The Golden Hedgehog

My mother and I arrived at Diagon Alley around three in the afternoon. The comedy and absurdness of the place is endless. All these witches and wizards run around for no apparent reason and all of them are in a stunning rush to get somewhere fabulous, a place unbeknownst to the rest of us, and all of them are extremely important. That is, they seem to think as much. They are inexcusably pushy and absolutely positive that they deserve to be in line before you and thus, we ruffians should move to the back. My mother and I were caught up in the quick paced mob and were absolutely fascinated at how quickly magical peoples in wizarding England could move. In Diagon Alley, and I'm assuming all of wizarding England (rather unjustly I'm sure), witches and wizards are very anxious to obtain their magical necessities in a timely manner. Thus, it is assumed, one can be in and out of an English Wizarding Mall, such as Diagon Alley, within an hour. My mother and I dispelled this notion, surely but quietly.

We wandered aimlessly through the alluring shops, buying this here, and that there until we arrived at Ollivander's Wand Shoppe. The peeling gold letters on the sign above the door claimed that the owners of the particular bodega were "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." If one was going solely by the information presented on this sign, this advocation, the facts would seem rather implausible. However the state of the store made this proclamation a tad more persuasive. The outside of this Wand Abode was absolutely atrocious and ancient. Cracks ran all along every edge visible, and invisible ones probably plagued the foundation of the store. The state of the windows was deplorable, the door was hanging by one hinge, and it was kept up by some form of what had to be powerful magic. My mother and I approached the window cautiously; I was sincerely afraid that some form of evil beast would leap from it in a sudden impetuous lightning storm of claws and teeth ready to steal my mother and mine feeble mortal lives with immense ferocity. We would have to defend ourselves to the death beautifully.

I was disappointed when this did not happen. All I saw when I peered into the window was a solitary wand lying on a purple pillow. I was a little shocked. Beyond beasts, I did expect a lot of items in this store, like a thrift shop, but there was nothing there but that wand and purple pillow.

I shrugged my shoulders and continued to gaze down at the wand which lay before me. I decided to do the unthinkable; think. I examined every angle, attempting to figure out if perhaps there was some hidden meaning in the positioning of the wand, perhaps the color of the pillow I lay upon. The most I could dredge from the depths of my mind is that the color purple indicates magical power, amplified magical power. Perhaps the purple is a way to tell people who are looking into the window that the wands here amplify a magician's power. That seemed ignorant to me, however. Why would this Ollivander's need to brag about how wonderful their wands are through the means of color identification when they are the only wand shop in London, when they are the only shop from which potential wand buyers can go to when in need of a wand in their native country? What Englishman would flee England to France, the closest neighboring country with a wand shop, to buy a wand? My mother walked into the store at this point, thankfully interrupting my disjointed and twisted thought process that was getting totally out of control. I assumed I was to follow her, as per the rulebook I read about mother's and daughter's roles in life states. Apparently, daughters are supposed to do what their mothers do, even when their mothers are complete nut jobs and crazy people.

Thus, I followed my mother into the absolutely appalling wand shop. Once inside, I was nearly knocked over by the decaying and musty smell which was emitted from the store itself. It was shocking and absolutely frightening. On top of that, it looked like a library, dusty shelves and all and that no one had cleaned the place in years. Suddenly, I felt my arm start to twitch beyond my control. It was flailing madly and when I looked over at my mother, hers was as well, only she looked composed as though it didn't bother her. "Oh my god! Mom! What's happening?"

My mother looked over at me, non-pulsed, "Oh, don't worry about it dear, that's just Wizards Twitch."

"Wizards Twitch?" My arm smacked my side loudly, "What's in God's name is Wizards twitch"

At this point, Mr. Ollivander turned around to face us. He spoke in too soft of a voice, and his eyes were too focused to be normal, "Wizards Twitch is similar to the muggle form of sneezing. When there is dust that is extremely old, wizards start to twitch the same way muggles would sneeze. Don't worry about it; it will go away in a minute." I stared at the man who was talking, oblivious to my arm at this point.

It was not that he was frightening in anyway, it was more than that. His silvery eyes seemed to look past outer surfaces and see deep into the core. They did not just see that of human existence, they saw through all things and into the core, through all things, they were surreal. He could see through a solid wall to what was behind it, it appeared. He just knew things. He just saw. His fingers were just a bit to long to be completely normal. Instead of being fingers, they were long whimsical branches of a weeping willow, lying peacefully in whatever position they happened to be in. the rest of his limbs and his torso had the same slightly skewed appearance. They weren't quite abnormal, but still, there was just enough about them that made it impossible for his features to appear completely in tune with the norm. Even his face had a strange shape, it was all to long, to willowy, and it was too stretched. His skin merely spanned his face, covering the bone. His skin tone, or the lack of skin tone was just as abnormal as the rest of him and played a large part in his creepy appearance and demeanor. He was pure white, as though he were scared to death or in fact dead and a ghost lingering on this earth, impassive to the affairs of humans.

