This is nothing more than an infodump snippet designed to poke fun at what is considered 'canon' these days on this site. I am sure that other people have done something similar, but I just felt like getting this out there. This is a one-shot, but if I get feedback (and/or ideas) I may continue. Heh – I don't actually expect anyone to finish reading this to the end.

Now, the premise of this is 'What if Hagrid left the wand shop for a while, got late, and Harry had time to show off some of his spectacular ignorance before dear Mr. Ollivander?" WARNING – Some liberties taken with canon. Roll with it.

Harry Potter was still stunned by the aftermath of receiving his wand. Perhaps, because no one had bothered to snap him out of it; Hagrid was AWOL at the moment (a phrase Dudley had used very often for a time during his war-game phase), and Ollivander had proceeded to completely ignore Harry following the mysterious bit of nonsense that he had deigned to grant Harry. Nonsense being subjective of course; it really was an interesting fact, but Harry, in all his childish stubbornness, discovered that all that the new information did for him at the moment was raise his blood pressure.

No pressure Potter-just because you have similar wands doesn't mean you're similar people, right? Right?

"I wish I had a better wand," Harry mumbled wistfully under his breath – only to jump in shock as Ollivander suddenly appeared before him as if by magic.

"What." He hissed, looking straight into Harry's eyes. He gulped nervously.

"I-I said I wished I had a better wand!" He shouted – nerves making him raise his voice in shock.

"Nonsense," He snorted, "That is your wand. There can be no better for you beyond in myths and legends."

Harry scrunched his brows. "But-but you pulled it off a shelf! Uncle Vernon says that the 'generic stuff is for trash and beggars'! Can't I have one customized for myself?" Especially since, you know, I wouldn't share moresimilarities with my parent's murderer.

"Customized…?!" He looked askance at the boy, "What nonsense is that?! Claptrap I say – ruddy nonsense! Why I-!"

Ollivander appeared to be working himself up to a truly massive fit of pique – his eyes were ballooning, and his papery skin had flushed itself red, and appeared to be working its way down the rainbow.

"-utter worthless *&%^ trash born from a &%*&%^*& in a &*%^*&^! Ruddy purebloods always-"

"Ah!" Harry said in surprise, "That's what he called himself-he said he was a pureblood!"

Ollivander narrowed his already dangerously thin eyes. "Yeesss,… no surprises there. Well Mr. Potter allow me to correct your…error…There is no such thing as a…customized…wand. They do. Not. Exist."

"But why?" Harry burst out, "That would be so much better!"

Ollivander ground his teeth, as it appeared that Harry had hit a sore spot. "Because your wand is already customized. The wand always, always chooses the wizard – there can be no better wand for you than the one you hold now."

"But, but-!"

"But nothing! I assure you, that all that worthless talk about customizing is naught but pureblood drivel. All it does is intimidate new children to the Wizarding World (Such as yourself dear boy, may your parents rest in peace) into buying Pureblood superiority."

Ollivander's chest at this point was inflating like a bellows, and his forehead was beading with sweat. It appeared that Mr. Ollivander was not quite used to speaking much at all. Wands, obviously, were a point of great passion for the man, and any misapprehensions regarding them set the man off like a firework.

"Oh…" Harry visibly wilted at Ollivander's passion. "But…but what about my magical core? Malfoy mentioned that only purebloods got customi-personal wands because it made their cores stronger – that custo-personalization was why purebloods were better at magic, and-." Harry cut himself off, not because he had forgotten what to say, but because Ollivander was broadcasting enough malicious intent to drown a fish.

"Magical. Cores." He said flatly, staring at Harry through shining silver eyes that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Magical. Cores."

Harry began edging away from the obviously unstable man. He wasn't fast enough. With surprising agility for someone of his seeming age, he grasped the boys shoulder, and pulled him until they were face to face. "Allow me to clarify-There is No Such Thing as a Magical Core."

Harry's pale and sweating face made his apprehension obvious-but he had to sate his curiosity. The man clearly enjoyed talking about magic-maybe it would get his mind off things.

He took a gamble. "Then, then where does magic come from?"

It paid off. Ollivander turned, took a step back, and promptly pulled a bloody chair from nowhere and sat down on it.

Harry's eyes were wide. Magic, was truly something special.

"Mr. Potter, you see, magic comes from all around us. It is the air we breathe, the food we eat, the water we drink. It comes from without, not within. When someone casts a spell, they draw the magic from around them into their wands, and release it in a predetermined 'shape', so to speak. This is a spell."

Harry's head was already feeling light, but he was slowly following the conversation.

"So, how do you make a spell stronger then?"

Ollivander crinkled his one-again serene face. "You don't. There is no such thing as more power. Magic does not work like that. There are only two points where a wizard has any kind of say in how the spell forms. First, is when the magic is being gathered. The more talented the wizard, the faster the magic gathers. Adding 'more power' simply overloads the spell collection, and it fizzles out. The second point is when the spell is being shaped. This happens mostly unconsciously. Rather than actually shaping it ourselves, we associate the 'shape' with a word, or image. The better we are at this, the faster the spell forms, and the less likely it is to fail.

There is no making a spell 'more effective' or stronger. All spells are equal in power and effectiveness. That is why wizards don't simply settle duels by repeatedly firing the same spell at each other – they would simply cancel each other out."

Harry could barely follow – Ollivander had gradually expanded his vocabulary to the point that Harry could barely even comprehend what the man was saying. However, he needed to keep the man going until Hagrid arrived, and he could escape. "But – in the movies- shouting makes the spell more effective doesn't it?"

Ollivander snorted, a rough noise that Harry could barely associate with the mysterious man. "No. All it does is make the caster more confident, and thus reinforce their casting. That is why most people believe that shouting a spell like a lunatic makes the spell more effective. Utter nonsense. It doesn't matter how strong a man holding a pistol is – the bullets are still no more powerful than anyone else's."

Harry's ears perked up at a word he recognized. "I'm actually more surprised that you know what a pistol is sir."

"Irrelevant. Anyway, the point is that all this magical core rubbish is pure malarkey. If it was true, every time someone cast too much magic, they would be running a fever and not be so much on the verge of death, as walking in and setting their hats on the coat hook. No, we cast magic with will, that is why our minds are only fatigued, and it is our wands that feel the pressure.

I could go on and on about how this relates to development, and the existence of squibs and muggleborn, but enough of that. Your guardian appears to have arrived. Now go on Mr. Potter- and do be careful!"

Harry had never been happier to see Hagrid in his life, late as he was. He made himself a silent promise not to antagonize wise old men while deep in their lairs. Anyway, the old man was rig-Ooohhh, was that chocolate?!

And there goes the infodump song! What so many people forget is that Harry was 11. When I was 11, I remember my classmates chewing paint chips and used bubblegum. Anyway, this is an infodump targeted at some of the truly atrocious things Fanon has come up with. Anyway, enjoy (or don't – up to you really).