Chapter 2

Witch Wand is Which?

Claire followed Professor McGonagal into a shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion. The shop looked untidy but very clean. A woman came out and beamed at them. "Hello, dear. Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Professor McGonagal responded before Claire could. "We'll need to see what you have from the abandoned property bin, Madam Malkin."

The other woman's eyes swept over Claire, causing her to want to fidget. Claire looked everywhere around the shop except at either of the older women. She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

She wandered away as they talked and began looking at the strange clothes on dummies around the shop. She reached out and touched one robe, with blue lining and lovely trim of a bronze color. As she reached out and touched a strange hat, she heard another voice join that of the two women's.

Quietly, she eased her way around a table to get a little closer. She'd heard 'the girl' and was certain they were talking about her.

"I see you were able to get her here with no trouble," said the man's voice.

"Yes, although there's precious little to get her school supplies with. I'm concerned that there won't be enough. Depending on what wand chooses her, it may add up to more than we have. Oh, Dumbledore, she needs everything. She doesn't even have a single change of clothes!"

"Do your best, Minerva. I'll speak to Ollivander. I'm sure he'll be willing to allow her to pay him back someday. He has done so in the past." The man's face turned towards Claire then, almost making her jump backwards in fear. "Hello, Claire. It's impolite to listen in on others' conversations, you know. Besides, isn't it much nicer to be included in them?"

She stepped out from behind the table, trying to seem brave. "I don't need more clothes than these. They're fine."

The man Professor McGonagal had called 'Dumbledore' smiled. "It's a shame to hate the things that have served us well, I agree. Madam Malkin has been unable to find you suitable robes. There are some here, but they are on the small side. The others are all far too large. Would you prefer the small ones, or the large ones?"

"The big ones, I guess," she replied finally. She'd probably look less stupid in those.

They bought the robes and left, heading out onto the street again, leaving Madam Malkin and Dumbledore behind in the shop.

As they walked, they passed more shops. They stopped in and bought a cauldron. Then they bought a bunch of foul smelling things from another store for 'potions'. She didn't want to say so, but that was the most exciting part of the trip for her so far. She'd always enjoyed making potions, pretending that she was cooking. She didn't actually know how to cook, but she had made mud pies and sundry other 'foods' until she outgrew it. Mostly outgrew it. Her heart pounded at the idea that she might get to mix together things like 'salamander heart' and 'slug slime'. Everyone else thought she was gross, but she thought it was fun and fascinating.

She was thinking about it so intensely that she almost ran into Professor McGonagal, because the woman had stopped in front of another shop. Her face looked more pinched again, and Claire took a half step back before lifting her chin. She wasn't scared, she wasn't! When Professor McGonagal's face looked like that, it made Claire feel like she'd done something wrong.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to get you a familiar this year, Miss Armont. Perhaps next year…" she shook her head. "We'll see then."

They walked past the store and Claire saw owls, rats, and assorted other creatures there. She didn't like rats or mice and owls were rather creepy with their huge eyes that stared at Claire without blinking. She'd never seen one before, but all of these seemed to be watching her intently. She put the professor between her and the shop.

"I have a cat," she told Professor McGonagal.

"You do, do you?" The woman's voice was slightly skeptical and Claire's spine straightened.

"Yes. She's a little beat up, but she's a good cat. I let her inside the house when Maureen's asleep. She eats the mice and bugs."

"Your mother eats mice and bugs?" the professor asked, and surprised at seeing a look of mischief on the woman's face, Claire almost laughed, but remembered she was too dignified for that.

"No, of course not. The cat!"

An eyebrow rose at this statement, but the smile remained, "She ate the cat?"

This time a giggle half escaped before Claire got herself under control. "No, the cat eats mice and bugs, of course."

"Well," Professor McGonagal replied, her tone so serious that Claire had to look at her to see the twinkle still in her eyes, "we're witches, so you never really know, do you?"

