Diagon Alley

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is what I think my experience in Diagon Alley would be like! (Mainly in Ollivander's) Had so much fun writing this! Please feel free to critique/suggest any new ideas.

My curios trip through Diagon Alley was almost coming to an end. Each shop had been a new, and fantastic experience. My cart was filled with all the necessities for Hogwarts. My books, cauldron, robes, and other items. A small cage that held my new owl, S’mores. The color of his feathers resembled a Muggle delicacy I’d read about. Apparently, they only eat this treat when they’re camping... whatever that means. I pushed my cart nervously as I followed my Mum to the last shop. Ollivander’s. Dad had told me stories about the old shop, really spooky stories. I shuddered. 

“Sure you’ve got everything?” She had stopped and was looking at me with her arms on her hips and her eyebrows raised. 

I double-checked my cart, “Yup! It’s all there! Well… except for a wand.” I fidgeted nervously, remembering the stories my dad had told me. 

“Ah, yes. We’re nearly there.” She seemed substantially more excited than I did. But I kept trudging along nervously. “And never mind what your father said earlier, Mr. Ollivander is not a troll, nor a vampire-”

“But he said-”

“And most definitely,” she said, cutting me off, “not a magical toad.” S’mores chirped happily as if agreeing with my mum. 

Finally, we reached the old shop. It looked just like my dad had described it. Tiny, seemingly squished between the two structures beside it, as if the shop had been added in as an afterthought. Which wasn’t the case at all. From what I’ve read, Ollivander’s is one of the oldest shops in Diagon Alley. Behind the dusty front windows sat a single wand on an aged cushion. It looked as if it hadn’t been moved in years. 

“Hurry up! We don’t have all day!”
“But Muuuuuuum!”

“Oh go on! I don’t like leaving your siblings home alone, we need to get back soon.” She grabbed my cart and gave me a little push towards the shop. “Besides, I’m making Pumpkin Pasties for after dinner when you get home! Those are your favorite!” I decided it was no use arguing anymore, and walked, ever so carefully, into the shop. 

A little bell that had been placed above the door jingled, sending a pleasant sound through the stuffy area. The shop smelled distinctly of an old attic with lots of junk in it that hadn’t been cleaned in years. Shelves stacked with tiny boxes lined the walls of the shop. Some were covered in dust, barely touched over the years. Others protruded from the shelves as if they’d been recently taken out, and put back in a hurry. 

“Just a moment!” Called an old voice from behind a large wooden desk that sat at the end of the shop. I jumped a bit at the sound of his voice. But quickly began surveying the room once more. I noticed tiny dust particles floated around in the small patches of sunlight that filtered through the dirty windows. I looked up at the ceiling, which was just as plain as the rest of the shop. But I could tell this wasn’t any old shop. The magic here was ancient and powerful, no doubt. 

“Ah! Welcome to Ollivander’s!” Mr. Ollivander himself rose from under the desk. His silver hair glittered as the light from the window grazed the top of his head. His face seemed weathered and his eyes were a mystical sort of grey. He looked me up and down as if deciding what to do with me. I shifted, fidgeting nervously. “I do not recognize you…” His eyes seemed to be looking straight into my soul. “Tell me your name, I might’ve sold wands to your parents. I always remember you know.” A faint smile appeared on his lips as he leaned forward on his desk.

“Um, I’m a Markarian, sir… I think you might’ve-”

“Of course! A Markarian!” Smiling wide, he walked across the room to where I was standing. “Should’ve seen the resemblance…” He looked me up and down once more. “Many intelligent wizards in the Markarian family. Witches too, of course.” He winked at me. “I remember selling a wand to your father. Spruce. Phoenix feather. 12 inches… Ah yes, and unyielding flexibility.” 

“Yes, sir.” I felt like I needed to say something. He’d done all the talking so far, and I didn’t want to seem like some little witch who was afraid of a silly wandmaker.

“Well, let’s get right to it, then, shall we?” He pulled out a worn tape measure from his pocket. “Hold out your wand arm. Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

“This one, sir.” I held out my right arm, and without hesitation, the tape measure began zipping around measuring from my hand to my wrist, from my shoulder to my toes, and so on. After about a solid minute of measuring, during which Mr. Ollivander had been picking out boxes and setting them on his desk, the tape measure retired to his hand. 

“This one right here,” he said, holding out a small wand, “Maple. Dragon Heartstring. Ten inches. Flexible.” Before I could grab it, he held it up and said, “so take it like this, and give it a nice flick.” 

Without hesitating too much, I reached out and gingerly lifted the wand in the air. Before I even had a chance to flick it, Mr. Ollivander had snatched it. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “No, no, too short…” He opened another box and pulled out a long wand. But quickly put it back. “No, no,” he muttered, “couldn’t be the height…” Then, he turned around another wand in his hand. “Here, this is it! Yew. Unicorn Hair. Ten inches.” 

I smiled nervously and took the wand. This time, Mr. Ollivander didn’t grab it right away. I gave it a flick. Sparks flew from the wand, hitting a small chest in the corner of the room. The lock sprung open, and wands burst from inside. Now I understand why Mr. Ollivander doesn’t bother to clean his shop.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it do that.” I held out the wand and shuffled my feet nervously.
“My dear girl, there’s no reason to be sorry! Why just last week I had a small boy come in, snatch a wand before I could do anything, and proceeded to blow the whole roof off!” He shook his head. “Now, I’ll get the right one this time, just you wait.”

He spent a painfully long time searching the shelves. I glanced around the room, wondering why he was taking so long to find the right wand. Until, finally, he pulled out a box from the shelf. “This is it,” I heard him mutter, “Yes...yes, this is the one.” He shuffled back over to me and held out a very long wand. “Redwood. Unicorn hair. 14 ½ inches. Unyielding flexibility.” 

“Alright,” I said nervously. I grabbed the wand, which felt smooth and familiar. It started to vibrate. I raised it slowly and gave it a sharp flick. Small birds that seemed to be made of clouds erupted from the wand. They floated around the room, chirping happily as they circled around me. Then, they disappeared in a cloud of mist. 

“Bravo! That was brilliant!” Mr. Ollivander went to his desk and grabbed the box that the wand was in. He carefully slid the wand back in and handed me the box. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Markarian.” He winked, and before I knew it I was out the door.

“‘Bout time you got out of there! How’d it go?” Mum was smiling hopefully.

“Splendid, Mum! Now, how about we head home and eat those pumpkin pasties?”

“Sounds good to me!” S’mores, who was flapping happily in his cage, chirped in agreement. 



Submitted: November 23, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Mandoclaw. All rights reserved.

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