AN: I do not own anything you recognize, and most of my information on wand woods and cores came from Pottermore. Wand matching, I made up.
Feel free to leave me a review if I made a mistake, if you have constructive criticism, or if you know what the cores are for James and Lily's wands. Especially leave me a review if you know that last one, and I will grant you the unofficial title of "Lord of the Potterverse".
Ollivander loved making wands. He loved selling them, and wondering what they would do in the future. There were some wands, yes, that he would regret sending off into the world, if only because the wizard they chose used them unwisely. He was content to let history pass around him, and note all the historical things his wands had done. His job was to find the wizard for his wands, and enjoyed a private guessing game. It might seem like he takes out random wands, and sticks them in people's hands to see what messes will happen, but there was a method to the madness. Often times, family members had similar wands. Never identical, for every wand was unique, and using an older family member's wand was a disservice to both wand and wizard, but many families had similar cores, similar woods. He watched as those whose magical pedigree wandered in, and he began to test all those wands that had something in common with their parents. From there, he branched out, to grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins. The wand chooses the wizard, but often the wizard is raised to a wand by the wand users around him. Those who were discovering magic for the first time, he really enjoyed. With no preconceived notions, he could give them unusual wands, and watch the reactions, or if he had a particular feeling about the person, he could give them a specific wand. Often times, he was right, and the muggleborn child walked away without realizing how special it was that they found a wand on the first go round.
Ollivander enjoyed his guessing game, of what relative might the witch or wizard be like. But there were times, very few, where he was completely wrong. Harry Potter was one. His wand chose him, not because of family, but because of the night his family was murdered. The holly and phoenix feather wand knew who was the best at balancing out what its brother wand of yew and phoenix feather had done. It seemed the Mr. Potter was not the only Potter affected by that night either, as yet another child walked out of the door with a wand he never would have guessed.
Ollivander watched as Phoenix Potter left, twisting her wand this way and that, troubled.
"Odd combination for the sister of the boy-who-lived," he whispered to the empty store, eyes unseeing.
He first tried the woods and cores of her parents, as he did with Harry, figuring that since Phoenix was not attacked by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she might fit more in the Potter family mold. And yet, he went through every wood he had ever sold a Potter, and didn't get a single good response. Some wands were more attuned to her than others, but not in any particular pattern. Finally, Ollivander was forced to think of the personality of the girl in front of him.
He had thought of hornbeam, for she seemed determined and single minded. Obsessed even. Cedar, for she was loyal to her brother. Of that there was no doubt. Ebony, perhaps, for she seemed to not care how she appeared to others, delegating them unimportant in the line of things. Rowan, for protecting her brother, and she could still be pure of heart. Or even Ash, for she seems stubbornly attached to her brother. For a core, he had thought of unicorn hair, as she seemed consistent in her goals and aims. And yet...
Yew, the wood of the wand responsible for killing her parents, and attempting to kill her brother. Yew, a wood know for life and death, with a generally dark reputation, matched with dragon heartstring, known for being powerful. Unyielding, never backing down, never accepting something different. No Potter before her had ever had an unyielding wand. The wand for a protector, or a dangerous witch. Unyielding. From the wand, Ollivander knew that Phoenix Potter was not someone to cross. She had the potential to become dangerous. He could only hope that she would be a protector, that her wand was a sign that she would join her brother on his journey as hero. Although if her reaction to his words about her brother's wand last year were any indication, she would protect only one thing.
A year earlier
"Mister Potter, I was wondering when I'd see you," Ollivander said as he watched Hagrid, Harry, and his little sister Phoenix jump at his appearance. "James Potter, Mahogony, 11 in, pliable. Lily Evans, willow, 10 and a quarter inches, swishy."
"You remember that?" Phoenix asked, skeptical.
"Oh yes, Miss Potter. I remember every wand I've ever sold. Including, unfortunately, the one that caused that scar," Ollivander said, focusing on Harry's faint scar. "But it is not the wands fault but the wizard. After all, the wand chooses its wizard, and then is used by that wizard for the rest of the wizard's life. But enough about the past, you are here for a wand."
Ollivander set his measuring devices going, while trying to determine what wand would be a good match for the young Mr. Potter, ignoring as Hagrid took his leave. Would he take after his father? Mahogany, good for transfiguration? But no, he no longer made mahogany wands. How about his mother, with his strength in Charms? Willow seemed as if it might suit him. Perhaps he took after his great-grandfather, a master duelist, red oakt? But no, Ollivander thought, looking at Harry while snatching the current wand from him, he seems too timid, too modest. Not one for dueling, at least not yet. Red oak is not for him. His great grandmother had a wand of vine, but with the way the young man stood, he didn't seem to have any grand visions to share with the world. Black walnut was found in the Potter's past, yet for the same reasons as red oak, it seem to not be the right wood. Maybe redwood, for surviving when all others would die. For a core, Ollivander was almost certain a unicorn hair, if not simply because of what Mr. Potter represented. He did not seem the type for the temperamental dragon heartstring. With these thoughts, Ollivander pulled out wand after wand, watching as they each rejected the young Potter heir. Soon, he had been through half his store, running through thoughts of all the wands he had ever sold a Potter, before he came to a realization.
