Summary: Anna gets a wand.

Ten years later, Tom Marvolo Dubois gets his first wand.


Diagon Alley was an interesting place, Anna mused as she loitered around the street. There weren't many people milling around at such an early hour, something that was expected. She hadn't seen many teenagers around, presumably since they were in school.

The Pokémon Trainer knew where she had to go, and eventually reached Ollivander's Wand shop, looking through the door's window before going in.

The bell tinkled as the old door closed, slamming a bit as she breathed in the somewhat musty air of the shop. It didn't look occupied, but she could feel someone's magic through all the settled magic from the wands that were piled in boxes on top of shelves.

"Good morning," came a voice behind one of the shelves, and Anna inclined her head as a man with brown hair appeared.

"Hello," the Trainer greeted, "I'm here to get a wand, obviously." She waited as the man made his way to the counter, patient as ever. Ollivander appeared to be around his mid-thirties, with pale skin and silvery eyes.

"You seem lost. In a land not your own," Ollivander observed, once they were staring at each other. Anna huffed a laugh, shaking her head.

"On the contrary, I believe I am where I'm meant to be," she disagreed, then raised her dominant hand, "I don't have any foreknowledge about wandlore, so I don't have any procured materials."

Ollivander waved off her concern, a roll of measuring tape floating from behind the counter. A multitude of wands were tested, Anna nearly setting fire to half the shop through the middle of it. Other times, a lot of water was conjured from thin air, nearly making the shop flood.

"A tricky one, aren't you?" Ollivander mused, a slight smile on his lips as he searched the various piles of boxes.

"I find myself wondering that every day," Anna muttered, looking at her watch as the minutes ticked by. She looked back as there was the sound of wood hitting wood, glancing at the box's lid.

"Ebony and Dragon heartstring," Ollivander explained, "From a rather fierce Swedish Short-snout. Eleven and a half inches, quite rigid. Give it a try." The woman opened the box, taking in the dark brown wood and carved handle.

"Looks like a Hydreigon," she muttered as she lifted it from the velvet that the wand rested on. It fit comfortably in her hand, and she gave it a swish, whispering, "Avis!" A warm feeling spread as her magic connected to the conduit, warming the slightly cold wand.

Miniature Starly flew out of the tip, flying around the room. Anna grinned as the small birds disappeared after a few moments, disintegrating into slight sparkles.

"Well done!" congratulated Ollivander, "That will be 7 galleons, Miss?" His voice petered off as Anna realized she never gave her name.

"Dubois. Anabel Dubois," she said shortly as she put the wand back in its box to reach for her money pouch. "Is there something I can carry my wand in?" she asked while counting the gold coins.

"You can purchase a dragonhide wand holster for five galleons," Ollivander pulled out a variety of leathery sleeves, "The more expensive ones allow you to register your magical signature so one can't steal from your pocket. An experimental holster I have has a light undetectable expansion charm within, for longer wands."

The golden coins were dropped onto the table while Anna thought about the holsters. "How much would the second cost?" she asked finally.

"Ten galleons, if you'd like," Ollivander named his price, and the woman shrugged, taking some more galleons out.

"That one," she gestured to a fully black sleeve, sliding the additional coins forward. Anna picked the holster off the table, feeling it for a moment before strapping it to her arm.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. May your shop have business for many more decades," she said politely as she left the shop, wand in hand.

The wood was smooth as she thumbed it, the warmth from the wand almost like the heat from a crackling fire. Wand acquired, she mused as she passed by shoppers, a smirk spreading on her face.

The possibilities were endless.


Ten years later

"Mum, come on, let's get my wand!" Tom whined as Anna walked in a casual stroll. She wore a glamour anchored to her necklace, giving her brown eyes and dark black hair, looking to be in her early thirties. The witch rolled her eyes, glancing at Newt, who had a similar disguise on.

"You know I'm ooooolllldddd," Anna teased, giving no mind to the small hand tugging at hers, "Isn't that right, Newton?" she asked her husband.

"Undoubtedly ancient," he agreed, carrying little Marin in his arms. He was used to his wife's antics, smiling fondly at her, "I remember getting a wand at your age, Tom, there isn't anything quite like testing the bonds between our magic and our conduits."

"Wands are a crutch, anyways," Anna said conversationally, "I didn't have one most of my life, and I turned out fine. Wands focus our magic, yes, but it's not everything. It doesn't matter how much power you have, Tom, but how you choose to use it. You shouldn't just see in black and white, because you'll never notice what's in between." The family reached the shop, all of them filing in.

"You can feel the magic in here, can't you Tom?" Anna whispered, while Tom grew a wondrous glint in his eyes. The eleven-year-old looked all around at the stacks of boxes towering above his head, drinking it all in.

"Hello," a familiar voice came from the back of the shop, and Ollivander appeared soon after.

"Mr. Ollivander," Anna greeted, waving with a hand, "It's been a long time since I last saw you." She noticed Tom's eyes narrow, studying the older man.

"Anabel Dubois, yes. It has been ten years since you came in, lost and looking for your way. And who might you be?" Ollivander asked, looking down at Tom.

"Tom," the boy said, looking warier than when he entered, letting go of Anna's hand. The woman ruffled her son's hair, fondly messing it. Predictably, he scowled and ducked out from under her wandering hand. "Mum! Stop it!" he hissed, devolving into grumpy Parseltongue.

"What is your dominant hand, young man?" Ollivander asked, drawing Tom's attention.

"Right," Tom grumbled, sticking his hand out. He watched as rolls of tape measure flew around the room, measuring his arm length, wrist size, even going around his head for some reason.

"Hm, let's see," the wandmaker mused, going through the stacks of wands. He started to pile boxes onto the table, waving his hand so the tape measures rolled up and fell onto the floor.

The man offered one of the boxes, opening it while naming the wand's properties, like "10 inches, Birch with phoenix feather, slightly springy", "9 ¾ inch, vine with dragon heartstring", "11 ½ inch, Holly with Unicorn tail hair", and others.

As the minutes passed, Newt started tickling Marin's nose, and Anna watched patiently as more and more boxes and wands changed hands.

Eventually, Tom was presented with a bone white wand that had a hooked end.

"13 ½ inch Yew, paired with a phoenix feather. Unyielding, unusually long. Give it a wave," Ollivander smiled pleasantly as Tom took it.

With a swish, green sparks glinted in the dusty wand shop, a grin spreading on the boy's face.

"Serpensortia!" Tom cried, making a wide motion with the wand, and with a flash of light, a tiny garter snake was slithering on the counter.

"Very good, Tom!" Anna clapped, pride glowing on her face when she patted her son's head, "You're a natural! Those lessons weren't so unnecessary, eh, Thomas?" Behind her, Marin's attention was drawn to the snake, and he made small grabbing motions towards it, going "Snek! Snek!"

"Marvelous!" Ollivander applauded as well, delighted with Tom's already advanced skill, "I believe you're destined for great things, young man, great things." He closed the box, allowing Tom to take it.

The boy then offered his hand towards the summoned snake, quiet sibilant noises coming from his mouth. The snake curled around Tom's wrists, then it made its way up to his shoulder.

"That will be seven galleons, Mrs. Dubois," Ollivander requested, and Anna set the coins down readily.

"I want him to get a wand holster as well," she asked, and when Ollivander set them out, she nudged Tom, letting him choose. "That one," he said almost immediately, pointing to a tan one.

Eventually the family left, Tom happily talking about the things he could do with his true wand instead of borrowing his mothers, and they shopped for the rest of his school supplies.