Ollivander Quotes

Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.

But the idea of the Dark Lord in possesion of the Deathstick is, I must admit, formidable.

He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious . . . curious . . .” “Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?” Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar.” Harry swallowed.

No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same.

Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands … well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do.

Obviously, Harry Potter would be near the top of the list. Not even to Hogwarts, just to Ollivanders for a wand.

You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,’ said Harry, ‘like they can think for themselves.’ ‘The wand chooses the wizard,’ said Ollivander. ‘That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.’ ‘A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?’ asked Harry. ‘Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.’ The sea gushed

I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.

Harry, come back in the house,” Hermione whispered. “You aren’t still thinking of leaving?” “Yeah, you’ve got to stay, mate,” said Ron, thumping Harry on the back. “Are you all right?” Hermione asked, close enough now to look into Harry’s face. “You look awful!” “Well,” said Harry shakily, “I probably look better than Ollivander…” When he had finished telling them what he had seen, Ron looked appalled, but Hermione downright terrified. “But it was supposed to have stopped! Your scar--it wasn’t supposed to do this anymore! You mustn’t let that connection open up again--Dumbledore wanted you to close your mind!” When he did not reply, she gripped his arm. “Harry, he’s taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the Wizarding world! Don’t let him inside your head too!

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, ‘Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well ... how curious ... how very curious ...

Well, Harry, while we’ve still got you here, you won’t mind helping with the preparations for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, will you? There’s still so much to do.” “No--I--of course not,” said Harry, disconcerted by this sudden change of subject. “Sweet of you,” she replied, and she smiled as she left the scullery. From that moment on, Mrs. Weasley kept Harry, Ron, and Hermione so busy with preparations for the wedding that they hardly had any time to think. The kindest explanation of this behavior would have been that Mrs. Weasley wanted to distract them all from thoughts of Mad-Eye and the terrors of their recent journey. After two days of nonstop cutlery cleaning, of color-matching favors, ribbons, and flowers, of de-gnoming the garden and helping Mrs. Weasley cook vast batches of canapés, however, Harry started to suspect her of a different motive. All the jobs she handed out seemed to keep him, Ron, and Hermione away from one another; he had not had a chance to speak to the two of them alone since the first night, when he had told them about Voldemort torturing Ollivander. “I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she’ll be able to delay you leaving,” Ginny told Harry in an undertone, as they laid the table for dinner on the third night of his stay. “And then what does she think’s going to happen?” Harry muttered. “Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-au-vents?

Harry was suddenly reminded of how he had been unsure, when they first met, of how much he liked Ollivander. Even now, having been tortured and imprisoned by Voldemort, the idea of the Dark wizard in possession of this wand seemed to enthrall him as much as it repulsed him.

Mr. Ollivander : Curious... very curious... Harry : Sorry, but what's curious? Mr. Ollivander : I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tailfeather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar. Harry : And who owned that wand? Mr. Ollivander : We do not speak his name! The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible! Yes. But great.

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink.

Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

Harry suddenly realised that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, mostly because Owen didn’t even bother trying to pay attention. Instead, he went through all his favorite books in his head, trying to pinpoint which one they should go into first. Obviously, Harry Potter would be near the top of the list. Not even to Hogwarts, just to Ollivanders for a wand. That’d be perfect. Next, The Lightning Thief. And The Graveyard Book, and a trip to Fablehaven,

7,000 individually decorated boxes were made for Ollivander’s wand shop.

people? This is the wand that killed Sirius!’ Harry had not thought of that: he looked down at the wand and was visited by a brutal urge to snap it, to slice it in half with Gryffindor’s sword, which was propped against the wall beside him. ‘I miss my wand,’ Hermione said miserably. ‘I wish Mr Ollivander could have made me another one too.’ Mr Ollivander had sent Luna a new wand that morning. She was out on the back lawn at that moment, testing its capabilities in the late afternoon sun. Dean, who had lost his

Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

There was silence in the room, except for the distant rushing of the sea. 'You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,’ said Harry, ‘like they can think for themselves.’ ‘The wand chooses the wizard,’ said Ollivander. ‘That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.

Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.” Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . .

The owner of the most dangerous weapon should always fear attack.

Mr. Ollivander

Everyone thinks I’m special,” he said at last. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander . . . but I don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened when Vol-, sorry — I mean, the night my parents died.

The wand chooses the wizard, Harry." -Ollivander

Curious, curious indeed."- Ollivander

I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..." He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..." "Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?" Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar." Harry swallowed. "Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great.

Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand. "Hmmm..." he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully. "Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..." "An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's." So Fleur was part veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Ron... then he remembered that Ron wasn't speaking to him. "Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you..." Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideus!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand.

The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

Rimise la bacchetta di Harry in una scatola e la avvolse in carta da pacchi sempre borbottando: «Ma che strano...davvero strano». «Scusi» fece Harry, «ma che cosa c’è di strano?» Ollivander lo fissò con i suoi occhi sbiaditi. «Ricordo una per una tutte le bacchette che ho venduto, signor Potter. Una per una. Si dà il caso che la fenice dalla cui coda proviene la piuma della sua bacchetta abbia prodotto un’altra piuma, una sola. È veramente molto strano che lei sia destinato a questa bacchetta, visto che la sua gemella... sì, la sua gemella le ha procurato quella cicatrice». Harry deglutì. «Sì, tredici pollici e mezzo. Legno di tasso. Curioso come accadano queste cose. È la bacchetta che sceglie il mago, lo ricordi. Credo che da lei dobbiamo aspettarci grandi cose, signor Potter...Dopotutto, Colui-Che-Non-Deve-Essere-Nominato ha fatto grandi cose... terribili, è vero, ma grandi». Harry Potter e la Pietra Filosofale, J.K. Rowling