Diagon Alley was positively bustling, an energy tinged the air, it bounced off the cobblestones onto the shop fronts and back to the many witches and wizards on the streets. Maybe it was magic, maybe it was excitement, it was breathtaking all the same. Some of the children were practically dragging their parents around by their robes like an excited dog racing toward their favourite park. Then there were nervous ones tucked closely into their parents' side casting rapid glances around the shops lining the street.

Ivy was somewhere in between, eying the shops with interest when finally she spotted the gold lettering of Ollivanders wand shop, her breath caught in her throat. This was it she would finally have a wand, her very own wand and she’d be able to do magic. A warm ripple of magic went down both her arms, as if the magic in her blood was just as excited.

The girl stopped just outside the shop entrance, her step faltering ever so slightly. The shop itself was old, ancient even, she read on the sign that it had been around since 382 BC, so she supposed it was a miracle it was still even standing now, magic really was the best. The thought of just how many wizards had stepped through this door to get their first wand was dizzying, and she was about to be the latest.

“Come on pumpkin, no need to be nervous.” Her fathers hand wrapped around her shoulder. She looked up at the reflection in the glass, her mother and father stood on either side of her, a hand on each shoulder. A grin split across her face.

“I am not nervous,” and she wasn’t. Her wand would choose her, the one meant for her.

“Welcome,” the wand maker greeted the family with a smile as they entered.

“Ollivander,” her father nodded in his direction. “It’s been a while, but you still look the same.”

“Cherry with a dragonstring core,” The older man recalled her fathers wand as if it was only yesterday and not over twenty years ago.

Dragonstring core, maybe she would like a wand with that core too, just like her father.

“Now dear, what will it be for you,” his gaze settled on her for a moment before he rushed off. He moved back and forth in the small shop quickly, his hand hovering over the towering stacks of wand boxes. The speed he was moving dislodged dust from the shelves, tickling Ivy’s nose. She was so distracted trying not to sneeze that she hadn’t realised he was now standing in front of her and a wand box open.

“Well, come on, give it a try,” the man encouraged her, pushing the box closer. “Oak with dragon heartstring.”

Something fluttered around in her chest as she reached out, her fingers curling around the wood. She had held a wand of course, she had tried to use her fathers multiple times, but this could be her very own wand. She had expected to feel something, but other than the cold wood under her fingertips there was nothing.

“Try giving it a swish,” he nodded.

Ivy held her breath and gave it a hesitant swish, and, nothing. Her eyes dropped to the floor and her shoulder drooped along with them as she placed the wand back. A momentary panic washed over her.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I tried about five until I found mine.” The comforting scent and feel of her mother brought her out of her own head.

Ollivander was back in front of her with another wand now. “Perhaps this one”

Ivy’s fingers were even more hesitant to reach out to this one. When her fingers curled around it, it was different. It was excitement, it was comfort, it was the happy nights hiding under the covers on her bed with sweets she had stolen from the kitchen. The rush in her blood knocked the breath out of her.

Three sets of eyes watched closely as the girl gave the wand a little swish, and out shot a beautiful silver light that danced its way in swirls around the room.

“23,6 cm, chestnut wood and unicorn hair it is then!” Ollivander clapped his hands together.

Unicorn hair.. not dragon heartstring.

Her father could see a flash of disappointment on his daughter's face. “Do you know who also has a unicorn hair core?” He asked, pulling her to his side. “Your mother,” he smiled looking over at his wife.

“Really!” Ivy looked over at her mother with a grin so wide it almost hurt.