‘Well, now – Let me see.’ He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. ‘Which is your wand arm?’‘Er – well, I’m right-handed,’ said Oliver.
‘Hold out your arm. That’s it.’ He measured Oliver from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, ‘Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. 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.’
Oliver 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.
Oliver 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. Mr Ollivander cried, ‘Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good.
Sorry Son: Chronicles of a New Dad 