AN: Chapter twenty!
I think you've gotten the point by now that I do NOT own these characters. I will therefore stop disclaiming every single chapter of this story (of which there will be many).
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. was a small shop, narrow and shabby. Ushered in by the professor, Fakir entered to the sound of a tinkling bell. As she sat down in the lone chair, the boy silently stared at his dusty surroundings and the thousands of narrow boxes covering the walls. Even Ahiru had quieted, a remarkable fact as even the strictest librarian couldn't make her hold her tongue.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Fakir whirled around sharply and Ahiru let out a surprised quack. Professor McGonagall simply nodded at the old man and returned the greeting.
The man examined Fakir, pale eyes shining with interest.
"I've never seen you before," he noted. "Or your parents…" He seemed to brighten at the prospect.
"He's German. A special case – he lived in Kinkan," the professor explained.
"Hmmm," said the old man. "Curious. Which is your wand arm?"
AN: This story is not on hiatus, and will hopefully get back to weekly updates when everything calms down.
See you next update! Same duck-time, same duck-channel!