2

Chapter 2

Petunia Dursley smiled as she opened the door, the expression freezing as she was greeted by two extremely intimidating black men with unearthly blue eyes. She remembered them, it was impossible not to. These twins, because they had to be, had accompanied the man that had bought the Freak. A small movement between the men drew her attention, and she gaped, her bony hand fluttering to the base of her overly long neck to clutch her pearls.

The Freak stood there, calm and confident, and looking nothing like the scrawny little waif that they'd tossed to that man for a handful of bills. He was taller, and his unmanageable hair had been grown to just below his shoulders and pulled back into a smooth ponytail. A wispy fringe feathered across his forehead, distracting from that horrible scar, and thin wire framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Hello Aunt Petunia," Harry chirped cheekily, raising his wand. "Imperio."

Petunia's face went slack, and Harry grinned viciously. Strolling past the vulnerable woman, he paused in the doorway to the lounge room, one hand tucked in his pants pocket and weight on one hip.

Alex had to fight down a chuckle. His Sir looked like a fashion model, dressed in impeccable Armani and posing like that. He heard Sergei huff a breath next to him, and knew that the older man was thinking the same thing.

"What are you doing back here, Freak?" The walrus bellowed, turning an unattractive shade of purple as he tried to heave his bulk up from the couch.

Harry's lip lifted in revulsion. "Oh, now that's just pathetic. Imperio," he flicked his wand lazily, his spell settling easily over the blustering man.

The boy directed the adults to sit next to each other on the couch, and turned to his disguised guards. "Check the house. Make sure there are no magical traps or monitors, and find Dudley. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible."

The men nodded and separated, wands flicking as they scanned every inch of the home. Returning inside of five minutes, they both shook their heads; no magical anything, and no Dudley.

Harry sighed lightly and focused on Petunia. "Where is Dudley?"

"With his friends," the woman answered in monotone. Her eyes remained blank, staring straight ahead, hands folded demurely in her lap.

"I see." Harry glanced at Alex, who nodded and pulled his mobile from his pocket, texting the wayward boy, instructing him to return home immediately.

While they waited for Dudley, they sat, chatting about nothing in particular and sipping the excellent tea that Jinky popped in to deliver.

It was barely ten minutes before Dudley thundered in, huffing from exertion. He bent over, hands braced on his knees as he heaved air into his straining lungs.

"I'm, I'm here!" He gasped, oblivious to his unusually still parents.

Harry observed his state with a small frown. While it was true that Dudley was merely a low level grunt in his organisation, his primary mission of watching for any magical contacts was important. Important enough that he didn't want to risk him getting caught up with the police because he couldn't run fast enough to get away, and missing something. Cutting a glance to the looming guards, he was pleased to see them nod back, interpreting his orders. Dudley would find a few additions to his compulsions after tonight.

"Hello Dudley, long time no see." Harry put his teacup and saucer on the side table and stood, absently fastening his jacket. "I need your rattiest set of clothes. The sort of thing your mother would have given me before I left."

Dudley nodded uncertainly. "Um, do you need, er, under things too?"

Harry grimaced. "She never used to give me any, so I'll pass this time. Thank you for being thorough, though."

The obese boy beamed, filled with pride. He wasn't sure why exactly, but he couldn't really recall a time when he was genuinely praised for something he'd done. His parents fawned over every little thing he did, but it was obvious that it wasn't genuine, and that really took the sense of accomplishment out of it.

He turned, hurrying as best he could up to his room, stepping over the toys and sweet wrappers that he'd left on the floor that morning. He rummaged through his dresser, frowning at a few of his shirts as he tried to work out which was the most worn. Finally tossing all of them in a pile, he added a couple of pairs of jeans, some socks, two pairs of shoes, and three jackets. Bundling them all up, he staggered back to the door, falling with a thud as he fell over the things on the floor. Muttering irritably to himself, he resolved to stop leaving things around in a mess. What if he had to leave quickly in an emergency? What if the Boss came in one day? He'd be mortified to show him a room in this state. Maybe he should get rid of some things; isn't that what people did when they were trying to clean up? He shook his head. Nah. His things were his; he'd just stop leaving them on the floor. Shuffling cautiously down the stairs, he offed his armful to his rather intimidating cousin.

