“And finally, a wand.” Professor McGonagall brought them to a store called Ollivander’s. Compared to the other bustling shops with product spilling off every shelf, Ollivander’s was quiet and meticulously kept.
Small, oblong boxes were neatly stacked on every shelf with only a handful of things being on display. Ollivander himself was a tidy man except for his white hair that seemed determined to be in all directions at once. He looked down at Ariadne with watery eyes and smiled.
“Your first wand, is it?” He said in a slightly croaking voice.
“Yes sir,” Ariadne nodded. Something about this man made her gaze sharpen. She couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking and even the very mild displays couldn’t distract her from his steady gaze.
Her grandparents cringed near the door, seeming more bothered by this store than any other while Professor McGonagall was showing a polite interest in some wand accessories that seemed to be purely decorative. Ariadne didn’t shift her gaze from Ollivander who seemed to keep one eye on her as he shuffled to a shelf, picking up a box.
“Rosewood and unicorn hair,” He murmured as he offered her the box. “Good for charm work.”
Ariadne had no idea what a wand supposed to feel like. She lifted it from the box tentatively, weighing it in her hand. It felt like... a wooden stick.
Olivander smiled. “Not quite right.”
He offered her another wand. “Willow and dragon heartstring, swishy. Good for transfiguration.”
She touched this one for a moment. Nothing special. He took it back.
Another. “Hawthorn and unicorn hair.”
Another. “Hazel and phoenix feather.”
Another.
Another.
Another.
Ollivander’s eyes sparkled with each wand that was passed back, his smile growing.
“Very tricky customer,” he practically sang in his croaky voice. “Here, holly and phoenix feather.”
Ariadne picked up the wand. This one felt different. It was a little warm in her hand and gave her a strange tingling sensation. Something inside of her felt like it was struggling against a pull. Her magic that had been present since her birth, sometimes spilling over like her temper; felt as if it was about to be drained. Wasn’t a wand supposed to hone and enhance magic, why was it pulling hers away?
She dropped the wand as if it had bitten her. “I don’t like that wand.”
Ollivander’s eyes bored into hers, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Do you like working with your hands, child?”
Ariadne nodded, unable to look away.
He swept over to a cupboard and pulled out a new box. He offered her the wand slowly. “Ebony and phoenix feather, 7in, good for enchantment work.”
Ariadne reached for this one slowly, unsure. She hadn’t liked that other wand at all. It had felt as though an organ she’d always had was suddenly being yanked out and replaced.
The new wand presented to her was small and dark with an elegantly decorated handle. It felt comfortable in her hand in way the others hadn’t as though it was resonating with her magic. It was like shaking the hand of someone you knew you were going to get along with. She smiled tentatively up at Ollivander who seemed to positively glow at having found the correct wand for her.
Ariadne would’ve liked to spend the entire day, perhaps the rest of her life in this alleyway. Though she’d always been odd herself, she’d never really truly dared to believe in her mother’s tales until the letter came. Now she was surrounded by people that were all like her and she would be doing what her mother had always wanted her to do.
The only downside were her grandparents. Grandpa Chester and Grandpa Lawrence couldn’t rush her out into the muggle streets soon enough. Grandpa Chester looked positively ill carrying her pewter cauldron out in the open while Grandpa Lawrence was nervously holding their other shopping as far from himself as he could without looking strange.
Professor McGonagall politely pretended to not see their discomfort as she bid them good day. Ariadne shook her hand, promising to see her again soon when the first semester began.
At home, all of the supplies were pushed into Ariadne’s room at once, as though her grandparents couldn’t bear to see those things in their own living space. Grandpa Lawrence immediately made his way into the kitchen to prepare a meal without saying a word to Ariadne. Grandpa Chester watched him for a few long minutes before picking up a decidedly muggle novel and tried to read.
Guilt swept through Ariadne. They really didn’t want this life for her and she knew it, but she couldn’t change who or what she was just to please the two of them. She closed the door of her room behind her and dived into her spellbooks. She couldn’t read them fast enough. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by a Newt Scamander was filled with fascinating illustrations that moved around so as to let her exam what the beasts looked like from every angle. Just how many of these animals would she be allowed to see?
She was buried in her potions book, learning what animals from Fantastic Beasts were useful for potions when she was called to dinner. She tried to bring the book with her, but seeing the looks on her grandparents’ faces made her put it back. Even without the book, the meal was awkward and quiet.