Finally, the time had come for Harry to find his wand and the eldest Potter child couldn't have found himself more excited. If nothing else happened for the rest of his birthday, he would have been more than satisfied with just being able to get his wand for Ollivander's. Since the announcement that he would be getting it on his birthday, Harry had drilled both of his parents with loads of questions pertaining to wandlore.

He wondered what the significance was between different wand woods and cores, why they worked differently and how exactly did a wand know who its master was? Of course, his parents only delivered minimal answers, telling him that he would be in direct contact with the wandmaker himself, he could ask all the questions he wanted when he met up with Garrick Ollivander.

However, as Harry walked ahead of his family, he honestly didn't care about the history of the wand anymore, he just wanted to have one in his hand. He had been told that when he was fitted with the perfect wand for him, something magical would take place that would let him know of the match. Harry wanted to know what it would involve but his father claimed it was different for everyone.

Either way, Harry believed he was more than ready.

The outside of the wand shop wasn't in the best shape, compared to some of the other shops in Diagon Alley. It appeared weathered and shabby, almost difficult to make out the lettering of "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 b.c."

"Mummy," Ilaria tugged on Renata's shirt, " how long ago was 382 b.c.?"

"Oh, a very long time ago," Renata said, " hundreds of years ago."

"Wow," she exclaimed in awe as the entire family entered, ringing the small bell overhead, " Mr Ollivander is ancient!"

"I assure you I'm not that old."

The Potter children looked over to see Garrick Ollivander setting a wand inside of a box before placing it away. He wore a kind smile on his face, despite Ilaria's comment of him being hundreds of years old. Although it would be hard to convince the younger ones that he wasn't that old, considering his spindly body paired with his greying hair didn't make him look any younger.

"Then how old are you?" Ilaria questioned him, placing her hands on her hips. However, she was quickly scolded by Renata as she was reminded that it wasn't polite to question an adult's age. But Ollivander was a good sport about it, finding it all in good humour as he prompted Ilaria to guess his age.

Meanwhile, Harry looked around the wand shop, taking in what appeared to be thousands of narrow boxes stacked on shelves that started from the floor to the ceiling. Somewhere, amongst all the boxes, was the wand that was waiting for him.

Clearing his throat, Harry brought the guessing game to an end after Ilaria estimated that Garrick was at least two hundred years old. All eyes turned on him in a matter of seconds, leaving Harry's face to flush a bright red.

"Sorry," he muttered, " but I was wondering if we could get started?"

"Ah yes, of course, of course," Mr Ollivander said, making his way over, " I've been anticipating this day probably just as long as you have."

The old man started walking towards the back of the room and Harry looked at his parents that nodded, encouraging him to follow Ollivander. As he did so, he could hear Ollivander talking, mostly to himself in the beginning before Harry grew closer.

"You have your mother's eyes, " he said unexpectedly, " It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

For a moment, Harry remained completely still. His jaw was clenched in a way that he didn't know how to respond to such a comment. He knew that Ollivander was not referring to Renata, instantly leaving him to feel uncomfortable. He didn't like anyone mentioning his biological mother, let alone reminding him that he shared similar features of hers.

"Did your father tell you I sold you the wand he has on him right now?" Ollivander asked after a moment of passing silence. "He's had that wand since he was a boy. Mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. Excellent for Transfiguration."

The last part brought a smile to Harry's face, knowing all too well how true that statement was. But the smile was short-lived as Ollivander invaded his personal space, to the point where they were practically touching noses. Harry grimaced slightly, not appreciating the fact that he could see his own reflection in Ollivander's pale silvery eyes. And to make matters worse, Ollivander reached out a long finger and pressed it against Harry's scar lightly.

"And that's where... I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "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 out into the world to do..."

Suddenly, James coughed loudly as he grew closer and overheard the conversation between the two.

"Mr Ollivander, Harry's been waiting for this moment ever since his Hogwarts letter came in!" James said, changing the direction of the conversation. "You think he might end up with a wand like mine?"

Harry immediately sighed in relief as Ollivander moved away, casting a thankful look in his father's direction. James caught him and sent a quick wink before Ollivander gave a shrug of his shoulders.

"We'll just have to see."

