Exuberant excitement was what I felt when my Mom and Dad walked me through the green flames of the Floo network. They had figured, as I would be attending a school for Britain's magical children, that I should also shop where they did. My mother was dressed in a long flowing robe. It flowed past her feet and pooled out behind her as she walked, the deep purple fabric fluttered and glinted magically in the clear afternoon sun. Her normally turned up black hair was let loose in a cascade of long flowing rivers that reached the small of her back easily.

She exuded an air of peace and utter command as she walked. With my Dad by her side, dressed in his own toga, she was a fearsome sight to behold. Both were armed, Mom with a silvery metal sash that hung around her shoulders like liquid mercury, and my Dad with his ceremonial Celtic Sword on his hip. None of us were even fazed by the blatant stares and scorned looks we were receiving form the surrounding witches and Wizards.

After having spent so long in the Americas, we had gotten used to our families being stared at for their standing in the Wizarding community, and for their part in most of the Muggle community as well. It had made it hard for myself and my relatives to make friends, true friends, but it also bought us a certain amount of respect no matter who we talked to. Here, it seemed our family was just odd to these people.

"Mom, should they be staring like that?" I asked, innocent at the time of why they would be even looking at us in the first place.

"No, they shouldn't, as it is impolite to stare... But then, we are unknown to them honey. You'll just have to show them how to behave I guess," Mom smirked and winked at me when a few magicals around us, having overheard, winced and looked away abruptly. I laughed at their silliness and just kept on my happy march with my parents.

We walked around with naught a care for those that gawked, as their public manor did not concern us. Though, more specifically, it did not concern my parents. I, on the other hand, just found their staring funny. I smiled as my parents led me into a wonderful shop. It was filled to the brim with shelves topped with boxes with even more boxes stacked and cluttered about. Each of them was but the size of a small shoe box, one you might consider for a child's shoe.

We came up to a desk in the middle of the dusty shop and waited for the shops owner. We were surprised, then, to find the man pop up behind us and declare his presence.

"Good morning Mi'lord and Lady George! How are you both?" the curious man inquired. His blank gaze was disconcerting, but warm in a welcome sense. He had white hair, an off white shirt, a tan blazer, an tan slacks. He looked a slight bit disheveled, but he held himself with a an intimidating air. I could tell that he was a dangerous man, but he didn't exude any sort of malevolence.

"It has been many years since a George has been to Olivanders, Mr Olivander. But we are sure you know what this occasion calls for... Correct?" My Dad asked, speaking for all of us at once, as his duty as head of house was. I admired Dad. At least, when he wasn't being a prat, but I admired him. He knew how to talk to people, how to get his ideas across, without stomping on too many toes. He was a wonderful man to talk to about many subjects, History, Religion, Faith, Mortality, The Human Condition, Politics, and many more. he stood there before the older Olivander, and sized him up with ease allowed by his many years of dealing with construction workers, and the members of the UMSA-United Magical States of America, Wizengamot.

"Indeed it has Lord George, about a century and a half if memory serves me right!" Mr. Olivander thought aloud. "And longer still since one of your kin has gone to Hogwarts to study! My, my what will the Brits think of you now!" He chuckled as Dad and Mom eyed him wearily.

"IF we could Mr Olivander, we would love to have our son acquire his wand before lunch... If you would be so kind?" Mom asked politely, a small smile sweeping across her lips.

"What is your wand hand child?" Olivander asked.

"My right, Sir," Olivander nodded excitedly and motioned us to wait while he retrieved the first of his wands. he returned with four boxes, each with a thine layer of dust upon them. He laid the first three on the counter and handed me the last.

"Here you go child, do be careful. Ash wood with ashwinder eggs for the core, and a small ruby for the Foci... Nothing too shabby," Olivander murmured as he let me look over the wand. I gave it a small swish and almost blew apart a window. I dropped it like a hot stone and looked at it as if it'd bit me.

"Not that one then...," Olivander wheezed, a little pale after that performance. "Here, Rosewood and Unicorn hair, with an Agate for the Foci, give it a swish!" I swished it once, and watched in utter horror as my magic whipped out and yanked an entire case of wands down to the ground.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, completely shocked at the turn of events.

