The small bell above the door jingled softly as Alaric pushed open the door to Ollivanders. The bustling atmosphere of Diagon Alley instantly vanished, replaced by a silence that felt almost… sacred. Alaric entered the shop alone after reassuring his parents that he could manage on his own.

The shop was far longer than it appeared from the outside. Wooden shelves soared almost to the ceiling, filled with thousands of wand boxes neatly stacked from floor to ceiling. Fine dust floated in the air, while the scent of old wood and parchment filled the room.
Alaric stood motionless for a few moments. He could see no one. His eyes scanned every corner of the shop. So many wands. It was hard to believe that every box in the room contained a different wand. Then, overcome by curiosity, he stepped closer to the stacks of wands. He tilted his head back to look at the very top of the pile. Without realizing it, his hand began to reach out to touch one of the boxes.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you."
A calm voice from behind the shelves made Alaric reflexively pull his hand back. A tall, thin old man emerged from the aisle between the shelves, with tousled white hair and silvery eyes that seemed capable of seeing right through a person.
“Welcome.”
Mr Ollivander’s gaze fell directly on Alaric. “Your first wand, I suppose… Hogwarts?”

Alaric merely gave a slight nod. Then, without warning, a measuring tape sprang out from the shelf and began measuring his shoulders, arms, fingers, height, and even the distance between his ears. Alaric stared at the tape measure in confusion. His hand twitched, tempted to touch it.

“Don’t touch it,” said Mr Ollivander casually as he walked along the shelves. A moment later, he returned carrying a long box. “24 cm. Maple and dragon heartstring.” He handed the wand to Alaric. “Go on. Give it a swing.”

Alaric blinked. “Just… swing it?”
Mr Ollivander gave a slight nod. It sounded easy enough. He casually swung the wand through the air.

BOOM!

A small explosion filled the room. Several boxes of wands on the back shelf were sent flying before crashing to the floor. Alaric flinched, his eyes widening. He turned toward the chaotic shelf, then stared at the wand in his hand. “...sorry...?”

Mr Ollivander did not seem the least bit surprised. He took the wand back. “Not this one.” He returned the box to the pile on the shelf and brought over another wand. “Try this one. 27 cm. Hazel, unicorn hair.”

Alaric took it far more carefully than before, still mindful of the explosion that had just occurred. This time he merely gave the wand the slightest of swings. It barely moved.

...

Nothing happened. He frowned, tried again, but still nothing happened. Alaric began to eye the wand suspiciously. Just as he was about to swing it with all his might, Mr Ollivander’s two fingers calmly held the tip of the wand in place before it could move. “I don't think swinging it any harder will help.”

Alaric fell silent. "Oh....” Slowly, he lowered his hand. Mr Ollivander took the wand back. “Not this one either.” He disappeared once more among the tall shelves, leaving Alaric standing there, hoping the next wand wouldn’t blow the shop to smithereens.

“…28.5 cm. Cherry wood. Phoenix feather...” Mr Ollivander returned with a new wand, holding it out to Alaric. “Go ahead.”

Alaric accepted it without much hope. After two failed attempts, he was almost certain the next wand would meet the same fate. He took a slow breath. Strangely, the wand felt warm in his grasp. Unlike the previous two wands, Alaric felt more at ease with this one, it felt as though it fit his hand perfectly. It was as if the wand had been made just for him. Feeling a surge of confidence, Alaric swung the wand with a gentle motion. The tip of the wand emitted a soft golden glow, not an explosion.
Just a warm beam of light swirled briefly in the air before slowly fading away. Alaric stared at the wand for a few seconds.

Before him, a faint smile began to appear on Mr Ollivander’s face. “Yes… I think we’ve found it.” He gave a slight nod, looking far more satisfied than after the previous two attempts. “Cherry chooses those with a great sense of curiosity, and phoenix feathers…” His eyes returned to Alaric. “…always choose in their own way.”

Alaric looked once more at the wand in his hand. For some reason… he felt as though the wand had indeed been waiting for him for a long time. Mr Ollivander smiled faintly. "It is not the wizard who chooses the wand. It is the wand that chooses the wizard."