Chapter 20 — The Wand Chooses
The moment Ollivander handed me the wand, I knew.
It wasn't just the way it looked — long, slender, polished oak with subtle, swirling grains that seemed to shift when I tilted it in the light. It was the feeling. The wand didn't just rest in my hand — it settled there, almost sighing with relief, as if we'd both been waiting a very long time for this meeting.
Warmth ran from my fingers to my arm, like the first breath of sunlight after a long, cold night. The faint scent of wood and something old, ancient even, filled the air. My heartbeat matched its hum — alive, aware, and oddly comforting.
Ollivander's pale eyes glimmered, almost reverent. "Ah," he murmured softly, "there it is. Yes… that's the one."
I barely dared to breathe. "What is it made of?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "Fourteen inches, oak wood — strong, loyal, and enduring. Oak chooses those who are steadfast of heart, not easily swayed by the winds of the world." His gaze flicked up to mine. "A wand for the sort of wizard who may bend, but will never break."
Then he lifted the wand slightly, as though introducing it to the room. "And the core — a unicorn tail hair. The purest of magical substances. Unicorn hair wands are faithful to their first owner and, though not the most powerful, are the most consistent. They resist dark magic better than any other. They are loyal to goodness, to purity of purpose."
McGonagall nodded approvingly. "A fine match."
Ollivander's eyes softened. "Yes… an unusually fine match. Fourteen inches, you said?" He smiled faintly. "A little longer than average, but then, so are you, Mr. Dursley."
I chuckled quietly. "Guess it fits, then."
He leaned closer, still studying me. "Curious," he said again, half to himself. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Dursley. Oak and unicorn hair — a rare pairing, but never mistaken. Treat it well. It will serve you faithfully… as long as your heart remains true."
The words lingered with me as I placed the wand gently back in its box.
With that, our shopping was complete. I had everything I needed — robes, books, potion supplies, telescope, cauldron, brass scale, and now the wand that had chosen me. McGonagall suggested a pet shop next, but I shook my head.
"No, thank you, Professor. I already have Brigid."
At the mention of my cat, her eyebrows rose slightly. "Ah, the ginger plump one I saw in your kitchen yesterday?"
I nodded. "She's been with me for years. I think one magical creature at home is enough for now."
Her expression softened. "Quite right. Pets are loyal companions — and Hogwarts will allow cats, owls, or toads. But you seem to have made your choice already."
We spent a few more minutes double-checking the list. Once everything was confirmed, McGonagall tucked her parchment away neatly. "Well, Mr. Dursley, I believe that's the lot."
I followed her through the bustling alley, clutching my parcels with care. The afternoon sun had begun to dip, throwing long shadows across the cobblestones. For the first time in years, I felt something light, unburdened — excitement without fear.
Professor McGonagall hailed the Knight Bus for us, though she didn't look particularly happy about it. "I still prefer Floo travel," she muttered as the triple-decker purple bus screeched to a stop with a loud bang. "But this will do."
The ride home was a blur of rattling windows and sudden turns. By the time we reached Privet Drive, I was half certain the bus was held together by pure magic and stubbornness alone.
We stepped onto the pavement outside Number Four. Mum was already waiting at the door, eyes wide with anticipation. McGonagall gave her a small, approving nod.
"Your son has done splendidly today, Mrs. Dursley," she said. "He'll be well prepared for September first."
Mum smiled, clearly relieved. "Thank you, Professor. Truly."
"Just ensure he gets a good night's rest before his journey. Tomorrow will be quite the adventure."
With that, she turned to me. "Take care, Mr. Dursley. And remember — Hogwarts is a place for learning, but also for becoming who you are meant to be."
Then, with a soft crack, she was gone.
The moment she vanished, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I dashed inside, my arms full of shopping bags, and set everything on the table.
"Mum! Dad! Harry! Dudley! Look at these!"
They all gathered around as I unwrapped each item. The brass scale gleamed in the afternoon light; the cauldron was heavier than it looked; the telescope extended with a satisfying click. Harry's eyes widened with every item I pulled out.
"Blimey," he whispered, picking up a small bottle of powdered root. "Is that… frog spleen?"
"Possibly," I said, grinning. "Don't open it."
Dudley leaned closer to the cauldron. "It looks like a big cooking pot."
"In a way, it is," I said. "Just… not for soup."
Dad gave a low whistle. "That's quite a lot of gear. Are you sure it's all for school?"
"Yes," I said, laughing. "They're quite thorough about their curriculum."
Mum ran a finger over one of the robe sleeves. "It's so strange," she murmured, half to herself. "You really are going to a school for magic."
"Feels strange to say it out loud, doesn't it?" I replied softly.
Then I opened the last box — the wand box.
Harry leaned closer. "That's your wand?"
I nodded and lifted it out carefully. The oak glowed faintly in the light, and for a moment the air felt charged, alive.
"Can I hold it?" Dudley asked eagerly.
I hesitated. "Better not. It might not like that."
Dad blinked. "Not like that?"
"Wands are funny things," I explained. "They're sort of… alive. They choose who they belong to."
Harry's eyes widened. "It chose you?"
"Exactly," I said. "And it feels like… like it understands me somehow."
I didn't tell them about the warmth or the strange hum that still lingered in my fingers, like the wand and I were quietly speaking a language no one else could hear.
After dinner, I went to my room and closed the door. Brigid leapt onto the bed, curling beside the pile of books like she approved of the new additions to our life. I smiled and drew my wand again.
"Alright," I whispered. "Let's see what you can do."
I started with Lumos — a simple light charm. I'd practiced it before, wandless, but now I wanted to feel the difference. I focused, flicked my wrist, and said softly, "Lumos."
The tip of the wand lit instantly, a warm, steady glow flooding the room. Not the flicker I used to produce before — this was bright, sure, alive.
I grinned. "Brilliant."
Brigid blinked sleepily in the light, unimpressed.
Then came Wingardium Leviosa. I picked up a quill and concentrated. "Wingardium Leviosa."
The quill trembled… lifted an inch… then floated steadily upward. I let out a quiet laugh, the kind that comes from pure satisfaction. "We're going to get along just fine," I said to the wand.
Over the next few weeks, I practiced every spell from the Standard Book of Spells, Year One. Alohomora, Lumos Solem, Reparo, Nox, Rictusempra — each one came easier with time. My movements grew smoother, my confidence steadier. By the end of the month, I could cast most of them reliably.
The days slipped by quickly, each one marked by the soft whisper of turning pages and the glow of spell light beneath my bedroom door. Even Mum had stopped knocking after a while; she'd just peek in occasionally and shake her head with a smile.
One evening, as I lay in bed, the wand resting beside me on the nightstand, I looked around my small, familiar room — the stacks of books, the folded robes, the neat pile of supplies ready by the wall.
Tomorrow would be September first.
The thought filled me with both excitement and a strange kind of peace. For nearly eleven years, I'd known I was waiting for something — a moment, a calling, a beginning. Now, it was here.
Brigid stirred beside me, her green eyes glinting faintly in the dim light.
I reached out, running a finger over her soft fur. "Tomorrow, we start something new," I whispered.
End of Chapter 20 — The Wand Chooses