FicWad

It was indeed a fairly busy street, and was lined on both sides with the most curious shops imaginable - the nearest one had an assortment of cauldrons piled outside it - and most of the people on it were wearing the same queer, old-fashioned robes and gowns and cloaks as they had seen people wearing at the inn.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," said Finarfin with an amused smile as the humans pushed forward and stared around, trying to see everything at once. "All in good time, young ones, all in good time. We have many stops to make."

"Where are we going first?" asked Lucy eagerly.

Earwen and Finarfin looked at each other.

"Ollivander's?" asked Earwen.

"I see no reason why not," said Finarfin. Then he turned to the others. "We are going to the wandmaker's first," he announced.

"Wandmaker's?" asked Digory quizzically.

The Elves just smiled. "You shall see," said Finarfin, and at once began making his way along the crowded street. The others followed close behind him as he went, and eventually he turned and pushed into the door of a rather narrow shop-front. The painted letters above the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

"We're getting magic wands here?!" asked Edmund in astonishment.

"One for each of you," smiled Earwen, who was already on the threshold. "Are you all coming or not?"

The others exchanged looks, but they followed her inside.

It was a small shop, no bigger than it had looked from the street, and very quiet. It was indeed rather like an old bookstore, except that instead of books there were long narrow wooden boxes lining the shelves around them. A tiny-sounding bell had rung when first they stepped inside, and it seemed rather loud that place. The silence seemed mysterious and full of secrets; Polly let herself imagine that the very air in the place was saturated with sleeping magic just waiting to be awakened, which was in fact not far from the truth.

"Good day, Garrick," said Finarfin casually. "I hope you are well."

It was then that they saw with a start that a man had come to greet them. He looked rather young, about thirty perhaps, with pale (almost luminous) grey eyes. His dark hair seemed all the darker in contrast to the pallor of his face - a refined, educated sort of a face.

"Couldn't be better," said Garrick Ollivander. "My store of wands made in the new and improved fashion has grown, as you can see, and - "

Peter had the idea that the man would have launched into a long discussion about his craft of wandmaking if he had been allowed, for Finarfin said quickly, "Perhaps at some other time we may discuss all your latest innovations, Garrick, for now I am somewhat of a hurry. I want the best of your wands for each of my seven companions here," and he indicated the others with a dip of his head.

"Aha!" said Ollivander, and he turned his lamplike stare on the seven humans who stood waiting for some kind of prompt. "And which of you will be first?" he asked.

Everyone looked at Peter, and Peter realized that as usual he was expected to take the lead. He stepped forward. "I'll be first, sir," he said.

"Excellent!" said Ollivander. "What is your name, young man?"

"Peter Pevensie," said he.

"Well then, Mr. Peter Pevensie," said Ollivander. "Just hold out your wand hand, if you would be so kind."

As Peter had never held a magic wand before in either of his lives, he supposed that his sword hand would suffice. Not knowing quite what else to do, he held it out. Ollivander instantly whipped out a tape measure and began taking the oddest measurements - the length of his arm, the length of his forearm, shoulder-to-ground, shoulder-to-knee, and around the crown of his head.

Now why would you need to measure somebody if what you're selling them is a wand? wondered Edmund. I never saw the White Witch wear her wand.

This of course set him wondering what sort of powers he and his companions would have once they learned this "duller, more practical" magic, and what exactly they were expected to do with them.

Meanwhile, Ollivander had finished his measurements, and was now prowling the shelves and selecting boxes apparently at random until he had an armful of them. Then he returned, opening one of the boxes and saying, "Now try this one - applewood, twelve inches, with a unicorn hair core. Give it a wave, do."

"What will happen when I wave it?" asked Peter eyeing it suspiciously. Wands and spells and enchantments had had rather a sinister history in Narnia; and even here in their own world, all that Digory had told them about his old Uncle, Andrew Ketterly, had not sounded promising.

