Earlier that day, Frederick Finn Buckley, an eleven-year-old wizard, had woken up with a start, far earlier than usual, thrilled about what awaited him after breakfast: a trip to Diagon Alley with his parents to buy his first-year Hogwarts supplies. Normally, Fred would drag his feet in the morning and take forever to get ready, but not this time. His excitement got the best of him, and he was dressed and ready before anyone else had even sat down to eat.

Born into a wizarding family, Fred had visited Diagon Alley several times before with his parents. So, almost as a formality, he took his mother’s hand, stepped into the living room fireplace, and with a swirl of green flames from the Floo Network, they tumbled out into the Leaky Cauldron, followed closely by his father. Even though the setting was familiar, Fred’s bright eyes and quick steps betrayed his bubbling anticipation to get started.

When asked which shop he wanted to visit first, Fred didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go to Mr. Ollivander!” he said firmly, tugging his mother by the hand. Lydia, smiling, subtly redirected his path a few times, her son’s enthusiasm didn’t exactly make for a straight line, until they reached the wandmaker’s narrow storefront.

The doorbell chimed softly as Fred stepped inside, the sound echoing off the countless shelves stacked with dusty wand boxes. He had never been there before. His curious blue eyes scanned every detail, his heart pounding faster, and his pace unconsciously slowed to cautious steps as he ventured deeper into the shop. His parents lingered near the door, and Lydia exchanged a knowing glance with her husband, Gareth, but said nothing, letting Fred have the moment all to himself.

A thin, pale man appeared from behind a tower of boxes, almost as if he’d materialized from the shadows. His light eyes studied Fred intently. “Good afternoon,” he greeted. “How may I help you?” Fred straightened up. “I’m Frederick Buckley. I’m here for my wand.” Ollivander blinked slowly, as if considering the name. “Ah, of course. First wand… let’s see.” He disappeared among the shelves, muttering to himself, and returned moments later with a long, narrow box.

Before handing it over, the wandmaker described its materials, the wood, the core, its flexibility, but Fred only caught bits and pieces. His gaze was locked on the wand itself, his mind racing with one thought: Would this be the one? He took it carefully, feeling a faint vibration in his hand. When he gave it a quick flick, a burst of golden sparks erupted, hitting a nearby stack of boxes that collapsed with a dull thud. Ollivander swiftly snatched the wand back, muttering under his breath, “Far too temperamental for you,” before vanishing once again into the maze of shelves.

On the second try, Fred felt a flicker of doubt. He had imagined finding his wand would be easier. He accepted the new wand carefully, glancing toward his parents, who pretended to be absorbed by something in the shop window. The moment his fingers wrapped around the polished wood, a strange tingling sensation shot up his arm. When he gave it a wave, only a gust of air stirred, strong enough to make him stumble back a step. Ollivander pursed his lips. “Too proud. It’s trying to command you.”

Fred began to wonder if there was a wand here for him at all. Surely, with so many boxes stacked from floor to ceiling, one of them had to be his. That was when Ollivander returned holding a dark, almost unmarked box. “This one…” he said solemnly. “Mayhaw wood, thunderbird tail feather core. 28.8 centimeters. Reasonably springy. A rare combination, very well-balanced. Perfect for wizards with hidden talents.”

Fred reached out with his right hand, exchanging a quick look with the old wandmaker. For a brief second, he considered calling his parents over, but something told him to stand his ground. The moment he touched the wand, a warm sensation spread up his arm and through his spine, pulling his posture slightly forward, as if the wand itself were aligning with him. When he raised it, a gentle breeze swept through the shop, and a few boxes shivered in response, almost like they were acknowledging him.

Fred’s face broke into a wide grin, pure joy and relief flooding through him. The wand no longer felt like an object in his hand, but a part of him. When he looked up, Ollivander was smiling too, eyes gleaming with quiet approval. “Thank you, sir. Really.” Beaming with excitement, Fred rushed back to his parents at the front of the shop, barely containing himself. “Mum! Dad! I got it! It’s perfect!” Gareth gave him a proud clap on the shoulder, and Lydia leaned in to kiss the top of his head, her eyes bright with emotion. Fred’s grin stretched ear to ear, he felt amazing. And as they stepped back into the bustling Diagon Alley, one thought filled his mind: he couldn’t wait for Hogwarts to begin.