The first place Marshal directed Ainsley to was a narrow, shabby looking shop at the end of the street. As she approached, glancing back at Marshal who nodded slightly, a woman and three children exited the building. She was fussing at the two boys she had with her, and practically dragging them away from the building. Ainsley watched her for a moment and then continued approaching, eyeing the gold lettering above the door that read:

She quietly approached, opening the door and slipping inside. A bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop and suddenly an old man appeared at the end of the shop, shuffling quickly toward her. She glanced around, suddenly noticing the rows and rows of boxes, all different colors, but not a single one had anything on them. Except for dust, of course.
“Good morning, Miss…?” Ollivander’s wide, silver eyes watched Ainsley expectantly as he held his hand out.
“Thatchere,” she whispered, nervously, taking his hand and shaking it gently. “Ainsley Thatchere,”
“Thatchere,” he repeated, as though attempting to recall something. He smiled down at the girl, drawing a measuring tape from his pocket. “That’s quite a unique name, Miss Ainsley Thatchere.” he stated as he worked, measuring Ainsley from head to toe, from her elbow to her wrist, and even from her shoulder to the tip of her fingers.
When he was finished, he immediately turned to a shelf and carefully pulled out a black velvet box. He extracted what appeared to be simply a stick until he approached Ainsley and she saw it was in fact, something that could be considered a wand. He offered it to Ainsley. She awkwardly took it, simply blinking at him.
“Elm with phoenix feather, eleven inches, quite whippy,” he offered, eyeing her expectantly. When she didn’t move, he arched an eyebrow and added, “Well, give it a wave,” A loud bang, followed by what sounded like something shattering came from somewhere and Ainsley quickly passed the wand back to Ollivander. He shook his head, mumbling to himself as he placed the box on a little table beside Ainsley.

“What happens if there isn’t a wand for me?” Ollivander glanced her way, moving back to a different shelf.
“No two Ollivander wands are the same, Miss Thatchere. You will never get as good results with another witch’s or wizard’s wand.” he explained, drawing another velvet box off a shelf, this one red. As he approached Ainsley he added, “The wand chooses the witch. And you are a witch, I am sure that there is a wand in this shop for you.” He pulled another wand out of this box and held it out to her. “Oak with phoenix feather, 9 inches, nice and supple,”
As soon as Ainsley gripped the wand, Ollivander snatched it back, muttering ”No, no, no.” She followed him with her eyes as he walked down the isle of wands. He turned, walking back toward her and finally stopped at a column of boxes. He pulled a ladder over to him and climbed up it, stopping at the very top. He eyed the boxes and drew out a blue box, climbing back down the ladder and moving toward Ainsley.
“The only one of it’s kind. I never made any other like it. Willow with Veela hair, 10 inches, nice and flexible.” he carefully passed it to her. She waved it around, passing it back to Ollivander silently when some of the boxes of wands on one of the shelves flew in all directions. “Well…” he trailed off, blinking at the mess and then simply stepping over it as he moved toward the back again.

”Why have you never made another wand like that one?” Ainsley asked, curiously.
”Veela hair, like many other cores that other wandmakers use, makes for unpredictable wands. Powerful, but unpredictable.” he explained, searching for another box. ”I don’t find them to be a very good wand for a student,” he added.
The bell sounded in the back of the shop, alerting Ainsley to the door opening behind her. Marshal’s hands came down on her shoulders and he glanced at the three wands still sitting to the side and then eyed the mess the last one had made when she’d tried it.
”No luck yet?” he asked Ainsley, who shook her head.
”There is something in here for her, Mr Taylor. I know it,” Ollivander said as he approached from the back of the store. When he saw Marshal, he stopped, staring for a moment. ”Marshal Taylor. It seems like it was only yesterday that you stepped through that door to buy your first wand. Ash, dragon heartstring, 11.9 inches, hard, correct? ”
”Yes, sir. To this day, it has not failed me.” Marshal said.
“I would hope not,” Ollivander said, drawing a dark wand from the box. “It is an Ollivander.” he held the wand out Ainsley. “Oak with dragon heartstring, 12 inches, springy.”
She took the wand from Ollivander, only for him for take it back almost immediately. Wand after wand, she tried, and even though Marshal continued to stand there, assuring her that there was one for her, she began to lose hope. What if Ollivander was wrong? What if there really wasn't one of her?

With the pile on the table almost as tall as Marshal, Ainsley was sure that someone had simply made a mistake. Without a wand, how could she ever be a witch and go to Hogwarts? Ollivander shuffled toward them once more, holding out another wand. Ainsley sighed, but took it.
“Oak with unicorn hair, 10 and a half inches, quite whippy,” he stated. She twirled it, and when nothing happened, Ollivander frowned slightly and took it back, placing it’s box with the others.
“It’s no use, Marshal.” Ainsley sighed, turning to face him. “Somebody made a mistake or something.” he shook his head slowly, glancing up at Ollivander and then returning his eyes to Ainsley.
“It took me a while to find my wand too, Ainsley.” he said gently. ”You just have to be patient. Just keep trying, okay?”
Ainsley frowned, but nodded and turned back to face Ollivander as he approached once more, this time with another red velvet box. He opened it carefully, extracting another wand. Slowly, he passed it to Ainsley.
“Maple wood and phoenix feather, 10.6 inches, quite brittle.” he said, watching her carefully. She flicked her wrist, suddenly startled when a burst of sparks came from the end. Warmth spread from her fingertips all the way up her arm and Ollivander smiled.
”What exactly did you say about someone having made a mistake?” he said, arching an eyebrow at her.
Marshal quickly paid and they exited the shop, Ainsley waving goodbye to Ollivander. He proudly wrapped his arm around her as they went to collect her books.