Ollivander vividly recalled the day and old wand, long kept in the shop, finally found its match.

It was a wand crafted by one of his ancestors during a period of experimentation, as the Ollivanders refined the art of wandmaking and debated the merits of various cores. Many wands from that era were deemed failures and abandoned entirely. A small number were successful, but remained in the shop for years, waiting for the rare individual they were meant to match.

Among the most difficult was a wand made of Cypress wood with a Thestral tail hair core. It was powerful creation but notoriously challenging to master, rejecting countless hands with ferocity.

Many had tried to claim it, but the wand refused them all – until that day.

A Hogwarts first-year student entered the shop, calm and composed in a manner Ollivander rarely saw. Most Muggle-born students – and even those from wizarding families – exuded nervous excitement at the prospect of obtaining their first wand. But this girl treated the errand with casual indifference, as though she were shopping for a mundane quill or cauldron.

“The wand chooses the wizard,” Ollivander had murmured, studying her as he considered what might suit her. But before he could proceed, she interrupted, her tone brisk: “I’m in a hurry, actually. I’d prefer if the wand-choosing process were brief.”

The audacity of her remark startled him. He had served many arrogant customers over the years, but none had ever made such an absurd demand. For a moment, he stiffened, his voice firm. “I’m afraid I must insist – this process cannot be rushed. Every wand deserves--”

“Heed, wands presented before me,” She intoned suddenly, raising her hand with her palm outstretched. Her voice carried a tone unlike any he had heard, commanding yet eerily serene. “For I am the follower of the Queen of the Shadowy Land, seeking a companion to guide the lost. I give my word that I shall take care for you as you need. Come forth, if I am the one you seek.”

Ollivander watched, stunned, as a wand box from the farthest, dustiest shelf floated free, gliding toward the girl. The box opened mid-air, and the want it contained leapt out, presenting itself to her with a clear eagerness.

It was a simple wand, twelve and a half inches, its Cypress wood pale to the point of appearing almost white. Deceptively plain, it could have been mistaken for a trimmed branch. Yet the wand twirled before her in excitement until she reached out and grasped it.

The moment she did, a flick of her wrist brought forth a brief but chilling violet glow from the wand’s tip, an eerie light sent a shiver through Ollivander’s very soul.

“Are you willing to be my wand?” she asked softly. After a pause, she smiled. “Great. Nice meeting you.”

The girl turned to him, her tone casual once more. “How much is it?”

He shook himself free from his astonishment.

Now, in the present, Ollivander stood behind his counter, watching her as she spoke to the younger girl by her side.

“Mine cost seventy-five Galleons,” Scarlet explained, her voice as nonchalant as it had been last year. “It’s an antique piece, made by the one of the Ollivanders’ ancestors. Yours won’t be as expensive - probably less than ten Galleons.”

Jessica stepped forward hesitantly. “Hello, sir,” she said timidly. “I need a wand for school. What do I need to do?”

Ollivander waved his wand, setting his instrument in motion to measure the girl’s trait. His keen eyes scanned her from head to toe – his years of experience often allowed him to make a preliminary judgement even without the instruments. After a thoughtful pause, he moved toward the shelves.

“Let’s start with this,” he said, selecting a wand. “Willow wood, unicorn hair core, eleven inches.”

Ollivander placed the wand in Jessica’s hand, observing her closely. Before she could even react, he shook his head and removed it.

“No, not willow. And it’s too long,” he muttered, reaching for another wand. “Cherry wood, ten inches.”

Jessica stood patiently as the instruments continued their measurements, her hand ready for each wand that was placed in it, only to be taken away moments later. She thought the process might take a while, but to her surprising, the next wand fit perfectly.

“Cherry wood, unicorn hair core, eight inches,” Ollivander announced, a note of satisfaction in his voice as he ceased his search. “One of the shortest wands I’ve ever made...but the unicorn hair tells a different story. You have an exceptional eye for detail. Now, give it a try.”

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“T-try?” Jessica stammered, looking to for guidance.

Scarlet gave her a gentle nudge of encouragement. “It’s instinctual, like sneezing. Pay attention to your wand. Think of it as an extension of your hand and tell it to show.”

“Show it? Show what?” Jessica asked, still confused, but she closed her eyes and tried.

Last night, Scarlet had explained that every young wizard experiences magic before attending school. Without training, their emotions could trigger accidental bursts of magic, causing havoc in ordinary households – broken glass, flickering lights, exploding stoves, splintering wood. These uncontrollable incidents were as natural as losing baby teeth and growing stronger ones, but frightening from a Muggle’s point of view.

