Harry locked the door to his rented room, then descended the stairs down to the main floor of The Leaky Cauldron. Since it was somewhat early in the morning, it was unpopulated and Harry was easily able to approach Tom.
"Morning, Tom. Listen, I need to go buy my wand today, and was wondering if you knew of where to get one? I saw Ollivander's yesterday, but didn't see any other wand shops."
"To be honest, young sir, Ollivander's is really the only place around to buy a wand. There's a few shops down in Knockturn Alley, but those wands are likely to be ill-gotten or poorly matched, not to mention a gentleman of your age shouldn't be going anywhere near that place. Loads of bad folks down there," Tom answered.
"Thanks, Tom. I'll be out shopping most of the day, but I might stop back here for lunch," Harry spoke as he exited the back door into Diagon Alley. "Uhh… Think you could open the entrance for me?" he shouted back into the pub.
Tom shuffled quickly to the wall and tapped the correct brick. Murmuring another quiet farewell, he moved back into his bar. Harry stepped through the archway and began making his way towards Ollivander's. The alley was nearly deserted, with only a few witches and wizards making their way from store to store. In short order, he was standing in front of Ollivander's. He took in the shabby appearance of the store, from the faded and peeling paint to the door that looked as if it could fall of its hinges given a strong breeze. Shrugging, he pulled open the door (which felt much sturdier than it looked) and stepped inside.
The instant the door closed behind him, Harry felt nervous, as if he was being watched. He glanced around suspiciously, but didn't see anybody. He looked around, taking in the interior of the shop. There was a counter running the width of the entire store, but his attention was immediately caught by the towering shelves behind it. They reached upwards much farther than the outside of the shop would suggest was possible, at least thirty feet, and stretched away from him into the shadows until he could no longer see them. Each shelf had a haphazard mess of long, thin boxes stacked on them. Harry stepped farther into the shop, then called out.
"Hello? Is anybody here? I'd like to buy a wand," he spoke into the empty room. Feeling a bit foolish, he stepped forward to the counter and rang the small bell resting there. "Hello?"
"Mr. Potter," came a soft voice from behind him. Harry whirled and bent his knees slightly as his eyes cast about the room, searching for the person who had spoken. It didn't take much effort.
The man standing before him was old, older than anyone Harry had seen before. He had stringy gray hair that hung to his shoulders, though it looked well kept. His skin was wrinkled and very pale, as though he hadn't stepped into sunlight in the last two decades. The most unique feature about him, though, was the eyes that felt as though they pierced directly into his soul. They were silver, and seemed as if they were glowing.
"I suspected you might be coming along here one of these days," the man continued. "I must say, you look shockingly like your father did when he first came here. Everything except your eyes… they must have come from your mother. Forgive me – where are my manners? Garrick Ollivander, at your service."
"How did you know my name?" Harry asked, still in shock at the man's sudden appearance.
"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid most everyone knows your name. You are, of course, somewhat of a celebrity."
"A celebrity? What are you talking about?"
"You mean… you don't know? Nobody told you?" Ollivander had a look of shock on his face, coupled with no small amount of sympathy. "Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I must discuss some topics of great importance with you. Allow me a moment, would you?"
While Harry by no means fully trusted the man before him, he did seem fairly harmless, not to mention earnest. Beyond that, Harry knew he always had his own limited magics to draw on, which should be at least enough to leap through the window into the street beyond. He nodded to the old man, who gave something of a sad smile and moved towards the door.
After flipping a "closed" sign over the front door of his shop and pulling a few of the blinds, Ollivander had pulled a few stools out from behind his counter and flicked his wand towards the back of the shop, causing a teapot and two mugs to float out and settle between the stools. He motioned towards the stools, and after Harry had settled down, took his own seat and poured tea into both cups.
"Now, then, it all started when a young man came into this very shop…"
A couple hours later, Harry felt as though he had just stepped off a roller coaster stuck at max speed. His head was whirling with all of the new information he had just taken in. According to Ollivander (and Harry had every intention of fact checking everything he had said), there had been a war in the wizarding world for several years before his birth. Some "Dark Lord" who called himself Voldemort had set his sights on the entirety of magical Britain, and had gathered hundreds of followers to help him do so. In the process, he had apparently deemed Harry's parents a significant threat, and had personally gone to their house and murdered them. However, when he attempted to kill Harry, the spell he had used had bounced back and killed him instead.
Apparently, after that, the wizarding world had gone mad in celebration, and dubbed Harry the "Boy-Who-Lived," and he and his lightning bolt scar became famous overnight. Harry had always wondered how he had received the pale scar on his forehead, and apparently this was it. Fortunately, it had faded significantly to the point it was barely visible, so he would not be immediately recognizable. Ollivander had also told Harry of the true past of this Lord Voldemort, how he had once been a boy named Tom Riddle, and slowly transformed into the monster everyone feared to this day. There were a multitude of other tidbits that he had also been told, but he could not fully process them at the moment, with all the rest that was on his mind.
"Now, I know we got a fair bit off topic, but would I be wrong in assuming that you are still interested in purchasing a wand?" Ollivander broke the silence.
"Er… yes, sir, if it's not too much trouble."
"Well stand up, let's see what we're working with," Ollivander replied.
Another hour or so later, Harry and Ollivander were surrounded by discarded boxes. They must have tested at least two hundred wands, yet there had been no match. In fact, Harry had not felt so much as a twitch from a single one.
"Hmm… very curious. Well, I have one more that we might try. Here you are… Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Go on, give it a wave."
As Harry grasped the stick in his right hand, he finally felt something from the wand. Unfortunately, it was certainly not what he was hoping for. He gasped as the wand burned in his palm, causing him to drop it in shock.
"Well, I can't say I expected that one. Can't say I've ever seen that kind of reaction before, at least not from an unbonded wand. Mr. Potter, I'm sorry to say that I don't have any more wands that could be compatible. Now, before you panic, that isn't to say I can't get you one. It'll just have to be something of a custom order. Hold on a moment…" Ollivander waved his wand vaguely towards the back room. "I'll just need to collect a blood sample. Should be able to finish it by tomorrow afternoon, and you can pick it up and pay for it then." A small orb floated out from the back room and dropped gently in Ollivander's outstretched palm.
"Alright. What do I need to do?" Harry inquired.
"Just grab this ball in your hand and squeeze. You'll feel a little pinch, and that's all."
Harry took the ball from Ollivander's hand and did as he asked. He felt a prick as if a needle had stabbed his palm, then nothing. He opened his hand and looked down. Nothing had changed, except for the small smear of blood on one side of the orb. He extended his hand towards Ollivander, who flicked his wand at the ball which disappeared again into the back of the shop.
"Now, Mr. Potter, please feel free to stop by anytime, even after you get your wand. I found our conversation earlier to be quite enjoyable, regardless of the rather somber topic."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, for everything. I'll see you tomorrow," Harry replied, and he walked out of the shop.