Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

                                    

                                          
Harry walked into the familiar wand shop and took a deep breath in. The smell of Ollivander's Wand Shop was irreplaceable and although the air was practically half dust, it was simply magical. 
The walls reverberated with a sort of pulse, and each and every wand seemed to whisper to each other in hushed tones. Then, of course, there was Ollivander himself, his head of hair sticking up and contrasting him from the boxes behind him. He shushed a shelf of his, and pieced together that he could hear them too. He wondered if he ever got sick of hearing them.
"My, my Mr Potter, it seems like only yesterday that your parents were in here for their first wands," the man announced in his usual creepy ways. He always made it a habit to scare kids as much as he could, only this time the man lingered a second too long on him, and he breathed, sending a thrum of something or other throughout the room, something that could only compare to the magic that was the Dark Lord's, though not quite polluted. His scar prickled just the slightest bit.
"I'm looking for a wand, Mr Ollivander," he said, a smoothness in his voice he wasn't sure where from, he'd procured it.
"Why yes...," he started, a quiver in his utterance, "Of course," he replied going into the back and retrieving a stack of 5 wands. He knew that with this new type of magic, his Holly wand wasn't quite what he needed.
When Ollivander got to the counter, Harry let out another healthy dose of magic just to make sure the man knew what he was dealing with. Watching the man freeze up was quite amusing, more amusing than he'd care to admit.
He instantly snatched back the wands and put them under the counter.
"I wonder..." he went over to the shelf again and pulled out a wand box Harry recognized as his Holly wand. It was nice to see the wand again although he knew it wasn't right. Not this time.
Garrick handed the wand to Harry.
"G-give it a wave," he stammered.
Harry obeyed and red and gold sparks flew out of it, weaker than the last time but present nonetheless.
"Well, that would work but... it is not a perfect match," he contemplated, a brooding look in his eyes. He looked up. "You have... a gift, Mr Potter."
"Thanks," he said plainly with a stern face.
Ollivander looked at the Boy-Who-Lived and not so subtly at his scar.
Without uttering another word, he disappeared into the back of his shop. He came back a few minutes later with another wand in his hand, a pale one made of ash, most likely, and a dark stone at the edge of the handle. 
This one was different to the wands he held before powerful, he was sure, and felt almost sentient, as if it held power on its own.
He looked towards his Holly wand, and back at the new one, one eerily silent compared to the wands that seemed to chatter on the shelves.
He handed Harry the wand hesitantly.
The moment his hand touched the wood of the wand, the room was enveloped in a cold wind and the old man shook his head. "You have saved us once already, Mr Potter. This wand must be used wisely."
"Thank you, Mr Ollivander," he smirked, "8 galleons?"
"Yes, yes."
Harry contemplated for a moment, as he watched his Holly wand be packed up again. 
"I'll take both of them."
After handing him the money, he turned his back, letting out some more Magic just for the fun of it, and left without another word. He could practically smell the worry of the wand-maker.