13 and 1/2

Young Tom’s robes have been hemmed considerably, but this is the newest suit of clothes he has ever owned. Everything is secondhand, worn in but not worn through. (Wizard cloth is disappointingly unmagical, but well-mended; his heavy leather-bound schoolbooks have small notes in them already but Tom aches to read them.) He begins to feel cold again, a little pit of disappointment in his stomach. Everything handed down. It puts a damper on his enjoyment, thinking of some other wizard walking about in his clothes, reading his books– he’s begun to think of them as his own books.

Everything has been owned before, like a guilty inheritance, with the exception of his wand.

He feels somehow complete when he holds it; Tom can’t keep his hands away from the smoothed ashwood grip. It’s pale and slender, substantial in his hand, and it is the most beautiful thing Tom has ever owned.