"Meow~"
For the sake of his wand, Tom obediently stepped forward, wearing the most well-behaved expression he could manage.
"Now then," Ollivander said, holding a measuring tape as he looked Tom over with great interest. "Which hand do you normally use to hold your wand?"
He paused, peering past Tom's shoulder.
"Or perhaps your tail has already made the decision for you?"
Following his gaze, Tom turned his head in confusion—only to see that his tail had somehow, at some point, quietly plucked a wand from a nearby shelf.
(°ー°〃) …
Tom awkwardly grabbed the wand from his tail and hurriedly returned it to its place.
As everyone knows, a cat and its tail are two completely independent organisms. So it was perfectly normal for his tail to have its own ideas, right?
Fortunately, Ollivander did not pursue the matter. He merely glanced once more at the returned wand, a trace of confusion flashing across his face, before refocusing on Tom.
Tom thought for a moment and extended his right paw. Although he was equally adept with both front paws, he was indeed more accustomed to using his right.
Seeing this, Ollivander stepped forward and began measuring Tom with meticulous care—starting from the top of his head to the pads of his paw, from the tips of his claws to the very end of his tail. He even measured the distance between his nostrils.
Tom: Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
Wait—why on earth do you need to measure the distance between my nostrils to choose a wand?!
Thankfully, Ollivander didn't let the awkwardness linger. After completing the long series of "tedious" measurements, he frowned slightly, turned around, and retrieved a wand from a nearby shelf.
"Try this one," he said. "Acacia wood, unicorn hair core, seven inches."
Tom had just reached out to take it when his tail once again beat him to it, snatching the wand with a swift whoosh.
Taking the wand from his traitorous tail, Tom was about to give it an experimental wave when Ollivander abruptly snatched it back.
Without a word, the old wandmaker replaced it with another.
"Try this one instead. Acacia wood, dragon heartstring core, eight and a half inches."
Once again, the wand was delivered by his tail—and once again, it was silently taken back the instant it touched Tom's paw.
"Then try this: acacia, phoenix feather, eight inches."
…
After a while, despite having "tested" several wands, Tom felt as though he hadn't actually held a wand at all.
Each time, he barely managed to touch one before Ollivander whisked it away and smoothly replaced it with the next, never giving him a chance to sense anything at all.
"(ʘᗩʘ?) This shouldn't be happening…"
As the tests continued, Ollivander's expression grew increasingly strange, as though he were witnessing something that completely defied logic.
Seeing him finally pause, Tom quickly held up a sign.
[So why are all the wands you're giving me made of acacia? And why isn't there a single one longer than ten inches?]
Whether in the original books or the countless fanfics he'd read, Tom had never seen Ollivander repeatedly test wands made from the same wood.
"The wood is a matter of compatibility," Ollivander replied calmly. "As the first cat ever admitted to a magical academy, I felt that acacia—symbolizing rarity and uniqueness—would be more inclined toward you. As for the size…"
His gaze drifted to Tom's slender frame.
"That's determined by your physical proportions. Your arm isn't even ten inches long. A wand that's too long wouldn't suit you—"
He froze mid-sentence.
Right before his eyes, Tom's arm extended, visibly lengthening by several inches.
Ollivander: Σ(°Д°)
This wasn't scientific.
And it definitely wasn't magic.
[How about now? Can I try wands of other sizes?]
Before Ollivander could respond, Hannah—who had been watching nearby—rushed over and excitedly grabbed Tom's extended arm.
"(★ω★) Wow! Is that magic too? That's amazing! Tom, you can use magic even without a wand? Can you teach me that trick?"
If she could learn it, she could make her stomach bigger and eat even more delicious food!
"(＞д＜) Meow…"
(Help!)
For the first time in his life, Tom experienced the terror of an overenthusiastic fan.
Fortunately, Ollivander intervened in time.
"In that case… let's try this one," he said, selecting another wand. "Cherry wood, Veela hair core, eleven inches."
'(￣▽￣) Good. Finally, something that isn't acacia. Otherwise I'd start suspecting this old man was insulting me on purpose.'
Relieved, Tom accepted the wand.
Although Ollivander still reclaimed it before Tom could properly wave it, this time it remained in his paw for a couple of seconds longer than before.
[Seriously, what is going on? Can you please explain this already?!]
Tom was at his limit. After testing for so long, surely an explanation was warranted.
Ollivander hesitated, his expression unusually conflicted.
"…How should I put this?" he finally said. "The truth is, every wand you've touched so far has shown outstanding affinity with you—far exceeding the compatibility between most young wizards and the wands that choose them."
"If it were only one wand, that would be fine. But for every wand to behave this way… it completely contradicts all my years of experience."
From the moment Tom's tail had snatched the first wand—a sixteen-inch maple wand with a dragon heartstring core, which Ollivander had believed utterly incompatible—he had sensed something was wrong. That wand had resonated perfectly.
After that, he had tested more wands, one after another.
Without exception, every single one responded beautifully.
Merlin's beard—were these still the famously temperamental wands he knew? Why was every one of them behaving like an eager sycophant toward this cat?
As for why he didn't simply choose one at random—it was because these wands were accommodating Tom, not because they truly suited him.
As a professional wandmaker, Ollivander refused to compromise his integrity. He was determined to find the wand that fit Tom best.
Tom, oblivious to these inner thoughts: (°_°?)
What do you mean because I suit all wands, none of them suit me?
[Are you about to pull out some legendary heirloom wand passed down through your family?]
This was a classic fanfiction trope—almost every protagonist ended up with some ancestral wand hidden away by Ollivander's forebears.
Honestly, Tom was curious just how many unsold wands Ollivander's ancestors had left behind.
Ollivander: (¬_¬)
"What nonsense are you imagining?" he snapped. "From ancient times to the present, the materials for wand woods and cores haven't changed. At most, craftsmanship has improved. Why would an inferior product made by my ancestors be superior to a wand I crafted myself?"
[Because of the Elder Wand?]
"…Let's try this one."
Ollivander awkwardly changed the subject.
"Dogwood, Thestral tail hair core, ten inches."
This time, after Tom accepted the wand, Ollivander finally nodded in satisfaction.
Seeing this, Tom gave it a cautious wave. A soft point of light bloomed at the tip.
"Oh, marvelous!" Ollivander exclaimed. "Congratulations, Tom. You've finally found your companion."
[(°ー°〃) But it doesn't feel any different from the others…]
No matter how Tom examined it, he couldn't sense anything special.
"Well… there is a slight difference," Ollivander said thoughtfully. "Didn't you notice? When using this wand, your magic becomes a little more… docile."
He demonstrated with two fingers held barely apart—though to Tom, they looked almost touching.
Seeing Tom about to ask more, Ollivander hurriedly waved him off.
"(´▽`)ﾉ Don't overthink it! Do you understand wands—or do I? Trust me. I know what I'm doing."
"Meow?"
[Fine…]
Still puzzled, Tom flicked the wand again. Something felt off, but since the other party was the world's foremost wandmaker, it was best to trust the professional.
'Worst case scenario,' he thought, 'I'll research it myself later and make one by hand.'
Tom was quite confident in his craftsmanship. Making a wand would be a simple task.
As this thought crossed his mind, the corners of his mouth curled upward, and his tail swayed unconsciously.
Then—under everyone's stunned gaze—a soft yet brilliant white light bloomed at the tip of his tail, even brighter than before.
Tom: Meow? (･_･?)
…
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