With the audience of James, Renata, and his siblings, Harry was asked to extend his right arm so they could begin. Initially, Harry was fine with the measurements of his arm but made a face when Ollivander started measuring around his head. He heard several muffled laughter and saw his parents attempting their best from laughing out loud. Just as he was about to ask if it was really necessary to take all the measurements, Ollivander spoke.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

While Ollivander rambled on the uniqueness of each crafted wand, Harry's mind drifted as he thought of Ron and Neville. He knew both of his friends had not travelled to Ollivander's to get new wands, but instead, were gifted wands used by their family members. Neville would be making use of his father's wand, while Ron was given Charlie's old one. Hearing what Ollivander had to say, he wondered how that was going to affect his friends once they got to school.

But he was left with little time to ponder such things when Ollivander allowed the tape measure to fall to the floor and began pulling wands for Harry to try.

Renata found herself feeling a bit emotional as she watched Harry try his first wand. It clearly wasn't a match as Ollivander discovered that sooner than anyone, snatching it out of Harry's hand. But it was hard for her to believe that in just a month's time, Harry would be off at Hogwarts. Seeing him hold a wand, reminded her of when Harry was still in a nappy, waving about a wooden spoon in the kitchen when he wanted to help cook a meal.

"Mummy, are you crying?" Ilaria's voice rang in her ears, leaving her to quickly wipe at her face. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene and make Harry feel uncomfortable.

"Oh, no," she said, " I just got something in my eye is all."

"Daddy must have something in his eye too," Monte called James out, who seemed to be trying to hold back his own emotions from the surface.

She nudged his arm in a reassuring way before leaning her head on his shoulder before they watched Harry go through a pile of wands. They could see the stress building on Harry's expression as each wand he held had yet to give the proper reaction that Ollivander was looking for. As the pile of wands grew bigger, Harry looked to his parents, a frown prominent on his face. He was signalling them to help him, but in reality, both James and Renata knew there was nothing they could do to help besides stay positive.

As Ollivander disappeared for a moment, Harry retreated to his father's side with a worried look.

"What am I doing wrong?" he whispered. "I don't understand why none of them are working? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Of course not!" James scoffed at such a question. As if there could be anything wrong with the offspring of James Fleamont Potter. "Harry, it's just taking you a little longer and that's perfectly fine. There's a reason why Mr Ollivander has so many wands around. Sometimes it takes going through a few before you find the one. There are plenty of options around here. You've barely scratched the surface."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the remaining wands in the shop that he had yet to try. He swallowed at the idea of going through nearly all of them before he found the one. At that rate, they would be there all day.

Renata could see the worry linger in Harry's eyes before she reached across and placed her hand gently under Harry's chin. She directed him to look directly at her.

"Just be patient a little while longer," she said, " the moment is coming. I can feel it. Mr Ollivander is excited about something, so that means something good is coming."

Hearing that Ollivander was excited about what was to come, definitely was reassuring to Harry that the task was coming to an end. When Mr Ollivander returned and offered him another wand to hold.

"I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Just as he did with the others, Harry went to give the wand a wave in his hand, but stopped for a moment as he felt a warmth spread through his fingers. Lifting the wand up, he was slightly startled when a series of red and gold sparks erupted over his head.

Suddenly, he could only hear applause and cheering from his family. "Yay, Harry!" Ilaria and Monte cheered together as they clapped. He felt a surge of pride swell in his chest as he lowered his arm, turning to face Ollivander.

"Oh, bravo!" Ollivander said. " Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

Harry was going to ignore the old man's ramblings, but Ollivander continued to mutter "curious" under his breath as he tucked the wand away in its original box. Finally, Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Sorry, but what's curious?"

Ollivander turned to him with a faint smile, almost appearing apologetic. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar."

What was meant to be a joyous occasion quickly turned awkward, especially for James as he watched Harry lift up his fingers to touch the scar on his forehead. James had never tried to shield Harry from the truth, but he didn't think it was appropriate to bring up such a matter, especially to an eleven-year-old. There were things that James left out of mentioning to Harry, just until he was older when he thought Harry would be mature enough to handle it. But it was difficult to protect Harry from everything and everyone.

People tried to stop him constantly to get a look at the scar. It had been years since it happened and the hype never really seemed to die. He wanted Harry to enjoy his youth without being constantly reminded of such a dark past, but it seemed to follow him. And Mr Ollivander's parting words weren't any better.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great."