That was why, as they entered Ollivanders, Claire was still smiling. She stopped as they entered the room. It was almost terrifyingly tidy. There were small boxes lining shelves all around her, and she turned, the laughter forgotten. This was interesting, very interesting. What could be in all of those little boxes?

"Hello, Minerva," said another male voice behind her.

Claire turned to see a man coming around the shelving in the middle behind a desk. He looked at her very directly, as if he were expecting something from her.

"Another student, then? Running a bit behind, are you?"

"She had put a charm on the house. The owls couldn't get the letter in. I hand-delivered it. Now we need to get her squared away." The professor glanced at Claire, then seemed to make a decision. "She needs a wand, but the pin money is nearly all used up. I dearly hate to ask, but-"

The man lifted a hand, looking back at Claire again. "I'll help her in a moment. I can see that she would benefit from a bargain. I will offer her one, and see if she wishes it. I've a bit to finish, and then I'll help her." He flicked his wrist, "Accio chair!"

A chair came flying out of the back room, and he pointed his own stick at it, and it seemed to obey his will. It came to a rest near Claire.

He made as if to cast again, but Professor McGonagal stopped him. "I'll go take care of a personal matter while you do this, if that's alright with you?"

Mr. Ollivander nodded and they took off in opposite directions, Professor McGonagal stopping to ask if Claire would be alright. Claire nodded, though she didn't know if she would or not. The world, in her experience, was a dangerous place.

Soon, she sat alone in the shop and realized that it had little light. The interior was gloomy, with only a small orb of light that rotated around the desk in the middle. She soon became bored and wandered up to the desk.

On it, there were boxes with sticks in them. Wands, she assumed they must be. Didn't witches use wands? Was he a witch, too? What was the difference between witches and wizards?

She saw several small sticks lying beside two open boxes. One of the boxes still held a wand, but the other box had only a few of the same sticks in it. These sticks were long and thin, looking like tiny matches.

She was usually very good about keeping her nose out of other people's business. She was willing to steal from her mom to get food, but she didn't touch other people's things in general. Yet these small sticks seemed more fascinating to her than the large wand in the box beside them.

They gleamed in the light from the rotating orb overhead. Claire felt oddly dreamy as she reached out with the index finger of her right hand. One of the miniature matchsticks was sparkling, glittering… Her finger touched it and it stabbed her. She cried out, shocked by what felt like an unexpected attack. They had looked so innocent, even pretty.

She cried out again as her arm was seized, her hand turned over firmly. She looked up into Mr. Ollivander's face, but the tiny stick stabbed her again. She reached up with her left hand to try to get the splinter out, but Mr. Ollivander stopped her with a shake of his head.

He reached out and picked up a tiny tool, a seeming cross between a pair of tweezers and a pair of tongs. He slowly moved the tool towards her finger, a look of deep, worried concern on his face.

With another painful jab, the sliver fled the threatening tool and disappeared into her finger. A tiny drop of blood lifted from the hole it had left and dribbled down the tip of her finger.

Mr. Ollivander jerked away from her, releasing her suddenly. He ran over to the door and the lock clicked. He rushed back to the desk, turning her rather roughly towards him. Fear coursed through her, but she straightened up, facing him. She would take any punishment he decided, but she wouldn't let him know she was afraid.

"I didn't mean to-" she began.

To her surprise, he shook his head, "No, child. No, not your fault. The wand decides. These wands in particular decide." He glanced at the window, as if fearful. "I shouldn't have left them sitting out, but I got distracted-" he stopped and got himself under control. His hands tightened, almost painful. "This is a secret, girl. You cannot tell anyone about this. No one. Ever. This is the most important thing that has ever happened to you, and it's one of the biggest secrets in the wizarding world."

She blinked at him. "I don't understand you."

He sighed and took a deep breath. "Do you understand that you must never tell anyone, ever? That's the most important thing here."

She nodded and he shook her slightly. "Say you understand!"

"Okay!" she objected. "I understand! I won't tell anyone. But why?"