"I wasn't sure, so you can take what you like from these. Or all of them, if you want." He stuttered to a halt, suddenly embarrassed.

Harry nodded, taking the bundle. Dumping them on the chair, he sifted through them quickly.

"Perfect, thank you. I'll take these. May I borrow a few other pieces too, just for show? I'm not expecting to need them for very long."

Dudley nodded vigorously. "Mum was going to get rid of some of them anyway, so do what you like with them. Do you need anything else?"

Harry considered for a moment. "I don't think so. Go sit down, we have a few things to sort out once I get changed."

The boy took his selected clothes to the bathroom, changing quickly. Emerging, he regretfully handed his suit to Alex and sat in one of the remaining chairs.

"Alright, Dudley, sit back and relax." Harry gestured to his guards, watching closely as they drew their wands and quickly began memory charming the Dursleys and glamouring Harry to look like his old self.

The plan was a simple one, really. Given Harry's fame in the Wizarding World, the likelihood of being allowed to slip through the cracks during admission was close to zero. Whichever school got him onto their books would benefit immensely from it, and he was willing to bet nearly everything he had that Dumbledore had taken steps to prevent any other schools from contacting him to offer a place.

Since Harry hadn't replied to the acceptance letter, which of course he wouldn't have been able to, had he still been living with the Dursleys, Harry was expecting that Dumbledore would send someone to collect him.

Harry was very interested to see who that someone would be.

Glancing up, he saw that Alex and Sergei were done. All going to plan, the Dursleys would be unaware that he had ever been gone, and would treat him exactly as he would have if he'd been there the entire time. One of his people would come and break the charms as soon as it was clear he'd left with Dumbledore's lackey.

Seeing his men to the door, he saw their commiserating looks and offered a rueful smile back.

"I'll be fine," he said quietly. "I've got all my goodies from Shot, and my portkeys. Just take care of Connor for me." His face twisted slightly, still feeling guilty for leaving the distraught boy behind.

Sergei nodded sharply and stepped out of the house, while Alex rested a hand on Harry's shoulder briefly before doing the same.

The click of the closing door sounded ominously through the otherwise silent house.

"BOY!" Vernon shouted.

With a sigh, Harry let his shoulders slump and put on his Dursley slave persona again.

The booming knock on the door shook the house just as everyone was settling down for the night.

Harry rolled his eyes, curled up in his cupboard. At least they had waited to send whoever it was until after dark.

He could hear Vernon huffing and snarling to himself as he stomped down the stairs, shaking dirt from between the floorboards to rain down on Harry's face. Curling his lip in disgust, he brushed what he could from his hair and pressed an ear to the door, listening intently.

"Name's Rubeus Hagrid," came a booming voice, followed by shuffling as the newly introduced visitor pushed in through the door. "I'm come for 'Arry."

Harry winced as he heard Vernon puff up. Oh, this really wasn't going to end well. Deciding to cut off the brewing explosion, he pulled on a pair of Dudley's old shoes, and pushed the cupboard door open, climbing out and shutting it behind him.

"The cupboard is sorted, Uncle Vernon. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were expecting company. I'll go get cleaned up." He moved to head up the stairs, eyeing the newcomer curiously.

The man was wild, in every sense of the word. A massive bushy beard peppered with what appeared to be leftover biscuits - and a bird - blended into equally thick and untamed hair, both long enough to reach mid chest. Standing at twice the height of an average man, and wider than even Vernon, he was certainly memorable; though perhaps not in the way one might want to be.

