My wand test

I stepped into the store nervously, and jumped when the little silver bell sounded behind me. I had no idea what to expect! But I took a deep breath and made myself step farther into the cramped, dusty store. I've always loved learning, though, and soon I was so engrossed in staring at the mysterious thin, long boxes that lined the walls that I didn't even notice Mr. Ollivander standing in front of me.
"Yes, miss?"
Okay. I jumped. Again. But those black eyes were like holes, that seemed to drag me deeper and deeper... I shook myself. Relax, Eileen.
"Hello, sir. My name's Eileen O'Doherty. Erm, I need a wand?"
"O'Doherty, O'Doherty... it seems familiar.... Ah! You wouldn't be related to Mairead O'Doherty, would you? Fine witch, she was. Confident."
He didn't look so sure when he said that last word, but I nodded eagerly. "Yes! She was my great-aunt!"
"Miss Mairead bought a lovely, flexible wand. 11 3/4 inches. Birch with a core of Dragon Heartstring. I may be wrong about many things, but not these. Now, miss. Are you going to buy a wand or goggle?"
"Oh, sorry. How do I..."
Mr. Ollivander sighed and pulled out a measuring tape. It started zipping around me on its own, measuring my arms, my legs, my fingers... my ears?
"Pay attention. Wand hand?"
"Right, sir."
"Mm-hmm. Try this." He threw the lid off one box and thrust the wand inside at me. It felt awkward and stubby, but I reluctantly waved it, only to have the irritated wand maker snatch it from me with a snort. "No. That won't do at all. This one." I'd barely touched it before he snatched that one away, too. I tried wand after wand, and even sent his faded hat spinning off his head, before he brought out one more box.
"Here. 12 1/2 inches of Ash, a good healing wand. Leprechaun hair core, unusual, but I believe you are Irish." As soon as he pulled the wand out, something inside of me seemed to click, and I felt a slow sensation of warmth seep into me. Almost dreamily, I held my hand out, and Mr. Ollivander put it in my hand. I curled my fingers around it, and it was as if every grain in the wood was made to accommodate my hand. I raised it, and gave it a confident swish. A tiny flower twined out from the tip, budding as it rose, until it floated in the air before us as a silver orchid. It hung for a second, and then faded away, leaving a faint, sweet smell behind.
"Lovely," Mr. Ollivander breathed. "Well. The wand certainly chooses the wizard! Or witch, I should say, miss."
I paid and took the box he handed me, with my new wand inside it, still feeling that warm glow. I stepped out the shop and back into Diagon Alley.
It was time for new beginnings.