"If the wand does not choose you, then nothing will happen," replied the wandmaker. "If it has, however, then anything may happen."

Peter waved the wand, and nothing happened. Instantly Ollivander plucked it from his hand and passed him another, saying, "Not that one, obviously - try this one - aspen, ten inches, and quite rigid."

Once again, Peter waved the wand, and once again nothing happened. Ollivander did not seem to mind this; he simply took back the second wand and handed him a third one, saying, "Perhaps this one - rowan, eleven and a half inches, rather hard - "

Peter waved it, and though it did not actually produce any visible effect, he felt the wand jump in his hand. He started, and stared at it, wondering what it meant. Ollivander seemed to have noticed. "Interesting," he said. "Very interesting. Almost chose you, but not quite. Hum." He stood for a few moments, gazing at the wand that was still in Peter's hand. Then he said, as if to himself, "Why not? It would be a rare thing, but not absolutely unique."

He regarded Peter for another long moment, then moved off to a nearby shelf, and took down a single box. He opened it and walked back up to Peter and handed him the new one. "Try this one," he said. "Elder, fourteen inches, unyielding, with a unicorn hair - try it."

The moment Peter took it, he knew before lifting his hand that this wand had chosen him. His fingers tingled, and he was suddenly aware that great power, for good or evil, lay within his grasp. He raised the wand and brought it down with a flourish. A flash of bright light shone briefly at the end of it, and then went out.

The others applauded, but Ollivander turned at once to Finarfin. "Is this - " he began.

"He is," said Finarfin.

"And the others?" said Ollivander, his eyes widening.

Finarfin merely smiled.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jill.

It was Earwen who answered her. "It was over two hundred years ago that first my daughter Galadriel, whom you shall soon meet, foretold that many Kings and Queens from the far land of Narnia would be sent to dwell among us, and to stand alongside us if war arose. Before that time the Elves had lived mostly in secret, and we hid our long hair and pointed ears and pretended to be Mortal Men, revealing ourselves only to one or two, here and there, over the long years. But when that prophecy was made we took counsel, and began to ready ourselves for your coming. We began to make ourselves known to Men in greater numbers, and even opened our minds to a few, including the worthy house of Ollivander, very learned and mighty in wandlore - "

Garrick Ollivander blushed and bowed. "You do me too much honor," he said.

"Then you've all been waiting and preparing for two hundred years for us to come along so things can start happening?" asked Lucy.

"In effect, yes," said Earwen. "Most of the Elves know that you are all Kings and Queens of Narnia, and so do a few Men, including our excellent wandmaker friend here. We had warned him beforehand that strange things might happen in the choosing of your wands because the favor of the One, or the Lion as you name Him, rests upon you."

There was a long breath of silence as the seven friends of Narnia digested all this and the two Elves said nothing. Then Peter spoke.

"If this is our path," he said. "Then let us have no more delay, and choose our wands - or be chosen by them, as it may be."

Now released from the wonder of discovering that he was serving royalty from another world, Ollivander took the others one by one and followed the same process that he had with Peter. He would take the same odd measurements, and then test out different wands that seemed to "choose" them.

For most of them it only took three or four tries to find the wand that would suddenly react when waved in the air; but poor Eustace went through about ten different wands without success. He was beginning to despair that he would ever find one, and trying hard not to be cross, especially because Ollivander seemed to get happier and happier with each failed attempt. Then, without warning, the eleventh wand jumped out of Ollivander's hand and sailed toward Eustace, who was so surprised that he barely managed to catch it.

"Well, that settles it!" said Olivander, unflappable as ever. "A fine vine wand, and it has obviously chosen its master! Now I understand."

"Forty-nine Galleons, I believe," said Finarfin coming forward, and he paid the wandmaker forty-nine of the gold coins.

They left the shop and returned to Diagon Alley, and once they were in the street, Lucy asked, "Well, where to next?"

