Dusty Larrabe

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It had been a trick to find his way to Diagon Alley, and it was a whole different kind of trick to get enough wizarding currency—of all things!—to purchase the supplies he'd need for the upcoming school year. Dusty had managed it, as he always did, through sheer force of will.

In actuality, he'd stumbled upon the entrance to Diagon Alley by sheer luck. He'd been wandering around, as he always did, and had noticed a decrepit little pub squeezed between two more prevalent buildings. Dusty had always liked pubs; if you got people drunk enough they tended to be a bit looser with their pocket money, and it was usually easy enough to come up with a coin or two. When he'd seen people wandering in and out of the back alley, his curiosity had forced him to follow, and Diagon Alley had been the result.

He'd been here for a little over two weeks now. It hadn't taken him long to realize that magic was real, which meant that the weird letter he'd received from the creepily-intelligent owl came from a real school. He'd checked the course list again. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the supplies he needed were going to be expensive, and if it wasn't easy to steal from muggle stores it certainly wouldn't be easy to steal from magical ones.

Pickpocketing was easier. Wizards, it seemed, were no smarter when it came to their wallets than muggles were. Dusty spent his time between thefts alternately observing this new community of people and scouting out the stores to see how much things were going to cost him. He waited until he had enough for everything, and then a couple days longer to get some padding, and then he hit the stores.

He wanted a wand before anything else. He might not know a lot about magic, but he could already tell that buying a wand was going to be one of the more important things that he did. He bit down on his lower lip just outside the door to the wand shop and straightened his weathered t-shirt, wishing he didn't look as decrepit as he knew he must, and then with a sigh he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

[Diagon Alley Shopkeeper]

Leaned over his front desk, the wandmaker was closely examining a long bit of parchment, occasionally making a few marks with his quill. That will never do, he mentally grumbled to himself, a slight furrow on his brow. He was about to turn and go to the back of the shop when he heard the door. Finally! A customer! he nearly exclaimed out loud as he rolled up and set aside the parchment.

A young boy, a first year he assumed, entered the store. He was a bit on the disheveled side and seemed to have an almost distrustful air about him. Ollivander smiled all the same and greeted him, "Welcome to Ollivander's! I am, as you may have guessed, Mr. Ollivander. Well, one of many to be exact. Rather long line of us actually - and I was about to start rambling."

Stepping out from behind the counter he gave the boy a good look over. "I shall guess that you are to be a first year at Hogwarts and that you are muggle-born. Am I correct?" he asked, not unkindly.

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It was a strange man who greeted him at the door. Mr. Ollivander. Dusty committed the name to memory, strange as it was, and listened to him rattle on about lineage and the likes. For his part, Dusty didn't think much of taking stock in a family tree. He didn't think people had a right to be proud of where their ancestors came from, and more than other people ought to be ashamed of their relatives—you were in charge of yourself, and responsible for yourself, and that was what you ought to be proud of. 

Dusty inclined his head when the man asked if he was heading into his first year at Hogwarts. He might have been suspicious of the man asking if he was a muggleborn, except that in his weeks at Diagon Alley even he'd realized that he dressed differently than most of the people here. They didn't look at him too strangely—they probably realized, like Mr. Ollivander had, that he didn't know any better—but he had noticed nonetheless. 

"I'm Dusty," he said instead. Normally he wasn't partial to giving out his name, but in this case he couldn't see the harm. Hogwarts already had him on their rosters, so someone already knew he existed, and for once in his life he really wasn't doing anything wrong. The money in his pocket might be stolen, but that couldn't be proven, and as far as Mr. Ollivander would be able to tell he was an honest customer. 

"I don't know much about wands," Dusty admitted, nodding his chin towards the boxes that lined the walls. "I mean, I checked out prices already, so I know what it should cost me. But I don't, like, know how to pick the right one out. Are they different in some way?"

It was another statement Dusty wouldn't have made in any other circumstance: where he came from, admitting ignorance in a store was like asking them to raise the prices. Here, though, Dusty couldn't see any choice, and in any case Mr. Ollivander had to be used to kids like Dusty coming in who didn't know the front of a wand from the back of one. At least, Dusty assumed Mr. Ollivander had to be used to it. He didn't really know how many muggleborns there were.

[Diagon Alley Shopkeeper]

"No two wands are exactly alike. They may be made of the same wood, they may have the same core, and they may be the same length, but that doesn't make them the same. Much like twins. They have personalities all their own, and you will have to get to know your wand to understand it," he replied, turning to examine the shelves full of wands as he spoke. "Based on a few things I will learn about you, I can narrow down what type of wand is most likely to be attracted to you. But in the end, the wand chooses the wizard."

He examined the boy for a moment as he took that in. "It will make more sense very soon. Let's get started shall we?" He pulled his own wand from his pocket and lazily waved it at the counter, causing a measuring tape to swoop off of it and hover in the air beside Dustin. "Stand straight up and hold your arms out from your sides. The tape will do the rest. While it does that, tell me, what do you think you will enjoy at Hogwarts? Learning how to make potions? Mastering the art of transfiguration? Perhaps learning to charm objects or handle magical creatures? Maybe even how to duel and protect yourself from those who wish to do you harm."

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Dusty frowned when the shopkeeper said that wands had personalities. They were sticks, for God's sake. Mr. Ollivander—who was clearly insane—was talking about them as if they had brains. It was weird. Dusty might have grown accustomed, in his weeks at Diagon Alley, to the idea of magic in general, but this still felt far-fetched to him.

Dusty jumped when a measuring tape jumped up in the air, and then, eyes narrowed slightly, he slowly followed the man's instructions and stood with his arms out like he was getting ready for a fitting. He listened to Mr. Ollivander's question about Hogwarts. In all honesty, he hadn't thought about what he'd like to do at school—he'd been more focused on what school would do for him. Now, though, as the man described it, Dusty let his mind wander in that direction. Potions could be potentially cool. The other stuff—charms and transwhatever—sounded kind of girly. But then the shopkeeper said something about dueling and protecting himself. Dusty's left hand automatically shot down to massage his bum leg. He blushed when he realized what he'd done and held his arm out to the side again.

"Duelling, yeah," Dusty said, his throat dry. "That sounds good."

[Diagon Alley Shopkeeper]

He nodded in response to the boy's answer, his eyes on the measuring tape as it finished its job. "Yes, dueling is quite interesting to learn. Not easy though, I won't deny that. The best duelers are frequently also the most in sync with their wands," he explained as he began making his way among the aisles, occasionally plucking a box from a shelf. "They must be though. Dueling requires quick reflexes and an even quicker mind. If you don't know how your wand will react in a certain situation...you could be in for a world of hurt."

He continued on as he finally made his way back to the front of the shop & placed the pile of boxes on the counter. "Of course, you will have to learn basic defense techniques and spells before you can even think about dueling. You will be under the tutelage of Phoenix Valentine. A former Auror, that's a highly trained dark wizard catcher, who still has strong ties to the ministry. You will do well to pay close attention in his class."

The wandmaker went quiet as he picked through the boxes. After a moment, he pulled one from its box, and held it out for Dustin. "Let's try this one first. 8.75", made of springy birch, with a core of a dragon heartstring. Point it towards the wall, give it a swish, and we'll see what happens."

((I should probably specify that you get to choose whether you like the wand or not. If you like it, it does something good. If you don't, it backfires in some way.))