date: august 30th 2025
time: 2pm

She could tell even with her eyes closed. It was in the air, in the tingling of her fingers. This place was magic. She breathed the whole thing in, trying to save this in her memory forever. Behind her stood her mother, Esther, clearly out of place, but Geneva felt as though she could stay here forever. She wanted to know everything about this place, everything she could know about this new world, and as soon as she got to Hogwarts she'd dive in. But first, a wand.

An old, frail-looking man came suddenly around a towering shelf. Although he was clearly at least 70, his eyes were bright and alert, and scanned the room quickly before landing on Geneva. "Ah, come in! Yes, yes, I've been expecting you."

Without another word he began pulling boxes down from the shelves, summoning some with his wand, feeling them, putting most back. Finally, he handed Geneva an orange box. When she didn’t immediately take it, he opened it, and said, eagerly, “Go on then, take it.”

Geneva removed the wand from its box. It was long, ribbed, and rigid, and she didn’t like it at all. Was this the wand she’d have to be stuck with for the next seven years? Didn’t the wandmaker let the wizard have some say in picking their wand?

Ollivander was watching her intently, and remarked. “Well then, I’d give it a wave or two.” As soon as Geneva tried this, firey sparks seemed to belch out of the wandtip. His hair slightly singed, Ollivander took the wand and returned it to its box. “Certainly not that one then, it seems.”

They tried what seemed like a dozen more wands, though perhaps it was only four or five. Each wand gave off an uncontrollable burst or magic, or else nothing at all. Finally Geneva found a wand that fit well in her hand, but Mr. Ollivander whisked it away like all the others.

After far too many wands had been waved, the old man pulled a dusty box from the top corner of one of the shelves. Geneva heard him muttering to himself as he retrieved it. “Dogwood and dragon heartstring, 23.6 cm. Perhaps, she does seem the type… hmm”

The moment she felt it in her hand, Geneva knew this was the wand. It was slim and short, just the right size for her. It felt comfortable and somehow curious. She gave it a wave and a trail of gold sparks rained out of the tip.

Mr. Ollivander smiled. “Yes, I thought so. That wand is quite the adventurous one, always seeking discovery. I believe it was quite attracted to you. The wand chooses the wizard, or witch, in this case. Remember that.” With that enigmatic farewell he disappeared behind the shelves once more. Geneva’s mother looked down in amazement at her beaming daughter, who held that sliver of wood like a friend as they walked out the door.