Picard in the Wand Shop

Jean-Luc Picard pushed open the door to the dusty old shop. Compared to the other stores in Diagon Alley, this one was quiet. Too quiet, in fact.

The eleven-year-old studied the boxes piled up to the ceiling of the small shop. He knew magic was inside, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on it.

"Good afternoon." A voice said. Jean-Luc spun around quickly to face an old man.

"You must be getting your wand for Hogwarts."

"Yes, I am. I'm Jean-Luc Picard."

"Muggle-born, I expect?"

"Yes."

"Now, Mr. Picard, which is your wand arm?"

"Well, I'm right-handed."

A tape measure uncoiled itself and began measuring his arm and other parts of him. It was rather odd, to be measured by something acting of its own accord.

The old man—Jean-Luc assumed his name was Ollivander, because the shop was called Ollivander's—had begun taking boxes off shelves.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Picard, so it's not as much a matter of the wizard liking the wand, but of the wand liking the wizard."

"So a wand is like a lifeform?"

"Wandlore is deep and complex. Whether a wand is alive…at any rate, there is a profound magic involved. Here, try this one. Mahogany, unicorn hair, thirty-six centimeters, swishy."

Jean-Luc picked it up. "What do I do?"

"Oh, give it a wave."

Feeling very stupid, Jean-Luc waved the wand. "Now what?"

"Must not be the right one…Try this one, maple and dragon heartstring, 29 centimeters, flexible."

He waved it, feeling stupid again. He could feel it wasn't right. Olllivander snatched it away and handed him another one. That one felt really wrong, and he dropped it as soon as he picked it up. The next one didn't do anything. Nor did the next one. Or the next. Or the next.

Jean-Luc was starting to get frustrated. He didn't have all day. Maybe none of the wands were going to work, and he wasn't a wizard at all, and he could just go home and work on the vineyard all his life.

"Maybe this one…grapevine wood, dragon heartstring, thirty centimeters, solid."

It probably won't work, Jean-Luc thought. But he swished it through the air anyway.

A stream of blue light trailed out the end. Jean-Luc smiled. Ollivander, however, looked confused. "I've never seen that happen before."

"It looks like when a starship goes into warp."

"What?"

"Surely you've heard of starships?"

"Must be a Muggle device."

"That makes it sound like a bad thing. See, starships can go faster than light, it's called 'warp', and when they do, the warp nacelles—those are what channel the warp engine—glow blue. That's what came out of my wand."

Jean-Luc got the impression that instead of clarifying, he'd confused the old man more. He paid and left the shop, wondering if his wand meant that he was destined for Starfleet.