Marauders - Always - Part One

Summer 2015: I got a wand and also some information (finally)

I looked up over my head when the bell on Ollivander's door rang loudly as Declan and I stepped through the door. It was dusty and old, brass, on a curly arm that shivered and shook the bell. The wand shop smelled exactly like I had always imagined it would - like the wood aisle at the Home Depot with a bit of dust and a sweet, heady smell that I associated with the depth of the spine of a freshly cracked-open book. They should bottle that smell. An electric sort of crackling noise filled the air and made my skin tingle.

"Finally!" called a voice from the depths of the shelves.

There was a sound of boxes being put down hastily and a creaking, and then a man with wild white hair and thick white eyebrows came around the corner, clutching one of those ladders like in libraries - like in Beauty and the Beast - which rolled on a rail and wheels. He jumped off the ladder at the end and came over to the counter that stood a few feet before Declan and I, removing a large magnified monocle from his eye. He trotted right up to the counter, reached below and withdrew a long narrow box, which trembled slightly, a lavender smoke emitting from the bottom cracks of the box. 

"This thing has been going positively mad for hours," the man - who I realized had to be Gerrick Ollivander - said, then he looked at Declan and I and concern flittered over his brow. "But where's the child in need of the wand?" he asked.

Declan grinned evilly, placed a hand against my back, and pushed me forward.

I stumbled into the counter.

Ollivander's mouth split into a grin. "Ah yes... I see... Of course." He ran a hand over his chin thoughtfully a moment, then nodded and reached for the box. "Well, this wand somehow knew that today was the day you'd be coming - I haven't any idea how, but it has clearly waited a good deal of time for you." He patted the top of the box. "Here is your wand."

"Wait. Just like that?" I asked, feeling a bit disappointed. "Don't I have to try out, like, a bunch of different ones?"

Ollivander smiled and shook his head, "Usually, yes, that's how the process works, but this wand is a very special one indeed... vine, ten inches, a bit pliable but not too... phoenix feather core... Vines always know their owners, and phoenix feathers are very particular as well. Combined together and this wand... this wand... has been waiting for you since the moment I finished making it. And just today, just a few hours ago, she began to sing."

"Sing?" I asked.

Ollivander nodded. "Sing." He lifted the box up and started to shake the box top off.

I looked over my shoulder at Declan, who was leaning against the wall of the shop, looking out the window, rather than paying attention to me and the wand process, staring off down the street with a funny look on his face. 

I turned back to Ollivander just as the box parted and he lay the box before me.

Inside the bottom tray there was a purple velvet cushion and on the cushion lay the wand. It was two toned, with knots that made up the handle that were reminiscent of the replica of McGonagall's wand, which I'd purchased that summer at the theme park in Orlando. The tip and the handle were of a lighter tone, while the length of the wand was darker. Overall, the wand sort of reminded me of a quill. That lavender smoke emitted from the tip, swirling and letting out a soft fragrant scent that filled me with an instant comforting feeling. Indeed, just as Ollivander had said, a soft melodic sound seemed to thrum the air like a lullaby played far away. I closed my eyes and listened, breathing in the scent, and I felt... centered. Peaceful.

"You can hear it, can't you?" Ollivander whispered.

I nodded.

"And the smell?"