As soon as Tyler Blake and Jamie Campbell stepped into Ollivanders, Mr Ollivander appeared from behind the counter to greet them. The shop was as narrow and cluttered as ever, with thousands of long wand boxes stacked from floor to ceiling until the shelves seemed ready to breathe dust.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Ollivander said softly, his pale eyes moving from one boy to the other. "Are you here to buy a wand?"
"Good afternoon, Mr Ollivander," Tyler replied with a polite smile. "We meet again."
"Oh, Mr Blake," Ollivander said, blinking as recognition settled over his face. "The wand you bought earlier was elder, fifteen inches, with a Thestral tail hair core. A powerful wand, unless my memory has failed me."
"Of course," Tyler said. "Your memory has always been excellent, though I only bought my wand from you a few days ago."
"Every wand I sell is worth remembering," Ollivander said, his voice drifting as if he were speaking to the shelves as much as to them. "Some more than others, certainly, but none are ever truly ordinary."
"But, Mr Ollivander," Tyler said, glancing toward the dusty window. "It's only been a few days. How did Diagon Alley end up like this?"
"Oh, that dreadful business," Ollivander said, his expression dimming at once. "It was all because of that dangerous dark wizard. He set Fiendfyre loose in Diagon Alley and nearly destroyed the entire street."
He gave a small shudder and pressed one thin hand to the counter. "Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry Aurors managed to contain it in time. If they had not, this shop would likely have burned as well, and there are thousands of wands stored here."
"That really was lucky," Tyler said, smiling faintly. "We saw many ruined shops on our way here. It's fortunate yours survived, or we would have had nowhere to buy a wand today."
"You are quite right, Mr Blake," Ollivander said with a solemn nod. "I must thank the ancestors of the Ollivander family for choosing this location. Had my shop stood even a little closer to Gringotts, I fear nothing would have remained but ash."
"So, Mr Ollivander," Tyler said, turning slightly toward Jamie. "This is my best friend, Jamie Campbell. He's also starting at Hogwarts this year, and he needs a wand of his own."
Tyler's smile widened just enough to look sincere. "After all, your wands are the best in Britain, aren't they?"
Ollivander looked visibly pleased. Wandmakers were proud people, and Garrick Ollivander was prouder than most when it came to his family craft. He might speak in whispers and riddles, but he loved nothing more than hearing a young wizard praise his wands.
"Well then, Mr Campbell," Ollivander said, pulling a long measuring tape with silver markings from his pocket. "Step forward, please. I'll need to take your measurements. Which is your wand arm?"
"I'm right-handed," Jamie replied.
"Good, good," Ollivander murmured.
The enchanted measuring tape sprang to life, rising like a pale silver snake. It measured Jamie's arm from shoulder to fingertip, then his wrist, elbow, height, and even the distance between his eyes while Ollivander turned and moved among the shelves.
"Every Ollivander wand contains a powerfully magical substance at its core," Ollivander said as he lifted one long box after another from the stacks. "That is the heart of the wand, Mr Campbell."
He set several boxes on the counter before continuing. "We most often use unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. Each produces a different kind of wand, and each wand chooses in its own way."
He placed another box beside the others, then ran one finger thoughtfully along the dusty shelf. "Every Ollivander wand is unique because no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are exactly alike. Naturally, if you use a wand meant for another wizard, it will never serve you as well."
"Mr Ollivander," Tyler said lightly, "do you say that to every wizard who comes here to buy a wand?"
"Oh yes," Ollivander answered without the slightest embarrassment. "It is part of the Ollivander family's professional tradition. I believe it began with my great-great-great-grandfather, though perhaps even earlier."
Jamie gave Tyler an amused glance, then picked up the first wand Ollivander offered him. He had barely raised it before Ollivander snatched it back with a sharp intake of breath.
"No, not that one."
The second wand sparked weakly and sent a stack of receipts fluttering from the counter. The third released a puff of grey smoke. The fourth made the measuring tape twist itself into a knot, and the fifth did absolutely nothing at all.
For the next several minutes, Jamie tested wand after wand. His situation was almost the same as Tyler's had been, which was not surprising since they were, in the strangest possible sense, the same person. Ordinary wands did not suit him.
"Oh," Ollivander said at last, his eyes shining with interest rather than frustration. "Another picky customer. But do not worry, Mr Campbell. Ollivanders always has the wand a wizard needs."
He swept the rejected wands aside and turned toward the back shelves. This time, he did not move quickly. He seemed to be searching through old stock, pausing now and then to read faded labels on boxes that looked as though they had not been touched in decades.
Tyler watched him quietly. The shop smelled of dust, old wood, polish, and magic, and the silence that settled over them felt almost ritualistic.
After roughly five minutes, Ollivander returned carrying a long, dusty box. He placed it on the counter with unusual care, as though the wand inside deserved more respect than the others.
"Ah," Ollivander said softly. "This wand was not made by me. It was crafted by my father when he was still alive, and its materials are rather special."
He brushed dust from the lid with his sleeve. "Snakewood, paired with dragon heartstring. Its flexibility is quite good, and the power it produces when casting spells can be exceptionally strong."
Ollivander opened the box. Inside lay a wand of dark, polished wood with a faint twisting grain that almost looked like scales beneath the surface.
"Snakewood?" Jamie asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "As far as I know, that kind of wood isn't found in Britain."
"You are correct," Ollivander said. "Snakewood is extremely rare, and the little that once grew here has almost vanished. This piece was obtained by my father deep in the Albanian forest while he was travelling the world."
He pushed the box forward. "Come now, Mr Campbell. Try it."
Jamie reached out with his right hand and took the snakewood wand. The moment his fingers closed around it, he felt a strange sense of perfect fit, as if the wand had been waiting for him far longer than he had existed.
"Lumos," Jamie said.
It was the Wand-Lighting Charm, one of the most basic spells a young wizard could learn in first year. Yet the moment Jamie cast it, the tip of the snakewood wand bloomed with dazzling light.
The glow was brilliant, clean, and almost sharp. It flooded the dim shop until every corner was lit, chasing away the shadows between the shelves and making the dusty wand boxes gleam. For a moment, even Ollivander's pale eyes seemed brighter.
"A very nice wand," Jamie said with satisfaction. "It suits me well, Mr Ollivander. I'll take this one."
"Your Wand-Lighting Charm is excellent, Mr Campbell," Ollivander said, smiling as he studied the wand in Jamie's hand. "It seems this snakewood wand truly does suit you. However, considering the rarity of its materials, the price is slightly higher than usual."
"So," Jamie said, raising an eyebrow, "what exactly is the price? It won't be too expensive, will it?"
.....
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