Kile carefully pushed open the door to Ollivander's wand shop.
Diana and Chris hadn't accompanied him — they'd gone to Gringotts instead, figuring that selecting a wand would take considerable time.
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Though the shop's interior still looked old and cluttered, it was notably cleaner than its exterior.
A crisp wind chime announced his entry, and a white-haired head appeared behind the counter.
"Good afternoon, child." Garrick Ollivander studied Kyle with curious eyes, "Did you come alone?"
"Yes." Kyle replied, puzzled, "Is there a problem?"
"No, of course not." Ollivander said, shaking his head.
Yet Kyle caught a glimpse of disappointment in the wandmaker's eyes.
Strange, why would a shopkeeper be disappointed when a customer arrives?
'Must have been seeing things.' He thought, dismissing the notion.
"Well then, young wizard." Ollivander emerged from behind the counter, "Can you tell me your name, child?"
"Kyle Chopper." Kyle said promptly.
"Chopper..." Ollivander paused, "Then Mr. Chris is..."
"My father." Kyle said.
"Oh, of course..." Ollivander glanced briefly toward the shop door before explaining, "I mean, the surname Chopper isn't very common in British magical society."
It was confirmed — the old man was definitely disappointed!
Kyle could see it plain as day; when he mentioned Chris was his father, the disappointment in Ollivander's eyes was unmistakable.
The wandmaker began muttering under his breath about willow or hornbeam wood — Kyle couldn't quite catch the words, but he didn't mind.
His thoughts were entirely focused on getting his own wand, with no attention to spare for such trivial matters.
"Mr. Ollivander, I'm right-handed." Kyle volunteered.
He stretched out his arms, ready for Ollivander to measure his height and reach.
He knew the usual procedure well. After measurements came the wand selection — typically the longest part of the process.
With what must have been eight to ten thousand wands lining the shelves, Kyle expected Ollivander would need time to narrow down the options and test them one by one.
He was actually looking forward to testing wands, much like he enjoyed moving garbage bins.
However, Ollivander's next words left him dumbfounded.
"Oh child, in your case, that won't be necessary."
Without taking any measurements or asking further questions, the old wandmaker strode behind the counter, retrieved a box from the most prominent position, opened it, and slid it toward Kyle.
His movements were smooth and purposeful.
"What are you waiting for? Try it!" Ollivander urged, noting Kyle's hesitation.
"Huh? Oh, right." Kyle snapped to attention and picked up the wand.
It was grayish-black and smooth, with no decorations save for the necessary handle. It looked quite ordinary.
As Kyle gripped the wand, before he could move, a white light burst from its tip, filling the entire room. The dim, stuffy shop suddenly brightened as if a skylight had opened in the ceiling.
"Good, very good indeed." Ollivander beamed with excitement and continued without prompting, "Thirteen and a half inches, cedar wood, phoenix feather core. I must say, it's quite a remarkable combination."
"A remarkable combination?" Kyle asked, confused.
"Yes, remarkable." Ollivander gazed at him and explained patiently, "Cedar wands typically choose wizards who are wise and possess keen insight. These wizards are naturally calm, and every choice they make is the result of careful consideration. As my father used to say, 'you will never fool the cedar carrier' — a sentiment I strongly agree with."
"Therefore, those who possess cedar wands typically choose the stable and loyal unicorn hair core, as phoenix feather can be rather assertive. In fact, I've crafted and sold thirty-six cedar wands — thirty with unicorn hair cores, five with dragon heartstring, and the last one..."
Ollivander didn't finish his sentence, but simply smiled and pointed at Kyle.
"But sir…" Kyle asked, puzzled, "Didn't you say these materials weren't suitable together? Why did you make it?"
"Materials don't match, so don't make it? No, no, no, that's not how it works. The wand chooses the wizard, child. Every wand, from the moment of its creation, will find its destined owner, just like these..."
Ollivander gestured toward the mountain of wand boxes behind him and smiled.
"They remain here not because they're inferior, but because their time hasn't come — their owners still await their Hogwarts letters." He paused, then continued, "What's more, when opposing wand wood and core materials work in perfect harmony with a wizard — that's what makes wandlore truly fascinating. Just like the wand in your hand — your father Chris tried it, your mother Diana too, but they were both just slightly off. So when I heard of your birth, I knew this day would come. Perfect, isn't it?"
"Um... yeah, okay."
Kyle nodded instinctively.
The wand felt like a natural extension of his arm — a sensation so captivating he couldn't imagine parting with it. Though the process had differed from his expectations, the outcome was perfect, and he was delighted with his wand.
"Well then, child, seven Galleons." Ollivander said, his smile widening.
"Alright." Kyle retrieved the seven Gold Galleons he'd prepared and placed them on the counter.
A first-year student's initial wand typically cost seven Galleons — a reasonable price in the wizarding world, though this rate applied only to new students starting school.
After payment, Garrick Ollivander gave a slight bow and watched Kyle leave before turning to another young wizard who had just entered with an adult companion.
"Ah, Mr. Thomas, we meet again. Eleven inches, hawthorn..."
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