women at work [nell]

[ASTRID ALVA ABRAHAMSSON]

April 2026

Wands were meant to be tough and to last through anything. Or so, Astrid had thought. When she'd heard the snap yesterday evening in a tussle with a particularly stubborn erumpet, she'd thought it was simply a twig that the beast had crushed. Not her own precious wand. She'd managed to subdue the creature, but the damage was done. She would tell anyone who enquired that of course, she hadn't shed a tear. But the truth was she'd been devastated. Her bond to the magical world felt frayed, as if the past fifteen years hadn't actually existed. Her wand had been her acceptance. And now, it was snapped in two.

Unable to sleep, Astrid had researched various different wandmakers. She didn't want another from the same manufacturer, especially if it was so fragile. She came across one woman led wandmaking company, called the Queen's Wands and Woodworks. Astrid was inspired by her work, especially given that she was an Ollivander. She forced herself into her bed, tucking herself into Kal's side as she did so and slept fitfully, waking numerous times to see if it was time to leave and procure a new wand.

Though devastated by the loss of her wand, Astrid couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of procuring a new wand, especially one crafted by a woman. Gone were the times when only men could be trusted to approach the wand trees, the delicate art of pleasing the bowtruckles and taming the beasts who would soon become wand cores. As morning broke across the bedroom, Astrid was puttering about the house, fixing tea and dressing before dropping a kiss on Kal's cheek and disapparating to Horizont Alley. She approached the store front and saw that it was empty - it had only just opened. The bell above the door tinkled as she pushed it open, her blue eyes peering around to find the wandmaker.

eleanor gwendolen ollivander

[eleanor gwendolen ollivander]

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Wands and self-cleaning tables. That was basically all she had time to make, and even her charmed up workshop was still running behind on the latter. Honestly, why did people seem to forget that they were perfectly capable of casting cleaning charms on their own? It took literally one wave of a wand to make it all go away. She understood the rocking chairs and why there were customers for something that rocked on its own. The way she did those, they seemingly lived and learned on their own. They did get a bit freaky if the charm didn’t work perfectly and they started moving on their own though. One day she walked into the workshop and saw a whole row of them going in sync, and the chill that went down her spine brought her back to school and having Peeves or one of the other school ghosts floating through her. Alas, there weren’t any ghosts in her shop, and if there were they were harmless, and she was relegated to making these dumb self-sustaining tables that anyone could cast the charm if they really thought it through. Thankfully they weren’t too difficult to make so it didn’t eat into her wand making time, but there were still so many orders to fill.

But business was business and eventually that sort of thing would calm down once everyone had their own table or chair, and they would come crawling back for wands. With the summer fast approaching, she was sure she was due to get the new influx of first-year Hogwarts students, whose parents wanted to try out the shop that built their kitchen table instead of dusty old Ollivanders. So putting together a couple dozen more starter wands was what she was doing today, carefully crafting the hilts so that they were better for smaller, soon to grow child hands. Luckily handles were easy enough to make and attach if necessary, though she was sure that would only be necessary if a part-giant child came in looking for a wand. Even then, their hands might already be too big for even her normal stock. That was always tricky to work around.

As she finished lacing a strand of unicorn hair into the core of a beautifully red cherry wand (though nothing like the brilliant Japanese one she had seen last year), the chime of her front door opening pulled her quickly out of her work. Thankfully it happened as she completed the insert, as she would have to start from the beginning again if the customer interrupted midway through. These sorts of things were precise for a reason. She didn’t need some poor eleven year old accidentally burning their eyebrows off while trying to stir a potion during their first lesson.

Quickly brushing the few scraps of sawdust off of her smock and letting her magnifying-glass spectacles hang from her neck, Nell pushed through the curtained hallway to the storefront, where a blonde woman stood. “Morning,” Nell called quietly with a yawn. “How can I help you?”

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[ASTRID ALVA ABRAHAMSSON]

For so long, men had ruled over the wandmaking business, holding their closely-guarded secrets to their chest with jealousy and greed. But when Astrid had discovered that there was a female wandmaker, and an Ollivander at that, she'd been intrigued. Though it was devastating to have lost her wand (one would think they were sturdier than an erumpet foot) she couldn't help the twinkle of excitement she felt at the prospect of meeting this Eleanor Ollivander. Astrid hoped that she'd be able to find a good match, and wondered just how much she had changed since she'd purchased her first wand at the age of 11.

