The confiscation of Casey's wand a couple of days ago, coupled with fast-approaching midterms, required the immediate acquisition of another. The chance of a lost wand choosing the O'Doherty heir was slim to none, which was why Hogwarts had a basketful of the damned things (still ownerless) and why Landis was sacrificing his Sunday afternoon to take his young charge to Ollivander's.

It was his duty as the boy's Head of House, and Landis did not resent it - to resent this would be to resent his position, which he certainly did not. On the contrary, he could not even find it in himself to be impatient for the end of the errand, to rush Casey along. Hogwarts had a way of getting awfully close in the wintertime. Any excuse to escape the chilly corridors and teaming adolescent hordes was a welcome one. There were few personal chores he would dare attend to with a student at his side, but even as he sneered at the annual Christmas bustle Landis enjoyed the marks of civilization: cobblestones underfoot, dark nooks and crannies about, the city air bracingly cold yet never so boggy as Scotland.

“*WACHOO!*”

Casey twitched from where he strode next to Mr. Morgan. Even if Side-Along Elf Apparation took a lot out of him if it was a long distance, Casey much preferred a single moment of recovery compared to what happened when he used the Floo Network.

“*SNORT!*”

When the grit of Floo Powder got down into his lungs it was peskier than a garden gnome to remove. And having the snot flying out of your nose have a flicker of green fire mixed in got old after the third handkerchief was burnt to a crisp.

Casey pocketed the spent handkerchief in one pocket of his winter coat, taking a fresh one from another pocket to prepare for the next bout of sneezing, also taking a handful of spray of sanitizing potion sticking out of a yet higher pocket. Casey rubbed it into his hands to activate its cleansing effects.

After the events of last Friday, Casey would not be able to expect Dingy to fetch dirty handkerchiefs anytime soon. Not that he would want to have a house elf trailing them during a trip with Mr. Morgan. As Casey had no wand yet, he couldn’t scourgify his own handkerchiefs, so the easiest thing was to just cycle through a stockpile of them.

Landis did not guide Casey into any store, although he cast a lingering look at Slug & Jiggers as they strolled by. Though he ignored Casey's activities at his side - like allergies were as deliberate a choice as skipping, and quite beneath him - he had a care for precisely which shops he didn't wish to catch on fire with one ill-placed sneeze. Children were so grubby.

Small talk with students wasn't really Landis' thing, however informally other staff treated the kids. No doubt Kesali would be attempting to bond with his charge, or possibly attune together to the elements to heal Casey's itchy red nose. Given the misleading way Casey had fielded his and Sandusky's questions, Landis only wished he could make it feel more like a detention.

As he miserably soiled another handkerchief with a soot filled nose clearing, Casey glanced to Mr. Morgan and his focus elsewhere. The Librarian Head of House could be so unreadable and Casey didn't think Morgan needed Occlumency to do it. The silence, the brisk pace.

Comforting wasn't really that Slytherin of a thing. Only trading respect and intimidation. Still, was this errand going to be administered without a word between them, even if in reprimand.

It seemed foolish to say but it was saying something. "We are going to stop by Ollivander's and not walk past it when we arrive?"

Landis glanced down at him. "Of course." Though he was tempted to wait outside for a bit, something in his sterile soul disliking the idea of sneezing drippy Casey in the middle of Ollivander's dark store. Ruined the mystery a bit, that. Casey was doing a good job of cleaning up after himself but Landis' fingers still twitched to scourgify him a few times first.

Still, doubtless Ollivander had handled far worse.

They reached the store quickly. Landis had not sent an owl, guessing - correctly - that at this time of year the shop would be empty when he pushed open the door. A little bell overhead sent its peals winging lonely into the depths of the crowded, crooked shelves with their hundreds of slim boxes. Landis had used to find this place quite claustrophobic. Now, having worked in the library for over a year, it was almost cozy.

There was the long, expected pause in which nothing stirred and no owner came forth. Landis waited patiently. This was also part of the ritual, which would be a first for Casey.

Ollivander's. Casey had never been here before though he knew about it of course through other stories from family and peers. It was quite darker and cluttered than he expected. To think that 99% of the region's wands came from this one shop.

Ollivander might have had the decency to organize a bit better, with boxes crammed in every gap in the shelves behind the counter.

The dryer, warmer air indoors was better on his nose than the weather from the street. With a snort Casey stemmed most of the rest of the snot. He wasn't sure what to make of the absence of the proprietor or his lax security, if the shop was really closed and Ollivander didn't even bother to lock a shop filled with wands!

Still, Casey wasn't going to let himself be seen as impatient. There wasn't much to do in the wait by try to talk, even if Mr. Morgan wasn't happy with him. Being away from school made Casey gravitate away from anything of importance; only the fact that they were well away from the castle did he even think of phrasing this question:

"Why do you wear your hair long?"

It was a strange question to receive, reverberating with the frankness of a child much younger than Casey. Landis did not think long hair on a man was such an unusual sight among purebloods, but then again, it was definitely an old-fashioned preference. Why do you wear your hair long. More a personal question, then.

