The next day was interesting to say the least.

As promised, Hagrid came to pick us up in the morning and brought us to this weird looking pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Once we got inside, things got even weirder though. Hagrid was popular with what I assumed were the wizard customers of The Leaky Cauldron, but he was not the center of the attention.

As we walked through the bar, all talk stopped until it resumed again in scattered whispers. Everybody was staring at Harry and I, and a few brave ones even came to introduce themselves. "A pleasure, really!" "My, my, aren't you two grown up!" "You look just like your parents!" How did they know us? I voiced my thoughts to Hagrid and he gave me a shocked look. "It's because yer the Ones Who Lived, of course!"

Of course. Even though I'd done nothing, I was being praised and congratulated for the death of Voldemort. And yes, I wasn't scared of saying his name. Names only have power if we let them scare or intimidate us, so no matter how awful this evil wizard was, his name should not be such a strong source of fear.

As we reached the other end of the pub, Hagrid turned around and flashed us a mischievous smile, which probably meant something was going to happen. He tapped a few bricks in an obvious pattern, and suddenly it started curling inwards. The wall! Curling inwards! This was magic and it was amazing! Beyond the wall was an even more amazing sight.

"Diagon Alley", said Hagrid, "This is where ye'll find everything ye will need for the rest of yer Hogwarts life!" Diagon Alley was an assortment of shops all packed together, and there were so many that I believed Hagrid; everything I would ever need was right here. The feeling was one of home, which I appreciated considering who I'd lived with for the past 12 years of my life.

We stepped past the wall and immediately got caught in a current of bustling witches and wizards running their errands. I also saw a handful of children with the same letter Harry and I received, meaning they would be attending this Hogwarts school with us.

Hagrid took us both by the hand and guided us the gigantic crowd. He dragged us to an ancient looking shop with a sign that read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

Oh. My. Goodness. I was gonna get a wand! This still felt so unreal, and looking at Harry, I could tell he felt the same way. We walked in the shop and were greeted by an old man sitting behind a very dusty desk. He looked at Harry and me very thoroughly until he finally smiled.

"Harry Potter and Ariadne Jackson. I was wondering when you would come to me." "How did you know we'd come?" I asked him. "Because every wizard needs a wand, dear." "No, I meant how do you know about us?" "Everyone knows about you. You are the Ones Who Lived."

I was getting sick of this, of getting recognized for something I didn't even remember doing. I had tried all night to remember, but all I got was a series of weird green flashes of light and a hauntingly cold laughter in the background. Still, this man didn't know anything about that and was simply here to help me pick a wand.

"So how does this work? Do we just pick one we like?" "Oh my, no. You don't choose the wand dear, the wand chooses you."

What?! This was ridiculous and impossible, but after seeing a giant flying on a floating motorcycle, impossible becomes overrated. Ollivander briefly disappeared in the back and reappeared with a handful of rectangular boxes. He put them down on the counter and beckoned us forward.

"I'll be back for ye lads later. I've got something else to do" said Hagrid. And like that, he was gone. And we were left with the creepy old wand maker. He gestured for us to come closer once more, and when did. When we got to the counter he opened two of the boxes and handed us both a wand. Mine was longer than Harry's, a dark mahogany with a base carved in the shape of a lion's head.

"13 inches, hair from the famous Chimera from Greek Mythology", said Ollivander. I immediately hated it. First of all, lions were horrendous animals, with their pride and stupidity, often confused with bravery. The wand felt unnatural in my hand and I knew it wasn't for me even before I was instructed to wave it in the air and broke a lamp by doing so.

The next few wands I tried had the same result more or less, and I was getting more frustrated as the boxes kept piling up. Harry wasn't doing so good either, having broken his share of lamps. I could tell he was getting sick of this too, which is probably why Ollivander decided to do what he did next. "I think it's time I bring out the special wands", he said in an extremely suspicious tone.

The special wands? Were those for desperate cases like us? He came back a few minutes later with what looked to be like any other box in the shop, but he handled them with such care, I had to wonder what made them so special.

He handed me a green box and I immediately opened it. In it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. "12 inches, core of hair from the famous Pegasus, also from Greek mythology, and one of the most unique and rare wands I have seen in my time on this Earth," said the old wand maker. This intrigued me. Pegasus hair? I'd heard of the myth of this winged horse, but I never thought it could be real!

Today was full of surprises though. I looked at the black wand more carefully and noticed that this time, its base split into two to make a handle that resembled a pair of wings, like the horse from the legend. I took it in my hand and immediately knew this was mine. I waved it like so many times before and felt the power in me traveling through it, making sparks erupt from the other end. For once, none of the lamps broke.

That's when I finally understood: you don't choose the wand.

The wand chooses you.