Jessica, however, couldn’t recall experiencing any of the sort.

“Now that I think about it, perhaps your magic was shown in relation to your vivid dreams.” Scarlet has said thoughtfully. “Most people barely remember their dreams, but you can recall so many of yours. That’s unusual.”

Jessica had chuckled at the time. “Well, I’m just glad I didn’t break any glass. Replacing it would’ve been a pain.”

Despite Scarlet reassurances, Jessica doubted whether she could make the wand work. Her magic had only ever manifested while she was in deep sleep, leaving her with no memory of feeling magic coursing through her body. Yet, as she focused, something stirred within her. A sensation slowed naturally – from her core to her arm, down to her palm, and finally into the wand. The magic exited through the tip of the wood with ease.

An icy-white ray shot out, swirling gracefully in the air. It left behind traces of delicate frost and snowflakes, as whimsical and fleeting as the patterns Jessica had once seen on frosted window panes during winter.

“Pure and cleansing,” Scarlet remarked, her tone soft with admiration. She turned to Ollivander. “Thank you for your service. How much does this wand cost?”

“Five Galleons.” Ollivander replied, fascinated by the young witch’s first spell. “She might not have immense raw power, but she has an extraordinary talent for making the most of what she has.”

After paying, the two exited the crowded, dusty shop with Professor Snape, who had quietly observed the wand choosing process, silently shadowing them. As they stepped out, the next family hurried inside, and two students were already lined up outside, waiting for their turn.

Jessica walked carefully, her bag held close, clearly uneasy about handling her new wand. “Scarlet,” she asked hesitantly, “where can I buy a pendant like yours? I’m afraid I’ll accidentally break my wand.”

“There’s a pocket in your school robe specifically designed for a wand, so you don’t need to worry about breaking it,” Scarlet explained, her tone tinged with apology. “As for the pendant, I made it myself. Even if I crafted one for you, it wouldn’t work - you’d have to learn to make your own. But, to be honest, I’ve tried teaching some of my friends to make it, and they failed. I’m not sure if you’d have any better luck.”

Jessica looked at Scarlet, her eyes bright with admiration. “So you’ve got a skill no one else can replicate? A monopoly?”

“...Where did you even learn about that?” Scarlet asked, raising a brow.

“During our last trip to a radio station,” Jessica said cheerfully. “The host invited someone with a financial background to talk about markets and business strategies. Mark got really into it and borrowed a ton of books. I read a few.”

“Mark’s interested in that sort of thing? That’s...unexpected,” Scarlet remarked.

The two girls continued their light-hearted conversation as they headed towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the shop that custom-tailored robes for every Hogwarts student.

Trailing behind them, Black whispered to Meiko, “What on earth are they talking about?”

“Muggle stuff that wizards don’t care about,” Meiko replied curtly, clearly uninterested in elaborating as she scanned the area for any signs of trouble.

“I’m a wizard, and I’m interested,” Black pressed, his curiosity undeterred. “What’s a radio station? Why does it need a host? And what’s this financial thing they’re talking about? Meiko? Ms. Inoue? Don’t just roll your eyes - tell me!”

The Shrine Maiden sighed, clearly annoyed, but begrudgingly began to explain. Professor Snape, meanwhile, who was ostensibly there just to pay the bills, listened in, picking up bits and pieces of the conversation. While he didn’t entirely understand the references, he knew it was important to learn more about Jessica’s interests. Based on her demeanour with Scarlet, it was clear she preferred maintaining a connection with the Muggle world – a world that was now foreign to him after so many years apart from it.

The shopping trip concluded with Jessica spending only a third of what other students typically did. She considered this a success, proud of how much she’d saved for her sponsor.

“I don’t need you to penny-pinching on my behalf,” Professor Snape remarked, looking distinctly displeased. “The cost of your supplies amounts to the ingredients for a few potions at most.”

Jessica blinked, caught off guard by his comment. Scarlet, however, stepped in to clarify, “What he means is that being a great Potions Master can be quite lucrative. Covering your expenses today is nothing more than a trivial matter for him.”

“Really?” Jessica’s eyes widened, sparkling with admiration as she turned to the professor. “It’s an honour to have such an accomplished professor sponsoring my education. Don’t worry – I’ll spend when I need to. Honestly, I’ve come to enjoy saving money. It’s a habit of mine now.”

A habit you wouldn’t have developed if you’d been under my care from the beginning! Professor Snape thought, his expression unreadable.

After escorting the group back to the Red House, Professor Snape bade them farewell, as he returned home, his mind raced thoughts, keeping him awake long into yet another sleepless night.