I own nothing
"Hurry up grandma, we're going to be late!" Alaric yelled up the stairs.
Octavius laughed at his grandson's impatience, more than used to his antics by now even as his wife quickly walked down the stairs, garbed in fashionable purple robes with a fancy handbag hanging from her hand. "Relax, we'll have plenty of time. The alley isn't going anywhere."
"He's right, we had best be leaving soon. I don't want to fight the crowds at rush hours," His grandmother spoke, suddenly serious as she turned towards Alaric, "But before we leave, I think I should tell you of the three basic rules of wand ownership."
Alaric instantly stood a bit straighter. His grandmother rarely ever spoke so seriously and had always given him a lot of leeway in almost everything. Outside of teaching, where she was an absolutely brutal old witch, he had always been extraordinarily soft compared to others when it came to him.
Her usually gentle eyes were grave as she held up a single finger, "One, always treat your wand with care. A wand is a symbol of a wizard's power and prestige in the wizarding world, it should be treated with respect. Even treat the wands of others with respect, nobody looks favourably on someone who desecrates a tool that holds our society together."
Alaric nodded, he could understand the reasoning and agreed with it, he had seen both mundane and magical worlds, and knew how significant wands could be to wizards and witches. Besides, he would not exactly be pleased if anyone poked at his magical medium either.
Elenor held up another finger and continued, "Never use a spell you don't know the use and history of. There are many magics strong enough to ride the intent of just wanting to cast it and cause damage to you or others around you."
Alaric nodded once again, more seriously this time as he was made more than aware of this danger during his lessons on magical theory. It was one of the greatest problems with the modern method of spellcasting— both magic and intent tended to seep into things through exposure and spells were no exceptions.
Some magics had enough intent engraved upon them to draw the required and be cast upon the world by themselves if used unknowingly. Fiendfyre was a rather notorious example of this, it was one of the darkest magicks known by man yet it was also one of the easiest to cast.
His grandmother held up her third finger and glanced down at him fondly, "Most importantly, use magic as much as much as you can. You are a wizard and your magic is an expression of yourself, expressing your opinions and ideas using your magic is something that one should always try to strive for."
Alaric grinned up at her and nodded. Magic might be an event, but that did not change the fact that a wizard could control the extent of the event. The larger and stronger an event a wizard could make, the higher his magical control was said to be.
Magic was almost subjective in nature, there was not any magical core in which energy was stored to be withdrawn or a metaphysical muscle that could be exercised. Magic just happened whenever a wizard willed it to happen but that did not mean it could not be improved.
After a few glamours and notice-me-not charms, the now three of them floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron and made their way through the magical gateway into Diagon Alley.
They were all garbed in robes and his grandfather particularly cut an impressive image being donning a wizard's hat that shielded his eyes from the sun and the occasional flash released by magical stores that threaded almost every corner in a swarm of activity. Witches languished outside as vendors hawked potions, artifacts, and charmed objects. Alaric had been to Diagon Alley before but the magical sight of it had always managed to take away his breath for a moment.
"How about we go our separate ways and meet up at Leaky Cauldron? I know Alaric has to purchase his robes, but I reckon he'd lose all his patience if take him to Twilfitt and Tattings right now," Octavius spoke, ignoring the indignant look his grandson shot his way.
"Alright, I have his measurements so I can get his robes by myself and you can get his other supplies by then. Let's meet in Ollivander's at noon " Elenor agreed and quickly added when she saw the ecstatic look spreading across her grandson's face, "But I would ban you both from purchasing any Quidditch Match tickets if you show up without any of your school supplies and a stupid grin on your face,"
Properly chastised, both Octavius and his grandson quickly waved Elenor goodbye as she walked towards a decorated shot while muttering about getting her shopping done quickly.
Diagon Alley was certainly called an alley but in almost every way that mattered it was a small town in itself, larger than several mundane tons he'd seen before. It was one of the four alleys that together formed one of the largest magical and economic centres of magical Britain.
The streets were crammed with bodies, full of all different kinds of people and creatures. Some were clerks rushing to work, others were afternoon shoppers wandering the markets in search of a good deal. But the streets were mostly crowded with young kids accompanied by parents, hoping to finish their shopping before the schools opened.
"So where to, Alaric?" Octavius asked once his grandmother had disappeared into the crowds.
"Flourish and Blotts, I need to purchase some new books this," Alaric immediately said, earning a smile from his grandfather before glancing up with his big amethyst eyes and asking, "But can we also get ice cream afterward, please?"
Octavius gave a brief loud bark of laughter before fondly messing up his hair as he usually did, "Of course, but we better finish our shopping first. It's best not to make your grandmother wait,"
Alaric grinned and eagerly followed his grandfather— even if he had taken to learning magic as fish to water and was viewed as a young prodigy by almost everyone in their circle, nobody could argue that he could not play the role of a charming kid well. His grandparents already doted on him and most adults he knew could not help but be moved by his enthusiasm and charm.
"All right, but I have your list here, and you can only pick three other books," Octavius spoke as he guided his grandson into the famous bookshop which mostly catered to students.
Fifty-five minutes later an exasperated Octavius escorted his grandson out of Flourish and Blotts and quickly went about finishing up his shopping. He almost could believe they had spent nearly an hour in the bookstore. If he was late to Ollivander's, Elenor would never let both of them forget it.