"It is a family affection," he replied. There were other factors - his boyhood admiration for the Malfoy patriarch not withstanding - but this was also true. "While it is no generational wand, sometimes there are those with whom I would not care to share more." He smiled at Casey, very slightly.

Subconsciously, Casey's thumbe forefinger and middle finger were rubbing together. Had the gesture been complete Casey would have crossed his arm across his chest to his shoulder where several ears ago (or recently, any time the wig was affixed in place) there would have been a length of hair. But Casey stopped himself when he realized what his fingers we doing.

He supposed the style worked for Mr. Morgan. He wasn't the first to have Malfoy long hair but even though it might be traditional Casey thought long hair only worked if you were old, like Dumbledore. Long hair on a guy just made them look like...

Casey was hesitant towards Mr. Morgan's sudden benevolence. He was still trying to figure out what the Slytherin Librarian's phrase meant. "So that's something your family does, the...hair. But that doesn't mean you're exactly like them."

"Of course not," Landis said, eyes roving for Ollivander. A pause to build suspense and anticipation was all very well and good, but this was a bit much, wasn't it? The old coot had never been quite the same after the war. Hmm, was this something to do with Casey's wand, his own family? Landis returned his gaze to his charge. The thought of being exactly like Darian...

"Ridiculous," he said decisively. "Family may have influence, but ultimately one's choices are one's own."

Family was amongst purebloods always a tricky subject and especially with the traditionalists; there was generally a line to toe, unclear but unforgiving once crossed. Landis' family was ambivalent in that there were no strict eddicts from his patriarch uncle to consider, no family tradition so extreme as to be controversial. Even Landis' own mother had only been punished for a few years, shunned for her poor choices in marriage but not labeled traitor. It helped that Landis' values feel so precisely in with some of his own. If they had not, he imagined he would either hide them - or break his family pact - and then live with the consequences of his choice to do so. But certainly, it would be his choice. The idea of letting someone else make his decisions for him was despicable, but then, he was not very vulnerable to familial pressure.

Casey paused. Mr. Morgan's statement had all the hallmarks of an important life lesson, hitting all the philosophical cues, but there were circumstances where someone was forced into a choice against their will. And Imperius did not have to be used.

Before Casey could reply the wizened form of Ollivander appeared. Even if he was so famous Casey was not going to wait holding his breath. After the explanation was given of the unusual circumstances Ollivander pondered a moment before disappearing back into the shelves as Casey was accosted by animated measuring tape...

---

This was how people were paired with wands? Guesswork?

As Casey had inherited his wand and had a tight bond with it, he never expected trying to find a wand match was worse than trying on shoes. Sure, the occasional folk like Pepper or Oliver who could barely use wands must have taken a while to match, Casey had assumed these were standout cases, not common occurrences. Did Ollivander even know what he was talking about? Up to three tries to find a match was forgivable. Well past five was not.

A variety of wands had passed under his hand. Some strong, some weird feeling, some pathetic. None as strong as the ancestral wand, of course. Casey was performing perhaps the most benign spell ever, Lumos, and Ollivander watched the light more intently than a seer looking at a crystal orb. What difference could even be seen in the wands that had complied to his casting? The codger even took one wand out of his hand in the middle of performing the spell. And Casey still had't figured out what the measuring tape was for.

"What was than one three ago, the Silver Lime one? That was the most powerful of the lot."

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. O'Doherty."

Casey's snort triggered a mild coughing fit.

"You do have an inclination towards the more uncommon." Ollivander was returning a stack of boxes back to their shelves. "Phoenix feather, no doubt...I wonder..." The old wandmaker opened the latest box. "Try this one; Pear, Phoenix Feather, 10--"

"Pear?" Casey took objection to that, given his limited knowledge of wandlore. Not only was Pear common it was considered soft. You rarely saw purebloods with Pear wands (namely the ones that didn't mind a Dark reputation). "Like I would ever be caught using--"

Once the box had been opened, the wand flew out into Casey's hand. His complaint died with the surprise as his fingers automatically curled around the wand.

It was unexpectedly a bit of a trial, finding another wand for O'Doherty. Like the boy, Landis' patience waned as wand after wand went through his hands without the slightest sign of a link. The expression on his face had gone from attentive to just dispassionate as he lurked in the background, trying not to jostle the boxes of wands which overflowed from the shelves and were crazily stacked in leaning towers that deeply offended his meticulous soul.

Perhaps he should have expected this. Though it was unfair to think that O'Doherty was doing it on purpose, Landis had noticed the boy's habit of making things far more difficult than they needed to be. Though it was impossible to fake a bad wand reaction, Casey had been resistant to the idea from the beginning, used to a more powerful wand. He certainly did not look thrilled now as Ollivander bustled and muttered around him.