"Let me see," said Earwen. "We hardly need more books of any sort, so we can bookstores for another day; we also have a great many kinds of potion ingredients, so we need not bother about the Apothecary; why don't we visit Potage's Cauldron Shop first?"

"What do we need cauldrons for?" asked Edmund.

"For brewing potions," said Earwen. "Every wizard needs a cauldron to brew his concoctions in."

There were all sorts of cauldrons in that shop - lead cauldrons, bronze cauldrons, silver cauldrons, gold cauldrons; little cauldrons that went on one's countertop and big cauldrons that Eustace could have hidden in and all sizes in between. The Elves ignored the Narnian's protests that they didn't really need a cauldron per person and could have shared; they went ahead and bought seven medium-sized bronze cauldrons for two golden Galleons each.

Most of the humans were by now beginning to wonder how Galleons converted to English pounds, and how they would repay Finarfin for all his expense. They didn't have to know the conversion rate to know that the Elves were spending a great deal of money, and were probably not nearly finished yet.

"You shall not repay me," said Finarfin as they left the shop, though none of them had spoken. "It is no use insisting; and anyway I rather doubt that any of you have money."

This was, unfortunately, quite true.

"I think we shall want a few owls," Earwen remarked. "Wizards use them for carrying mail, and they make wonderful friends."

"Certainly friends with plenty of personality," said Finarfin. "Let us visit Eeylops Owl Emporium."

Eeylops Owl Emporium was exactly what it sounded like: a shop full of nothing but all varieties of owls, including Barn Owls, Tawny Owls, Screech Owls, Brown Owls, Snowy Owls, and many more. Some of them were asleep or in general being quiet, but there were enough of them hooting and flapping and banging around in their cages to make it rather hard for anyone else to be heard in there. Still, it was quieter than it might be, as Edmund remarked, though he had to repeat what he had said in a louder voice for the others to hear him above all the noise.

"They're owls, Ed," shouted Eustace. "It's not like we're in a real aviary. Heaven knows that'd be even noisier."

Just then, Jill spotted a large owl with thick black-and-white plumage and large yellow eyes. "Oh, look!" she cried. "Look at that one, the snowy owl over there - " and she pointed at the cage. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Do you want her?" asked Finarfin with an amused smile.

"Can we get her?" asked Jill eagerly.

"Certainly!" said Earwen, and the owl was promptly bought. At Edmund's request a barn owl was also bought, smaller and lighter of build than Jill's snowy owl, and with more colors.

Polly, Peter, and Eustace all chose various screech owls, and Digory selected a fine solid-looking tawny owl. Lucy became very attached to a scruffy-looking chick about the size of a tennis ball, which the manager said would probably grow to be an adult of less then nine inches long. Apparently all the little creature needed was a good home and an attentive owner. Finarfin bought the chick before Lucy even asked him.

After that they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, each of the humans now carrying a cauldron in one hand (with his or her wand inside it) and a cage with an owl in the other hand.

"Where to now?" asked Jill.

"Well, we need more ink and quills and parchment," said Earwen (Why is she the only one who seems to have come with a mental shopping list? wondered Jill). "We had best try Scribbulus."

"Scribbulus?" Digory found this rather amusing. "The shop is called Scribbulus?"

All I can tell you for a fact is that in a shop called Scribbulus Writing Instruments they purchased a great many quills and bottles of ink and rolls upon rolls of parchment, as well as a few journals for good measure.

"That is, I believe, enough for one day," said Earwen. "Back to the Leaky Cauldron we go."

"We're not Flooing again, are we?" asked Edmund with a groan.

"I am afraid we are," said Earwen, placid as a lake on a hot summer day.

Finarfin led the way back to the archway where they had entered Diagon Alley, which appeared in the wall once he knocked on one of the bricks again. Through the courtyard they went and back into the pub, where they made their way to the magical fireplace again. Then, with much ado about nothing (well, that's what Finarfin said when I asked him), they all got themselves and their purchases, including their owls, back to the house in the country without event.