I don't own Bleach, or Harry Potter. Enjoy.

I remember when I was born. I was alone, the first to be made by the man. But I was special, that's what he said.

"Powerful, this one. Great things are meant for who wields this special creation."

Why did he call me special? Why, when others like me were made and were powerful in their own right. How am I any special?

"Don't worry, you'll find your partner. You two will be a force to be reckoned with."

I wonder, what my partner will be like. The man said that when I find my partner, I'll feel at home. What is a home?

"Oh no, that won't do. Here, try this one. Go on, give it a wave!"

It's been so long. The man who made me is gone. No one talks to me. How long, how long have I been waiting? Will I ever find my partner? Or, will I forever be alone?

Will I always reside in the dark shadows that surround me?

Geraint Ollivander sighed, sending all the wand boxes back to their respective shelves, keeping one behind. Glancing around his shop, the old man sighed again. With a wave, all the damage was fixed. No more scorch marks decorating the walls, no more glass residing on the floor, and, his desk was fixed to its original shape.

Setting his wand down, Geraint opened the wood box that held a most troubling wand. This old and powerful object has yet to find an owner, despite all the years it's been in the store. His father told him that the wand was possibly one of the first wands their ancestor's ever created. Looking at the wand, Geraint wondered what exactly it was made of.

Even though his father had taught Geraint to remember what every wand in the store was made of, this one wand had eluded the family's knowledge for years. For some reason, along the line of his family tree, the wand's components were no longer remembered. Shaking his head, Geraint placed the wand back into its case, only one of its kind.

Pausing, Geraint thought that phrase over. Looking into the case, he frowned. This wand was literally the last of its kind, all others made within the same period as it were already gone, their witch or wizard claiming them as their own. Or, in all actuality, the wand had chosen the caster.

This wand was alone. The oldest wand in the shop by far, and possibly the most powerful yet. Closing his eyes, Geraint sighed.

"I'm sorry, but I promised myself and my family that if you weren't sold by the end of the month..." He couldn't even finish the sentence. It went against the entire code of his practice, but it was for the safety of both him, the students and other customers who come, and for the shop itself.

"I'm terribly sorry. But, I have to place you storage. You are too powerful for these young children, and I can't risk their safety. I will no longer bring you out." The words were bitter in his mouth.

Looking down at the wand, a single tear was shed, and the lid was placed back upon the wooden case. The wand was to be put into the basement, and not to come out again. It was like a burial.

"You stood strong, waiting all these years. I'm sure your match will come, but until then, I have to put you away." Picking the box up, Geraint made his way down to the basement where all his supplies were stored. Opening a drawer to his work desk, he carefully set the box down. Running a finger down the wood lid one last time, Geraint closed and locked the drawer with sad eyes.

Sitting down, Geraint grabbed his journal, and wrote to his son, and other descendants in his line who will be running the shop, a note.

"In the top drawer of the desk in the basement, there is a wand. A very old and powerful wand. Due to the incompatible students and other customers alike, the wand will reject the witch or wizard with disastrous results. Because of this, I have been forced to lock it away. This wand was the first wand made by us Ollivanders and it pains me to treat it this way. I am writing this to you because I have instructions for you. If there ever is a witch or wizard who has been rejected by all other wands in the shop, when you think that there is no hope to find their wand, unlock this drawer. Then, and ONLY then have the customer try it out. And, to whomever finds the dear wand a master and partner witch, you have my greatest thanks. The wand has been waiting for over hundred years for that moment, and it deserves to have its home. Please send my thanks and regards to the owner of the wand, I, and all of us Ollivanders will be in their debt for freeing the wand from its solitude."

-Geraint Ollivander

Placing his quill down, Geraint smiled at the entry, and patted the drawer. There will come a time, he was sure, the wand only had to wait.