"You mus' be 'Arry then. Look jus' like your father, you do. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts. But you'd be knowing all about that, now, wouldn't you!" He smiled warmly. The man was a giant, forced to bend so he didn't hit his head on the ceiling, and he was very clearly the outdoorsy type. Not in the handsome adventurer way that you saw promoted on the front cover of dramatic autobiographies and documentaries about beating the odds, but more in the 'please step outside, Sir; you look like you live in a cave, and smell like it too' way.

Harry breathed as shallowly as he could manage without fainting.

"Oh, I nearly forgot; this is for you!" Hagrid reached into his tent sized jacket, and pulled out a partially squashed box, handing it to the staring boy. "Baked it myself, words and all," he announced proudly. "Might have sat on it at some point, but I imagine it'll taste the same!"

Harry gingerly took the box that the oaf had apparently smuggled under his sweaty armpit for god knows how long, and opened the lid. Inside was a cake with green frosting, and Happy Birthday Harry written in pink across the top. Quickly applying Grateful Smile number five, he thanked the man, trying not to gag at the scent of far too much sugar combined with body odour that seemed to cling to the cardboard.

"He'll not be going to that Freak School! I won't have it!" Vernon finally shouted, his face a shade of purple that had Harry gleefully wonder if he was about to see a genuine case of spontaneous human combustion. Or at least a spectacular heart attack.

"Oh, and I suppose a great muggle like yourself is going to stop him," Hagrid mocked, tossing a wink at Harry.

The boy frowned. This was not how to handle Vernon; in fact it was only going to make him more pig headed and unpleasant about this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, but can you please explain what's going on? What's Hogwarts, and what Freak School is Uncle Vernon talking about?"

Outrage twisted Hagrid's face, and he glared accusingly at Vernon, and then up at Petunia who was apparently cowering on the landing while clutching Dudley to her.

"'E doesn't know? 'Ow can 'e not know?! It's a crime, it is! Not a child in our world that don't know 'is name, an' 'e don't even know what 'e is!" The huge man seemed driven near to tears by the thought, and gave Harry a look as if he'd just been diagnosed with something imminently terminal.

Harry observed absently that his accent had thickened noticeably as his upset had increased.

"You're a wizard, 'Arry."

The words hung in the air, ringing with all the importance of a death knell at midnight.

Harry had to fight down a giggle. "A what? Like, a magic wizard? Don't be ridiculous; there's no such thing as magic!" He scoffed, crossing his arms and levelling Hagrid a look as if to say 'pull the other one, mate'.

Hagrid shook his head slightly, his sorrowful look being replaced by patient amusement.

"Have you ever done anything strange when you were angry, or upset? Something you couldn't explain?"

Harry pretended to think.

"I suppose, but that doesn't mean it's magic."

Hagrid smiled indulgently. "It's true, and you're going to love Hogwarts! That's where your parents learned it all! Greatest magic school in the world, under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen: Albus Dumbledore!"

"If you think I'm going to pay to have some crackpot old fool teach the boy magic tricks, you can think again! He'll not be going!" Vernon interjected again, having backed up a few stairs to make himself a more equal height with the giant - and get himself out of arms reach.

A thunderous expression crossed the wild man's face, and with surprising speed, he whipped out a pink children's umbrella, brandishing it in Vernon's face.

"Don't you ever," he growled, "insult Albus Dumbledore in my presence."

Deciding that this had gone on long enough, Harry dropped the cake, flipping the edge of the box with his fingers to ensure it landed upside down with a splat.

"Oh, oops!" He blinked up at Hagrid innocently. "I'm sorry!"

Softening, Hagrid bent down to scoop what he could back into the box.

"'S'all right, no need to worry," he practically cooed. "I can make another one when you get to Hogwarts."

Harry beamed, his green eyes shining angelically.

"Really? Oh, thank you!" His face fell. "But, Uncle Vernon said…"

Hagrid scowled. "You've been down to attend since you were born. You'll be going, no matter what your uncle says."

