17th August 2023

Wow. Jess sighed in awe as she stood in front of the window. How many times had she passed it by on weekend trips to Diagon Alley? Jess wasn't one to feel jealousy, but whenever a young student had left the old-fashioned-looking shop with their brand new wand, she couldn't help but wish it were her. And now, it would be.

Jess turned to look up to her dad, who smiled back at her weakly. Her dad had been in an odd mood all day, and there was no need to explain why - she could feel it too: the absence of her mum.

Jess closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath, daring the gloom to emerge. She would be fine. Her mum would always be there, watching her from above. Jess glanced up quickly into the blinding sunny sky, before pushing open the door to the shop.

Jingle. The door rang as she entered, and her dad stayed outside - every good parent knew this was a monumental experience to be undertaken alone. Immediately, Jess was overcome by the strong smell of wood. Jess found herself glued to where she stood, and she was struck by the strange beauty of the room. Though it showed signs of age, there was refined craftsmanship at work - everywhere she looked, the walls were lined with stacks upon stacks of wand boxes. She could only hope that one of them would suit her - too many times her dad had repeated the phrase, "the wand chooses the wizard", in an attempt to ease her nerves, but it never really helped. I mean, what if none of the wands choose me?

The thought was too much for Jess. After an exhausting day of buying supplies, after coping with the fact that her mother would never see her get her wand, or go to Hogwarts, or anything, Jess burst into tears.

Right at that moment, a hunched old man came tottering out of the backroom. Jess rushed to wipe her face, but the man spoke before she had the chance:
"It's a pity your mother can't be here with you today"
Jess almost laughed in shock. How did this man know about her mum? Jess responded, sniffling:
"How did you know about my mum?"
The old man looked up and searched Jess' eyes. There was a sense of sorrow in them that Jess had never seen before.
"Miss McLeod, isn't it? Your mother, Abigail, had a bright soul. Tell me, are your tears a reflection of the same?"

Jess had never really considered before the meaning of her tears. Most of the time, she felt weak for crying - after all, it wasn't fair to burden others with her past. But was this man right? Could her sadness really be a good thing?

While Jess was deep in thought, the old man sprung to life, racing from shelf to shelf and grabbing all sizes of wand boxes. He returned to the counter within seconds and began to remove the wands from their containers. It suddenly occurred to Jess that she didn't know the man's name. Her father had told her about an old Mr Ollivander, but that would have been decades ago. She wondered who this successor could be.
"Excuse me for asking, sir, but what's your name?"
The man glanced up from his frenzied unboxing and chuckled.
"It seems your intellect is where the resemblance stops. Did you read the sign outside?"
Jess frowned, and responded defensively,
"Mr Ollivander would have to be at least—"
"116, thank you for counting. My birthday was two months ago."

It was not the first time in this short interaction that Jess was taken aback. How is that even possible? Mr Ollivander made his way around the counter and hobbled towards her, wand in hand. Jess didn't know whether to feel offended by his criticism of her intelligence, or blown away by the mere fact that he was able to walk.

Just before he could pass the wand to her, Mr Ollivander seemed to have a sudden change of mind. He gasped, and mumbled to himself as he replaced all the boxes except for one. Then, he turned to face Jess. Mr Ollivander exclaimed:
"I don't know why I didn't see it immediately! The sensibility, the feistiness... If this isn't the right one, I shall drop dead this very instant!"
Alarmed by the idea of an old man dying in front of her, Jess took the wand from Mr Ollivander's grasp with caution...

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. Jess felt as if a new part of her mind had been opened for the first time. She was hyper-aware of her surroundings, and as she shifted her grip on the wand, no, her wand, she understood exactly how their existences intertwined.

After a few moments, Mr Ollivander smiled.
"27.6cm walnut wood and snallygaster heartstring. The extraction of that heartstring nearly cost me my life. Snallygasters are not to be messed with, and neither are you."
Jess paused to examine her new wand, and beamed. Despite all her misgivings and all her fears, this wand had chosen her. Immediately!

Jess followed Mr Ollivander to the counter, clutching the wand tightly. Once there, hand outstretched, he stated,
"That'll be two galleons, Miss McLeod"
Jess scrambled in her pockets for the necessary payment. After a few awkward moments, she was forced to put her satchel on the ground to search more thoroughly. While she looked, Mr Ollivander spoke in a docile voice, almost to himself:
"Her mother's wand had the same core, of course. And walnut wood, well, the credit is her father's. It seems she is the perfect combination of her parents."
Jess felt the tears brim again, and this time, she let herself cry. As she reached over the counter with the newly-retrieved galleons, Jess spluttered,
"Thank you, Mr Ollivander"

Again, the old man smiled, and Jess rushed out of the store, wand in hand. As the door jingled for the last time, she nearly pushed her dad over with the force of her hug. Her dad returned the embrace, and they stood there in silence, taking in the bittersweet truth of the moment. He kissed her on the head, Jess brushed the hair out of her face, and they walked back down Diagon Alley as the sun began to set.