When Anthony stepped from the fireplace into Diagon Alley, it was as if he were seeing it for the first time. Of course they had visited before. His father had taken him once to the bank and proudly shown him his office, while his mother liked to pick up supplies for her garden and various household remedies. Anthony grimaced as he briefly remembered the bitter taste of a potion he had been given to try to awaken his magical tendencies. But now they were here just for him! He studied his list again, although he had practically memorized it by now. Packages piled up in their arms as they gathered a cauldron, potion-making supplies, robes, and everything else a first-year Hogwarts student needed. After a day of shopping and a brief argument about familiars ("It says you need one," his mother said. "No," Anthony had said, "It says I can take one if I want!"), they finally arrived at Ollivander's.

Anthony stood nervously in front of Ollivander's door. "Can't you come in with me?" he asked his mother and father.

"My father sent me in alone when I was your age," Mr. Prewett said. "It's good for you. Builds character."

Mrs. Prewett nodded. "It's best you go in alone so you don't have outside influences. The wand we like may not be the best for you. Go on, dear, we'll be right outside."

Anthony nodded, swallowed, and entered the dark shop. In the dim light, he could barely make out shelves stacked to the ceiling with small rectangular boxes of various sizes.

A wiry, bespectacled man with white hair appeared out of the shadows. He gave Anthony a look that seemed to last forever. "Are you here for your first wand?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Anthony said.

"Ah, going off to Hogwarts. I remember well those days. You must be excited! Well, let's get started!" He opened a box and handed Anthony the wand inside. "Oak, 12 inches, dragon heartstring. Go on, give it a wave."

Anthony was suddenly filled with dread, remembering what had happened the last time he had held a wand. He hesitated.

"Something wrong?" Ollivander asked kindly.

"It's just..." he said. "The last time I tried a wand, nothing happened."

"Not to worry," Ollivander said. "The wand chooses the wizard. In fact, they can be very temperamental. Some wands refuse to work if they're ever passed on to a different owner, while others change and learn from the user. If you're going to Hogwarts, there's magic in you yet. We'll know when you've found the right one. Go on," he said encouragingly.

Anthony waved the wand. A loud bang went off like someone disapparating.

Ollivander took the wand from him, unperturbed by the loud noise Anthony had just made. "Never mind," he said, "let's try this one," and handed him another. It made a fizzling sound. Anthony tried wand after wand. The boxes were starting to pile up behind Ollivander and Anthony was starting to despair of ever finding a wand.

"You are a tricky one," Ollivander said. He studied Anthony, giving him a calculating look. "Hm, yes, it might work," he said almost to himself. "Anthony, I almost never do this, the wand chooses the wizard after all, but I feel in this case you should choose a wand. Go ahead, look around, see if anything stands out to you."

Anthony wandered around the shop, looking at all the boxes. He moved to the back, where the boxes were dustier. Finally, one caught his eye. It was on a high shelf, covered in a few inches of dust, just a little apart from the others. "That one," Anthony said, pointing. Ollivander took it down and opened the box.

"Oh yes, Redwood, phoenix feather, 9 1/2 inches. Very rare, very rare indeed. I always expect to hear of exciting exploits when I send a redwood wand into the world. Oh well, go on, give it a try."

Anthony waved the wand and golden sparks appeared at the tip.

"That's it!" Ollivander clapped him on the back and Anthony proudly went outside to show his parents, who were overjoyed to hear the news.

Mrs. Prewett gave Anthony a hug and said, "That's so wonderful! And to get such a rare wood, you're very lucky!"

Mr. Prewett clapped his son on the back. "That's my boy! 'Great exploits,' he said? I always knew it."

"This calls for a celebration," said Mrs. Prewett. "We're off to Florean Fortescue's for ice cream! We'll take the Floo network since we have so many packages."

Mr. Prewett pulled out a handful of powder and tossed it into a nearby fireplace. "Hogsmeade," he said. They all stepped in together and arrived at a quaint village that looked like it had been stuck in the 1950s. Small shops lined the streets, advertising everything from wand polishing kits to exotic animals. A storefront was loaded with what seemed like every kind of sweet imaginable. The Prewetts walked past a large fountain to a shop with a large ice cream cone outside. The sign advertised "icy treats to delight the senses." Muriel chose a small chocolate "nevermelt" sundae, Mr. Prewett chose vanilla in a cone that stretched to catch any drips, while Anthony chose a large sundae trapped inside a sugar snow globe. Tiny candy figures inside were ice skating on the surface of the ice cream, whizzing back and forth under the falling snow.

On their way to their table, Anthony heard snatches of conversation. "-vanished the next day, I tell you! Not a trace. You can say his name if you like, but I'm calling him You-Know-Who from now on."

"-who knows how long we'll be safe? Will this shop even stay open?" "I hope so, this place has the best ice cream!"

His parents, meanwhile, were still on the topic of how great he would be as a wizard.

"I was something of a potions maker myself," Mrs. Prewett was saying. "Got top marks! I was going to apply for a post at Hogwarts, but then I met your father and when you came along, I wanted to focus on family. I only do hope you'll stop making up stories now that you'll be learning magic."

"My father was one of the best curse-breakers at Gringotts," Mr. Prewett broke in. "I'm not so shabby myself. You'll be part of a proud tradition. I'll teach you everything I know!"

"But he can do anything he puts his mind to," Mrs. Prewett said. "He could be a famous Auror, or work at the Ministry!"

As the Prewetts continued talking about him to each other, Anthony felt a weight in his stomach. He put his spoon down in his half-finished sundae, his appetite gone. He hadn't even done magic yet, how could he possibly live up to his parents' expectations?

"I um, need to use the loo," Anthony said, excusing himself.

He slipped out the back door into a small and secluded alleyway, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his ears. He leaned back against the wall and had to catch himself as he almost fell backwards. Startled, he turned around and stared. He was on a bustling sidewalk, quite different from anything he had seen in real life. Cars of all colors and large red buses whooshed down the street, which was lined with multi-story buildings with awnings in the windows.

"Watch it, lad!" someone said as they brushed by him. He was wearing strange clothes, what looked like a short open robe. A couple walked by, talking excitedly about a snake named Monty on something called a television. He noticed some older girls wearing bright, multicolored robes that fell above their knees. They giggled and whispered to each other, staring at him. Blushing, he turned away and stepped back through the wall into the alley. "What was that?" he wondered. He'd heard of magical portals before. His parents had told him of staircases at Hogwarts that led you to different places or times entirely. But that place was so different! He felt along the wall until he reached a solid brick, then took a rock and scratched his initials into it. He put his hand through the wall again just to make sure. "If I ever come back here again, I'll have to see if that portal is still there," he said to himself. He gathered himself and went back into Fortescue's, where his parents were still arguing about his future. That night, he dreamed he was walking around in the mysterious place behind the wall.