The room we stood in was a labyrinth of wands. The shelves were in disarray and held an infinite number of wands, all the boxes in various states of decay. Behind where we stood and in the corner near the window where the sole wand lay stood a few chairs. There was a red, green, yellow and blue one. The four colors of the four elements, interesting. The symbolism of the wand in the window wasn't perhaps just my over active mind.

My mother took her steps towards him carefully and meticulously. "Regina Kelly." Mr. Ollivander spoke exactly the way his appearance betrayed him too, "You look exactly as I thought you would after all of these years. Magnolia, ten inches, unicorn tail hair, correct? Perfect for charms, especially ones for innocence and protection. And now you bring me another young one. It appears you and Mr. Shorter got along better than I had predicted, and you have procreated a marvelous young daughter with stunning green eyes. I believe I have the perfect wand for you. Oak, 11 inches and it contains centaur hair."

He reached up into the shelves of disarray and grabbed a small black box and handed it to me with an unnecessary flourish. I raised my eyebrow incredulously; not wanting to open this box which he was so certain contained my wand.

But I did. I waved the wand he had handed me and with a sudden bang the chair behind me and to my right burst into flames and within a few seconds was nothing more than a smoldering pile of ask. My mother and I stood in shock. I'm sure she was thinking the same thing I was, Is he going to make us pay for that? It wasn't my fault, he handed me the bloody wand.

Fortunately, that was not the next sentence that spilled out of his mouth. Instead he said "Well. That's a first, and that's saying a lot. Well, well, well, we'll have to try a different wand then!" with that, he flew around and went rummaging through the shelves for another wand. This time, he handed me a white box with yellowed edges, "Magnolia, like your mother, 9 inches with a phoenix feather. You seem like you have some fire that is if one were to judge from the state of my former, and once magnificent and ruby chair." I once again raised an incredulous eyebrow and took the wand and tattered box from his outstretched hand.

I waved it through the air, and once again disaster stuck. Only this time, instead of an inanimate object like a chair for example, it was Mr. Ollivander's clothing itself which caught fire and went up into flame on his left arm.

I panicked. I utterly panicked. In the spirit of senselessness that accompanies panicking, I attempted to put out the fire that was creeping up his arm with my spit. I projected my saliva onto the poor man until he drew his wand, spirited me away with a stroke and then with another majestic stroke released himself from the fire which was consuming his left arm with lightening speed.

I attempted to apologize profusely for my unintended disgusting reaction to having set him on fire, but he wouldn't hear of it. "Many people have walked through those doors." he gestured towards the deteriorating doors, "Many have made mistakes. I have never forgotten one, and I never will. You, just happen to be one full of firsts and an interesting customer to try to fit. Do not ever be sorry because of your differences from the rest of the so-called world full of so-called normality." I thought he spoke rather like the American Jedi Yoda. 'Good are you. Bad are you not. Be not sorry, firsts you give.'

Mr. Ollivander went back into the far reaches of his humble store to fetch me another presumably cataclysmic wand and I was so consumed with dreadful worry about what I was going to destroy next that I didn't realize that a small family of four had walked in behind us and stood solemnly in the door way. If I had noticed, I would have been shocked by the cold demeanor of all of the family save one. And I would have been intrigued by his devil may care attitude. But, I did not see them, so I was none of the afore mentioned adjectives. I was instead trembling with dread about the next wand I was about to be presented with.

"Try this one. I have a good feeling about this one." He seemed enlivened with the challenge of matching me with a wand; the opposite of what I would have expected considered what I was putting him through. "Thirteen inch mahogany, once again Unicorn hair. Flick this one carefully, young lady. There is potential for more damage with this wand than the others I have given you."

I tried to take his words to heart as I swung the heavy wand through the stagnant air with my eyes squeezed shut.

At first, I thought nothing had happened. Then "AHHH!" "SQUEAK, SQUEAK," "AHHHH," resounded through the store from behind me. My eyes flew open and I was confronted by this odd family. The youngest was screaming in agony as a small creature atop his head was attempting to escape. The boy was spinning around with his hands flying through his hair endeavoring to free himself from the foreign beast that was clawing its way into his scalp.

