Night had fallen over the Hufflepuff common room, and inside Tom's dorm, he was hunched over his desk, sketching on a whiteboard as he worked out the design for a gift he planned to give Ariana.
He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore would actually let Ariana explain her condition to others. But knowing how much the old man doted on his sister, Tom figured the odds were pretty high. Either way, Dumbledore's final decision didn't really matter—Tom had given his word, and that meant the gift had to be finished tonight.
Even if Ariana had people helping cover for her, the risk of being exposed was still there…
But more importantly—
"A promise is a promise!"
Following through was one of Tom's many self-proclaimed virtues.
(Although… in special situations, the rules could bend a little.)
But since he'd already promised to hand the gift over tomorrow, even if it meant staying up all night, he was going to finish it.
"And it's just a small gadget. As long as I know the materials and the method, it won't take that long."
With that optimistic thought, he sketched the outline of a glove on the board, marking down Ariana's hand measurements one by one.
Sure, he could make it something like a pendant or a hair accessory and it would still work—but when someone said "take something," the first thing that came to Tom's mind was always gloves. Besides… he'd already measured Ariana's hands. It would be a waste not to use that.
So gloves it was.
Next question: material.
Naturally, he first thought of the dragon-hide gloves he'd bought for himself.
Dragon hide was tough, durable, and great at conducting magic. Perfect material for enchanted gloves. If his own pair weren't custom-made, Tom probably would've just modified them and gifted them to Ariana.
But dragon hide had one major issue:
"Where on earth am I supposed to get dragon hide in the middle of the night?!"
Sure, he didn't have to worry about the cost—Snape could "officially" reimburse rare potion ingredients. But even if Dumbledore himself went out right now, he probably couldn't bring back dragon hide before morning. Snape definitely couldn't.
As for Tom "taking" dragon hide from his strange ability? Impossible.
Everything he pulled out that way was something he owned now or had owned at some point in the past.
He had never owned dragon hide.
He had never even seen a dragon.
So that option was discarded.
("Alright… next idea.")
He erased "dragon hide" from the board and thought:
"What else can I use to make gloves? They need to feel comfortable, and ideally they need to hold magic… Wait."
His gaze drifted down to his own soft blue fur.
Comfortable, magical, conductive… His fur technically checked every box.
But using his own fur to knit gloves?
"Nope. Nope. Absolutely not."
Just imagining how much he'd have to pluck made him shiver. He was still young; he wasn't planning on becoming a balding cat anytime soon.
He rejected the idea so fast he didn't even write it down.
——
After who-knows-how-many rejected ideas, Tom stared at the nearly empty whiteboard and collapsed on the desk, tail drooping weakly.
No matter what he thought of, the materials were either unavailable or simply not suitable.
"Forget it. I'll go with instinct."
He stretched out a paw, closed his eyes, and reached into the air.
When he opened his eyes, he was holding… a piece of parchment.
The exact kind students used for homework.
"…Parchment? Seriously? Can you even make gloves out of this?"
It was technically leather—but still, it was paper.
Could this really work?
But since it came from his instincts, he figured there had to be something special about it. He pressed his paw pad against it. Surprisingly, it had a nice feel—not quite leather, not quite cloth. The only problem was that it was too stiff to wear comfortably.
"So what, I'm supposed to make origami gloves? No way. There has to be a way to soften it… Come on, instincts, don't fail me now."
He closed his eyes and reached again.
Two items appeared in his paws:
• A roll of bandages
• A small glass bottle labeled "Moonstone Powder"
"Meow?"
Bandages—ordinary.
Moonstone powder—interesting.
Moonstone was often used to harmonize potion ingredients. If it had a "harmonizing" property, then maybe… he could use it to fuse parchment and bandages, giving parchment the softness of cloth.
It was weird, crude, and probably alchemically incorrect.
But he was Tom. If he decided something was possible, he'd simply make it happen.
He wrote Parchment + Bandages + Moonstone Powder on the board.
Parchment: structure + magic conduction
Bandages: softness + comfort
Moonstone: blends the two
Any trained alchemist would have laughed out loud, even Nicolas Flamel.
This wasn't alchemy; this was chaotic wish-making.
But Tom didn't think he was doing alchemy anyway. He was just… following his instincts.
He tore parchment into palm-shaped pieces, sprinkled them with moonstone powder, wrapped them with bandages—
And nothing happened.
"?"
He thought for a second, then smacked his forehead, reached out instinctively again, and suddenly had:
A hammer
A tiny welding tool
Half a bottle of glue
All piled onto the desk.
"Right! Blending materials means you have to actually do something to them!"
He brightened, flexed his paws, and got to work.
What followed defied logic, physics, magic, and common sense.
Smoke billowed up, completely covering Tom and the desk. His silhouette flickered inside—hammering, gluing, welding—yes, welding, even though the tool wasn't plugged in and Hogwarts was notorious for killing electronics.
But Tom was Tom.
"Clang! Clang! Ssshhh! Bam!"
After a long session of cartoon-like chaos, the smoke faded.
And on the desk lay a pair of gloves.
Smooth like leather, soft like cloth, with a springy warmth that felt… honestly kind of wonderful.
Tom squeezed them.
Perfect.
"Done! Time to add the enchantment so ghosts can touch physical things~."
Magic was simple in principle: inject magic and intent.
There wasn't a spell for letting ghosts touch objects, but Tom didn't care.
If no such magic existed—he would make one.
He pulled a tuft of his tail fur—because his own fur was the best magical medium he had—and twisted it into a fine blue thread.
Then he threaded a needle.
He closed his eyes, sewing by pure instinct, letting magic coat the thread, and silently wishing:
"Let Ariana be able to touch things. Make it gentle, steady, something she can hold onto."
Slowly, a pattern formed.
When he opened his eyes, he froze.
The stitched illustration showed:
A simplified blue cat on the left—
And on the right, a blond American girl in profile.
Their hands were clasped together.
"Meow??"
Tom stared.
His owner was Luna.
But this… was not Luna.
The pattern was adorable, but absolutely not correct.
Still… as he looked at the sleeping castle, he sighed.
(Whatever. It's temporary anyway. I'll redo the design when I make her a proper dragon-hide version. And Luna won't mind… hopefully… Zzz…)
He slumped over the desk and drifted into sleep.
The room quieted.
And under the moonlight, the gloves rested beside him, their little embroidered figures glowing softly—like a quiet, heartfelt blessing.