The door to Ollivanders was unlike any other in Diagon Alley. It was old, worn, and seemed to absorb the noise from the bustling street, creating a pocket of profound silence. A single, peeling gold letter spelled the name, and the window display held a single, dusty wand on a faded cushion. It felt less like a shop and more like a sanctuary.
A small bell chimed softly as they entered. The interior was a canyon of narrow shelves, reaching up into a darkness that seemed to go on forever. Thousands of long, narrow boxes were stacked precariously, and the air was thick with the smell of dust, old wood, and a strange, buzzing energy that made the fine hairs on Shya's arms stand up.
For the first time since entering the alley, both girls were completely silent, their usual confident chatter stilled by the palpable weight of magic that hung in the air.
A man appeared from the shadows so quietly they all jumped. He was old, with wide, pale eyes that seemed to see everything at once.
"Good afternoon," he said softly, his gaze sweeping over them all, lingering on no one in particular. It was the greeting of a craftsman to new, unknown customers.
Professor Flitwick stepped forward. "Mr. Ollivander! Two new students for their first wands. Miss Shya Gill and Miss Talora Livanthos."
Ollivander's pale eyes finally focused on the girls, bright with professional interest. "Ah, new blood. I always enjoy this. The first wand. The most important." He produced a tape measure that began taking measurements on its own. "Well, let us see who chooses you. Miss Livanthos. Which is your wand arm?"
Talora, unusually shy, simply held out her right hand. Mr. Ollivander produced a tape measure that began taking measurements on its own, whizzing around her. He then began pulling boxes down, his movements swift and sure.
The first wand, maple and unicorn hair, produced only a weak sputter of sparks. The second, willow and dragon heartstring, made the jars on a high shelf rattle violently. With each failure, Ollivander grew more excited.
"A tricky customer! Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match, the perfect partner!"
He vanished into the stacks and returned with a long, pale box made of cherry wood. "Here. A fascinating combination. Cherry wood and phoenix feather. Thirteen and a half inches. Surprisingly swishy. Give it a wave."
Talora took the wand. The moment her fingers closed around the handle, a wave of pure, golden warmth flooded up her arm, settling in her chest with a sense of rightness that was so intense it was almost dizzying. She didn't need to wave it. A shower of brilliant, sun-gold sparks erupted from the tip, dancing in the air like fireflies made of light, filling the dusty shop with a sudden, joyful warmth.
Ollivander clapped his hands softly, his pale eyes wide with delight. "Oh, bravo! A perfect match! Oh, very good indeed!"
He beamed at Talora, who was staring at the wand in her hand as if it were a living thing.
"Cherry wood," he began, his voice hushed with reverence. "It is a wood that often produces a wand of truly lethal power, but that power is uniquely tempered by the core and the wielder's soul. It is a wood that creates a wand of great passion and spirit, drawn to those with a vibrant, magnetic energy. It will not perform well for the timid or the dull."
He took a step closer, his gaze intense. "And the phoenix feather... the rarest core. It is the most independent, the most capricious. It can take the longest to be chosen, for it is the most selective. It acts of its own accord, and it is notorious for its capacity for great, spontaneous magic. A phoenix feather core is a mark of a witch or wizard destined for a remarkable life, one of great deeds and, often, great trials."
He looked from the wand to Talora's face, a knowing look in his moon-like eyes. "Together... cherry and phoenix feather... this is a wand for a natural leader. It creates magic that is both powerful and beautiful, much like the witch who wields it. It is a wand for someone whose inner light is so bright, others are drawn to its warmth. It will not merely perform magic for you, Miss Livanthos; it will partner with you in creating wonders."
Talora beamed, holding the wand as if it were a part of her own body, the description resonating deep within her. It wasn't just a tool; it was a declaration of who she was meant to be.
Then, Ollivander turned his moon-like gaze to Shya. The atmosphere in the shop shifted, growing quieter, more solemn.
"And now… for you, Miss Gill."
The process was the same, but the results were different. The first wand, ebony and unicorn hair, made the shadows in the corner of the shop writhe and deepen. The second, a blackthorn wand, caused all the candles to flicker and nearly die, plunging them into a deep twilight for a heart-stopping second.
"Complex," Ollivander murmured, not disappointed, but fascinated. "You do not fear the dark. You understand it. You see the beauty in the end of things." He disappeared for a long time, returning with a box made of a wood as pale as bone. "Ash wood. Thestral hair core. Thirteen and a third inches. Unyielding."
Thestral hair. A creature associated with death, visible only to those who understood loss. Shya felt a jolt of solemn recognition.
"This wand is for a witch who sees the truth that others look away from," Ollivander said, his voice hushed with reverence. "It is drawn to power that walks hand-in-hand with the misunderstood. It is not a dark wand, but a true one. It will not lie to you."
Shya's fingers closed around the handle. A wave of cool, dark power, smooth and deep as a midnight river, flowed up her arm. It didn't feel warm; it felt profound. It settled deep within her chest, not with a hum, but with a resonant, unshakeable stillness. The air around her grew hushed. She didn't produce sparks. Instead, the dust motes in the air around her seemed to freeze in place, hanging in perfect, silent suspension for a single, breathtaking moment before drifting on.
Ollivander stared. "Remarkable," he breathed. "A perfect match."
As they stepped out of the shop, the girls were thrumming with the completion of their new selves.The world seemed sharper, more vibrant. It was in this state of heightened awareness that they saw the two boys for the first time.
They were standing just outside Flourish and Blotts, their own shopping seemingly complete. The one with the ash-brown hair had a calm, observant demeanor. The other, with intense grey eyes and unruly black hair, held himself with an unnerving stillness. His gaze, sharp and analytical, was drawn to the long, distinctive Ollivander's boxes in their hands.
His stare was so direct and assessing that Shya met it without thinking, her chin lifting in a silent question. What are you looking at?
Talora, noticing the exchange, looked from the intense boy to his calmer companion, her expression one of open curiosity.
It was the black-haired boy who broke the silence, his voice quiet but clear, aimed squarely at Shya. "Ash?" he asked.
Shya, startled that he could possibly guess, nodded. "And Thestral hair."
A flicker of something—understanding, recognition—crossed his stoic features. "A powerful combination. Rare."
"And yours?" she asked, the challenge clear in her tone.
"Ebony. Dragon heartstring." He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to. The unspoken understanding hung in the air between them: they both held wands of serious, formidable power.
The other boy finally spoke, his voice more measured, directed at Talora with a small, polite smile. "You'll have to excuse my cousin. Social graces aren't his forte. I'm Roman Nott. This is Cassian Black."
"I'm Talora Livanthos. This is Shya Gill."
Cassian gave a slow, deliberate nod, his gaze still locked on Shya. Roman's smile widened just a fraction at Talora.
Before any more could be said, a severe-looking witch swept up to the boys. "Come along, we're late," she said, her eyes scanning Shya and Talora and their mothers with cold dismissal. Cassian and Roman turned to follow her without another word.
As the Black and Nott party disappeared into the crowd, Talora looped her arm through Shya's.
"Cassian Black and Roman Nott," she mused. "Very interesting."
"Interesting," Shya agreed, watching the space where they had vanished, her new wand a comforting, potent weight in her pocket. Secure knowing that Talora will be by her side always, and vice versa.