Zia bit her lip, standing in front of Ollivander's wand shop, arguments chasing each other in her mind as to whether she should get one or not. She'd never had formal training, obviously, and most likely wouldn't ever get it due to her age. Her entire knowledge of magic thus far was limited to what she knew from the original Harry Potter books. She didn't know if it was a good idea to have a wand or not, especially if she had no idea how to use it, but Tom was insistent. He pinched her shoulder gently.

"Go in!"

"Tom, I'm not sure if I—" she began, but the disapproving frown crossing his little face clearly stated that she was going to do it or he would consider the day wasted.

"Be brave Auntie!" he encouraged. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door. A soft tinkle from a bell signified their arrival. The shop was slightly dusty, and true to the book was filled with stacks of boxes that were thin and tailored, Zia was sure, to the size of the wands inside. A man appeared suddenly, surprising them both.

"I am Mr. Ollivander. You're here for a wand, I presume? And it's your first," he observed, seemingly taking note of her age but not appearing very surprised at her lack of a wand. She nodded, having momentarily lost the ability to speak. Tom was gazing interestedly at Mr. Ollivander, with occasional glances around the shop. "Well we will have to try them out, let's get to business," he said. "Your wand arm?" Zia set Tom down and put out her right arm. A measuring tape was produced and began measuring her while Ollivander bustled around the shop pulling various boxes off of shelves. She wondered if the measurements had anything to do with the wand, and also how the boxes stayed in stacks as he pulled various boxes right out of the middle of the columns. He came back and set the pile of wand boxes in front of her carefully.

Tom was sitting on a little stool, watching the proceedings with fascination. Mr. Ollivander would pull out a wand, hand it to Zia, and she would wave it. Wand after wand, and nothing was happening. Zia was feeling discouraged, but Ollivander seemed to be getting more and more excited with every failed attempt. She would work through one pile of boxes only to find another pile replacing it. Finally, after another unsuccessful attempt, she looked down to find that there were no more wands on the desk. She stared at the empty desk, wondering if it was possible that she had tried every wand in the shop.

Mr. Ollivander cleared his throat and she looked up at him. His eyes were gleaming with a kind of bright happy madness. "You're a tricky one…very unusual…but I think perhaps the time has come," he said more to himself than to her, and he disappeared into the recesses of the shop. It took more time for Ollivander to come back with the wand than for the previous wands. He was holding the box gingerly, almost reverently, as he walked back to where she was standing. "Try this," he whispered excitedly, opening the box and holding the wand out to her. She took it from him and waved it. Sparks shot from the tip of the wand, and Mr. Ollivander's face was illuminated in the sparkling light. He looked extremely pleased. "That's the one, then! Oh, and what an interesting connection. When I made that wand…well I didn't know if it would ever be sold, really. Strange combination, you see."

"Strange combination?" Tom asked from his spot on the stool. Ollivander looked at him, then back at Zia.

"Elder and Unicorn hair, 12 and a half inches, surprisingly swishy," he responded. "Powerful, very powerful, but loyal to its first master. And it is so very rare to match a wand with Elder wood. Such contrast in one wand…you must be a very unusual sort of person. Very unusual." He was eying her more interestedly than he had when she had first walked into the shop, as if the world had given him some kind of happy present. He placed the wand back into the box, and she gave him eleven galleons for it. She noticed that it was more expensive than Harry's had been in the book, and wondered if it was because she was older of if it was the strange nature of the wand. Tom stood, and she picked him up, walked out onto the street, then they left the alley through the Leaky Cauldron. As they left, Tom the barman walked up to shake her hand once more. "Hope to see you again," he said to Zia, smiling.

"Thank you, I'm sure you will," Zia replied, and she noticed again the fleeting pained expression on the child's face. They exited through the front door of the pub and re-entered the Muggle world they were used to, now carrying a copious number of bags and packages, and the thin box that contained her wand. Tom tugged on her dress, and she recognized this as a sign that he wanted to walk now. She set him down, and he curled his fingers around her right little finger, since the majority of her hand was holding some of the bags. They walked in silence until the bus stop, then got on and sat down, surrounding themselves in a sea of magical purchases.

"Auntie," Tom began hesitantly. Zia looked down at him. "Auntie, that man had my name. And you smiled at him," he said, his face pulled into a pout. "You let him shake your hand!"

"I did," Zia answered, looking at him. "Why is that a terrible thing Tom?"

"Because it's my name. And I don't like that he has it!" Zia nodded slowly, understanding what he was saying.

"So you want your name to be unique, am I right?" she asked him.

"Yes!" he answered emphatically.

"Should we pick you a new one then?" He considered this.

"Like what?"

"Well perhaps Pookie? Or Snagdoodle?" she offered, coming up with the most un-Tom-like names she could think of. He wrinkled his nose.

"No thank you," he said. She ruffled his hair.

"Tom, do you want to know the trick to having a unique name?" she asked him. He nodded, looking up at her.

"Well, your name is Tom. And that other man's name is Tom. But you are different. Different personalities, different appearances, different minds. You have the same name, it's true. But what you make of that name, that is what makes it unique," she said.

"What do you mean, what I make of that name?" he asked her, looking puzzled.

"What kind of person you grow up to be will change the meaning of your name until it is vastly different from any other Tom out there. When you grow up, I hope that you will attach to your name the intelligence you have, the passion you have for learning more, your curiosity, and your goodness. When people know you, or hear your name, they will think of those things. They will think of the way you behave, the way you smile, the way you treat other people, those are all parts of your name," she explained. Tom was silent, and she could tell he was processing this in his head, dissecting it and taking it in.

"I like that. I want to make my name," he said. "I want to make it mine." Zia smiled.

"You're already starting on it."