1st September, 2024
Sunday, 10:34AM

Eldritch's Hex Code: #8A0F79

Auntie Priscilla: #a8760b

Wandmaker: #0f086d

The clouds hovering over Diagon Alley were grey, small puddles of water had just started to form as tiny droplets of rain had begun to fall. Eldritch was stalking his surroundings, his grey eyes scanning each and every corner, taking in every detail into account. What the witch in purple was doing, where the wizard in black was going and why was there a toddler crying? Then he caught his own reflection on a glass-stained window supported by green linings of wood. Through it he could see a tiny light flicker and on the front counter was a set of candles melting the white wax away. The fire was dim but it had caught his attention nonetheless, and not just his.

“Ah, Ollivanders!” Exclaimed his favourite aunt (yes, it must be specified). Her hair was dark, with a slash of blonde and her skin pale. A set of freckles ran across her face. She clapped her hands together enthusiastically and crouched just a tiny bit to look into Eldritch’s distracted eyes, turning him around.
“It’s not every day that a wizard like you gets to choose his very first wand! You must go on your own now, this is for you to fully lavish in.” She smiled brightly, fully contrasting Eldritch’s less enthusiastic grim face that refused to move. He was excited, he’d swear it. It’s just he could contain it. Or perhaps refused to show it, one of the two.
“I remember my first time walking into this shop. I was eleven just like you. My first wand didn’t last long, neither did my second, then I lost the third. You could imagine how mad your grandmother was at me when she’d find out each time. Now I’m on my fifth and I feel like it was truly meant to be. Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, best you go in. I’ll go fetch the rest of your books for you.” Eldritch hummed in a very excitable manner and smirked just a tiny bit, but one would hardly notice. His aunt then gently nabbed his cheek and walked off, as Eldritch proceeded to head inside.

The ringing of the bell announcing his entrance made him look up till his neck couldn’t tilt any longer. On each shelf were hundreds of boxes, some flying by rearranging themselves. The ambience inside felt effectively much warmer than the chilly breeze outside, so Eldritch grabbed onto the long sleeves of his striped black-and-white shirt and held onto them like it was the coldest day in Diagon Alley.

Shortly after came a man with white fickle hair on his chin - but that’s more than one would say for the top of his bald head. His glasses were covered in dust and on his way towards the curious little boy, the man wiped them clean with a flick of his wand.
“How may I help you young one? Ah, beg my forgiveness, you look taller than most. But you must be here for your wand, yes?”
Eldritch felt like he didn’t need to answer that seeing as the man in front of him had presumed correctly, so he just nodded his head in agreement. The man raised one of his bushy white brows and scratched his chin, his puffy sleeves peeking out of his musky green coat. He took a couple steps back and immediately took a blue box, shuffling it from in between five other boxes. He opened the lid and out of it unveiled a white wand, paler than snow, paler than the little hair on his chin, paler than Eldritch. The customer couldn’t help but feel suspicious, so El raised an eyebrow back. But regardless, he took the wand out of the man’s hand when it was offered to him and gave it an elegant swish, aiming it at the candles he had observed a while before. A spark emerged from the tip of the wand, yellow almost orange. At first, it was dead silent like a grave, but before any of the two individuals present could utter a word, the ember flames burst like a dragon’s. The man let out a scream as he clumsily took out his wand to dwindle the flames back to normal. Eldritch noticed that whatever little bit of hair the man had on his chin had been ignited away, finally making him laugh.

“Not so funny Mr. Wicked. Not so funny. But that wand’s not for you.” He snatched it away before Eldritch could question how did a stranger know his family’s name, without having announced it beforehand. The wandmaker flicked his own wand and put the pale wand back where it was and in the meantime went to the back of the shop, climbed on the ladder he had gravitated towards him and picked up another box. This one was maroon and it seemed older. The wand itself was brown with cracks and a chunky handle. Eldritch didn’t like how it looked and he hoped it wouldn’t pick him. And it most certainly did not. The second his fingers came in contact with the pommel, the wand blasted out tiny explosions that quickly turned into puffs of black ashy smoke, filling the air in a nauseating puff that made it hard to breathe in. The wandmaker struggled to clear the air as he was too busy coughing and Eldritch couldn’t help but fall victim to his own failure. A failure he was grateful for, so technically a success?

Safe to say that the next four wands that came after failed as well. The third wand caused a loud roar that cracked a couple of windows, the fourth turned the man’s shoes into duck feet, the fifth flew up and got stuck in the roofing while the sixth might as well not have been considered as it stayed dormant. By that point, the wandmaker was exhausted, but Eldritch was growing frustrated, but determined to find the perfect wand for himself. The owner of the shop walked all the way to the very back and the boy had to wait a minute or two for him to come back. He came with an onyx black box with white-silver linings on each corner and from it emerged an ebony black wand, replicating the same linings of the box in silver, spiralling around the wand. Once Eldritch was given hold of it, he observed it closer. On to the tip was less of a dark black than the rest of the wand and at the hilt was a crystal ball.

“It’s desperation, truly. Seeing as none of the other wands seem to fit you, I doubt how much this one will. It’s been sitting back there for years now, I scarcely remember when it was actually made.” Said the man in a weary voice, sighing in despair.

But whatever the man had just said was quick to enter Eldritch’s left ear and leave from the right. He felt a sudden mystical urge that sent a shiver through his body, finally making him feel something fuzzy but in a chilly, eerie way. Like a glow, an ethereal one. A purple light started to emit from the wand and the shop suddenly turned pitch black, there was an echo, a voice- two or three, perhaps even more. They started chanting words that meant nothing to the boy, but he liked how they sounded. It felt like he was in the middle of a ritual. The candle fire was rapidly turning on and off, the lights above him buzzing. A breeze entered the shop despite the door being closed and all windows locked off. All the sudden supernatural activities stopped in a heartbeat and the only thing distinctively separating Eldritch and the wandmaker (besides their age) was the fact that El was glimmering in joy by admiring his new wand, his lips clasped together smirking, whilst the wandmaker was visibly panicking in fear.

“Curious. Strange. Odd.” Whispered the shopkeeper in a quiet, timid voice.
“The core of that wand is made of Thestral Tail Hair. We rarely ever offer those to children, hence the desperation, Mr. Wicked. I did not think it would ever accept anyone, a child moreso. I gave it to you on a whim thinking it’d be a foolish attempt, but I was proven wrong. I won’t dare question the wand choosing you as its master, that’d be even more foolish of me, I’m sure time will reveal your destiny and your wand’s.” Now Eldritch was intrigued. A part of him felt proud and ready to take on the world - he felt special.
“How much?” He asked enthusiastically.