The older boy stood laughing next to his brother. He was holding his gut tightly to keep himself standing straight; the sight of him almost sent me into hysterics myself.

My mother shot out from beside me and tried to get the animal off of the younger boys head. All she managed to do however was knock him over and send herself vaulting over him and landing unceremoniously on top of the poor, already distraught boy.

The beast went skidding in little ringlets across the floor and came to a halt in front of Mr. Ollivander. I finally got a good look at the creature just before Mr. Ollivander raised his wand in anticipation of a spell. The creature was a hedgehog! and a strange one at that. The quills on its back looked more like splinters and the tips of them were brilliant and golden. The rest of its quivering body was chestnut colored and looked like wood. I felt so bad for it!

"REPARASJON!" Mr. Ollivander bellowed and a jettison of golden sparks flew from his wand at the little hedgehog and missed him by a hair. The little creature went tumbling over himself around the store, trying to find a place to hide, yet finding none. Mr. Ollivander was on his tail the entire time.

I ran after Mr. Ollivander and tried to intercede on behalf of the hedgehog; it didn't deserve to be … charmed or spelled upon or anything, it hadn't done a thing to anyone! I bounded quickly around the store, trying to grab the hedgehog before Mr. Ollivander cursed it to oblivion.

"REPARASJON!" Sounded again through the store and I covered my eyes as I saw the stream of golden sparks strike the little critter right between the eyes. I opened one eye halfway to see if anything happened. Veins of gold began to spread from the spot where the spell hit him and bled all over his trembling body and snaked up into his quills. Anon, his entire being was golden.

I rushed forward and scooped the golden hedgehog up into my arms. I started to smooth his quills and tried to get him to calm down. Mr. Ollivander walked up to me. He started to speak above the older boy who was still laughing, "You owe me a new sign,"

"What do you mean?"

"You turned my sign into a hedgehog. And now that's you're hedgehog. I don't want it. When we are done, I want it out of my store so it doesn't attack any more of my customers." He seemed rather angry with me. And here I was thinking that he liked me because I was different. I cuddled the hedgehog up to my cheek and looked back at the boy standing behind me. He was trying to speak, but failing miserably. After a minute of two, he managed to get to a point where he could be coherently understood; we all waited patiently for him.

"Technically …" He sucked in air, "The hedgehog didn't attack Regulus, it feel on his head." More laughter, "It's not the hedgehog's fault, it's Regulus'" Breathe, "for being in the wrong place, at the wrong time."

SMACK! The boy's mother walloped him upside the head and he shut up immediately. I gazed at her for a bit.

The older woman I assumed was the mother had a very frightening look about her. She wore a black cap and it appeared that she had no hair under it because she had cancer and was receiving way too much chemotherapy. Her skin was yellow as though she had jaundice. She looked like she could stop a belligerent yeti in its evil tracks. Her hands clawed at her side, ready to reach out and remove any foe's eyes for one wrong and unintentional movement in one, quick, silent and evil strike.

The older man stood tall above his apparent wife. He seemed to be paranoid, kept looking over his shoulder for an unseen assailant. He had long, wavy black hair and steel grey eyes that did not even have a semblance of intelligence behind there dull color. The youngest was more interesting than the two parents. He was a little big for his size and appeared rather soft. His eyes were still watering from my hedgehog attacking him; it was enough to inspire a bit of pity from me.

The oldest boy was the most interesting. He had storm grey eyes similar to his father, but they were different. There was something behind them, something intelligent. There was also … laughter lurking behind his stern features. He was laughing inwardly still, I assumed about the hedgehog incident and his darling brother. He had long, wavy black hair like his father.

I looked back into his eyes. They were really laughing. I was enthralled, I walked closer, and I was about to ask him what he was laughing at when Mr. Ollivander caught my attention. "Ahem, I do believe young Regulus is fine, which means we have more work to do my dear. Try this. Centaur hair, very hard to obtain, Oak again, 14 inches. Rather powerful. Be careful when you swirl this one, more careful than the last one."
I wasn't quite sure how I could swing a wand carefully; it seemed like one easy motion. I put the hedgehog onto my left shoulder and with my right hand took the wand which was being handed to me and swung it down through the air, probably a little harder than I should have.

The wand took matters into its own hands and flew from between my fingers during mid-swing into the nearest wand shelve, leaving my arm hanging in the air. Tons of dust flew off of the shelf and covered Mr. Ollivander, my mother, and I. I had my arm out in the air still and I peered at Mr. Ollivander, hoping to goodness he didn't hate me forever because I had covered his entire store in dust, making it look more ancient, if that was possible, as it had before. Just as we thought that was the worst that could happen, the book shelf my wand had struck began to creak and slowly but surely tilt from one side to the other.

