If Victor's happy then Hagrid's happy.

"Just Ollivanders left now—only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

"All right."

The last shop is narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c. A single wand lays on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rings somewhere in the depths of the shop as they step inside. It's a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sits on to wait.

...goodness.

"Nice place you got here," croaks Muninn.

There also seem to be thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of Victor's neck prickles. The very dust and silence in here seem to tingle with some secret magic. 

"Good afternoon," says a soft voice. An old man is standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

(There's a loud crunching noise and Hagrid gets quickly off the spindly chair.)

"Good afternoon," says Victor politely.

"Ah yes," says the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Victor Evans." It's not a question. "You look just like your father. It seems only yesterday he was in here himself, buying his first wand. Twelve and a quarter inches long, supple, made of hawthorn. Nice wand for healing... and for curses." Mr. Ollivander moves closer to Victor. "Your mother, on the other hand, favoured a pear wand. Thirteen and a half inches. Springy. Very powerful, and resilient. Well, I say your mother favoured it—it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

This is an intimidating person.

"You have a very good memory," says Victor.

Mr. Ollivander has come so close that he and Victor are almost nose to nose.

"Thank you," he says, smiling. "And that's where..." Mr. Ollivander touches the lightning scar on Victor's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he says 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..."

Victor takes a small step back.

He shakes his head and finally spots Hagrid. The failure to do so immediately is probably a record of some sort. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes."

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" says Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er—yes, they did, yes," says Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he adds brightly. 

"But you don't use them?" he says sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," says Hagrid quickly. Victor might notice he grips his pink umbrella very tightly as he speaks.

Victor wouldn't dream of noticing such a thing.

"Hmmm," says Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look, before turning back to Victor. "Well, now—Mr. Evans. Let me see." He pulls a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er, I'm right-handed," he says, hoping this is the correct answer.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measures Victor from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measures, he says, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Evans. 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." The tape measure, which is measuring between his nostrils, is doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander's flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he says, and the tape measure crumples into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Evans. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

...He hesitantly waves the wand.

And Ollivander promptly snatches it out of his hand, grabbing another wand and handing it to Victor. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try this one."

Okay, he can wave that one too.