When: 12th August, 2025
Where: Diagon Alley, London; Ollivanders

Alaric wasn’t sure what he expected it to feel like, the moment a wizard became a wizard, but it was quieter than he’d imagined. They'd arrived at Diagon Alley early in the morning, golden light casting long shadows among the buildings and shop windows opening for the day. Alaric's grandfather, Septimus Vallisborne, led the way down the cobbled streets and past curious storefronts. Alaric wanted to stop and look at each one for a moment, taking it all in, but his grandfather had been adamant that they wanted to get there "before the rabble" to make sure Alaric got a good wand. Before they'd left his grandmother, Drusilla, had laughed and kissed Alaric on the cheek and Septimus just under his bushy mustache and told Alaric that the wand chooses the wizard, and whatever he got would be a good one. She promised to have his favorites ready for tea when they got back, and then sent them on their way.
It wasn't as if he was a stranger to Wizarding London, really. Alaric had side-along apparated with his mother and grandparents often to various shops, the Ministry, Gringotts, and, even other Wizarding places in other countries on holidays through the years. He supposed that it felt like seeing it anew because this was the day he would come into his own as a wizard. He was going to be given the key to making his own, purposeful magic, and that was going to be one of the most impactful moments of his life. He could see things from his grandfather's perspective, he supposed, even though he wanted to take the time to look at all the shops opening for the day, each one empty save for staff, new to him in a way he'd never seen before. Septimus held Alaric's hand firmly in his left hand, though, tugging him along at a pace that had the old man puffing and wheezing as he tapped along with his bronze-tipped cane in his right hand.
Entering Ollivanders was like stepping through a portal. The fresh, golden light of morning was gone in an instant as the door creaked closed behind them, the bell above jingling to announce their presence. Dust motes floated through the air in filtered light and Alaric could see endless wand boxes stacked to the ceiling. There was a faint hum to the air that couldn't really be heard so much as felt, that Alaric supposed must be magic. After several moments a tall, spectral man stepped around a corner and smiled at them in a manner that Alaric found slightly unsettling. He greeted Alaric's grandfather by name and shook his hand before turning to Alaric and doing the same to him, leaving the boy unsettled.
"Ah ha," the man mused, keeping hold of Alaric's hand. "We have a right wand hand." As he spoke a measuring tape unfurled itself and floated through the air to begin measuring Alaric as a quill floated by with a bit of parchment, scratching notes down on each measurement. Alaric grew increasingly anxious as the tall man muttered to himself, stepping in slow circles around Alaric as he glanced occasionally at the parchment flying around them both. Septimus looked calm as ever, though, when Alaric glanced nervously over at his grandfather, so he took his cue from the older man and stood still, well, as still as he could, until Mr. Ollivander took a step back and nodded.
"Yes...let's see..." he trailed off before heading into the back of the store. He came back with two boxes and then stepped up on a stool to grab another wand, thought better of it and put it back, and then took two other boxes off the shelf. He stepped back to the ground and then set three of the boxes in a precarious pile on the stool, taking the lid off the fourth and handing it over. He waited with expectation, and Alaric swallowed and glanced at his grandfather before nodding. He'd heard about wand choosings his whole life, this wasn't a mystery to him the way it could be to muggleborns.
The first wand was an unmitigated failure. Three drawers exploded when he waved the thing in a little arc, and then a shelf collapsed. Mr. Ollivander nodded as if that were to be expected before offering the second box. Alaric took the wand from this one and waved it but nothing happened at all, no spark, no movement, nothing. Alaric looked at Septimus dejectedly, but the old man just smiled, mostly visible through his eyes as his mustache covered much of his mouth, and that reassured him a bit. Still, Alaric couldn't help but feel embarrassed, as if he were failing. The third wand was like the first, too reactive. The lights in the room all flickered and a bowler hat hanging on the coat rack by the door burst into flames. Mr. Ollivander waved his wand and put out the flames in an instant, seemingly unbothered by any of this.
All that remained was the final wand that Mr. Ollivander had chosen, and Alaric hoped and whispered fervent wishes in his mind that this one would work, that he wouldn't be told he had no magic that would work with a wand, that he was a squib, a disgrace to his Pure-blood family...and that was the fourth wand in front of him.
"31,4 cm walnut wood and unicorn hair," Mr. Ollivander muttered as Alaric picked it up, feeling a tingle in his fingers almost immediately. "Swishy, very powerful but hard to use." Alaric gave it a swish and it was like a breath of warm wind in the room swirled through, smelling of cinnamon and sugar as buttery yellow sparks flew out of the end of the wand. "Yes," said Mr. Ollivander with a nod. "A sensitive wand for a sensitive mind. Very selective of the wizard it chooses." Alaric stared silently in quiet wonder and then gave a tentative wand as he switched his grip to hold the wand properly. He barely noticed as his grandfather paid for the wand and a wand case and wax, only looking up with a start as his hand rested on Alaric's back and began guiding him out of the shop.
As they stepped outside, Septimus paused, glancing down at Alaric with a warm look full of meaning. "Don't forget." He cleared his throat. "The wand chooses the wizard, yes. But you choose what kind of wizard you’ll be. Remember that.” Alaric nodded, wand in hand, feeling the first true weight of being a wizard.

Word Count: 1101