"Is it a boarding school?" Harry asked, looking interested. "It must be far away, since I haven't heard of any schools locally that teach magic tricks."

"Aye, it's a boarding school," Hagrid answered absently, wiping icing off his fingers with a spotted handkerchief the size of a small tablecloth. "But it teaches magic, real magic, not tricks."

"So, I'd be away for nine months of the year?" Harry perked up. "Uncle Vernon, that would be a good thing, right? You were saying just the other day that Dudley will be boarding at Smeltings, and that it was a shame I wouldn't be accepted there. This is the next best thing, right?"

Vernon's piggy eyes gleamed at the thought of getting rid of the nuisance. "What about school fees and the like? I'll not be paying for this!"

Hagrid frowned and shook his head. "It's all been taken care of," he answered slowly.

Vernon cheered up immediately. "In that case, take the boy and get out. We don't want to see the Freak again," he glanced at Petunia and scowled. "Until next summer," he allowed grudgingly.

Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Hagrid pulled him close to his side in what he obviously thought a protective and consoling gesture.

"He's no freak! This boy is as special as they come, and you're blind if you can't see what a good lad he is!" Looking down at a red faced Harry, he grinned weakly. "C'mon, me lad. We'll spend the night at the Leaky."

Harry followed after the hulking brute, eyes watering. Even though Hagrid had released him from his protective hold, he could still smell the reek of livestock and unwashed bumpkin. Taking a discrete sniff of his clothing, he gagged slightly. Oh god, it was on him! He wondered if there was enough soap in the world to fix this.

Harry glanced around the Leaky Cauldron, amused to spot Sergei propped up in the corner with a beer. Nodding slightly, he turned back to Hagrid, horrified to realise that the man had only gotten a single room.

"Alrigh' 'arry, I got us a room so we can be up and in the Alley early on. Avoid the worst of the crowds that way." He winked, smiling as if he had just imparted some great nugget of wisdom.

Nodding politely, Harry followed him up the stairs, rolling his eyes at the state of the room. While clean and tidy, it clearly hadn't been updated any time recently, and everything was worn and shabby. For the primary portal between the muggle and magical world, and one that did a roaring trade at that, they certainly didn't spend the profits on upkeep.

Settling himself on the small bed tucked tightly near the wall, Harry watched Hagrid sprawl diagonally across the king size bed on the other side of the room, noting how his feet still hung off the bed by an uncomfortable margin. Snoring began quickly, and Harry grimaced. He definitely wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

Heading into the bathroom to freshen up and wait a suitable amount of time before sneaking out to meet Sergei, Harry glared at his reflection in the mirror. Scrawny, sickly pale, and messy.

"You look a fright, my dear," the mirror offered.

"I'm aware," Harry responded dryly. "Don't worry, I usually take much better care of myself. I'll be back to normal in no time."

Turning his back to the mirror, he discretely drew his wand and cast the obscuration charm at himself. Slipping down from the bathroom, he checked to make sure Hagrid was as deeply asleep as he seemed, then scuttled out the door and down the stairs.

All but falling into the seat opposite Sergei, he leaned back, glad that his guard had grabbed a booth.

Sergei smirked, pushing a glass of butterbeer to him and flicking his wand to set up privacy and proximity wards.

"So how did it go?" He asked, his accent a little thicker than usual.

Harry eyed him over the top of the glass, then shrugged and let it go.

"About as well as can be expected. Will Alex be joining us or will you be filling him in later?"

"Later. He felt that one of us should stay with Connor, especially at the moment. Poor kid isn't taking this well."

Sighing, Harry took a deep draw from his drink. "I know. It can't be helped though. I'll write to him as often as I can, and arrange visits where possible too. I'll probably sneak out of school a fair bit once I have a grip on their security measures anyway."

Sergei smirked. "Funny thing about old castles; they tend to have lots of secret passages and escape routes, if you know where to look."

Harry grinned. "So I've heard. I'd love a map of them; for historical purposes only, of course."

