11 The Wand

The tinkle of shop bells greeted the group as they entered the small, bench-lined space. The Evans family gazed in awe at the thousands of narrow boxes stacked to the ceiling, while Snape, still not fully recovered, blushed slightly beside Lily.

"Good day," came a soft voice, startling them all, including Callan, and making Snape feel like retching again.

An old man with pale, moon-like eyes stood before them, his presence almost ethereal in the dim shop.

"Hello," Callan greeted first.

"Ah, greetings, children, and adults," Mr. Ollivander said with a smile, slightly overlooking Petunia, who pouted, comforted quickly by Lily.

"Who shall we begin with, young sorcerers?"

Callan, not rushing to procure his wand, gestured toward Lily, "Ladies first, Mr. Ollivander."

"Very gentlemanly of you," Mr. Ollivander commended Callan, then addressed Lily, "Which hand do you use, my dear?"

"Right hand, sir. I use my right hand," Lily answered with a hint of nervousness.

"Right hand, excellent," Mr. Ollivander said as he pulled out a silvery measuring tape, "Arm up, please. Good."

He measured Lily meticulously, from shoulder to fingertip, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around her head. Lily trembled slightly, as if being precisely dissected.

"No need to fear, my dear," Mr. Ollivander reassured her. "It's just a necessary process. You come from a non-magical family, correct?"

Lily nodded, indicating her family behind her, "Yes, sir."

"Very good," Mr. Ollivander replied, though it wasn't clear what he found so agreeable.

"Every Ollivander wand contains powerful magical substances," he began to explain. "Unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. Yes, indeed." Pausing at the Evans family's amazement, he continued, "Each Ollivander wand is unique, as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are alike. And of course, a wand not truly yours will never perform as well."

Measuring the distance between Lily's nostrils, Callan suddenly asked, "Mr. Ollivander, won't these measurements change as we grow? The wand chosen..."

"The wand chooses the wizard, young gentleman," Mr. Ollivander interrupted, approaching with a stack of boxes, "Though it may seem the wizard chooses the wand, it's truly the wand that makes the choice. As for your concerns—forgive my bluntness—but Ollivander's wands are the finest, and not without reason."

"You're from a non-magical family, aren't you?"

Callan nodded politely.

"That's right," Mr. Ollivander smiled. "Many young wizards and even adults ask similar questions, but wandlore is a complex and mysterious field. The rest..." He winked. "Is a trade secret I'm afraid I can't divulge."

"Thank you, sir," Callan said, still polite despite his inner musings on how 'Muggles know nothing of magic, don't insult wands with your ignorance' could be made to sound so palatable.

"Now, let's find a wand for you, Miss Evans," Mr. Ollivander said, handing Lily a wand.

Lily, excited yet clumsy, accidentally sent a spell from the wand's tip that blasted open a box.

"Oh, not to worry, it happens all the time," Mr. Ollivander assured, fixing the box with a simple spell.

"Try this one instead."

The process of selecting—or being selected by—a wand was lengthy and amusing. Mr. and Mrs. Evans gasped in shock now and then, but eventually, Lily found her match.

"Fourteen and a quarter inches, willow, with a phoenix feather core. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous."

He packed the wand carefully, explaining to a delighted Lily, "The phoenix feather is exceptionally rare, capable of the most magic, though it may take time to reveal its full potential. But phoenixes are choosy creatures, picking only those they deem worthy."

"Take care of it, young lady."

Lily thanked him, then inquired, "And the willow wood, Mr. Ollivander?"

"Ah, about that," Mr. Ollivander's expression became inscrutable, "Willow usually selects those of great potential, not the arrogant. It's suited only for those with far-reaching ambitions."

"But..." He glanced between Snape and Callan, then focused on Snape, "Unfortunately, willow bearers often struggle with unfounded insecurities."

Under Mr. Ollivander's gaze, Snape froze, as did Lily.

"All right, then," Mr. Ollivander didn't dwell on the matter, "Who's next?"

Callan deferred again, pushing Snape forward.

As Mr. Ollivander began measuring Snape, Lily leaned toward Callan, whispering, "What were you doing just now?"

"Doing what?" Callan feigned ignorance.

"Don't play dumb, I saw you signaling Mr.Ollivander," Lily accused.

Callan blinked, murmuring low, "Well, you didn't pick me, did you?"

"Lily!" she retorted, striking him lightly, "I thought we agreed not to bring that up again."

"What's that?" Snape, now free from the measuring tape's embrace, eyed them both suspiciously, particularly Callan.

"It's none of your business," Lily snapped before Callan could speak, shooting him a warning glance. Snape looked almost heartbroken, but his attention was soon recaptured by Mr. Ollivander, who had been patiently waiting with a wand in hand.

The noise resumed, Snape's demeanor detached until the wand that chose him brought him back to the moment.

"Excellent, splendid," Mr. Ollivander praised, making Callan wonder if he had spoken the same to every young wizard before.

"Eleven and a quarter inches, yew, with a dragon heartstring core, superb," Mr. Ollivander explained as he packed the wand, "Dragon heartstring wands are known to be the most powerful, casting the most flamboyant spells. However, they are prone to allegiance shifts and are often drawn toward dark magic, though they do not incline that way of their own accord."

Callan interjected, "So whether it's dark or light magic, the choice ultimately lies with the wizard, right?"

Snape looked up, and Mr. Ollivander confirmed with a smile, "Precisely."

Snape's gaze fell once more, lost in thought.

"As for yew," Mr. Ollivander continued, his pride surfacing, "Yew wands are associated with courage. My ancestor, Geraint Ollivander, took pride in matching yew wands to their owners, knowing that..."

He handed the box gently to Snape.

"They tend to meet a noble end."

"I hope you become a true warrior, child."

Snape was stunned into silence.

"Well then," Mr. Ollivander turned expectantly to Callan, "It seems it's your turn now, young gentleman."

Callan stepped forward, nodding, and whispered to Snape, "You heard him, right? The choice is always in your hands, Snape."

Snape's expression darkened; it had been a while since they discussed dark magic, and he hadn't expected Callan to broach the subject again.

But Callan paid him no more attention and stood still for his measurement.

It didn't take long for Callan to reach the stage of trying wands; after a few minor shocks, he felt an odd sensation, as if his arm had extended.

"Perfect, truly perfect," Mr. Ollivander repeated his praise, examining the wand Callan held, "Eleven and a quarter inches, unicorn hair with whitewood, excellent."

He elaborated, "Unicorn hair wands produce the most stable magic and are least inclined to dark arts."

Snape glanced at Callan sharply.

Mr. Ollivander continued, "While not the most powerful, unicorn hair wands are the most loyal, especially when paired with whitewood, which accentuates this trait. This is the most loyal wand."

Lily, puzzled, asked, "Is loyalty all it has? It seems... less powerful than ours."

"No, that's not the case."

Suddenly, before Mr. Ollivander could respond, Callan spoke softly, taking the wand from the master's hand and feeling the familiar sensation, "Loyalty is enough."

And with a fervent look in his eyes unlike any before, Callan whispered, "That's more than enough."