Written for the Colors of the Rainbow Competition: Purple - Prompt #2 - Write about a character getting their first wand.
Written for The Choose Your Wand Challenge: S-Z - Write about someone going shopping in Diagon Alley.
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Diagon Alley was full of young wizards and witches getting their school supplies. Trying on school uniforms or drooling over the newest broomstick. All with a list in their hands, telling them what to buy for the new school year. Among them was a young boy. Preparing for his first year at Hogwarts.

"Only thing we still need to get is a wand," Barty said, carefully rereading his list, making sure he hadn't missed anything. "Alright," his mother nodded, guiding him to Ollivanders.

A bell jingled as his mother opened the door and urged him to enter the building. Barty's mouth fell open the moment he stood inside. At first the store looked empty, but a second look made him aware of the small boxes stacked on top of each other. There must have been at least a thousand covering the wands of the building.

A middle-aged man stood at the counter. His moonlight eyes looking through Barty's soul. "Ah, another Crouch". The boy crossed his arms, not appreciating to be called one of many. The man didn't seem to notice he'd insulted the boy and raced to one of the shelves. He removed a box from the stack. It looked like he was playing Jenga, careful not to disrupt the balance.

"Wand hand?"

Taken off guard by the sudden question, Barty stammered: "Uhm, u, my. My right hand, sir". He managed to complete the sentence after receiving a meaningful look from his mother.

"Alright," Ollivander took Barty's hand and placed the wand in it. "Alder and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Pliable". The wand sputtered a bit and Ollivander shook his head in return. Before Barty knew it the wand was pulled out his hands and he was holding another one. "Black Walnut, phoenix feather, eleven inches and flexible". Barty stood there for a few seconds like that, waiting for the wand to do something. "Give it a good sweep". Ollivander encouraged him. Barty did as told and moved the wand up.

The boy stepped backwards, shocked, as a lamp exploded without warning and pieces of glass flew around the room. "Ah!" His mom screeched in fear, using her arms to protect her face. As soon as Ollivander snapped the wand from Barty's hand, the glass froze and fell to the ground.

"Definitely not that one," the wandmaker said before disappearing in search of another wand.

With Ollivander out of sight, Mrs Crouch turned to her son: "Can you try a bit harder, please? Your father got his wand after just one try". Barty let his head hang: "I'll try harder, mother". Before the woman could say anything else, Ollivander was back with another box.
"Hawthorn and dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches long, rigid flexibility". A few sparks came out of the wand in Barty's hand. "Almost there, almost there," Ollivander held out his own wand and a new box flew in his hand. The stack of wands shuddered and Barty was afraid they'd fall down. When that didn't happen the boy looked at the new box. It was covered in more dust than the previous ones and made of a thicker carton. "This one should be perfect". The man took the wand out and gave it to his customer. "Fir, dragon heartstring. Twelve and a half inches long. Unbending". Barty accepted the wand and could immediately feel a warm glow enveloping him. He felt the wand connect with him and saw yellow and orange sparks erupt from the tip. A smile formed on his face - not fake like the ones he usually showed. He could feel it: this was his wand.

"A survivor's wand", Ollivander commented, "and powerful. You will be able to do great things with it". And great things he did.