Mr. Ollivander went into slow motion trying to halt the inevitable disaster that was befalling his store. As he rushed towards the falling, crushing wand shelf, it struck the shelf next to it with a sickening crunch. The one next to it fell sideways and a domino effect ensued. In a cloud of dust and crashing booming noise, it was obvious all of the shelves had fallen to their demise, and that I was about to come to my own. The place looked like a war zone, or like a tornado had blown through. Pieces of boxes were in the air floating down softly as if on a breeze. Wands littered the floor in a mosaic of different colored wood, some still half in the box. The shelves themselves were completely ruined beyond repair. Their ruins lay strewn across the store, a piece even covered my foot. Everyone who was standing in the store was covered in six layers of dust; we all looked like statues.

I closed my eyes, fearful of Mr. Ollivander's inevitably furious and raging reaction. I was thinking He handed me that bloody wand, that freaking 'powerful,' wand. It wasn't my fault. Nope. I swung delicate. Not my fault. Uh-uh. but, I was still scared out of my mind about what he was going to do to me. I'm sure he didn't look at the situation the same way I did, and it was quite possible he would kick me out of his store for destroying it, and then where would I be! Going to Hogwarts without a wand! I opened my eyes and held up my left hand to shield myself from the onslaught of dust.

With a loud CRACK and a shot of pain in my hand, I instantly felt a surge of energy fly up and down my extended arm and felt a flash of air by my ear. I quickly pulled it down, trying to avoid what ever was happening to me and to my surprise a streak of vibrant gold sparks flew through the air in a bright patter of a dragon.

I felt heat emitting from behind me and I turned around just in time to see a brilliant red dragon of sparks hanging in the air behind me. I looked up and locked eyes with the boy who was holding the wand that had made the sparks. He stared down at me, the confusion that was surely on my own face mirrored on his features. His right hand clutching the wand that had flown into his hand the same way mine had into my own hand. I continued to look in his eyes until Mr. Ollivander spoke from behind.

"Kindred spirits. Fascinating. You, Miss. Maybell Shorter have been chosen for an elder wood, twelve inch wand, with unicorn hair and a phoenix feather. One of two wands I have used two creatures in. Its match is sitting in Sirius Black's hand. You're two destiny's are somehow linked. The last time I saw this happen was with a certain Albus Dumbledore and a Minerva McGonagall."

My mother leaned forward, keen to learn anything she could about Dumbledore, "What happened,"

"Both of them walked in, much like the two young people we have here, and before I could say anything two wands, two matching wands, flew out from behind me and into their hands. They both have wands from the same Unicorn, Minerva's is Oak, ten inches and Albus' is Elder, eleven inches. This reminds me.

"Elder is a wood that is sacred to the wee-folk, the fairy's. They hide in its branches during winter and fall to escape the cold and frolic in its leaves during the spring and summer. It's a perfect wand for mischief. I therefore wish the two of you good luck in avoiding detention, and all forms of punishment during your days at Hogwarts."

Before I could react to this new twist however, a bark like laugh sounded from behind me. I turned and found myself face to face with the boy with laughing eyes, Sirius Black. I smiled kindly while examining his face critically. Who was this guy I was supposedly a kindred spirit with? He gave me a smile I recognized, and I knew he was trying to figure out the same thing I was. This was not something I wanted to have happen to me. I didn't need a kindred spirit.

I heard Mr. Ollivander speak behind me, "Jeg vil ha min forretning sammen igjen." I turned around just in time to watch as the store was magically put back together. It was beautiful.

Sirius Black spoke first. "If you could put your store back together that easily, why did you bother trying to save it in the first place?" I smiled, he thought like me, and it was true, why in the world would he try to save his store if he could just renovate it by talking magic.

"Automatic reaction." Mr. Ollivander smiled at me, "The place needed renovating anyway." He was right. The difference in the store was absolutely amazing. It was spotless, absolutely pristine. The smell had left the store completely, and it now smelt spectacular.

Mr. Ollivander sniffed the air, and looked around. "Still, there's something missing. Something …" He tapped his long fingers together, "something is off …" a smile graced his face and he said, "Ah, yes … Støv er stort."

A layer of dust descended upon from midair. I felt my arm begin to tense up and twitch, the same way it had when I walked into the store, and I started to laugh. Soon, everyone in the store was twitching and chortling except for Mr. Ollivander. He stood there stoically, so my mother and I took a moment to thank him for his help, and apologize again for all the trouble. He waved us off again.

