"Meow~"
For the sake of acquiring his wand, Tom adopted his most endearing expression and padded obediently to Ollivander's side.
"Now then, which paw do you prefer for wandwork?"
Ollivander held his enchanted measuring tape with an air of professional interest, though his gaze had drifted behind Tom. "Or perhaps your tail has already made the decision for you?"
Following the wandmaker's line of sight, Tom twisted around in confusion—only to discover his tail had somehow acquired a wand from a nearby shelf without his conscious input, the slender wood wrapped securely in its furry coils.
"(°ー°〃)..."
Tom felt his ears heat with embarrassment as he wrestled the wand away from his rebellious tail and returned it to its proper place.
Everyone knew that cats and their tails operated as two separate entities, so naturally his tail having independent ideas was perfectly normal... right?
Fortunately, Ollivander didn't press the issue. He merely cast a peculiar glance at the rejected wand before returning his attention to Tom.
After a moment's consideration, Tom extended his right forepaw. While both felt equally comfortable, his right side did possess a slight edge in dexterity.
The wandmaker's measuring tape sprang to life, flitting around Tom's body with meticulous precision. From skull to paw pad, from claw tip to tail tip, even the distance between his nostrils received careful documentation.
Tom: Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
Seriously, why would nostril spacing matter for wand selection?!
Mercifully, Ollivander didn't prolong his mortification. After completing the extensive measurements, the old wizard's brow furrowed thoughtfully before he retrieved a wand from the towering shelves.
"Try this one. Acacia wood with unicorn tail hair, seven inches."
Tom reached out to accept it, but his tail struck faster, snatching the wand with a swift "whoosh" before he could react.
Taking the wand his tail obligingly passed to him, Tom prepared to give it an experimental wave—only for Ollivander to pluck it from his grasp immediately.
Without a word, the wandmaker exchanged it for another option.
"This one next. Acacia and dragon heartstring, eight and a half inches."
Again his tail intercepted it.
Again Tom barely registered the feel of wood against his paw pads before Ollivander silently reclaimed it.
"Now this. Acacia with phoenix feather, eight inches."
...
Some time later, despite having tested numerous wands, Tom felt distinctly disconnected from the process. Each time he'd barely made contact with a wand, hadn't even begun to sense any particular qualities—before Ollivander wordlessly confiscated it and seamlessly produced the next candidate.
"(ʘᗩʘ?) This shouldn't be happening..."
After several more attempts, Ollivander's expression had evolved into something increasingly peculiar, as though confronting a phenomenon that defied all logical explanation.
[So why are all the wands you're giving me made of acacia wood? And why hasn't a single one been longer than ten inches?!]
Seeing Ollivander finally pause, Tom hastily raised his board with the urgent questions.
In all the canon material and fanfiction he'd encountered, he'd never witnessed Ollivander making a student repeatedly test the same wood type!
"The wood choice reflects compatibility. As the first cat ever admitted to a magical academy, I believed acacia which represents rarity and distinction would naturally favor you. As for the length..."
His gaze dropped to Tom's decidedly compact frame. "That's determined by your physical measurements. Your foreleg doesn't even reach ten inches in length. Longer wands would prove unwieldy for your—"
The explanation died mid-sentence. Before Ollivander's astonished eyes, Tom's foreleg extended intensely, visibly lengthening by several inches.
Ollivander: Σ(°Д°)
This defied both scientific and magical principles!
[So can I try different lengths now?]
Before Ollivander could give a response, Hannah had already launched herself forward, seizing Tom's extended limb with unrestrained enthusiasm.
"(★ω★) Wow! Was that magic? That's incredible! Tom, you can do magic without even holding a wand? Can you teach me how?!"
If she could master that trick, she'd absolutely enlarge her stomach capacity to hold infinite amounts of delicious food!
"(＞д＜) Meow..." (Help me!)
Tom experienced his first true encounter with an overzealous fan.
Fortunately, Ollivander extended a merciful rescue.
"In that case... try this one. Cherry wood with veela hair, eleven inches."
