The Curious Connection

The anticipation of acquiring his wand filled Harry with excitement as Hagrid guided him to Ollivander's, the reputed best wandmaker. Upon entering the shop, an odd sensation prickled the back of Harry's neck. The dust and eerie silence within the small establishment added to the mysterious atmosphere.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice greeted them. Harry was taken aback, realizing he hadn't noticed the man's approach, a rare occurrence for him.

The old man, Ollivander, had eyes that shone like moons through the dimness of his shop. "Hello," Harry responded.

"Ah, yes, I was wondering when I would see you, Mr. Potter," Ollivander stated, making it sound more like an observation than a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems like yesterday that she came in here to buy her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice for charms work."

Moving closer, those peculiar eyes examined Harry. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I said your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard."

Finding the concept intriguing, Harry questioned, "That sounds like wands have their own personalities, Mr. Ollivander. How is that possible?"

Ollivander explained, "No two wands are the same. When I make wands, I use mainly three core materials: dragon heartstrings, unicorn hair, and phoenix feathers. Each unicorn, phoenix, and dragon is unique. It also depends on the wood; some are more temperamental and may refuse to work for a wizard with certain traits. You'll never get as good results with another wand as your own. Wandlore is a very deep branch of magic."

Then, as if noticing Hagrid, Ollivander exclaimed, "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid, how nice to see you again. Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," Hagrid confirmed.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" Ollivander remarked sternly, hinting at Hagrid's tumultuous past.

"Er, yes, they did, sir, but I still have the pieces," he added with an upbeat tone.

"But you don't use them?" Mr. Ollivander asked sharply.

"Oh no, sir," Hagrid hastily replied, hiding his pink umbrella behind him.

Harry, amused by the revelation, thought, 'Guess I know now why he uses the umbrella to tip the stone.'

Brushing a fallen strand of hair from his eyes, Harry briefly revealed the healing scar. Mr. Ollivander noticed and refocused his attention on him.

"Ah, yes, that's where…" he trailed off, gazing at the scar. "I'm sorry to say that I was the one who sold the wand that did that. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I'd known what that wand was going to do in the world." He drifted off in thought.

"Nonetheless, we need to find you your first wand, Mr. Potter. Which one is your wand arm?" Ollivander inquired.

"I'm right-handed," Harry replied.

"Very well, hold your arm out," Ollivander instructed, beginning to take measurements.

Harry felt like every proportion of his body was being meticulously measured by the tape, which seemed to work on its own accord.

Once Ollivander believed he had gathered enough information, he delved into the shelves, retrieving one wand after another.

Harry tried each wand presented to him, but none seemed to resonate with him. He wasn't quite sure what Mr. Ollivander was searching for.

"Ah, a tricky customer, but don't worry, somewhere here there will be the right wand for you," Ollivander assured Harry.

In a corner, Hagrid had settled on a stool, patiently waiting for Harry to find his wand. After nearly an hour, Ollivander brought out wands he had deemed special combinations, and Harry tested them all.

"Hm, try this one, holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple," Ollivander suggested, visibly tense in anticipation.

Harry felt a sensation, but it wasn't quite right.

"This one has a reaction I could feel, but it feels a bit off," Harry commented.

Ollivander set the wand aside and retrieved more boxes, presenting Harry with additional wands to try.

However, even after two more hours, Harry found himself truly exhausted and annoyed. The wands Ollivander had presented yielded no better results than the one he had initially separated.

"Hm, curious, very curious. I wonder, Mr. Potter, do you by any chance have a familiar?" Ollivander inquired. "You've now tried every wand in my shop, and only this one seems to respond to you. It's rare for a wizard to need a customized wand, but in some cases, if a wizard has a rare magical animal as a familiar, it can happen," Ollivander explained, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"Yes, I do. My familiar is a moon owl," Harry replied.

"A moon owl? Those are incredibly rare indeed!" Ollivander exclaimed, his fascination evident. "With all the conditions that have to be met for one to be born and then to come into her full powers. Mysterious birds that, while pure, are always changing their mood, just like the moon. Always female as well."

To find a suitable wand, Ollivander suggested, "I think we would have to see if a feather from your familiar would balance out this wand that seems to have some connection to you."

Agreeing, Harry stepped outside. He concentrated, and soon Hedwig gracefully descended, landing on his arm. Her plumage had taken on an even more radiant silver hue than it had two days ago. Harry gently stroked her feathers.

"I need your help, Hedwig. Mr. Ollivander says that to find a wand for me, I'd need one of your feathers to balance out the only wand that responded somewhat to me. Would you mind donating one of your feathers for my wand, Hedwig?" Harry asked, his voice soft and appreciative.

Hedwig hooted, shook herself, and a single silver feather gracefully fell from her plumage.

"Thank you very much, Hedwig," Harry expressed his gratitude and offered her one of the owl treats he always carried. She happily accepted the treat, and Harry carefully took the feather.

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