'No matter, things happen child," Olivander sighed as he swished his own wand and set things right again. "Was not the first time that has happened, and surely will not be the last," He sighed and pondered the other two wands before discarding them. With a flick of his wand all four wands shot back off to their previous resting places. Hew walked off towards the back, leaving myself with my parents for the moment.

"THose were some impressive feats of un-controlled magic son, you'll be strong when you get it all under control!" Dad chuckled happily.

"True," Mom agreed, "I, for one, am happy that he hasn't thrown us out on our rears yet!" She laughed.

"You mean like what happened with Jean?"

"Yes."

"I felt terrible for that man, she destroyed his whole shop!"

"But Uncle Matt did help rebuild it, if you do remember Sam.

"True, I also remember the after party we all had when it was done... The nightmares!" Dad gave a playful shudder and laughed at Mom's look of pallid horror.

"Sounds like an interesting tail Mi'lord, but I have more wands for your son," Olivander declared as he came back with a few more boxes in hand,

"Are those more wands?" I asked with a bit of trepidation mixed in with my glee.

"Yes, yes they are child," Olivander stated, amused. He handed me the top box and smiled at the small softly at the small glow that emanated from it. He urged me forward to try it out. He, along with my parents, seemed engrossed in the effect that this wand might have.

"Blackthorn and Phoenix feather with an amber Focus stone... seven inches and rather rigid," Olivander explained as I handled the wand gently. The wood was almost black, as its name sake implied, and it had little nodules on it that showed where other stems used to be upon the wood.

I gave it small swish and watched as a small torrent of fire shot out of the end and engulfed the box it had been laying in. The fire put itself out almost as soon as it had begun. Nothing was left of the box but a few ashes and the metal plate that housed the wands specifications and serial number.

Olivander blinked slowly at the display and eyed the wand skeptically. He huffed and placed his hand forward in a genial show. I placed the wand back in his hand and looked at it with a bit of confusion.

"It seems that this is a possible wand for your son Mi'lord, but not quite. He might use it as a second later in life, but for now, I will be back!" Olivander stated sternly, though not at my parents as he was looking intently at the offending wand in his hand.

"Of course Mr Olivander. Take your time, we are not in a rush," Mom stated simply. She flicked out her own wand and summoned a pair of high backed seats for herself and my Dad.

Olivander eyed them, amused at their antics, and walked off to get the wand he had in mind.

It took him only a few minutes to gather up the wand, but he held it with a sort of irreverent disposition. It was as if he despised the wand in his possession.

"Ethan Andrews George... This wand is... Odd... Odder than most things I have seen within these walls, but not as old as many of them," He opened the box and offered me the bottom half containing the wand. "This is a Blackthorn wand, with the horn of a Re'em, a magical bull that only has one horn... And a Bloodstone Focus. This is a very... interesting wand. If it does bond with you, it will serve your blood line to the ends of the earth, but only those of your blood," Olivander emphasized as he looked at my parents with some hidden meaning behind his words.

"Thank you, Mr. Olivander!" I stated weakly, but resolutely. I was truly thankful for the knowledge he had bestowed me with, even if, at the time, it was out of my scope of experience and understanding.

"Now, give it a nice long wave, child, and lets see what happens," Olivander smirked. I could still see his disdain, aimed at the wand as it was, hidden behind his eyes.

I looked the wand over and noted a few variances within its creation from the other Blackthorn wand. This one had bits of crimson red and blackish green woven into the wood in a spiral the started about mid wand and continued all the way to the tip where it formed a small cover of stone over the end, like a cap.

I could feel a warmth wash up from the wand in my hand, it soaked into my very core, my soul, and warmed me from the inside. It felt like I had gotten back a piece of myself and that everything was right with the world again. I could feel the Bloodstone pulse within the wand, it burned warmly in my hand, like the warmth of a fire. That is until it got almost unbearably hot. I almost dropped the wand and screamed at the pain, but instead I held on tighter and refused to be cowed by my wand.

It ate a small hole into the palm of my hand, about the size of a dime, and drank in a few grams of my blood like a sponge. It then sealed off the hole as quickly as it had formed. It was then that a warm glow erupted from my body and showered the rest of my companions in a magical shower of sparks.

"And that, child, is your wand... Blackthorn, Re'em Horn, and Bloodstone... Nine inches, rigid... There is no more loyal a wand than the one in your hand Ethan Andrews George... Treat it well, and it shall give you power like those only imagined."