The bell tinkled overhead as Astrid entered the shop first thing in the morning. She'd been somewhat apprehensive of accosting the wandmaker at such an early hour, but this was a vital purchase. "Good morning," said Astrid, keeping her voice even and present. Her gaze flickered over the woman, assessing her quickly. She seemed to be around Astrid's age and the straight line of her back and sawdust that still sprinkled her apron spoke towards a disciplined woman. Astrid appreciated this as a woman of discipline herself. "I need a new wand - unfortunately my old one had met it's match with an erumpet," she explained briefly. "What an untimely accident," she added rather unnecessarily. Astrid felt her cheeks heat up - she was so rarely eloquent with strangers, so this was no exception. "Er, I researched your wands and was really intrigued. Hopefully you've got a wand that will choose me..." said Astrid at last.

eleanor gwendolen ollivander

[eleanor gwendolen ollivander]

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She had seen a lot of damaged wands and heard plenty of stories; usually there were a lot more excuses than reasons for one breaking, but this was certainly a first for her. An erumpent encounter was rare these days, so it didn’t take much thinking to figure out that the woman probably worked with magical creatures. If she didn’t, that was definitely a story she wanted to hear. Nell blinked her surprise away quickly though, as this was a customer she could sell to easily. But first… “Is your old wand gone completely? I usually like to get a look at them to see if they’re repairable first, but I’m sure it’s a safe assumption that it’s unusable after an encounter with an erumpent.” The lady was honestly lucky to be alive. Nell had definitely read stories of people not surviving a sudden stampede or finding themselves on the wrong side of the horn. That was why she stayed inside her shop and made pieces of wood do magic stuff. It added years onto her lifespan.

As for why the woman came to her, Nell took particular notice of her wording. She was unaware that enough of her wands were out in the world, at least under her current store name. Anything that was sold at Ollivanders that was made by her or Veronica was by the family name. As it had been for centuries. Probably because a century old wand could still be sold if it was floating around on the shelves. “Was there something particularly noteworthy that led you here? My wandmaking isn’t all that different from the rest of my family’s. Only thing is that I tend to use different cores than the norm for around here.” Meaning the supposed core three of wand cores. She couldn’t deny that dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, and unicorn hair were terrible cores, but there were others out there that suited the right witch or wizard just as well as the average ones did. Sometimes it just took a little looking to find the right one.

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[ASTRID ALVA ABRAHAMSSON]

Why hadn't she thought to bring her damaged wand? Astrid chided herself mentally, having not thought of this fairly obvious oversight only when the wand maker mentioned it. "Er, well I didn't bring it," Astrid admitted rather lamely. "But it's snapped in two. So I'd say... well, I'd say it's probably not really fixable," she added sheepishly. The wand maker enquired further what had drawn Astrid to her store, and Astrid tried to explain. The woman looked rather surprised that Astrid had been able to identify her from her relatives at the standard Ollivanders storefront.

"Oh... I thought it was obvious. I wanted to purchase from a female wand maker," said Astrid plainly. "I find that women who try to disrupt the market in male led industries typically produce much better results than their male counterparts. Like dragonologists," Astrid explained quickly. Their careers were similarly permeated with men who thought they knew better than women, and were vocal about it. Astrid didn't appreciate being talked down to, especially when she was just as learned, if not more so, than most of her colleagues.

"That sounds intriguing. Is your wand crafted by your own hand, or one you used before exploring wand making properly?" asked Astrid, more out of curiosity than anything. After a moment, she realised it was perhaps a more personal question than she had originally intended. "Er... can I look at some wands? Or do you need to measure my arm or anything?" she asked finally, her gaze drifting around the store at the piles and piles of boxes of wands.

eleanor gwendolen ollivander

[eleanor gwendolen ollivander]

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Snapped in two. That was a fairly firm conclusion to that wand, unfortunately. She had managed to put a handful back together that were like that, but only because the owners had done a good job wrapping them in Spell-O-Tape and got the wand to her immediately after the accident. The average witch or wizard didn’t carry a roll of tape with them everywhere though, so the odds of having a successful repair were low. Add in a direct hit from an erumpent and it was as good as done. “Probably not. What was its make up? So I have an idea of what kind of wands work best for you,” Nell asked, though her brain was already mentally making notes of the ones that would benefit someone in a field that dealt with dangerous creatures. Those sorts of wands were nuanced for a reason. They needed to be able to pack a punch against things like dragons and mountain trolls, but could also gently lift a Cornish pixie into a cage if need be. “And was that your first wand?” she added. If that was the case, then she could technically ignore the core and wood that the now defunct wand had. There was bound to be a match here in her tiny supply.

