Grim Grinning Ghosts

Chapter 4: Wands, Trains, Friends, and Dual Personalities

One would expect that someone who has been dead for a couple of years would be used to copious amounts of dust within their abode. After all, a mausoleum isn't usually kept after, and most of the time the ghosts don't bother. It was common knowledge that ghosts are used to old, decrepit places that long ago had fallen into disrepair. They loved places filled with dust and grime and mold.

This was not the case for one Harrison James Potter.

Harrison was, to put it bluntly, a clean freak. The mausoleum was always kept in pristine condition, but Harrison took it upon himself to do so. After all, Avos sometimes visited and the old man wasn't too fond of dust either. So the ghost did not particularly like dust. Harold didn't really care about dust or grime, seeing as he usually got his hands dirty trying to make the garden around the mausoleum prettier.

However, he was also used to Harrison's perfectionist and clean-obsessed nature, and that didn't bother him either. It was actually rather nice to have someone fuss over his wellbeing (even if there wasn't much to fuss over, being an animated corpse), and Harrison went out of his way to make sure Harold was well fed. Harold was also vaguely surprised when the people Harrison brought twice a year were old bullies, but nonetheless they were delicious.

So Harold understood that Harrison was just a good person with a few crippling flaws, like the inability to stand copious amounts of dust. Which is why Harold was not surprised and slightly worried when Harrison seemed to have an aneurism the moment they stepped into Ollivander's. The place was teeming with magic, no doubt about that, Harrison and Harold felt both the ambient magic of the shop and the individual magic of the many, many wands that were in there.

"Good afternoon." rang out a soft voice, and Harold turned to look at Mr. Ollivander.

"Good...after...noon..." Ollivander gave him a knowing smile.

"Hello Garrick!" piped Flitwick.

"Good afternoon to you too, Filius."

"This is the last shop for Mr. Potter, and if you don't mind, I have some other muggleborns that I need to see today. With both of you be all right on your own?"

Ollivander and Harold both slowly nodded, and happily the half goblin bustled out of the shop, muttering about the time. The silver eyed man turned to Harold.

"Greetings, Harry Potter, I was expecting you at my shop today yes... but not like this. But it seems like only one of you needs a wand today, am I correct on that assumption?"

Emerald eyes widened.

"You...know...that...we..." Harold began, but Ollivander cut him off by nodding.

"Yes, yes. I can sense the presence of two entities, one of which has already found their wand. You may wish to separate for this part, as the combination of the both of you may prevent the other from finding their wand. Remember Missers Potter, it is the wand that chooses the wizard."

The combined entity nodded solemnly, and suddenly the body was surrounded by a pure white lighjt, and Ollivander did not look the least bit surprised at the two seemingly seven years old corpse and ghost duo. Harrison was nervously twirling his arm in his left hand, the bone white color all too familiar to the old man. His eyes widened. Shakily he held his hand out to Harrison.

"May I?"

Harrison paused for a second, and gave Ollivander a dubious stare that painfully reminded the man of the wand's previous owner, before handing over the wand. Ollivander was holding the wand as if it were a glass dagger, beautiful yet horrifying.

"Yes, yes... thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. This is the wand...that gave you that scar."

Ollivander slowly looked over both Harrison and Harold, silver eyes widening.