This is my new series of one-shots, called "Ollivander's Memoires" which all show the days when certain characters came into the Ollivander's shop to buy their wands. I hope you enjoy it and please, if you have the time, review. Thank you!
I usually have one disclaimer on each chapter, but I am just going to have this one to cover the entire series of one-shots….
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The credit belongs to the inspiring J.K. Rowling.
Ollivander's Memoires
Tom Marvolo Riddle
The door to Mr. Ollivander's shop creaked as, presumably, a customer walked inside. Mr. Ollivander emerged from the back of the shop expecting to see a family wanting to buy a new wand for a first year Hogwarts student (popular purchases for this time of the year), but was surprised to see a solitary young boy standing just in front of the doorway. At first, he seemed a bit hesitant to approach the counter, but after taking a few minutes to survey the shop, he walked closer. Mr. Ollivander stepped out from the shadows of the shelves to greet him. "Good morning," he smiled. "How may I help you today?"
He examined the boy. He was quite a handsome young man with a pale face and dark hair and eyes. Unlike so many young wizards who walked into the shop, Mr. Ollivander could not identify him by resemblance to his parents. He looked like no one Mr. Ollivander had met before. "I'm here to buy a wand," the boy answered plainly, staring at the stacks of boxes behind Mr. Ollivander.
"Are your parents, or guardians, with you?" asked Mr. Ollivander trying to get a look outside to see if the boy's parents were anywhere the near the shop.
"No. I've haven't got any parents," the boy answered quickly. Mr. Ollivander was quite surprised at the boy's response—no hesitation, no waiting for approval from a guardian. He was in charge.
"I'm an orphan," he finished with some disdain.
"What is your name?" asked Mr. Ollivander.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," the boy answered, with an heir of importance. Mr. Ollivander did not recognize the surname Riddle and the name Tom was common enough. It was the name Marvolo that struck him. The name that immediately came to mind was Marvolo Gaunt—the only Marvolo he'd ever known—but he had no grandchildren and this handsome boy looked nothing like unfortunate Gaunt children.
"Did Professor Dumbledore not offer to accompany you?" he asked somewhat surprised that Dumbledore, or some Hogwarts Professor, had not come with him.
"I didn't need help," Tom answered matter-of-factly. "I'm used to doing things for myself." The way Tom answered the question didn't make Mr. Ollivander feel pity for him, as he would for many others, but rather a bit uneasy. This boy was very independent for his young age, almost too independent.
Mr. Ollivander could have stared at Tom all day, trying to understand him, read him; however, for the sake of not appearing strange, Mr. Ollivander set out to find a wand for Tom. First he grabbed a wand from the top of the shelf, a twelve inch mahogany with a dragon heartstring. He opened the box and carefully picked up the wand handing it over to Tom.
"How about trying this one?" Tom stared at him blankly, accepting the wand. He held it limply in his hand looking to Mr. Ollivander for some sort of instruction.
"Hold it," said Mr. Ollivander pulling out his own wand to demonstrate. Tom held the wand looking as if he expected it to do something. Although he would have to maneuver the wand to make it do anything, Mr. Ollivander could tell this was not the wand for Tom. It did not come to life in his hands.
"I would say this is not the wand for you, Mr. Riddle," Mr. Ollivander reached out his hand to take back the wand.
"Don't call me Riddle…sir," Tom said not with attempt to be personable, but with underlying anger. Mr. Ollivander stared at him curiously and cautiously took the wand from his hand.
After a few moments of searching through the stacks of boxes, Mr. Ollivander appeared again, handing Tom another wand. "Eleven inches. Chestnut. Unicorn tail hair."
"Unicorn tail hair?" Tom asked confused holding the wand as he held the previous one.
"Yes," Mr. Ollivander answered, "And a very fine unicorn at that."
"Unicorn?" Tom asked even more apprehensive.
"Pure, innocent," Mr. Ollivander continued. At his explanation, Tom placed the wand back down on the counter unimpressed.
"You see my boy," he placed the wand back in its box. "Each wand has a certain core, unicorn tail hair, dragon heartstring, phoenix…" Suddenly Mr. Ollivander was struck with an idea. He disappeared back into the shelves in the middle of his explanation leaving Tom more confused than ever.
This young boy seemed to thrive on independence, importance, what would be more important than…There it was. Mr. Ollivander presented Tom with another wand.
"I think this one will do nicely. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Phoenix feather core."
"Phoenix?" asked Tom taking the wand from Mr. Ollivander's hands. With the sudden light that entered Tom's eyes when he held the wand in his hand, Mr. Ollivander knew he wouldn't even have to give more explanation. He, however, continued, "Yes, Phoenixes are quite special birds, with tears of healing powers…and the particular phoenix whose tail feather provides the core for this wand belongs to a very powerful wizard indeed, probably the greatest wizard of the age." Tom's countenance could not have been more different from when he entered the shop. Something blatantly changed in his face as he held this wand. "Who?" he asked hungrily, still staring at the wand clutched tightly in his hands.
"Albus Dumbledore."
"That man who came to the orphanage?"
"Oh, so they did send a Professor, yes Albus Dumbledore."
"He didn't seem very powerful," stated Tom turning the wand in his hands.
"Well, Professor Dumbledore is one of those men whose power is so great that he does not need to flaunt it." Tom them mumbled something, inaudible to Mr. Ollivander though it sounded like, "sounds like a coward to me." Slightly disturbed by what he thought he just heard, Mr. Ollivander ignored the comment and asked Tom if he wanted the wand. Tom said yes and, never letting the wand leave his hands, paid Mr. Ollivander.
Without an exchange of pleasantry or goodbye, Tom left the shop, wand still tightly gripped in his hand. Mr. Ollivander watched him turn out the door and disappear into the bustle on the street. He had never heard of this Tom Riddle before, but, for some reason, he had a strong feeling, it wouldn't be last time.