"Perhaps," he muttered to himself, ignoring Phoenix's bored stare, and Harry's uncomfortableness at being the center of attention. He pulled out the wand, a very special wand. Holly and Phoenix feather, a wand for a brave soul. A wand for a mover. A wand for someone with a great destiny. He handed it to Harry, and watched as the wand bonded to the young boy, a warm wind spinning around him. Phoenix cocked her head as she watched, curiosity and a little jealousy in her eyes as she watched her brother receive the tool that would help him for the rest of his life.
"Curious," Ollivander murmured, as he watched Harry look at his wand in amazement. Harry's green eyes meet Ollivander's grey.
"Sorry, what's curious?"
"The phoenix that gave the feather used in your core gave just one other feather. It's curious that you were destined for this one, when its brother gave you that scar. We can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. For You-Know-Who did great things. Terrible, but great," Ollivander explained, eyes never wavering from Harry's green.
"Are you saying my brother's going to become like that monster who killed our parents?" Phoenix asked, quickly getting between Ollivander and Harry.
"Not at all. The wand may choose the wizard, but the wizard chooses their path," Ollivander said, staring into the glaring eyes of Phoenix Potter.
"Then why bother even mentioning it?" Phoenix started before Harry dragged her out the door, muttering about not caring about it, as long as it wasn't the same wand. Phoenix seemed to listen to her brother, but she still shot a dark stare at Ollivander. He took it in stride.
"I wonder what wand will want her," he said, watching as she turned to Harry and started talking animatedly.
Now
Ollivander watched as Phoenix left. He hoped the world would never discover the lengths she would go to protect her brother. He kept watch of every owner of a yew wand, and they had all been powerful. While the wand itself would not steer her towards the path of dark over the path of light, her wand, unlike her brother's, was far more likely to allow her to go down the dark path, if she decided that was the best way for her. And while the world may be enamored of Harry Potter and ignore Phoenix, her power was not something to laugh at. She would be no Dumbledore, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or even match her brother's power when he came into it, but she would be strong. An above average witch, with a single minded obsession, who had a wand that would not waver from what she wished to do. She could be a formidable opponent.
But, Ollivander was reminded as another young child came in, this time muggleborn from the wide eyed expressions on the face of the family, young Phoenix Potter was still that, young. Her path ahead of her twisted with her brother's, and was just as cloudy to his eyes.
Later in that universe, or at the same moment in a different universe, depending on which Unspeakable's theory on Time you believe:
Ollivander was waiting for a customer, knowing that the closer to Hogwarts' start it got, the more families were willing to buy their youngest wands. He gazed about the store, thinking of all the wands he had sold so far, and which ones might be next. Unlike last year, when he managed to sell a vine wand and the beautiful holly and phoenix combination that went to Harry Potter, he had yet to sell any interesting wands. Many had cores of unicorn hair, and woods that were common in their families if not in general.
As his eyes wandered over his store of wands, one box caught his eye. He pulled it out, and looked at it as there were no customers in the store. It was a yew wand, 10 ½ inches, with a dragon heartstring. Unyielding. As he held the wand, he felt its vague sentience, its awareness. It seemed sad, as if it knew it would never find it's perfect wizard. And Ollivander sympathized with the poor wand, which would probably never end up being used, or if used, not to the extent it could have been. He briefly wondered what type of wizard or witch would have walked out of the store with it.
They would be powerful, though most likely not the most powerful. Steadfast in their beliefs. A little temperamental, easy to anger. They would either have been a powerful defender of their belief, or a visionary killer. A healer, or a Hit-Wizard, if they were to have a legal profession. It was enough to make Ollivander wish to know who was meant for that wand.
But, Time is fickle, and will not stop for an old man and his curiosity. No, the wizard or witch who would have taken this wand to great places, terrible or not, was no longer among the living. Ollivander gave the wand a last glance before putting it back in its box and putting it away in the back room, where all wands went whose wizard or witch was never to pick it up. He put it on top, and turned to go back to the front as the door jingled open, to let in a family of muggleborns if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.
Perhaps, thought Ollivander with a smile, perhaps this sale would be of an extraordinary combination, or of an uncommon wood. Perhaps this would be his favorite sale of the year.
"Welcome to Ollivander's, maker of fine wands,"
As Ollivander helped the family in the front, the spectre of Skazzy Potter looked at what would have been her wand wistfully. It was not to be, and the world would be the better for it. Her brother would be the better for it. Finally, she turned and left the room. Silently floating through doors to the bookshop her brother was at, she smiled to herself. It wasn't such a bad punishment for non-existence, being forced to follow her brother and never be noticed.