Garrick Ollivander:
Saying this time of the year was Garrick's favorite was like saying that the sky was blue. In other words, yes but with a long list of exceptions. When it is night time, the sky is black. When it is overcast or storming the sky becomes a shade of gray.
He gives out good wands to good people and the skies are blue. He gives out wands that don't bond their owners and the sky becomes gray. He gives out wands to people he knows will do horrible things and the sky becomes as black as the night. He gives out a wand to Tom Riddle and the sun itself goes dark.
But for every Tom there is a Harry, who had just come through his shop but a few minutes ago, taking the brother.
Garrick sometimes regrets learning about wandlore because it has given him too much insight into the future of too many people. Harry has to fight Tom and Tom has to fight Harry. It's a tragic cycle that could have been so easily avoided if only he had not let the sun go dark the day he gave Tom his wand. But if he had done so what would happen? Someone from the ministry would come and kick him out of the shop until someone who didn't understand wandlore came along to man the shop. Then the sky would never become blue again.
And sometimes there comes a child that Garrick isn't sure about. He can't tell if the child has an overcast or sunny sky. He can't tell if it is noon or midnight and those children are the ones that keep him going more than anything. And one of them is in his shop right now.
Ronald Weasley stands in front of him, waiting patiently for his wand. That in and of itself is an odd occurrence. Garrick could have sworn that he wasn't going to have the opportunity to give a wand to the youngest Weasley son for at least a few more years. He idly wondered if the years were finally starting to catch up to him. But the boy stood in front of him despite what he had previously thought.
And the boy was undeniably special. Just standing near him and reaching out to his magic, Garrick could tell there was something different about this boy's aura. It felt like the aura of a person much older than what his appearance gave off. It was way more solidified than a boy of 11 had any right to be. It felt like it had been actively used for years already, which seemed to contradict the fact that the boy hadn't even gotten a wand.
A wand…
Garrick turned his head to look back to the endless shelves of wands. He felt something odd coming from one of the wands in the back. He shot out to go and find what it was and was shocked by what he found. There was a wand that was already calling out to the boy. The wand was singing to the boy and trying its absolute best to reach the boy. It was like an excited dog on a leash that had just seen its owner for the first time in a long while. Garrick could only blink, dumbfounded at what was happening.
He pulled the wand out of the shelf, hands shaking with excitement with what was happening around him. The wand hummed excitedly in his hands and practically shot into the boy's hands when Garrick set the box in front of him. Ronald just looked at the wand in amazement.
No surge of magic was coming out of the wand. Everytime that Garrick gave out a wand, some feat of magic happened, be it fireworks or an uncontrolled transfiguration. But this wand… Garrick could tell that this wand had bonded with Ronald, but there was no demonstration of its abilities. It was like the wand felt that it had nothing to prove to the boy. That they were already partners on a deep enough level that they had nothing to prove to each other.
The boy had a curious expression as well. It was not one of wonder or amazement that Garrick had grown so familiar with. Instead, it was a long, fond reminiscence half forgotten. Like the boy had been on the verge of remembering something for a long time and a missing puzzle piece had just slotted into place. But there were still pieces missing in the puzzle.
Garrick was fascinated, wanting nothing more to reach out and try and find a missing piece. But no, that wasn't his story to tell. He was an observer that only saw the stories of the next generation for but a moment before they moved on to weave their tales. He waved the boy out of the shop, not accepting payment for a wand already purchased, and sat down behind the desk to think about the wonder of this latest encounter.
