Shy little Eloise Moreau found herself the proud owner of Ollivanders after his death in the war. Now she's left to cope with the loss of her mentor while attempting to run a business.
When Charlie Weasley drops by one day in hopes of buying a new w...
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Eloise had spent the rest of her weekend unpacking her things and moving them into the home that once belonged to her friend. She didn't have many possessions, so it didn't take too long, but she acquired much more clothing than she deemed necessary as she unpacked, making a mental note to donate some of it at some point. But as the days passed, she couldn't help but think of a certain redhead that popped by Ollivanders the previous week.
She certainly knew of Charlie Weasley. The Gryffindor quidditch legend had been four years above her at school, and while she had remained under the radar during her time at Hogwarts, he certainly had not. The boy was immensely charming, so much so that even the Slytherins had a hard time finding fault (other than his so-called "blood traitor" ways). So skilled at Care of Magical creatures that he had dropped out in his seventh year to work as a magizoologist studying dragons. Charlie was a boy that all the girls swooned over, but Eloise had no interaction with him at Hogwarts, only distant observation and watching him at quidditch matches.
Eloise was dreading Monday, a day that had previously been one that she was excited for, because she knew facing Charlie again was embarrassment waiting to happen. She cringed thinking of the way she had behaved in front of him, and knowing that a similar confrontation was in her near future, she was not thrilled.
She arose extra early that morning, showering and donning her favorite outfit of jeans and her old Ravenclaw sweater. She made a cup of tea with two sugars and made her way down to the shop, checking her watch and noting that she had an hour yet before opening. She passed the time by making sure that everything was in order: checking the shelves to see that the wands were organized properly, making sure that the clunky old cash register was working properly, and dusting the windowsill.
At precisely nine, she switched the sign on the door from "closed" to "open," and waited somewhat impatiently for the start of what she was sure would be a long, anxiety-inducing day.
Eloise was correct, because by ten the shop was swamped. It seems that many had been waiting for the day that Ollivanders would reopen, due to loss and breakage of wands during the war. By noon, the line was out the door. At around one, a quick glance around the shop told her that her previously organized store was a disaster zone. By three, she had been yelled at by two angry customers and felt like hiding in her bed and never opening the shop again. And at four thirty, when a gorgeous redheaded man showed up, she was nearly in tears.
Luckily, the line had died down a bit and there were only three more customers to assist at the moment, including Charlie. She sighed as one man insisted that he wanted a wand of aspen, as his last wand had been aspen, but clearly the apple and dragon heartstring was intended for him. "The wand chooses the wizard," she explained softly, feeling her heart pinch at the familiar words. A few more minutes and the man was convinced.
Noting that Charlie was the only remaining patron, she whispered an excuse and a "be right back," to which the wizard nodded kindly.
Ducking behind a curtain that separated the storefront from a few more rows of shelves, Eloise sat down on the floor of the shop, hugging her knees to her chest and rapidly taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself as, "The wand chooses the wizard," echoed through her mind in the gravelly voice of her mentor. She shuddered once more, quickly wiping away the few tears that had escaped as she pushed herself back up off the floor and steeling herself to go face the Weasley.
"Hello again," Charlie chirped, smiling at her and flashing his bright white teeth. He wandered over to the counter opposite her as she comes out from behind the curtain.
"Hi," she replied, ducking her head slightly and wishing she had left her hair down so that she could hide behind it, instead of it being in the tight ponytail it was in.
"Busy day, huh?" he inquired politely, taking in the cluttered shop. Eloise winced, letting her gaze take it in also. Wand boxes were stacked on every surface, broken glass scattered on the floor, her file cabinet was emptied and papers everywhere.
"Oh you know," she said, thinking to herself about how much better Ollivander would have handed today, and this situation. She had never seen the shop in such a disarray. "When did you purchase your last wand?" she asked him, changing the subject.
He drummed his fingers on the counter as he became lost in thought. "What was it? It must have been '90?" She nodded, waving her wand and silently summoning the records of that year. Eloise flipped through them quickly, turning it to the back and skimming the pages for his name.
"Ash, dragon heartstring, 13 and a half inches, pliant," she recited aloud. He made a sound of affirmation and she spun around in search of a good replacement.
"So how'd you end up making wands, Eloise Moreau?" Charlie called back to her, putting emphasis on her full name. When she glanced up at him, he wasn't looking at her, finally, but looking around at the tall shelves.
She hesitated before answering, "I'm not really sure why I was interested, but I've always been fascinated by wandlore." She reached up and pulled out a box, adding it to the small pile she had collected.
He brought his attention back to her as she reemerged from the back of the shop, making her wince slightly. It seemed as if when he looked at her, he was seeing all of her, almost looking into her soul. "It's not really something they talk about at Hogwarts, is it?"
"No, but there was a surprising amount of books about it in the library," she explained. She hands him the first wand, saying, "Chestnut, unicorn hair, 11 and three quarter inches, fairly flexible."
He gave it a short wave, and a soft breeze whipped through the shop, sending the scattered papers fluttering around them. "That was easy," he laughed. "You're pretty good at this." However, she was surprised herself at the quick result. Today she had to give customers eight wands on average before they found a decent match.
"I guess so," she murmured, blushing slightly at the casual compliment and reclaiming the wand from him to package up. "Seven galleons."
"I can't thank you enough, truly. I've been borrowing my brothers wand, and it certainly is not cooperating for me. I tried summoning a spoon for my porridge the other day and narrowly avoided a flying kitchen knife!" he said, handing over the money.
"Hornbeam or acacia?" she asked without thinking, glimpsing up at him and noting that his ever-present grin widens as she does so.
"Acacia," he chuckles, blue-green eyes twinkling, "Very impressive, Miss Moreau. Well, I best be off. It was great to chat with you again, I'll see you around, yeah?"
"Bye," she practically whispers, as he offers her a friendly wave and exits her shop. She sagged in relief, leaning on the counter and allowing her breathing to return to normal.
That man really was too charming for his own good.