The Russian chuckled. "Of course!"

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, sipping their drinks and watching the other patrons.

"So what do you make of your escort?" Sergei eventually asked, even as he eyed a busty brunette in a short skirt draping herself on the bar.

Harry rolled his eyes. "The man is a fool. Dim-witted and with barely a passing nod to personal hygiene. That said, he is extremely loyal to Dumbledore which is why I suspect he was sent to collect me. Too dumb to realise something is wrong with my living situation, and all too willing to tell me what a great man the headmaster is. I suspect that he will be useful to pump for information later. He seems the sort to blither when given half the opportunity." Pausing, Harry mulled over his observations of the man. "His loneliness can be used against him. If I cultivated a friendship with him, his loyalty would easily extend to me as well, I think. He could prove to be a valuable resource if I play him right."

Sergei raised an eyebrow. "You seem to have acquired a particular odour, which I assume came from him. Can you tolerate that long enough to be in close proximity on a regular basis?"

Grimacing, Harry shook his head. "I really couldn't. Which is why you're going to teach me some sort of charm to help me not smell it. And hopefully one to get stubborn smells off me."

With a chuckle, Sergei drew his wand. "I'm surprised we haven't needed to cover this before, given the amount of dead bodies we come in contact with."

Harry smirked. "When you say it like that we sound like degenerates! Shame on you, Sergei!"

The shopping trip had all the makings of a nightmare, and Harry wasn't having it.

First stop was Gringotts, where Harry discovered that Hagrid had been possession of a key to his vault; a key that was not returned to him but was dropped back into cavernous vermin filled pockets, along with a mysterious package that was obviously set up to entice his curiosity. Dull.

By the time they had returned in the carts, it was clear that news of Harry's return to the wizarding world had spread, and the poor boy was nearly mobbed. The Goblin security guards were required to control the crowd, which Harry thanked the startled creatures for profusely, but that didn't help much once they were back on the street.

"You don't mind if I stop back at the Leaky for a bit of a pick me up, do you 'Arry? I'm afraid those carts…" He trailed off, looking a little green.

"I don't mind at all," Harry smiled angelically. "Though, do you think I could have my vault key please? I only took out a little bit of gold because I didn't want to waste it, but now I'm worried that I might need to go back and get a bit more. There is an awful lot of things to get," he glanced at the list, chewing his lip worriedly.

"That's a wise thought," Hagrid beamed, digging into his pocket for the key. "Savin' your money like that. Keep that attitude and you'll be richer than the Malfoy's one day!"

Harry smiled back, taking the key and slipping it into a pocket in his wrist band while pretending to put it in the pocket of his trousers. He watched as Hagrid hurried off to the pub, and rolled his shoulders.

Glancing around, he slipped into the alley behind him, and leaned against the wall.

"Aw, look at our boy, all grown up and starting school!" Marcel cooed, clinging to Sergei's arm like a proud parent. "Makes you just want to hug him, doesn't it?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," the Russian grunted, scanning the crowd and ignoring the playful medic. "He may be little, but he'll still gut you like a fish."

"Unlike you?" Marcel smiled, running a hand along the mercenaries jaw. "You're all prickly. It would be like hugging a cactus!"

"Well, he can be a giant prick," Harry chimed in blandly. Ignoring Marcel's laughter and the dirty look from Sergei, Harry pulled his list out again. "Alright, I have no intention of shopping for all of this today, especially since I seem to be the latest tourist attraction. Sergei, kill the glamour. I want you trailing me as normal while I pick up a school trunk and robes. Marcel, pick up the potions requirements for me, double the required amount and only the things that are of suitable quality; I doubt they waste the good stuff in student kits. Get anything else you think I'll need for this year, but don't go overboard. After that, pick up my books for me. We can meet up at Floreans for ice cream before getting my official wand."

Sergei was already flicking his wand, dismantling the glamour and returning Harry to his usual sleek appearance. He pulled a change of clothes from his wrist band, handing it over and casting a quick privacy screen so his boss could change.

