Carina gasped as they stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and onto Diagon Alley. Its tall houses loomed over them, looking like they were about to fall. Her father quickly grabbed hold of her as a family of four pushed past them and disappeared into the crowd. She smiled at him, and he extended his arm for her to steady herself. "Do we need to visit Gringotts?" Carina asked as they slowly made their way down the street. Her father shook his head and produced a letter from within his purple cloak, "Luckily not, I had the foresight to go before the masses arrived. Now I'd say it would be best if we go pay 'Madam Malkin's' a visit first."
The chime of a bell announced their entering of the cosy store, where they were quickly greeted by one of the employees. "Hogwarts?" the witch asked, to which Carina nodded. The young lady was about to guide her through to the next room when her father grabbed her shoulder, "I'll go get your potion supplies, if you're done before I return, wait for me." She smiled and nodded, "Yes, Father."
As she entered the adjacent room, Carina noticed a boy standing on one of the pedestals. He was about her age with a lean figure and short dark hair. As she stepped up next to him, he turned and smiled, "Hello." Carina smiled and, holding her crutch tightly, leaned over for a handshake, "Hi". The boy looked at her curiously but shook her hand anyway, "Theodore Nott." "Carina Shacklebolt." Theodore frowned, seemingly working something over, he then nodded to himself, "You wanna be friends?" It came so sudden and unexpected, that Carina fell over her own words, "S-sure." she spluttered. Theodore's mouth twitched in mirth, and Carina blushed.
"Alright, you're done, dear," the woman taking Theodore's measurements announced, patting his shoulders. Thanking the young woman, he stepped off the pedestal, "I'll see you at Hogwarts then." Carina nodded and waved, watching him exit the store.
Her father returned only a few minutes later, and shortly after, she was also done. "How about we go pay Olivander a visit next?" he asked, taking her hand. "Yes, please!" she exclaimed, excitedly.
The shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair. Carina felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. "Good afternoon," said a soft voice.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Ah, Mr. Shacklebolt," he turned to her, a deep frown creasing his forehead, "and who is this?" Her Father placed a hand on her shoulder, "My daughter, Carina, she's starting her first year of Hogwarts in September."
Ollivander gave a knowing smile. "Thirteen and a half inches, oak, with a dragon heartstring core. I remember it vividly, a powerful wand for an exceptional wizard."
"Well, now – Ms Shacklebolt. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?" She stretched out her right arm. He measured Carina from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms Shacklebolt. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." Carina suddenly realised that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms Shacklebolt. Try this one. Beechwood and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Carnina took the wand and fluidly waved it around, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once. "Oak and phoenix feather. Nine inches. Quite whippy. Try –" Carina tried, but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr Ollivander. "No, no, here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out." Carina tried. And tried. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. I wonder, now, yes, why not."
He then disappeared deep into the shop, and Carina heard a crashing and banging. She wondered if Ollivander was taking the shop apart, piece by piece. He soon returned with an old wooden box. "Elder and phoenix feather. Twelve inches." Carina took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of black and purple sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls.
Mr Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well … how curious … how very curious …" He put Carina's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious … curious …"
"What's curious?" she asked, a deep frown on her face. Ollivander glanced over her father, "Wands of elder are known to be powerful, very powerful, but," he paused, "they always come with a price. I hope that isn't too great, Ms Shacklebolt."