That woman could be vindictive about the most asinine of things, yet had a heart greater than a sea when it came to major events. It was part of the reason why he loved her so much.
Arriving outside of Ollivander's which appeared to be a simple run-down store on the outside but was drenched in magic otherwise, Octavius checked his watch and saw they were five minutes early before breathing out a sigh of relief. Entering the dusty old shop, he immediately noticed his Elenor waiting on a chair as Garrick Ollivander seemed to be fitting an excitable Irish boy with his wand.
"You got here early," She commented, raising an amused brow in question when she noticed how quickly they'd finished their shopping. She had expected them to take an hour more, but it seemed that she had Octavius wrapped around her finger even after all these years.
An excited scream of joy alerted the Peverells that the now-dancing Irish boy had found his wand. Seven Galleons later, the boy's mother dragged him out of the shop, giving an apologetic glance towards them as they left.
"Ah and now that that bit of business is wrapped up, I suppose that young Alaric would be needing wands today?" Ollivander asked, turning his attention towards them.
"It's nice to see you again, Garrick," Octavius asked, stepping forward and clasping the hand of his old friend and partner. "September is approaching so you must be busy these days. I cannot imagine how you remember them all,"
Both men were rather old business partners, with his grandfather being one of the rare owners of a phoenix reserve and the wandmaker being one of his regular customers. The partnership between Peverells and Ollivanders was apparently generations old.
The House Peverell had seen several centuries of decline and was currently not even close to being as wealthy and influential as it once was. Even if his grandfather had been trying hard to restore the old glory of their house, the Phoenix Reserve was one of the only ancestral properties that remained alongside the manor and the only one that generated income.
"A true craftsman remembers every wand he makes. Pheonix Feather and Mahogany, twelve inches and rather good for transfiguration, isn't it?" Ollivander gestured to Octavius's wand before turning towards Elenor and bowing with a dramatic flair that looked more amusing than impressive because of his wide eyes, "Maple with unicorn hair, rather bendy and good for Charms. I wonder what Alaric shall end up with."
Alaric boldly stepped forward and could only observe the thousands of small boxes neatly stored throughout the shop as he was poked and measured by a magical tape measure. The rather overbearing feel of expanded space and the lack of automatic cleaning spells enchantment in this place was rather strong for his tastes.
He had practiced sensing the usage of magic itself during the past three years and he'd turned somewhat proficient at it. It had taken a herculean amount of time to pick this power up but it had been worth yet.
But his thoughts were broken when the old voice of Ollivander pulled him back into the world and asked, "Tell me, what arm do you usually?"
"Both," Alaric answered, holding up both his hands with the hint of a small smile playing on his lips, "I'm ambidextrous"
The man nodded slowly, his grey eyes peering into the depths of his very soul before he walked to one of the many columns of boxes and pulled out a cushioned brown box from which he took out a wand that appeared to be made up of ivory.
He then walked back to Alaric before gently offering it up and saying, "Ten and a half inches, mahogany with a core of unicorn hair. Suitable for delicate transfigurations."
He grabbed the wand, expecting some kind of reaction and was disappointed when none came. Ollivander however, nodded in visible understanding before grabbing two more boxes from one of the many columns.
"It seems that I might have the pleasure of catering to another rare customer today. Most youngsters resonate with a wand during the first try itself," The old man spoke, grey eyes peering into his own even as he carefully took back the wand from his hand and laughed almost as if he were glad about it, "Eleven inches of Rowan and Sycamore twisted together around the core of a Unicorn's tail hair. A wand suited for the magic of protection and exploration."
When Alaric took the wand in his hand, he felt a small amount of warmth spreading through his hand but it did not spread beyond his wrist.
"Not this one," Ollivander spoke even as his grin widened, before snatching the wand away and replacing it with another one that gave the same results.
After what felt like an hour of him picking a wand and Ollivander snatching it back, the old man went back to his workstation and brought back a wand which he carefully caressed as if remembering.
Alaric glanced at it curiously before he grasped the wand in his hand but this time he experienced that nostalgic warmth once again that spread through his entire being. A snap of recognition occurred between the wand and himself as if they had been made for each other and suddenly the wand erupted in a dazzling shower of small sparks.
Alaric's eyes widened could feel the magic flowing from himself into the wand and it was not the sluggish flow that always accompanied his wandless magic, he had called forth a flood instead.
To him, calling on my chakra had always felt akin to drawing water from a deep but full well. It was not enough to simply open up his reserves and wait for magic to come, he had to coax it out using a ludicrous amount of concentration and focus.
But if manifesting magic wandlessly was akin to drawing water from a well to him, then it was opening the gates of a damn with a proper wand in his hand. He did not need to coax it out as he usually did, magic was all too ready to come gushing out on its own.
Where he usually needed to pull on his magic and force it to manifest, Alaric almost needed to push it back this time.
"Bravo, an excellent match," the old man looked happier than Alaric himself, "Ten inches. Cherry and Phoenix feather. It is a rare wand that can be used for almost any magic proficiently."
Alaric nodded, memorizing every word the man whispered.
"How much for the wand Mr Ollivander?" His grandmother asked graciously.
The man simply responded, "All wands cost seven galleons each,"
Thanks for reading.
Being able to use both hands has almost become a trope at this point, but it has no relation to power in this work and Alaric is ambidextrous simply because I'm ambidextrous.