Taste of Youth

They need to stop talking. That's all that's running through my head as I work my way through their lists of school books. They need to stop talking, they need to stop talking like they want someone in the United States of America was meant to hear and I pressed my eyes closed fight the headache that was thrumming in my temples. The chatter's at a point where I can't keep my own thoughts neat and tidy, they've turned into this kind of mush that keeps building with everyone else's comments.

"Is that all you guys needed?" I ask James slamming the last of the books a top his stack and praying to whatever deity out there exists that he will say no.

"No, I think that's all."

He looks like wants to say something else so I start walking away calling over my shoulder, "Great! Rosemary can help you out at the counter."

I weave my way around the various chattering school girls and the terribly loud school boys until I reach the check-out counter. Rosemary looks frazzled and desperate as she stands there gazing out at the massive winding line of frustrated adults and rowdy teenagers. I almost feel bad enough to stop but only almost. I pat her shoulder as I pass and hurry through the back door that leads to the wire-thin alley way where we dump garbage.

It reeks back here mostly like old potions ingredients and strays. I don't mind the smell so much; it reminds me of my grandmothers shop. That place always smelled of the foulest things like the smell of wet dog on a hot summer day or Mr. Harrison's backyard after his daughter got that dog. Stunk like nobodies business right up until the day she died. I'll always remember the first day I went back to that place. It smelled like old books and a September breeze. My mother sold every last item she could get a penny for and I will never forgive her for that.

There was a crash over the bins behind the Apothecary. The yowls of fighting cats ripped me away from my memories and reminded me that I had less than a half hour to find something to eat, changed and get to the Apothecary to re-stock the wormwood that ran out last Monday. Muttering to myself about how previously joyous my day seemed to be turning out I hurried toward the opening that let me out next to Madam Malkin's.

Diagon Alley's main drag was brutal. It never ceased to amaze me that when school time reared its ugly head the Alley filled up to the brink exploding in and out of the poor shops that occupied it. As wonderful as this time was to the businesses around, it felt terrible on the body when one attempts to shuffle through the crowd. Not to mention the headache inducing amount of color that was provided by robes and Muggle clothing alike. While I made my way back to the Leaky I wondered why in my sixteen years of living in America I had never come across a place quite like this.

A rather pulp woman and her hoard of toddlers propelled me into the door Ollivander's shop where my nose hit the wood with a sickening crunch. Warm liquid trickled down to my lips as the shops door swung open to reveal an older man with moon-like eyes whose eyebrows shot into his hairline at the sight of me.

"Oh my, that looks painful. Come in. Come in. I think I should have some ice inside."

As soon as the door swung shut behind us blissful silence met my ears. It was so pure it made me feel uneasy. The man who I assumed to be Mr. Ollivander scuttled off into the back, disappearing amongst the dust and towers of wand boxes. A pile of wands sat on the small desk along with a bell and a notebook open to a page half filled with names and wands. I stepped up glancing toward where the man had disappeared before running my fingers lightly along the wood.

"Oh, I wouldn't try that one if I were you."

I sprung back throwing my hands in the air probably looking for all the world like a thief caught in the act of stealing. Mr. Ollivander let out a rusty chuckle and held out a pack of ice. The chill felt marvelous against my burning nose. As I stood there in the center of the shop floor, Mr. Ollivander put away the wands on the table and brought out more.

"Um, Sir?" I managed as I watched him and when he looked at me I inquired, "Why wouldn't you try that wand if you were me?"

He smiled showing off a row of crooked teeth, "Because it is not a wand for a girl like you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That wand has a core of basilisk fang and you, my dear, are most definitely no Dark arts expert. I imagine that the young boy who just left will be in Slytherin. Yes, the wand says so at least." He turned suddenly shaking his head, "Forgive me, child, but what is your name?"

"My name? Oh, it's Luciana Rein, sir."

"Ahh a Rein. Perhaps with a background like yours, you could have tried that wand. The damage wouldn't have been quite as severe as I had thought. You don't have a wand yet, do you Ms.Rein?"

"I - I - well no." I sputtered trying to figure out what he meant about my background, "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess." He smiled again which did not put my mind at ease, "You will be in need of one soon, I should think. Dark times are coming, Ms.Rein. Dark times, indeed."

We went through six different wands, all of various lengths, cores, and woods. I blew up a pot of flowers, demolished a shelf, exploded the bell, set his notebook on fire, blew out one of the windows, and then proceeded to cripple a poor eleven year old girl for the rest of the day. I was tired and late for my job and all I wanted to do was set down the blasted piece of wood and bid Mr.Ollivander a good day.

"Well, perhaps... yes. Yes I think that one will be prefect. One moment please, Ms. Rein. This ones a bit father back."

Without waiting for my answer, the man scurried off the way he'd gone to get my ice. Exasperated I leaned against the desk watching the world through the shops dingy window. The sky was becoming dark with the promise of rain and the wind had picked up, tossing up several ladies skirts to the delight of a few males. I rubbed my eyes and sighed, perhaps no working at the Apothecary today. I was ready to nap until morning.

"Here we are! Try this one." Mr.Ollivander held out a pale box to me the wand he wanted me to try nestled there gleaming.

I took it and let it rest in my hand for a moment. The shaft of the wand was a pale honey color that shone prettily in the dim lights of the shop and the handle a brilliant red that reminded me of the romance novels my grandmother used to read. It was thin and slightly short but fit easy in my palm. I looped my fingers around the wood and swished it once. A spell, pure white in color, shot out and spun around the room repairing everything I'd broken. My nose gave a twinge when the spell zinged back splashing over my face like cold water on a hot day.

"What in the hell?" I muttered and felt at my nose still holding the brilliant wand.

"Ha! See I was right, that basilisk wand would have destroyed my whole shop! Oh I've been waiting for someone to give this beauty to." Mr. Ollivander gave me a knowing look, "That wand one of the Lightest wands you'll ever find, Ms.Rein. Unicorn hair core, 9 inches, delicate, base of Alligator Juniper and handle of Bloodwood. That my dear, is a Healers wand."

I stared at the old man and back down at the wand that seemed to be glued straight to my hand, "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh don't worry, Ms.Rein. You'll understand soon enough."

The man plucked the wand from my hand, placed it in its box, took my money and sent me away. Just like that. The weight of a wand, however light this one was, felt strange in my jacket pocket and the point kept bumping into my leg. That is a Healers wand. A Healers wand, huh. Lord knows I need one with the amount of accidents I'm prone to but what did that mean anyway. I'd never been able to preform a single spell properly since that dreadful day I turned eleven.