The customer clarified that the reason she came here was because it was owned by a woman. That was a first. Usually it was because she was an Ollivander off doing her own thing, or because Veronica was completely off-putting towards a lot of her customers. If there was anything that her sister needed to practice up on, it was tact and interpersonal skills. She treated everyone around her like an idiot, which didn’t help with business at all. “I see…well your only two options in London would have gotten you what you wanted. Wandmaking is typically passed down through families, so if it’s a situation like mine where we didn’t have any women born into the Ollivander family for several decades, it’s bound to look like its lopsided a bit.” Across the board, she was pretty sure wandmaking was fairly even. In terms of current and close contemporaries of hers, there was obviously her sister down the street and a woman in France that was sort of up and coming as well that Nell knew of. And then there were the wandmakers of New Orleans, who were virtually all women and almost always had been. The latter had an interesting way of weaving their softer cores into the wood so that they were more intertwined with one another. A girl had sold Nell a bag of Rougarou hair a few years earlier and showed off the wand made with it: a flexible ironwood with a single strand of Rougarou hair. Fascinating piece…

“My wand?” she asked, producing it from her pocket. “Silver lime wood with unicorn hair. Made by my great-grandfather, Garrick Ollivander. While I can use all the wands I make, I find that they don’t fit me. If that makes sense?” Nell explained as she put her wand back where it belonged and started to run her finger over the ends of the wand boxes on the wall behind her. The woman asked if she needed her arm to be measured, and Nell shook her head ‘no’. She had already eyeballed the length, though most of her wands fell in the average range for size. Anything over or under that would have to be specially made, but this woman was going to be fine for the wands Nell had in mind.

Producing two boxes to start, Nell placed them on the counter and lifted the tops off each. The one on the right was chestnut with unicorn hair, sporting a soft brown finish and extremely flexible. The left wand being the infamous pine and werewolf whiskers that most were too afraid to even pick up. “I’m assuming you work with animals to some degree?” she asked as she pushed the chestnut box forward first. “This is chestnut with unicorn hair. While I don’t think any wand could handle an erumpent, this one is certainly more malleable than your last one probably was. See how it feels.”

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[ASTRID ALVA ABRAHAMSSON]

"Yew and dragon heartstring," said Astrid, glancing around the shop. "May I?" she asked, as she stepped closer to some of the wand displays, scrutinising them. There was something ethereal about these wands, whether it was the dainty carvings into the wood or the lacquered finish. Astrid felt a sense of ease settle around her, knowing she'd come to the right place. "It was my first wand, yes. My only wand. We bought it from Gregorovich's old shop," said Astrid, turning to the woman. It was then that she realised she didn't know the wandmaker's name - should she address her as Miss Ollivander?

"I am Astrid, by the way," she added quickly. Astrid went on to explain why she had chosen this wand shop over the more well known Ollivander's in Diagon Alley. She had the sense that the woman was making it rather difficult for her. Why did it matter why she had come here rather than gone there? She was here now. But Astrid let the subject lie, instead asking if the woman had crafted her own wand or purchased it.

The wandmaker's answer was rather curious, and Astrid frowned. "I've heard that the wand chooses the wizard. Or witch, in our case. That we can channel our magic through a piece of wood if we needed to, but it wouldn't be as strong as if we channeled it through a wand that paired well. Is that true?" asked Astrid. The woman turned away from her, running her fingers over the boxes. "I study dragons," Astrid replied simply. She took the wand from the woman's hand, and gripped it. It felt rather foreign in her hand, and she didn't get that tingle that she had with her first wand. Still, she gave it a bit of a wave.

eleanor gwendolen ollivander

[eleanor gwendolen ollivander]

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Heart wrenching. The immediate stab Nell felt in her chest when the customer, Astrid was her name, told her that the destroyed wand was a Gregorovitch wand. That poor, poor wand. The accidental destruction of any piece was horrible, in her opinion, but there were certain ones that made it so much worse. Having seen another Gregorovitch wand around this time last year, she had been wondering when the next one would show up, if ever. And to hear that it was snapped in two and not even with the owner made it so much worse. If Astrid wasn’t looking intently at the wand case and a prospective customer, Nell probably would have walked back into her workshop and quietly sobbed in the corner for a couple minutes. Merlin, what a horrible end that poor wand went through…

