Juniper stepped into the shop. She was relieved to find herself alone. She stood at the front of a long, dark and narrow room. Towering shelves were neatly packed with small, slender boxes. A single, spindly chair sat waiting for someone halfway to the back. Things were tidy, but dusty. And quiet. It reminded her of a library, but there was something else about it... an air of anticipation. She had the distinct feeling of being watched, but by what? The boxes? Her skin prickled. It was one thing to witness magic from the outside; to get money from a goblin and wander amongst people dressed in robes. It was another thing feel it in the air.

It would have been spooky, if Juniper didn't love that sort of thing.

"Miss Irving?" a soft voice called from the back.

Surprised by the sound of her name, Juniper froze. There was a shuffling sound, then an ancient man peered around the far back corner. He was quite tall, with stooped shoulders and scraggly white hair. Despite his rather unkempt appearance he had an air of dignity and sophistication. It could be due, in part, to the atmosphere of his neat and orderly shop. Or maybe something about his eyes - vibrant to the point of glowing.

Or perhaps it was how he already seemed to know everything.

"Ah, yes," he answered for her, "Miss Irving, right on time. This way, please."

Juniper followed him to the back of the shop, where he pulled a tape measure out from somewhere and gestured with an open hand. Instinctively, Juniper presented her right arm. Skin still tingling, he made several brisk measurements of her wrist, arm, height and head. She looked around her, searching for some kind of small talk, coming up with nothing. The shop itself was distracting. It didn't feel right to break the silence.

The old man peered at her while he worked.
"You may call me Mr. Ollivander." he offered.
"... Hello." she tried. He looked mildly amused.
"First in your family then? To show magic?"
"Mm-hm, yes." she answered.
"You're sure?" he raised an eyebrow. Juniper looked up curiously.
"So far as I know..." she said.
"Well, then..." he dropped the measuring tape to the floor. She thought she heard trace of disappointment in his voice. "I suppose you would know."

Turning to the shelves behind him, he began poking his way along a row of boxes.
"Here..." he slid a box off the shelf and lifted the lid. "Let's start with this." He handed her a long, slender wand with a delicate etching wound along the side. Juniper thought she'd never seen anything so elegant and mysterious. Gingerly, she lifted it from the box and rolled it over in her palm. It was wonderful.

"Go ahead." he urged her.

She supposed she should know what to do next, but she didn't. Should she wave it around? Point it at the ceiling? Was she supposed to say a spell or something? Ollivander eyed her impatiently. Carefully holding the wand, she extended her arm and twitched her wrist.

"Hmm." He took the wand without a word, boxed it up and placed it back on the shelf. Crestfallen, Juniper watched as he selected another.
"This one." he said.
This wand was longer, thinner, with a fine pointed tip and a bit of spring to it. Juniper had hoped for an eloquent engraving like the last wand, but it was smooth and plain.
"29 centimeters, willow," said Mr. Ollivander, "With a core of dragon's heartstring."
Dragon's heartstring. If only she could make this one work. She swung the wand in a deep, theatrical "U", but again, nothing.
"Oh, most definitely not." said Ollivander, and he took back the dragon wand and quickly boxed it away.

Juniper felt she wasn't being given a fair chance. Couldn't he offer some instruction? Couldn't she try that first wand again? Couldn't she look around on her own?
"Do you have... I mean, are there any that are... juniper wood?" she tried.
She immediately regretted it. Mr. Ollivander gave her an exhausted look.
"Juniper is not a suitable wood for wandwork." he corrected her. "Besides, it's best not to assume. It's the wand who chooses the wizard."

Oh, brother. Juniper thought. Juniper is not a suitable girl for witch-work.

"Perhaps..." Ollivander paused. Striking out in a new direction, he found a shelf in the middle of the shop, ran his finger down a row of boxes and stopped. He slid a box out from the bottom of a small stack, removed the lid and carried it back to Juniper.

It was the least impressive one yet. Large, but in a gawky way, unlike the past two which had been so slender and precise. It had a thick, black handle, and deep grooves along its length, creating a series of crude spherical shapes that tapered down to the tip. No engravings, nothing elegant... Juniper thought it looked fitting for a awkward, clumsy boy. Or the leg of a small table.

"Walnut," Ollivander said impressively. "32.5 centimeters. With a core of Snallygaster heartstring." He balanced the box on his index fingers and playfully bowed as he extended it to Juniper, like a page presenting a knight with his sword. She attempted a smile.

Lifting the wand from its box, the tingling in her skin intensified. She remembered a time she'd held the metal handle of an umbrella in the midst of a lightning-storm. Energy. Like it was alive. Like it was aware of her. She imagined she could almost feel it shivering in her hand, making her clench the handle to steady it.
She gave an experimental wave. Magically, dust in the air followed in delicate little ripples from the wand's tip. She waved it again... the dust grew thicker, wisping off shelves and gathering in swirls and currants where Juniper conducted it. This was cool. She she squeezed the handle and felt a sharp little thrill course through her arm. The dust began to faintly sparkle.

"Yes!" Mr. Ollivander murmured, rubbing his hands together. He made no reach for the wand this time. Juniper wouldn't have let go if he had.

Moments later they were at the counter, and Ollivander chatted amicably as he helped her count out the correct amount of galleons.
"... a rather powerful wand, but will expect conviction from you." he was saying. "Snallygaster heartstring can be temperamental, and when paired with walnut wood, requires a firm grip from its owner." He handed her the change and walked Juniper to the door.

"You'll have to stop by again and let me know how it's working for you." he smiled. "Take care, Miss Irving, and remember... conviction."