A/N: I had to keep making myself not post this faster, because I'll run out of ideas. I'm already halfway through the next chapter, but I would love some feedback and ideas on future moments! Please read and review! ~WG13

The Wand Chooses The Witch

A bushy brown haired girl looked up with big, wonder filled eyes as the brick wall melted away. Professor McGonagall stepped through the arch and looked back. "Are you coming, Ms. Granger?" She inquired dryly, she remembered her own first trip to Diagon Alley and knew the expression on her face was probably just like Hermione's was now. She smiled slightly as Hermione stumbled through the archway, spinning around in her effort to take in everything in the new place.

Hermione couldn't believe it. Looking around she saw everything from gold cauldrons to barn owls to black robes that from what she could see, witches and wizards wore on a daily basis. "What's first?" She asked eagerly.

Minerva McGonagall laughed to herself at the breathless quality of Hermione's voice. She'd been deputy headmistress at Hogwarts for years, and yet the first impression of muggle-born first years never got old. "I thought we'd get you a wand."

"A wand!" Hermione's big brown eyes widened even more and she gasped.

"Yes. A wand." Professor McGonagall replied curtly. "Do keep up, Ms. Granger." She instructed as she set off at a brisk pace towards Ollivanders shop. She knew that she had to come off as strict, to keep the respect of her soon-to-be pupils, but she hated the way Hermione's curious mouth snapped shut as she bit back her questions and trotted along, trying to keep up with her new professor.

Hermione's mind raced. The thin-lipped, scary looking professor had shown up at her parents house that morning- on her birthday- with an acceptance letter to a school called Hogwarts, and told Hermione and her parents that it was a school for the... Gifted. Finally Professor McGonagall had informed them that it was a school of magic, and Hermione's name had been on the list since she was born, because she was a witch. Under normal circumstances, Hermione's parents would have thrown the lady out of the house and called her a nutter, but this was anything but normal circumstances. The professor pulled out her wand and made Emma Granger's tea cup tap-dance, and then flown a book around the room, before plucking a flower from the vase on the coffee table, making it wilt and then bloom again. It was rather hard to deny after that.

In retrospect, it did explain a lot of incidents from Hermione's childhood. Like the time Martin Wilkins had tried to pull her pigtails on the playground and had found himself pushed ten feet away without Hermione laying a finger on him. Or the time Susan Higgs had told Hermione she couldn't help wash her dog when they were having a play-date after day care when they were three and then all of the sudden the white dogs fur was dyed bright pink. Maybe her magic was the reason she always knew the answer in class. She hoped not. She hoped she was just as good at her classes at this new school. People didn't often like her, she was never invited to birthday parties, and the girls in her class always got up and moved if she sat down near them at lunch, so she usually spent lunch in the corner, reading. She'd never been good at sports, or being social, and her studies were all she had. She vowed to work as hard as she could to be the best in her class at Hogwarts.

"Ah, here we are. After you, Ms. Granger." Professor McGonagall unknowingly interrupted Hermione's runaway thoughts, opening the door to Ollivanders Wand Shop.

"Wow." Hermione stammered. Then she sneezed. The room was dusty and dimly lit. Shelves that reached the ceiling lined each wall and each was stacked full with slim, black boxes. Hermione glanced around the small, crowded room but there was not a person but her and the professor in sight.

"Ollivander!" McGonagall's loud call rang through the small shop, and a small man emerged from the back room.

"Ah, Minerva." Ollivander greeted her in a quavering voice. "Another muggle-born first year, I take it?"

"Yes. This is Hermione Granger. She will be starting at Hogwarts next year." Professor McGonagall replied.

"Interesting. Just missed the cut off, eh?" Ollivander made small talk as he pulled out a tape measure and tapped it with his wand, causing it to spring to life and start to measure Hermione's height. Ollivander walked around her, inspecting her and casually taking notes with a quill on a piece of parchment that floated in front of him.

"Yes, sir." Hermione said shyly, as the tape measure finished measuring her arm length and began to measure the length of her feet.

"Which is your wand hand?" Ollivander asked abruptly.

"My... What?" Hermione responded blankly.

"He means the hand you write with, Ms. Granger." Minerva supplied, shaking her head and just barely refraining from rolling her eyes. Ollivander always forgot that the muggle-borns weren't accustomed to wands and other magical-related things.

"Oh! Um, I write with my right hand, Mr. Ollivan- hey!" The tape measure had just begun to measure around her middle.

"Oh dear, my apologies." Ollivander said distractedly, still immersed in his notes as he jabbed his wand quickly, and the tape measure coiled itself and sprang back into his pocket.

Ollivander began to drift around the room. "Ah, here. Perhaps this one?" He waved his wand and a black box floated down from well above Hermione's head. "9 inches, elm and unicorn hair." He handed the wand to her and just as quickly snatched it away. "No, no, no." He muttered to himself.

"Whaaaaa?" Hermione said bewilderedly.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Ms. Granger, or in your case, my dear, the wand chooses the witch. And that one certainly did not choose you."

Behind Ollivanders head, Hermione was sure she saw Professor McGonagall roll her eyes, though the professor covered it well by pretending to wipe some dust from her eye.

"Here, Ms. Granger. 12 inches, oak and dragon heartstring."

Hermione wrapped her fingers around the wand. It jerked a little, and a few feeble red sparks burst out the end.

Ollivanders thin, silvery eyebrows creased. "Well, there's something there." He muttered, almost to himself. Ollivander climbed up a ladder and it whisked him around the room, stopping at certain spots to let him pull out a box, look inside, and then shake his head.

Hermione looked at McGonagall, hoping for some kind of assurance, but the professor only pursed her lips and shook her head, which didn't feel very encouraging.

"Aha!" Cried Ollivander triumphantly. The ladder quickly made its way back around the room, coming to a halt right in front of Hermione. Ollivander scurried down quickly, eagerly shoving the wand into her hands. "Vine wood and dragon heartstring, Ms. Granger! 10 inches precisely and slightly springy. Give it a whirl, my dear!"

The moment the wand touched her hesitant fingers, Hermione felt as though every nerve in her body was electrically charged. It was the first moment she was sure she was a witch. The wand hummed, alive in her hand. It... Recognized her. Accepted her. For everything that she was. Good, and bad. Hermione raised her wand in the air and drew an arc in front of her. Sparks burst from the tip of her wand, showering the room in a shimmery rainbow.

Ollivander burst into applause, smiling widely. "Ms. Granger, that is the wand for you."