traces of cursed energy. Magic, however, was warm. Cursed energy was a cold energy, one that made no effort to hide its origins of negativity and hate. Feeling the magic in the air, William was unable to put anything he was feeling into words. It was warm and yet cold. It was ancient and yet had no origin to speak of.
"A unique name for a unique boy." He murmured as he pulled out a tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.
"Dominant arm?"
"I'm ambidextrous." William replied.
Mr. Ollivander hummed in response. "Well then, hold out both arms please."
The tape measure flew out of his hands and began taking measurements on its own. The owner shuffled across the shop seemingly searching for something.
"Ollivander wands consist of a powerful core within them, Mr. Zenin." The man said, his soft voice filling the room. "We almost always use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two wands are the same, just like no two unicorns are. Of course, it is because of that that you will never get good results with another wizard's wand"
"Here we go." He said, handing William a dark brown wand. "Yew, thestral tail hair, 11½, unyielding."
William grabbed hold of it and studied it, his eyebrows furrowed. Is it just me or does this feel like a normal stick.
Ollivander immediately attempted to snatch it from him.
William, on pure instinct, grabbed tighter hold of the wand. The boy and the man got locked in an awkward tug of war where neither was sure why exactly they were tugging.
"Erm… Mr. Ollivander, why're you taking my wand?"
The wandmaker gave him an amused grin. "Why because it isn't your wand. This one didn't choose you."
Ah.
William let go and soon he was handed another wand.
Then another.
And then another.
And then another.
Again and again.
With every wand, William felt a tinge of hope in himself. Is it possible… I'm not a wizard?
If that were true, William would dance his way back home with a smile larger than any he had ever previously shown, thanking whichever deity blessed him with such good fortune.
Unfortunately, William was not known to be fortunate.
Mr. Ollivader too was growing excited – for completely different reasons. The man appeared to be relishing the challenge.
After going around the shop, he finally stopped at a corner and pulled out another box
The box appeared old. He blew the dust off it and opened it.
"Beechwood and Thunderbird tail feather, 12½. Flexible."
Before he handed the wand off to William, he looked upon it with a complicated expression.
"I had made this back in my early days, when I was researching the most suitable cores. Thunderbird feather is a powerful core boy, but very hard to control. It has the most interesting tendency to fire off spells at the slightest hint of danger."
"There, try it."
The moment a single finger on William's hand touched the wand, William froze.
The feeling was akin to regaining something long lost. Of coming home. Of warmth and comfort that he was long since deprived of.
The wand gave no physical reaction save for William's own warmth.
Ollivander smiled. "Ah, a perfect fit. How wonderful."
"Wonderful indeed." William murmured, his cynicism temporarily overwhelmed by the sheer warmth radiating from the wand in his hand. Slowly, it began to settle down into something steadier. William too, finally calmed.
"Beechwood has always been a wand for those wise beyond their years. A narrow mind cannot hope to wield it. Thunderbird and Beechwood, a wise and cautious man with a spark hidden beneath that exterior. A perfect match as any, don't you think? I can simply tell you'll be great."
His voice grew softer with every word, and yet the softer his voice was the harder the words struck William's heart.
Me. Great. He felt sick at the thought. Greatness is for the brave. For those with passion. I'm afraid I will have to disappoint him. It doesn't matter of course. My conception was a bigger disappointment than any I can manage myself.
The wand in his hand pulsed with warmth, bringing him out of his dark thoughts.
Quickly paying the man the seven galleons Professor Flitwick had provided him; he exited the shop.
He missed his bed.