Chapter 4
The next day, Albus as promised picked Harry up at Private Drive with the company of death. "Hello there Mr.Potter, are you ready?" Harry's who now was bouncing on his feet with his little hands holding deaths who stood next to him, tall and intimidating whatsoever. "Yes!" Albus and death chuckled at Harry's enthusiasm. "Very well then." Albus then inclined his head towards Death whom return reciprocated as Albus lofted his wand up in the air. A bus then appeared. It did no look like any ordinary bus, it had 3 floors to which any normal once had two.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening." Harry smiled at the man, waving his hand enthusiastically while the man had an amused expression on his face before turning to look over at the other companions. "Ah headmaster, so good to see you, come on in." Albus then said it's greetings back, stan turned to look at the other man who was strikingly tall and handsome, he might mistaken him as a Malfoy if it weren't for the man's green eyes that resembled the killing cursed as well as the child's.
"Ah I believe I have not met you yet." Stan held out his hand to Death, death plastered a smile and took stans hand, all of the sudden, Stan felt cold, so Cold that his eyes went wide and his breath turned foggy despite the hot weather. Death released his hand and gestured oblivious Harry in, to which he complied. Death followed as stan still stared wide eyes at the man who following the child who took a seat next to each other just behind the headmaster. Stan then cleared his throat, taking a shaky deep breath before composing himself, they were the only passengers that time due to it being early still. "W- well then, Leaky Couldron yes?" Dumbledore nodded.
The ride was very unpleasant, after they got off the bus, Harry had to stop to throw all the contents of his breakfast onto a near by tree, the knight bus was a nightmare. Merlin, how people could tolerate it he will never know. Now done with that, Albus then lead them towards the pub who was filled with customers, and regulars. Tom the bartender then approached the three with a smile. "Ah Albus good to see you." Albus smiled at the bartender. "Hello there Tom, don't mind us, we're just passing by." Tom nodded, looked over at the duo behind Albus, looking over at the tall man who looked like he might be a model of the sort and the child who was staring intently back at him with those strikingly emerald eyes. It felt familiar somehow.
Albus then cleared his throat, returning Tom, the bartenders attention back at the Headmaster, having none of that. Tom chuckled, embarrassed. "Well, let us not waste your time, come along Mortis." Death let our a relived sigh, thankful for the man not recognizing Harry, yet if it weren't for his scar covered, he had convince Harry on doing so as to not attract attention on his self. Harry protested at that, saying on how much he'd look like a bloody girl as to which Death just snorted and said he still look the same as a girl. Harry relented and did as death said, making said person smile in triump.
Diagon Alley was wonderful, Harry had not seen anything like it before, ofcourse he had heard stories of it when death had the time to spend time with him. But seeing it closer it person was another whole experience. They bought all of Harry's necessities although death stayed silent along the way, keeping constant vigilance around his surroundings for any threat that might come along their way. But offered to carry Harry's thing to which Harry happily let him help, Death eventually changed his appearance, annoyed still with that stan conductors comment about him looking like a Malfoy of all people, ugh!. Wands, the three then went over to Ollivander, Dumbledore had something to take care of then left but promised to return.
The bell above the door chimed softly as Harry stepped into Ollivander's. But he wasn't alone. Death, cloaked in a disguise that made him look like an ordinary man, followed silently behind. His presence was strange yet familiar to Harry, as though they’d been traveling companions for far longer than just this morning.
"Such a quaint little shop," Death muttered under his breath, his voice smooth and cold like a winter breeze. He had chosen the appearance of a tall, gaunt man with pale skin, his dark eyes too deep, too knowing for anyone mortal. A long, black coat clung to his thin frame, looking slightly out of place in the bustling warmth of Diagon Alley.
Harry glanced up at him but said nothing. He had grown used to Death's cryptic remarks and his unsettling sense of humor. After all, how else could one feel when the embodiment of Death himself had taken a peculiar interest in their life?
Inside, the air smelled of old wood and something faintly metallic, like magic long forgotten. The walls were lined with narrow boxes, stacked high to the ceiling, each one carrying a weight Harry couldn’t quite put into words.
