Disclaimer: I am not rolling in dollars or pounds or any other type of currency. It sucks too. Does that give you a clue?
Mr. Ollivander was an old, tired man. He didn't mind seeing all those fresh new faces purchasing their wands, ready to be inducted into their training for the Wizarding world. It was his pride and joy to see the children walk proudly out of his store with a wand he had especially crafted in mind of someone like them. He had dedicated his life to that very cause. But, as of late, he hadn't been feeling quite well.
He had attributed it to his stamina diminishing with age. He didn't seem to have the patience anymore to sit at his workbench and, oh-so-carefully, pick the best part of the wood and the best-fitting unicorn hairs or phoenix feathers or what have you; determine through careful examination the best length and width; carve out the wand and polish it with care; and check it for any of the usual defects. He got anxious working over the wands for so many hours a day. He worried, for a bit, that he was losing his nerve. But he brushed the thought aside and instead purchased numerous wellness potions, and drank them all ritualistically according to the instructions. He had been doing that for a number of weeks now. Funnily enough, he knew even now that it didn't seem to be any sort of lurgy afflicting him. He knew, in his heart, that it was something deeper and more lasting than that. But even he couldn't quite put his finger on it; point it out as precisely as he observed anomalies in the wood, or breaks in the hair fibers. All of this was a cloudy mystery to him, until one day at his shop.
Mr. Ollivander always greeted his customers with a sincere smile, even on days like these. He saluted the couple, a mother and daughter, and turned to begin unshelving his boxed crafts, when he noticed, just out of chance, the thing that might have been bothering him.
"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander," a melodic voice sounded. It came from the child standing close to him. She looked surreal, yet unordinary; as her wondrously beautiful looks seemed to be a mere sample of the other hordes of girls who had been flocking here. Ollivander peered over his spectacles to get a better look at her.
"It's going to be great going to Hogwarts, isn't it, Mum? I bet I'll get to meet Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy and Fred and George Weasley and everything!" The little girl began flitting around his shop, looking into boxes of wands and jamming them back into incorrect places. She turned to the astonished man. "Just so you know, I'm an animagus and a metamorphmagus and I have wings and I'm part Veela, so you'll probably have to give me a really really special wand." She stared pointedly at an unboxed hawthorn creation that, strangely enough, seemed to be of a serene lavender-no, flamboyant pink-no, deep midnight bluish hue. Good Merlin, he didn't make color-changing wands! In fact, he hadn't even heard of any. By this point, Ollivander was confused beyond belief.
The girl picked up on Mr. Ollivander's astonished response. "Oh, you must be surprised because you didn't think anybody in the world had enough magical power to take that wand and it was just waiting for me, right?" The wand's temperamental hues seemed to be have a mirrored effect on the color of the girl's irises. "Well, that's alright, I'm probably legendary, you see, so I think that wand's good enough for me!" Mr. Ollivander blanched. Merlin, these children could chat the hind legs off unicorns.
The ostentatious little girl and her mother left, paying the requisite amount of galleons, and left Mr. Ollivander to sit and think in peace. Another one. It was his fourth since opening shop this week, with a total of thirteen from last. There were remarkable similarities between the little self-proclaimed prodigies. He wondered if all of these little chatterboxes were related, but he decided it didn't matter. He left his shop and decided he'd think it over a sundae at Florean's.
"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander! And what would you like for breakfast today?" Florean only sold sweets. It was the little joke of his that had started off casual conversation of theirs for years.
"A triple fudge with nuts, if you will. You know how I fancy eating healthy." He grinned at the shop owner, glad to rise above the madness in his mind today.
"Right-o. Hear that, Sam?" His young assistant regarded the order with a wink and a jovial wave of his hand, saying 'hello' to Mr. Ollivander as well. Mr. Fortescue went down to sit with him at one of the tables.
"Ah, what a morning! How've things been in your shop? You seem to be getting the worst of it." He panned the alley while he said 'it.'
"Quite surprising. It's the oddest thing, seeing all those children about, and during the school year. It's been an all-hours business," he admitted. He did not mention the incident with the wand of his.
"Oh, it's been hectic for all of us! And you're right. It gives me half a mind to owl Hogwarts and see if they're tinkering with their school year." Florean rolled his eyes upon saying this. "You haven't been notified by chance, have you? I'd love to hear what's going on."
An issue jutted up in Mr. Ollivander's mind, and he couldn't help but speak about it. "Honestly Florean, the only owls I'm getting these days are from people saying their wands don't work, and they're coming in droves." His eyes turned downward and he gave a sad smile.
Florean was up in arms in an instant. "Oh, that's rubbish! You're not serious, are you?"
"I'm afraid I am."
Fortescue scowled. "Why, the day that Mr. Ollivander's wands have a problem is the day I marry a mountain troll! Do they even have an argument?"
At this, Ollivander's face lit up with a bit of merriment. "Oh, usually, their argument has something to do with that their spells don't function the way they're supposed to. Oftentimes they're not even saying them right in the first place!"
"Really?"
"Oh yes, I found this out after I had owled a number of them, and I'll be jiggered if they weren't always the same spells. I've heard Engrorego, Wengradium Leaveossa, and even Exepto Pratornum..."
"Oh now you're just fibbing, that can't be–"
Ollivander grinned, his face full of merriment this time. "Oh, you know me Florean, I don't lie if I can help myself. It certainly does sound like rubbish, though."
Fortescue's face had a look of polite appalment. "Oh, that's not the Hogwarts I knew as a boy! Who are the teachers there?"
"As far as I know, they've had a stable staff except for their Defence teacher, like always..."
The ice cream maker shook his head. "Either the teachers have gone mad, which I don't think to happen soon, or some certain"he had an unusual look of pointed discontentment "students need quite a lot of help in catching up from their middle-of-the-year enrollments."
The two were silent as Sam brought the enormous sundae, close to a foot high, to the table. The assistant tipped his hat, and left them.
Ollivander spoke for the first time in what seemed like a long time. "Well, I've had an idea..."
Florean grinned again. "One of your little ideas, eh? Come on, out with it! You're not an evil-minded person."
"Well, I'd been saving it for another day..."
"And what other day is as good as this one?"
"I meant the plan for another day, you know!" His eyes sparkled through his spectacles at Fortescue.
At once the shopkeeper understood. "Oh-ho! Oh really? Well, by all means!" He was trying to suppress giggles.
The wandmaker considered his enthusiastic companion. He was the type to have never completely grown up, and it showed often. He was good to have a laugh with, but Ollivander never quite took him too seriously. But today he felt different.
"You know, I think you're right after all!"
"Well it's good to be right after all rather than after some, isn't it?"
The pair laughed and continued talking, and Fortescue helped Ollivander finish the sundae.
END OF CHAPTER 1
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