'Thank Merlin, finally something besides acacia! I was starting to think the old man was insulting me in roundabout ways!'
Relieved, Tom accepted the new wand.
Though Ollivander still confiscated it before Tom could attempt any wandwork, this time the wand remained in his possession for approximately two full seconds—definite progress.
[Seriously, what's happening here? Can someone please explain?!]
Tom's patience had officially vanished. After this many attempts, surely he deserved some clarification!
Ollivander: (´-ι_-｀)
After a moment's hesitation, Ollivander relented.
"How can I put this... Every single wand you've tested demonstrates exceptional compatibility with you—surpassing the typical resonance between most young wizards and their chosen wands, in fact."
His tone carried genuine bewilderment. "One wand showing such affinity would be remarkable but comprehensible. Every single one, however—that contradicts decades of my professional experience!"
The anomaly had manifested from the very beginning, when Tom's tail had independently selected that first wand. That maple and dragon heartstring wand, sixteen inches long which by Ollivander's assessment should have held zero compatibility with Tom had somehow achieved perfect resonance.
Subsequent tests had only reinforced the pattern. Without exception, every wand performed flawlessly in Tom's grasp. By Merlin's beard, these were supposed to be notoriously selective instruments! When had wands started behaving like eager puppies around this particular cat?
As for why he wouldn't simply choose any random wand for Tom? Because these wands were merely accommodating him, not genuinely suited to him.
Staking his professional reputation on it, Ollivander was determined to find the wand that truly belonged to Tom.
Tom, oblivious to these internal ponderings: (°_°?)
What kind of logic stated that because he was compatible with every wand, none of them were actually right for him?
[Don't tell me you're about to pull out some legendary ancestral wand that's been gathering dust in your family vault?]
Such scenarios practically defined fanfiction convention—every protagonist seemed to receive some priceless heirloom wand from Ollivander's backlog of unsold inventory.
Honestly, Tom had begun to wonder just how many wands the Ollivander family had failed to sell over the centuries!
Ollivander: (¬_¬)
"What nonsense are you imagining? Throughout history, the available wood types and core materials have remained constant. Only the crafting techniques have evolved over time. Why would you assume my ancestors' work made with inferior methods would somehow surpass wands I've personally crafted?"
[Because of the Elder Wand?]
"...I think you should try this one."
Ollivander's tone had gone distinctly wooden as he changed the subject. "Dogwood with Thestral tail hair, ten inches."
This time, when Tom grasped the proffered wand, Ollivander actually nodded with something approaching satisfaction.
Taking that as encouragement, Tom gave the wand an experimental flourish. A ribbon of soft, gentle light bloomed at its tip, illuminating the dusty shop interior.
"Excellent! Finally—congratulations, Tom! You've found your companion!"
[(°ー°〃) But I can't feel any difference from the previous wands...]
Despite Ollivander's enthusiasm, Tom genuinely couldn't detect anything special about this particular choice.
"Well, there are some differences. Haven't you noticed your magic flows more smoothly with this wand?"
Ollivander raised his hand, thumb and forefinger creating the tiniest possible gap though to Tom's eyes, the fingers appeared completely pressed together.
Seeing Tom preparing another written protest, Ollivander quickly waved him off.
"(´▽`)ﾉ Now, now—don't overthink it! Which of us is the wandmaker here? Trust my expertise on this!"
"Meow?"
[Fine...]
Tom examined the wand dubiously, still sensing something off about the whole situation. But the man was a master wandcrafter—in matters of professional expertise, deferring to the expert seemed wisest.
'Worst case, I'll research wandmaking myself and craft one from scratch.'
Tom felt confident in his own craftsmanship abilities. Hand-carving a wand couldn't be that complicated, surely?
With that comforting thought, Tom's whiskers twitched up in satisfaction, his tail swaying unconsciously behind him.
In the next moment, under everyone's shocked stares, a ribbon of light bloomed at his tail tip—the same gentle glow, but somehow brighter and more radiant than what the wand had produced.
Tom: Meow? (･_･?)