In just a few moments, Tiny stood before them, ruffling his long hair and tying it into a messy ponytail, completely unlike its usual smooth waves.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Tiny smirked.

The luggage shop was uneventful, the boy leaving with a trunk that was far superior to the school standard. Multiple compartments with space expansion charms on each, and ventilation charms just in case he or someone else 'fell in' and got trapped. The exterior was a nondescript brown wood, the corners and lock appearing to be a standard brass. Sergei had stepped in at that point, clearing his throat pointedly and asking about nonstandard security charms.

Apparently the shop keeper had had dealings with Sergei at one point or another, because he immediately added every single security charm and ward he knew, free of charge, and then threw in a free satchel and applied the same. The poor man was nearly sobbing when they left the shop, grateful to see the back of them.

Harry was relieved when robe shopping turned out to be marginally more entertaining. Bumping into Draco and pretending to be a clueless muggleborn had the potential for hours of fun, and was something he definitely intended to milk for all it was worth. The grey eyes glittering back at him with stifled amusement told him Draco was enjoying the game as much as he was.

"I wouldn't bother with the standard robes, if I was you," the blond sniffed haughtily. "If you get the higher quality fabric it hangs better, and it will last longer. You can also get customised charms to make them more comfortable."

Eyes wide, Harry stared at Draco in awe. "You can really do things like that? Whoa! Are you getting that?" At Draco's smug nod, he turned to the seamstress. "Madam Malkin? Can I please have that too? My uncle always says to get the best quality you can afford, so that it last as long as possible; so getting this would mean I'm being…" He screwed up his face in concentration. "Fis-cal-ly Responsible, right?"

Harry smiled angelically as all the adults cooed, and batted his eyelashes slightly. The stifled snort from Draco caused him to bite his lip to choke down his giggles. Oh yes, he was going to have fun with this.

Harry and Sergei sat down across from Marcel, placing their sundae's on the table.

"How did you go?" Harry asked, scooping a bit of Butterscotch Brittle into his mouth.

"I got everything on the list as you asked. You were right about the quality of the kits, by the way; I had to reject nearly half the ingredients." Marcel passed over the shrunken bags to Sergei, and took a bite of his own ice cream.

"Maybe we should set up our own shop," Harry mused. "Specialize in school supplies and supplementary material for students who are struggling."

Sergei quirked an eyebrow. "That's unusually altruistic of you, Boss."

Harry scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a marketing technique. It's a method used by big name brands like McDonalds, called Brand Imprinting for Later Actualization."

"How does it work?" Marcel asked, curious. He'd never been good at all of the business type things, but it was fascinating to see how his employers brain put things together.

"Alright, taking McDonalds for an example. They target the kids, get them young. You have bright colours and a friendly clown. You have areas for birthday parties, and play equipment, and you get a nifty little toy with every 'happy meal', right? Everything is fun and aimed to make them happy. They begin to associate McDonalds with pleasant memories and feeling good." He paused to eat some more, noticing his ice cream was starting to melt.

"Ok?" Marcel frowned, trying to follow how that would work long term.

"Ok, so the kids get older. They start to feel stressed and overwhelmed, and they think longingly of when they felt happy as a child. They see those golden arches and get hit with nostalgia so they pull in, hoping to relive a moment of happiness that they had there when they were younger."

Marcel's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "And you have an adult customer base that keeps coming back because McDonalds makes them feel less depressed about their shitty lives. And then they bring their kids there because they want them to be happy too. That's," he floundered, searching for the right word. "diabolical. And very clever!"

Harry nodded with a small smile. "I'd like to mimic that to a degree. If the children who use my store and products excel, then not only will they be superior to their peers, but their parents are more likely to trust anything else we bring out later that's associated with that brand."

Sergei chuckled. "And they'd trust anyone associated with that brand too, wouldn't they?"