Leaving the wand shop, Harry didn't seem nearly as excited as he was upon entering. The troubled expression on his face spoke volumes as he continued to look at his bag that held his wand. With a nod of his head, James motioned to Renata silently to give him a moment alone with Harry. She bowed her head in the slightest before asking Ilaria and Monte if they wanted to go look at the owls in another shop.

"Harry-"

"Does Mr Ollivander think I'm going to do terrible things too?" Harry whispered to his father once they were alone. "He said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. And I have a wand like his. What if I turn out-"

"Harry!" James stopped him before he dared to go any further with such a train of thought. "That's not what Mr Ollivander meant at all. He meant he saw you doing great things as all of us do. It was just a coincidence and nothing more than your wand shares a lineage with...with... Listen, Harry, right now, people are going to recognise you for your scar. But down the line, you're going to be known for so much more than that. Sometimes, we're known for the bad things in our lives until we turn it all around and give people a reason to know us for other things."

Harry looked confused, bringing James to place his arm around his son's shoulder and draw him closer.

"Look at your mother for example," James said, looking over his shoulder in Renata's direction. " For a while, people only knew her because of the bad things her parents did. But she turned that around, didn't she? Now people know her for a multitude of reasons and they're things she's proud of. "

"I don't want to be known for my scar," Harry whispered, covering up the majority of his forehead by pressing his hair over it.

"Then this is your chance to be recognised for what you want to be known for.  From here on out, it's all in your control. Your scar will probably always be there, but, you don't have to let it define you."

After the little talk with his father, Harry found himself in a deep debate about what he was going to do in order to distance himself as much as possible from the story surrounding his scar. So far, things weren't in favour since the scar was nearly front and centre, everyone in the wizarding world knew the story behind it and now his own wand shared a connection to his past. But he did find a distraction as he joined his siblings and mother outside of Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Hagrid seemed to have joined their party once more, allowing Harry to leave all his worries behind for a few moments.

"I told yeh I had ter get yeh a birthday gift, didn' I?"

Raising a brow, Harry was about to question what the gift was until Hagrid held out a cage that he had been hiding behind his back the entire time. Several seconds of silence passed as Harry stared at the little snowy owl that was presented to him. It had been one of the last things he had expected as a gift, completely neglecting the idea that he could bring a pet to school with him.

He had been considering taking Leone, until his mother had mentioned that the poor kneazle would probably find it rather stressful to be in an unfamiliar environment. The owl let out a soft hoot as her eyes settled on Harry, leaving him to reach for the cage to hold it.

"I don't know what to say," he said to Hagrid, " except thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Yeh don' have to thank meh, Harry," Hagrid told him, " just promise meh, yeh'll take care of her."

"I promise!!"

"She's so pretty!" Ilaria exclaimed as she and Monte looked into the cage as well. " It's a she, right?"

"Yes," Hagrid chuckled as he nodded his head.

"Oooh!" Monte clapped his hands together. "Harry, what are you going to name her?!"

Harry wasn't able to come up with a name on the spot but even if he did, he wasn't able to deliver it as the moment was interrupted by a timid voice that seemed to call out his name.

"H-H-Harry P-P-Potter, is - is t-th-that y-you?"

The entire group turned around to see a pale young man with a twitching eye standing just an arms' length from them. Renata instinctively placed all of her children behind and James stood before her with a questioning look. However, Hagrid's booming voice took part in a greeting.

Professor Quirrell! What are yeh doing here?" he questioned but didn't give the man an opportunity to answer. "Everyone, Professor Quirrell. Harry, he'll be one of yer teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," Professor Quirrell managed to choke out before grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"Uh, it's nice to meet you too?" Harry replied, attempting to sound polite. " What do you teach?"

"D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts.N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?"

Once again, Renata and James exchanged looks with one another, but not out of worry but rather questioning the credentials of the man before them. They both knew what it took when it came to tackling the Dark Arts and seeing the nervous wreck of a man before them wasn't so reassuring to hear that he would be their son's professor.

And to only add to the oddness, Professor Quirrell didn't stick around for long as he excused himself and practically bowed to Harry before hurrying off. But leave it to Ilaria to speak what was on everyone's mind at the time."

"He was weird."