No Longer

A Wand of Murder

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**Harry Potter

Harry apparated in front of Gregorovitch's shop, ready to get his adult persona a wand. He'd been careful to ensure it was possible to glamour ones blood and identity along with his physical appearance, and figured Harry Potter and Adult Him needed different wands to suit their personalities.

He was dressed in dark red robes that bore an intimidating resemblance to freshly spilt blood. Black boots that perfectly fit his feet made of contoured leather flashed with every step, and a half mask disguised the upper shape of his face, crimson to match his robes. 

The mask accentuated his glamoured brown eyes, making them stand out, and faint black designs were all along the edges of the mask. His full lips rested in a cruel line, and Harry believed he'd made himself into a very acceptable picture of a mysterious dark wizard.

He stepped through the door, and watched as a hunched man with a big bushy beard emerged from a back room. 

"I'm here for a wand," Harry said, and he was surprised at how little his voice had deepened. Reflecting back on his choice of person, he realized he had a slightly delicate appearance. He was just grateful his voice had come out smooth and wasn't effeminate.

Grumpily, Gregorovitch made his way over to Harry. His face was slightly screwed up, like his arthritis was bothering him and Harry's visit was the last thing he needed. 

"Take the mask off," the man said gruffly.

Complying, Harry removed the mask. It wasn't as if he actually had a great reason to wear it, and he didn't care if his face was seen.

"Well then. Stand straight, arms out, feet shoulder width, and don't even think about moving your head."

He followed these instructions too, and kept his posture perfect as a tape measure quickly took all his measurements. The measure flew to the old man's hand, and changed into a piece of parchment with every measurement written down neatly in black, marked to show what each number was of.

Gregorovitch grunted, turned his back, and muttered something that Harry ignored, returning to his casual posture. There was no reason to remain at attention, and a very brief peek into the man's mind showed he was expected to relax.

He didn't stay in his mind long, not wanting to hear all the curses and complaints the man constantly made. In all fairness, Harry would likely be cursing if he had all the aches and pains Gregorovitch was stuck with, but really.

"Do I have permission to cast a personality reading?" The wand seller asked.

"Yes you do."

"Insurevelarm Uniqueremal," A faint glow shone over Harry, and the old man said, "My, I haven't seen a reading such as this before."

The old man peered at Harry in something other than annoyance this time.

"Odd indeed. Well, I don't see what's got the spell so twisted about on you, but boy, you better believe we'll be getting you a wand. Based off this readout though, I need to make it 'specially on account of your needs. Ever hear of murder bush?"

"No."

"Well, it's more of a tree than a bush, and I've never made a wand with it before on account of it being such a powerful material that it kills any human that touches it. Also werewolves, vampires, veelas, dwarves. . . You get the picture. So far as I know, only creatures that can safely handle the plant with direct skin contact is a middle or upper level demon.

"Now, I have heard legend of a witch powerful enough to touch it, but her time was long ago, in an era past. Since that personality test I used only works on humans entities, I know you're not a demon.