He continued to watch detachedly as Casey tried out wands, eyelids flickering at the sudden protest, "Pear?" Then to both of their surprise the wand flew out of the box and straight into Casey's hand, causing him to abruptly stop talking, Landis to stir with interest, and Ollivander to chuckle to himself like the unnerving old nutter he was.

"A deceptive one, that is," the wandmaker said, drawing closer to Casey. "Don't let the wood fool you." His pale hair stuck out from around his face like a dandelion's, and though he was harmless Landis still pulled himself upright and walked closer, wary eyes on both him and O'Doherty. "Pear bends, it doesn't break. Longevity, ha, and justice."

When the wand snapped into his hand Casey felt an abundance of enthusiasm. Not from him, from the wand! This was a wand that wanted to perform. It didn't quick feel like the common respect Casey had wrought from the family wand but this wand suggested it may be powerful. It would show how up to the task it was whether Casey wanted it or not. To the point of being annoying.

"Many times I've seen wand shyness, not wishing to be displayed," Ollivander continued as Casey stood there feeling stupid, "but rarely do I see a wand take the initiative in a pairing, and the rare times it happens it's bound to be a very good wand for the owner."

"You said it was uncommon, though." Casey was still staring at the wand in his hand. Then he realized he couldn't actually move his fingers from their grip.

"Pear may be considered common, but this wood...I remember it quite well." Ollivander set the box the wand had vacated aside, apart from the collection he had to re-shelve. "Not all trees will produce magic quality wood. Right away the tree I selected this wood from was unusual. The pear tree was the only thing growing in a barren field that had been the site of very powerful magic once. I was only able to make the one wand from this wood. The rest was used by a friend who harvested the wood with me. Carved them into a pair of dancing clogs. Swore the rest of his life that he could hear their hollow footsteps following him when they weren't worn."

The old wandmaker didn't ask for another demonstration as he took a few boxes back to their shelves. "Though I do believe it has waited long enough."

Landis nodded towards the wand in Casey's hand, expression neutral. "Looks like you've found the one." The boy did not seem to know what to think of it, staring down at his grip on the wood. Ollivander was packing up, the wand had clearly chosen - "He'll take it," he said, as Casey seemed in no hurry.

Ollivander's pale eyes moved to his as if the man had just noticed he was there. "And what of your wand?" he asked, drawing closer. "It couldn't have been too long ago that I sold yours, young man. Let's see - dragon heartstring, I'd guess, and -" Landis waved him off. "Yes, yes," he said. "Come along, Mr. O'Doherty."

Casey was willing ever nerve fiber and ligament and muscle of his being he could think of to get his hand to flex open. And it could not. What horror story was this, a wand fusing itself to one's skin? Did this always happen with fresh wands that had never been bought or bonded before?

"He'll take it," Mr. Morgan said, and Casey remembered what was going on in the present. The adults were acting as if everything was perfectly normal and Casey couldn't loosen his fingers from the wand. Just a moment! he wanted to shout but Mr. Morgan wanted to get moving again after the many minutes of trying out wands.

What made Casey the most uneasy is that he felt like he wasn't in control. He knew the touch of having allegiance with a very powerful wand, a mighty power that could do nearly anything you imagined with enough effort. This wand didn't feel like that. If Casey could put it into words, it was as if the wand was demanding him, the wizard, to cast a spell so the wand would feel satisfied. Casey could even imagine a conversation in his head.[1]

Expelliarmaus?

No. It's not a duel.

Simple shield spell?

There is no duel. I'm the one dictating the spells that will or will not be cast.

Hurling hex?

What, we jump to Quidditch now? There's no broom, I am not going to cast any spell with a wand with too much gumption. I'm not going to be blamed for blowing up a wand shop because of eagerness.

Light free form Transfiguration?

Shut up! You're not even paid for yet!

And at the thought of money, Casey didn't think of the full incantations for summoning and banishing and levitating in just the right way, but his wand hand moved off of the subconscious thought. The bag of money allotted for buying a wand flew of of Casey's coat pocket. It bounced merrily on the counter twice, opened, and the golden coins leapt out, spiraled around the bag a few times and then organized themselves in two columns.

I'll even turn the bag into a potted petunia.

NO. FLOWERS.

1.	There is no actual wand conversation in Casey's head, this is for comedic effect

Finally Landis noticed Casey's unusual silence and gave the boy a somewhat bemused look. Casey had yet to look up from his new wand, and something about his stare was odd. It was not the adoring look of a boy with his first new wand, which Landis hadn't expected from the unexcitable young Slytherin anyways, but it was wide-eyed and too intent.

"O'Doherty," he repeated patiently, though what he would have said after that was unclear - a coin purse shot out of Casey's robe pocket like a bat out of hell and exploded on Ollivander's counter, coins stacking themselves with an overquick zeal. Landis blinked. Perhaps O'Doherty was more excited about it than he thought.

"Are you quite all right?" he asked sharply, though it was clearly less a genuine concern for his adolescent charge and more a gently-worded are we done here or possibly, what is wrong with you.