The boy blinked innocently, spooning the last bite into his mouth.

Laughing, Marcel wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Alright, is it time to go get your official wand, yes?"

Harry and Sergei nodded, cleaning themselves up and checking to make sure they had all their packages. Standing, they exited, turning left as they headed down the cobblestone street.

Ollivander's shop left Harry feeling distinctly underwhelmed. Dusty, and shelves stacked floor to ceiling with premade wands, it was cramped and not particularly welcoming. It's only real redeeming feature was the lack of drafts and the pleasant scent of wood shavings that filled the air.

"Harry Potter," a wispy voice intoned from the shadows behind the door. "I wondered when I'd -erk!"

Harry turned with a glare, to see Sergei already had the thin old man held with a knife against his throat.

"Does that look like Harry Potter?" Sergei growled menacingly into his ear.

The old man's silvery eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head, mindful of the razor sharp steel kissing his skin.

"Er, no, no he doesn't!"

"And why do you think that is?" The Russian hissed.

"I understand. Please, there is no need for this," Ollivander said with quiet dignity.

At a nod from Harry, Sergei released his captive, making sure to leave a shallow cut on the side of his neck as a reminder.

Ollivander pressed a handkerchief against his neck and gave the hulking man a dirty look.

"Brute." Turning back to Harry, he applied a professional looking smile.

"Alright then, Mr Smith, shall we get you fitted?"

Harry smirked, and nodded.

"Please."

The old man rummaged around on the shelves, pulling out random boxes and humming to himself. Returning to the counter, he handed them one at a time to Harry, observing the reactions with a close eye. Wand after wand, combination after combination was rejected; explosions, fires, even a small tornado ripping through the store. Harry's personal favourite was when one wand cause many of the neatly stacked boxes on the shelves to explode out of place. The idea of this irritating man having to manually sort them all after he left made him feel unreasonably happy. He was aware that he had been unusually uncharitable in his assessment of people recently, but when he remember listening to Hagrid snore all night, he decided he could be as mean as he liked, as long as he didn't crack his mask.

Putting the final wand - walnut and dragon heartstring - down on the counter, he apathetically watched Ollivander mutter mysteriously and pull a particularly dusty box from a back shelf.

Picking up the wand from the box, he felt a surge of warmth up his arm, and sighed with relief. Finally, this hell was over!

"Curious," Ollivander murmured, eyeing Harry with apprehension.

"What's curious?" Harry asked absently, even as he put the wand back in its ratty box.

Honestly, he thought to himself, Gregorovitch presents his wares much better.

"The Phoenix who gave the feather that resides in your wand gave one other. Only one other. It's curious that this wand should be destined for you, when it's brother is the one that gave you that scar." Ollivander looked like he wanted to reach over and touch the infamous mark, but a hard look from Sergei and a shake of his head from Marcel quickly had him changing his mind.

"So?" Harry asked tiredly.

Ollivander startled, lost in his thoughts. "Oh, it means that should you ever encounter someone wielding the brother wand, your wands will be ineffective against each other. Some might also say there is some sort of connection between the two of you, but honestly that's not something a wand can determine. Although I do find it interesting that while you've bonded with this wand, it isn't a perfect match. I wonder why that is? A wand chooses the wizard, after all, and it's rare for a wand to choose a wizard who doesn't fit."

Harry thought of his custom wand in his wrist band and compared how the two of them felt. Nodding in agreement, he could see the man's point.

"Well, I guess we will just have to wait and see then, won't we?" Smiling, he dropped the required Galleons on the counter, and turned on his heel, sweeping out the door with his employee's in tow.

Ollivander sighed as he watched them leave. He hated to do this, but he could feel the Life Debt pushing for him to contact Dumbledore with the demanded information already. He hated that old goat, he really did. Reporting which children bonded with wands that had a natural predilection towards Dark Arts was bad enough, but now he was being forced to report on a young man that was much more than he seemed. He made a mental note to update his Will.