“Nell Ollivander,” she returned the greeting. The fact that it was a yew and dragon heartstring wand (made by Gregorovitch) absolutely made sense that it could deal with magical creatures. Obviously not an erumpent. She listened to the woman talk about the things she’d heard about wands, and they were fairly accurate statements. Those were the most important bits, of course. Making sure a wand was on par with the handler’s ability was just as important too. Just because someone was ‘made for’ a wand, didn’t mean they could use it effectively one-hundred percent of the time. “I’d say it’s true. I’ve seen enough wands do strange things when people have picked them up for the first time. My front window gets blown out a lot from some of the more aggressive reactions…” Nell explained as she watched Astrid take the chestnut with unicorn hair wand from its box. The wave of it was fine enough, but she could tell just by looking that it probably wasn’t ‘the one’. “Do you use a lot of non-verbal magic around those dragons?” she asked, gently sliding pine with werewolf whisker wand box closer. She didn’t want to tell Astrid what was in it until she gave it a flick.

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Naturally, Astrid had done her research into wandlore after having found her wand snapped so easily by an erumpet. There was a reason why she dealt solely with dragons and not other beasts. Dragons had a certain majesty to them, their magical qualities so unique that she doubted even a gigantic specimen landing on her wand would break it. It didn't help that she trusted the fire-breathing creatures more than she trusted most people. What she'd found about wandlore had been interesting to say the least - if she'd been desperate, she could have channeled her magic through a stick of wood. But it wouldn't be the same.

If only Astrid understood her ice magic better.

Pushing that from her mind, Astrid explained that she worked with dragons, keeping her sentences concise despite her growing interest in the way Nell was examining her. "If you weren't a witch, that would be expensive to replace," said Astrid with a smirk, stating the obvious. "Fifteen years ago I couldn't even imagine this world. That there was something more than music and long summer days and cold winter nights. But now... I have my dragons and you have your wands." It wasn't exactly a poingant thought, but Astrid picked up the wand Nell had laid before her and gave it a flick. Nothing of note happened. She thought a fly had maybe stopped buzzing, but there had been no real connection.

"Yes," Astrid replied, replacing the first wand and picking up the second. "And no. There are times when a dragon needs verbal communication to understand its environment. Casting nonverbal spells can make the situation much worse. Especially if you haven't got the strength behind a nonverbal spell," she added waving the second wand. There was a loud bang and she dropped the wand as if it had burned her. Astrid hissed, examining her hand where a thin line of blisters bloomed. "Helvete. That hurt."

eleanor gwendolen ollivander

[eleanor gwendolen ollivander]

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A muggleborn with a Gregorovitch wand was even more intriguing! Merlin, she would have loved to see it in one working piece. This whole interaction was going to bother her for days now, and it absolutely sucked that the poor wand had been blasted to smithereens. Such a thing came with a lot of jobs in their world, unfortunately, similarly to how her front window got smashed on a weekly basis because of wild magic. “I think we tend to take a lot of granted because of magic. I wish I could say that was a good thing, but unfortunately it isn’t,” Nell responded as she watched Astrid tested the chestnut with unicorn hair. Nothing happened, which was about what she expected. While that wasn’t a bad thing, she knew she probably had something better somewhere around here…

The second wand though – the pine with werewolf whisker – did not do what Nell anticipated. She was even slow to react as Astrid recoiled and dropped the wand immediately following a crack from the wand, having been absorbed in the conversation about spellcasting around dragons. Nell immediately scooped up the pine wand and returned it to its box, slashing her wand at it so it would return to the shelf where it belonged. “Let me see…” Nell asked the customer as she tried to lean over the counter to see what damage had been caused. “Accio healing potion,” she cast the spell without taking her eyes away from the hand, which appeared to be blistering. There was a first aid station of sorts in her workshop, just in case she accidentally chopped a finger off on the table saw and couldn’t grip her wand to stop the bleeding. Healing potions did wonders, thankfully. “Werewolf whiskers tend to be finicky…I didn’t think it would backfire in that manner though. Sorry about that,” she explained as a small red vial floated over her shoulder and set itself down on the counter. Her summoning spells always seemed to have perfect timing. “Just splash some of that on your hand and we’ll wrap it up after for good measure.”

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