Behind a cluttered counter, a silver-haired man appeared from the shadows. His wide, pale eyes settled immediately on Harry and then flickered to Death, who gave him a slight nod as though acknowledging an old acquaintance. Ollivander’s sharp gaze lingered on Death for a moment longer than was comfortable.
"Ah, yes..." Ollivander murmured, drawing out his words. "Mr. Potter. And... your companion."
Harry frowned. Did Ollivander know? Could he see through the illusion? Death’s lips curled into a faint smile, enjoying the old wandmaker’s discomfort.
"My nephew," Harry said quickly, though the words felt strange leaving his lips. He wasn’t sure if wizards questioned such things as ages or appearances. Death had chosen to look no older than thirty, though his dark, ageless eyes told a different story.
Ollivander, however, seemed satisfied. He nodded and turned his full attention to Harry, his eyes gleaming with the same curiosity that had unnerved countless wizards before him. "I was wondering when I’d be seeing you, Mr. Potter."
Harry shifted under Ollivander’s intense gaze, feeling both excited and nervous. But he could still sense Death standing beside him, a silent, almost protective force. It was strange, this odd companionship they had, but it had started to feel normal, as though Death had always been there, watching from the sidelines.
"Your father’s wand was excellent for Transfiguration," Ollivander continued, pulling down a box from a high shelf. "Eleven inches, mahogany. And your mother... ten and a quarter inches, willow, swishy... good for Charms work."
Harry swallowed, feeling the weight of his parents' legacy hang in the air. Next to him, Death remained still, watching with unreadable eyes.
"But now," Ollivander said, drawing out the moment, "we must find the wand that suits you."
He moved swiftly through the rows of boxes, pulling one down and handing it to Harry. The first wand felt wrong in Harry’s hand, but before he could even raise it, Ollivander snatched it back.
"No, no, not quite."
Several more wands followed, but each one felt less right than the last. Harry could feel Death’s gaze on him, a weightless pressure that seemed both patient and expectant. Ollivander, however, grew more animated with each failed attempt, as though Harry’s struggle was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Ollivander paused. His hand hovered over a narrow box high on a shelf tucked into the corner. His pale eyes flickered toward Death before settling on Harry. "Curious... very curious..."
He pulled down the box with a deliberate, almost reverent motion. Placing it before Harry, Ollivander opened it slowly, revealing a dark wand nestled inside.
"Go on, Mr. Potter," Ollivander urged softly. "Give it a wave."
Harry reached out, his fingers brushing the smooth wood. The moment his hand closed around the wand, a surge of warmth shot through him, unlike anything he had felt before. Power thrummed beneath his skin, filling him with a strange energy. He raised the wand, and a bright, golden light burst from its tip, illuminating the dim shop.
Ollivander’s eyes shone with satisfaction. "Yes... yes, indeed. Curious... very curious..."
"What's curious?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ollivander leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave just one other feather. Its brother gave you that scar."
Harry’s hand flew to his forehead, his fingers tracing the lightning-shaped scar etched into his skin.
"Yes," Ollivander continued, his eyes flickering again toward Death, whose expression remained inscrutable. "The wand that gave you your scar belongs to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
A heavy silence settled between them. Harry glanced at Death, who had tilted his head, watching with vague interest.
"The connection between your fates runs deeper than you know," Death said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. "But that is a story for another time."
Ollivander blinked, as though shaken from a trance. His gaze flicked between Harry and Death before he cleared his throat and stepped back. "Indeed. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter, though it is not always clear why. I think we can expect great things from you."
Harry took a deep breath, slipping the wand back into its box. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something profound had just happened, something bigger than a simple wand purchase.
As he paid and turned to leave, the little bell tinkled above the door once more. Death fell into step beside him, his dark coat swaying with each graceful step.
"You seem awfully quiet," Harry muttered under his breath as they stepped back into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley.
Death smiled at his Harry who was clutching his new wand in his arm, patting Harry's head gently. "I like to observe my little prince, I'd rather stay quite and have you do all the talking." Harry looked up at deaths cocking his head to the side making him look like a curious puppy. "Adorable, now why don't we go to Florean Fortescue's Ice cream Parlor as we wait for the Headmaster to return hm?" Harry smiled up at death, it would be the first time that he could get to eat ice cream, and his excited! He then pulled death, leading the way to the Ice cream shop to which death just chuckled and let the child drag him along.