He let go of her, turning her hand over. He took a perfect white cloth off of the desk and wiped away the blood. "This means you're an Unspeakable." His eyes met hers. "You're an Unspeakable, but you can't tell anyone. Most of them are secret, the few that people do know about, they're supposed to know about." He tapped her finger. "This is your true wand. We'll give you another wand and it will serve you, but this one is your true wand, and always will be."

He shook his head. "There hasn't been another Unspeakable chosen in decades. Why would they choose a child? Children can't keep secrets to save their-"

"I can keep secrets," Claire snapped.

He stopped talking and stood up straight. "Of course you can. Of course. It wouldn't have chosen you if you couldn't. Let's find you a secondary wand, shall we? You must always use it until you take on your role as an Unspeakable. You understand?"

She nodded solemnly. She didn't think she wanted to be an Unspeakable. It sounded really terrible. But she supposed, given that Maureen tried to hide her, and the school had, too, she was probably already unspeakable.

Mr. Ollivander crossed to the door and unlocked it again. She was handed wand after wand, and as each of them was discarded, her temper grew shorter and his smile got wider.

"Yes," he finally said. "I think I've got it." He bent down and picked up a small box from a lower shelf he had already passed by. "Pine with a pheonix feather core. Swishy. Eleven inches."

He held the box out, and she picked it up. He smiled and nodded at her. She didn't need to try it, though. She already knew. She understood. The sliver inside her finger seemed to settle, now giving off a soothing sense of welcome. The wand she held in her hand began to glow.

"Looks can be deceiving, child," he said, nodding with satisfaction. "This wand will take you far. Pine is the most willing of the woods to learn and adapt. It's a perfect fit for an Unspeakable."

He gestured at the chair he had called for her, and she sank onto it, gripping her wand hard. Now that she had it, she never wanted to let it go. She felt like cuddling it, but didn't. She was pretty sure that would be way too uncool.

"Now, we must talk price." He pointed at the hand she held her wand in. "That is one of the more expensive wands, and it's quite old. It's been waiting a long time for the right person. But one must always pay for their wand-" he stopped as she felt her face fall. "Not this moment, Miss Armont. We will come to an agreement, shall we?"

She'd learned a lot from Maureen. "Maybe." She wasn't agreeing to anything until she knew the terms.

He laughed. "Clever girl. Clever, clever girl. This is my proposal to you, and it's a rare bargain for me, I think. Only you will know the true value of this wand, and most likely only in time. If I let you take it today, will you solemnly vow that you will come and pay me the worth of both of the wands when the time comes that you're able?"

She opened her hand and looked at the wand she held, the one she could see. She could also sense the one inside her finger. She stared at it for so long that she jumped when the little bell on the door jingled.

She spoke the words with a sense deep inside her that she was doing something huge, important, and meaningful. "Yes, Mr. Ollivander. I will."

"So witnessed," said Professor McGonagal behind her. When Claire turned to look at her, the professor smiled. "You've promised to pay for it, I'm assuming."

Claire nodded and for some reason, she felt like crying again. She looked up the man on the stool who was speaking now with the professor. He trusted her. He trusted her to know the value of a thing, and to pay him someday in the future.

She turned to stand and look at some of the boxes, though she couldn't read what they said besides Ollivanders. She refused to let the tears fall. She was strong. She would persevere and she would survive and she would make something of herself. She wasn't a sniveling puppet like her stepfather had said before he abandoned her and Maureen both.

She looked down at the wand again. It was special somehow. She knew it. Paying for that wand would cost her a great deal, she knew that, too.

She looked back at the two people chatting to each other. They had both trusted her.

She had to turn her face back to the shelves and focus on reading Ollivanders over and over again while she took deep breaths. She'd read in a book that it helped keep yourself under control.

She would pay him back. Her hand tightened on the wand and determination rose. She would never tell about the tiny wand and she would pay him back because he had trusted her.