Chapter 18: Tom's Fated Wand

Tom stood there numbly, allowing the enchanted rulers to take his measurements automatically.

Meanwhile, a youthful Mr. Ollivander was carefully jotting down the data in a worn notebook.

Once the rulers finished their task, Ollivander dove straight into the towering piles of wand boxes, rummaging through them with practiced ease.

After a long while, he finally squeezed out from between the stacks, his arms full of long, narrow boxes.

Tom's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he stared at the wands in Ollivander's hands.

"Alright, let's try them one by one… If all goes well, the wand that suits you should be among these," Ollivander said, placing the boxes onto the counter.

Tom glanced at the neatly arranged boxes, then at the wands scattered haphazardly around the shop.

"Ollivander… sir, how did you know these might suit me? What about the others?"

Ollivander chuckled. "Ah, trade secrets! Just kidding—there's no real secret. I selected these wands based on the measurements I just took."

He gestured to the boxes. "Also, it's not just that these might suit you—all of them are suitable for you."

Tom frowned in confusion. "They all fit me? Then can I just pick one?"

Ollivander shook his head. "No, no, no! I must emphasize—it is the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way around."

Tom found this idea slightly frustrating. He had come to buy a wand, yet somehow the wand got to choose him?

"Come on now, don't just stand there." Ollivander pulled out a sleek black wand and handed it to him. "Try waving this one."

"The shaft is made of ebony, with a dragon heartstring core, and it's ten and a quarter inches long. A very powerful wand!"

Tom's dissatisfaction faded as excitement took over. Powerful? He liked powerful things.

He gripped the wand tightly and gave it a forceful wave.

Whoosh!

Nothing happened.

It was as if he had just waved a dry branch instead of a magic wand.

"Ah… it seems this one didn't choose you. Let's try another," Ollivander said, carefully placing the ebony wand back.

Tom frowned, feeling an unexpected sense of rejection.

"Alright, let's try this one…"

He went through wand after wand, but none responded to him.

Instead, the only thing happening was the increasing damage to Ollivander's shop—some wands released sparks, others knocked over shelves, and one even sent a chair flying.

Yet, Ollivander remained unfazed. With a flick of his own wand, he effortlessly repaired the scattered debris, as if accustomed to such chaos.

A small mountain of discarded wands now sat on the counter in front of Tom.

"Well, well, a rather picky customer," Ollivander murmured. "Not common, but not unheard of… Perhaps I shouldn't focus only on dragon heartstring cores for you."

Muttering to himself, he dived back into the wand collection.

When he reemerged, he was holding a few more wand boxes.

He opened one and lifted a new wand.

"This one is one of my finest creations. Holly wood, phoenix feather core, eleven inches long—soft and flexible."

Robert, who had been watching from the side, raised an eyebrow.

Holly with a phoenix feather core?

That sounded familiar—it was the same type of wand that Harry Potter, Tom's future adversary, would wield.

Tom took the wand and gave it a gentle wave.

BOOM!

A sudden explosion shattered the glass window again, mere moments after Ollivander had repaired it.

"Oh, absolutely not!" Ollivander yelped, snatching the holly wand from Tom's grip like a startled cat.

Instead of a perfect match, the wand had violently rejected Tom.

Frowning, Ollivander placed the wand back into its box and rubbed his chin in deep thought.

Tom looked at the broken glass on the floor, feeling a strange sense of unease.

Doubt began creeping into his mind.

Was there something wrong with him? Was his magic weak? Is that why no wand would choose him?

If not for the constant presence of Robert looming over him like a shadow, he might never have entertained such thoughts.

Now, however, self-doubt gnawed at him.

Just then, Robert's voice came from behind.

"Don't worry, Tom. I think your magic is unique. That's why the wand selection is so difficult for you."

Hearing this, Tom's tense expression softened slightly.

He turned to respond, only to see Robert lounging on a chair, lazily spooning ice cream into his mouth.

Tom's mood instantly soured again.

"Where did you get that ice cream?" he demanded.

Robert shrugged. "I stepped out and bought it. You were so caught up in the wands that you didn't even notice me leave."

Tom frowned. "Where's mine?"

Robert blinked innocently. "Oh, I didn't get you one. I figured you were busy… And, well, ice cream melts."

"Humph! I didn't want any anyway!" Tom turned his head away.

At that moment, Ollivander spoke again.

"Sometimes, rare individuals struggle to find a wand match. But without exception, those individuals always have extraordinary potential. And in the end, they all find the wand that suits them best."

He lifted another box and carefully pulled out a pale wand.

"I've been thinking… Since the holly wand reacted so strongly against you, perhaps you should try this one instead."

He extended the wand toward Tom.

"A yew wand with a phoenix feather core—thirteen and a half inches. Very powerful. Give it a try."

Tom took the yew wand with a blank expression.

By now, he was numb to Ollivander's reassurances. How many times had he heard the same words today?

But the moment he wrapped his fingers around the yew wand—

A soft, eerie green light glowed from the tip, casting an ominous hue across the dimly lit shop.

"Wow!" Robert exclaimed.

If he didn't know better, he would've thought Tom had just cast the Avada Kedavra curse.

Ollivander, on the other hand, was thrilled.

"Ah-ha! This is the one!" he declared.

"The yew wand and the holly wand you tried earlier both contain feathers from the same phoenix. They are brother wands! I suspected that if the holly wand rejected you, the yew wand might embrace you instead.

And look—the results speak for themselves!"

Tom gazed at the wand in his hand, feeling an odd sense of connection—as if the wand were an extension of his own arm.

A newfound confidence surged within him.

Heh, once I master magic, I'm going to beat that bastard Robert to a pulp!

Just then, he felt something cold press into his free hand.

He looked down.

A cup of ice cream.

Robert grinned. "Congrats, Tom. You finally found your wand."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you say you didn't buy one for me?"

Robert raised an eyebrow. "And you believed me? Tom, when did you start trusting me so much?"

"You—!" Tom huffed, about to explode, but then sighed.

"Forget it."

He picked up the spoon.

"Since it's your money, I might as well eat it."

(End of this chapter)

FOR MORE CHAPTERS

patreon.com/STEPHENHART427