~ written in the Library, on a Friday afternoon ~

Wand Length: 10 3/4 inches
Wand Flexibility: Unyielding
Wand Wood: Laurel
Wand Core: Phoenix Feather

"Next up, Ollivanders! My wand was an 11 inch, springy wand, made from oak tree and a unicorn hair. I am sure yours will be great too, love."

Those were my mother's words as we neared to the wandmaker's shop. We had procurred all the necessary items for Hogwarts, but I still recall how nervous I was that day. My mother, God bless her soul, let me go on my own. I entered through the wooden door, the doorbell ringing in a pleasant way. I walked slowly to the counter, and a kind old man, thinner than I imagined, came closer. His voice was soothing.

"Hello, dear. Welcome to Ollivanders. I suppose you want to purchase a wand, yes?

I nodded affirmatively. The place seemed to emanate a vibe of energy, like a power field. It had almost rooted me to place.

"Okay then, let's try some wands. Um... ah, yes. Please try this one. 11 inches, made of aspen and dragon heartstring." He handed the wand to me, and although I felt a surge of greatness, I was almost certain that this was not the wand for me. Sure enough, moments later I flicked it, and the chair on my right burst into flames. Mr. Ollivander quickly put out the fire, while shaking his head. "No, no, I am so sorry. Let's try this one..."

After two more wands, a broken vase and upturned books, Mr. Ollivander placed his hand on his chin and took a moment to think. I asked him, having found a voice at last. "Is it normal for you to get so perplexed at finding a wand for someone...?" I asked, my voice trembling a bit.

"The wizard or witch differs with each wand, dear. I am sure we shall find something for you, a wand - oh... hmm, this could be it. Please wait here," he said and proceeded deeper into his store. I raised my head and tried to see, and he came back with a maroon box.

"10 & 3/4, made of laurel and Phoenix feather, unyielding. Here." I grabbed the wand, hoping it was the last, and I felt my blood pulse elevate. My ears rung lightly, and I felt my heartbeat on the tip of my fingertips, coursing through the wand. The tip of the wand shone, tiny blue sparks covering it, which eventually died out as I came down from my high.

"Woah...," I said, in awe. It was the most exhilarating thing I had felt in my life.

Mr. Ollivanders chucked lightly. "I think we aced it, miss. I am glad to see this particular wand chose you. Laurel made wands do not tolerate laziness, and they embrace glory and success. A dishonourable caster would never be able to produce those blue sparks, and the wand shall gladly tie itself with you, as it remembers its first owner. The unyielding quality further reinforces this."

I stared at him, trying to suck all this information. Needless to say, I felt proud, and already attached to my wand. I strengthened my grasp to it, and I felt a surge of warmth emanating from it; it made me happy.

"That will be 12 Galleons and 28 Sickles, miss."

"Thank you, very much." I said, in honest gratitude.

"You are very welcome," he said, with a warm smile.

I exited the store, and went straight to my mum. She was delirious with the story I told her.