Magic in the Air By Juliet

Pit, pat, pitter, patter, pat. My steps seemed to be turning into skips, and my happiness level just kept rising. I was in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter of Universal Studios Japan (USJ), and even though I was ten years old, I felt as giddy as a six year old child.

I was looking around, trying to take it all in with one look. Looking in every little corner, over turrets, under arches, and...wait. I saw a flash of brilliant white. An owl? I thought. No, a sign. It read: Wand Choosing Ceremony. My eyes shifted to the shop next to it. Well, if that is Ollivanders, the wand shop, then that means…huh, I don’t know, it’s some kind of 4D room? I inquisitively looked for a line of people. Not too many people in the line, but what is it? I walked over, not sure what to expect. I saw a little, old door on the stone wall. Then, some more people crowded behind me, and my parents found me among them.

The old, crooked door creaked open, and I was overwhelmed with a dusty scent, hints of, what was it, tea? Maybe nutmeg? I didn’t know, it just smelled good, other than the dust. I jumped in the room. It was tiny, barely big enough to fit our small group of Harry Potter fans. Front row, score! I said to myself. Unzipping my jacket carefully, to make sure the zipper didn’t get caught, I uncovered a Ravenclaw shirt, a dark navy blue shirt embellished with pretty crystals that formed the Ravenclaw house crest.

There was a man at the desk in front of me, the papers he was looking at were old, yellowed, crinkled, and falling from their large stacks. He was all dressed in wizarding attire, with a purple and gold embroidered cap, a green, purple, and gold embroidered robe, and wiry spectacles. His face seemed rosy from the light of the antique looking, rose shaped lamp. Universal Studios sure knows how to bring magic to life, man.

“You, little girl, come here.” I saw that the man was pointing at me. I felt the skip in my step come again. I walked over the rug, and nearly tripped over a tassel. “What is your name?” he inquired. I answered, “Juliet Lutz.” He walked smoothly to the shelves of cluttered wand cases, then struggled to pull the sapphire case out.

“Here, a holly wand.” I tried it out, but though it portrayed a brilliant display of multicolored light, he put it away. Then, pulling out a mahogany case, less of a struggle this time, he gave me a wand that had a lattice handle, with a slight bend. It had a blend of espresso and maroon color, a beautiful mix. I held it in my hand, and I felt how strong and durable it was near the bottom, and weaker toward the top. The man told me it was a reed wand as a spiral of sky blue sparkly light came from the tip. I could feel magic in the air. He turned with a flourish and said, “This, my friend, is the wand for you.”