QLFC - Finals 2 (Keeper)
Oliver Wood
Ollivander's Wand Shop
Owl
Ornament
Word Count: 1320 (inc. title)
School Shopping
"Well, what are you waiting for? Give it a wave!"
Oliver cast a dubious glance around the small, darkened room. Not only did boxes upon boxes of discarded wands litter every available surface, but a small crowd of onlookers and waiting first years had gathered. He thought he saw the glint of gold coins changing hands.
He squared his shoulders and did his best to find some confidence, though he could feel the concerned shadows of his parents hovering behind him. Oliver had already shown signs of being a magical child; he had received his letter to attend Hogwarts, but what if he couldn't find a wand? Who had ever heard of a wizard without a wand?
It was a lot of pressure for an eleven-year-old and so Oliver scrunched up his eyes tight and jabbed the wand forward. He expected to hear the sound of glass shattering or the thud of boxes flying from their shelves but instead, a warm feeling rushed up his arm. A gentle breeze ruffled Oliver's hair and a chorus of gasps — as well as a smattering of applause — sounded from the crowd around him. Behind him, Oliver's parents almost collapsed in relief.
Almost reluctantly, Oliver cracked open one eye and then opened both wide. A shower of dazzling blue, red and golden sparks were raining down from the tip of the wand, and in that moment, he knew he had found it.
Carefully, Mr. Ollivander took the wand back from Oliver and placed it on the bed of velvet inside the box. The old man smiled at him, his face creasing like a well-worn shirt.
"Well done, Mr. Wood," he whispered with a wink, "you had to let go of your fear to find your perfect wand."
"Thank you, sir," Oliver replied in an awed whisper. He took the box into his hands and held it reverently as Mr. Ollivander turned to his parents.
"That will be 6 Galleons and a sickle please, Mr. Wood."
A slight murmur of surprise and the gentle clink of coins was the only sound that accompanied this as Oliver's father counted out the galleons into the wandmaker's outstretched hand. He performed a gentle bow and Oliver smiled, turning to leave the shop. He heard a soft woosh and before leaving looked back to see the chaotic mess he had created cleaning itself up. The glass knitted back together smoothly, the boxes packed themselves away and slid back onto their shelves, and even Mr. Ollivander seemed to become less rumpled as he greeted the next excited customer.
The doorbell jingled and mottled glass obscured his view as the door closed on the mysterious little shop. Looking around, Oliver realised he had to hurry to catch up with his parents.
"Well then, Olly, isn't that great?" his mother asked, smiling down at him sunnily as he slipped into place beside her. "Would you like some ice cream to celebrate?"
Oliver lit up, nodding frantically with excitement. He bounced along the cobblestones, clutching his new wand tightly.
With a knowing smile, Oliver's father took the fragile box from him. "There is one more shop to visit before we do any celebrating," he informed them.
Mrs. Wood raised her eyebrows in surprise at her husband, and Oliver frowned in confusion. They had his robes, books, and potion ingredients. They had already gotten his wand. What else could there possibly be to buy now? He badgered and prodded but his father would reveal nothing more than a secretive smile.
It wasn't the first time Oliver had been to Diagon Alley; his parents were both magical and his father held an important position in the Ministry. But it was the first time he had been here to solely shop for him. He'd never really needed anything magical before now, so he tried to take in everything he could.
People bustled past them of every size, shape, colour, and even race. A group of goblins argued with each other in harsh tones and strange languages; witches in all manners of colours gossiped on street corners and around steaming, bubbling mugs of hot liquid. Many children flowed down the street, eyes as wide as dinner plates, but it was the shops that drew the most attention.
Pottage's Cauldron Shop was filled with all manner of big or small cauldrons, some of which were filled with colourful and pungent brews. Flourish and Blotts' shelves were filled with all kinds of weird and wonderful knowledge. Through the window of Madam Malkin's, Oliver could see tapes and markers flying around a young girl drowning in her first set of robes, making notes and taking measurements. A big sweet shop, filled with colourful delights; a dark potioneers shop, stocked with big glass jars of everything and anything you could think of. His mother stopped in front of a homeware stall, a colourful awning sheltered the tiered shelves from the weather. It was filled with fascinating ornaments that moved fluidly in place. Porcelain shepherdesses stroked their little lambs, beautiful couples danced together, and excited little sheepdogs barked enthusiastically at passers-by.
They passed Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop, where magic was the only thing that kept the ten scoops of ice cream from toppling over, and Oliver felt himself growing irritated. He wanted ice cream and to go home, but when he realised what shop they were going to, his irritation dissipated. He gasped. "Really, dad?"
Eeylops' Owl Emporium loomed large and noisy in front of them as Mr. Wood looked over his shoulder at his son and winked. Mrs. Wood tutted and rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile as she ushered them into the shop.
Inside it was dark and cramped with cages of all shapes and sizes, housing beautiful birds of all colours and breeds. Some hooted softly, others cawed loudly. Every sharp, bright eye focused in on the small family as they carefully entered. A musky smell hung in the air as Oliver wove his way towards the counter.
He stopped in front of a majestic eagle owl who regarded him with sharp, amber eyes. Oliver wanted to reach out and smooth his fingers over the rich, golden and brown feathers, but the wicked looking claws and clicking beak made him wary enough to move on. The next cage held a beautiful snowy owl with soft, wise yellow eyes and a gentle cooing sound. It sat almost perfectly still and its eyes followed Oliver wherever he moved.
There were so many options, so many personalities and stories, but it was the third owl that Oliver came across that made him pause. It was a male tawny owl. He was small by most standards, but still big enough to be a useful mail owl. His eyes were a dark, chocolatey brown, and he didn't look at Oliver once. What drew the small boy to the small owl was the fact that he couldn't seem to keep still. He was fluttering and rustling, his wings ruffled and he snapped at things in his feathers with his pointed beak. He hooted and cawed softly, seemingly to himself and he hopped impatiently from foot to foot as if waiting to take off and soar.
When Oliver placed his hand on the cage, the little owl looked up for a second and stopped still. He was obviously surprised to be approached, but his movement was infectious and even though he kept looking at Oliver, his feet started to move once more. Oliver found himself bouncing along.
"This one!" he called to his parents, who wandered over to look at the newest addition to their family.
"Bit of a mover, isn't he," chuckled Mr. Wood, watching the bouncing little owl.
"Just like our Olly," smiled Mrs. Wood, placing a gentle hand on her son's shoulder.
"Yeah," Oliver said as a wide grin spread across his face. "Just like me."
GryffinRawr.