I still felt horrible for destroying all of it however. He may have been able to fix everything I had done with a flick of his wand, but that didn't mean much in the way of sentiments. No one wants to watch a store they've had for, goodness at least a thousand years, more than two thousand years, go up in flames, or down into dust. Even if it's repairable.

My mother and I bade him farewell, content with the notion that we would never have to visit that store again and walked away in absolute silence. We walked by the family and I paused by Sirius Black, and winked. No sense in having him hate me. I tried to smile consolingly towards to the boy the hedgehog and scared, but he slunk away from the creature I held in my hands. My mother and I remained in silence all the way out of the store. Neither one of us trusted ourselves to say anything.

That is until my mother started laughing. "Trust it to you. You never can do things the easy way, can you? My goodness. Just when I start thinking you're normal, that you've found a place you'll fit in, you go off and prove me wrong." She laughed good-naturedly to show me she didn't hate me for all that I had done.

She may have been trying to make me feel better, but I wasn't laughing. I wasn't pleased. I knew I wouldn't be able to get Sirius Black out of my head, but for some reason I wanted him to be gone. It wasn't pleasant having him running amuck through my mind, and having a match to my wand. Who was he anyway? But the more my mother laughed, the more I saw the hilarity of the situation. I thought of the boy with laughing eyes in the Shoppe and I began to chortle silently to myself. I suppose it was a little comical. Before I knew it I was chuckling softly and within a minute I was outright laughing with my mother.

"Come on. Let's go to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner." My mother squeaked between fits of laughter. I nodded my head in feeble agreement and we set off jerkily towards the Leaky Cauldron, still stifling boughts of laughter.

Once we arrived at the famed establishment, we both sat down at a very small table in the corner of the pub. We were still stifling laughter every couple of moments, which earned us some very confused looks from the tables around us. The hedge hog we had no acquired was still squeaking, indignant that he had been turned completely golden because of the strange Mr. Ollivander's spell; he was also beginning to glow supernaturally.

"I think we should name him Ollivander." I spoke suddenly and clearly, stopping any lingering laughter. "Ollie for short. That way I can always remember why I don't like shopping."

"Oh. I really hope he doesn't turn back into a sign. He's such a nice hedgehog." My mother sighed.

"Me too. I hope he stays hedge-hoggy for a long time, that way I can take him with me to Hogwarts when I leave." I tried to put Ollivander to smooth his quills, but he would have none of it. He kept trying to scamper off in another direction away from my imploring hand. "He's so cute! Why do you think he keeps running though?" I looked at my mother, hoping she would have an answer as to why he was so set upon leaving us so soon.

"Well, seeing as how he's been a sign above a store for over two thousand years, I think perhaps he wishes to return to where he's been stationed for so long." I laughed. Sometimes my mother had just as weird a sense of humor as I. She was probably right as well.

"But that's the way life goes. You grow up as a tree, have someone hack you down mercilessly, and probably painfully, back then they didn't have any sharp tools with which to help a tree to its demise, then you are cut up into a sign. Then, the people have the nerve to paint you gold with a statement that within a hundred years no one believes, and finally, when you are just getting used to your station in life, some crazy girl comes and turns you into a golden hedgehog. It's horrible."

My mother laughed. "It's true, but you are not the one who turned him golden. He only had gold quills when you were done with him. Mr. Ollivander actually is the one who turned him completely golden."

I giggled a bit, she was right again. I looked over at the now christened Ollie who was trying to nibble a coaster that we weren't using, "I wonder why he's glowing. Do you think that means he's turning back into a sign?"

"When he starts to splinter, or looks like his gold color is peeling, or when he starts to flatten out, then you should worry." My mother peered over her glasses rims at me. "Are you all right with what happened in the wand shop? You seem kind of dazed; I'll admit I don't know anymore than you. But if you want to talk about it, I'm a really good listener."

That was just like my mother. To go from a completely hilarious subject to a serious one that required more thought. I didn't want to talk about it at this point; I was still in too much shock. I decided to avoid the problem all together and go back to the funny part of what had happened, "The one thing that worries me right now is if the boy who Ollie attacked attends Hogwarts."

My mother laughed a little, catching my drift of not wanting to discuss Sirius, "I suppose he would be rather angry with you for scarring him. And I suppose he would be really mad since his family didn't seem to care one wink about it."

"I'm not worried about him being mad. I'm worried about Ollie if he sees that boy again!" At this Ollie began to nibble on the edge of a coaster on the table, and slowly his glow began to fade bit by bit.