I'd like to apologize for the delay getting this to you guys. I died. Then I played some Fallout: New Vegas. Then I died again. And yes, I still play Vegas. Anyways...
"Congratulations on getting your robe," Necro says with a grin, looking at Mors, "And an even heartier congratulations on your feat in there." He hands his apprentice the ice cream he got him. Mors blushes. "You, eh... noticed me using Soul Magic, eh?" Necro laughs, clapping him on the shoulder, "Mors, it was a fantastic display. You turned that dickhead into a right respectable young man in five minutes. It'd've taken me a few minutes longer, and that's if I rushed. You, kid, know what you're doing."
Mors blushes heavily under the praise, and nods dumbly. "Now let's get your other supplies! First up, wands!" Necro cheerfully proclaims, strolling into Knockturn, Mors following at his heels. A few meters away, a little girl hears her mother mumble, "Fuckin' dark wizards, corruptin' our youth." This of course leads to an awkward situation, one that even embarrasses the passers by.
Gordon Hamsley's Evil Wands of Evil, the sign proudly proclaims in a rather garish tone of pink. "Well, THAT'S reassuring," Mors says aloud, glancing incredulously at his teacher. "Don't worry, Mors," he laughs in response, "I know for a fact it's just a hook." He pushes the door open, and gestures for Mors to come in.
The inside of the store is rather... prismatic and chaotic. It's best left at that. Gordon, a chunky blonde man, pops up from behind the counter with a huge smile, which he forcibly twists into an obviously fake scowl. "And WHAT do you want?" He barks, barely able to restrain his glee, but still somehow sounding cheerful. Mors clearly can't speak, he's too busy muttering in disbelieving shock. Necro, on the other hand is fully capable, and takes up the role of speaker in stride.
"We're here so that I can buy my son a wand. He's going into Hogwarts, you know." Gordon nods, the fake scowl still on his face, and looks intently at Mors. "A strong constitution, a strong will, a strong moral code, and a strong mind. The epitome of positive qualities. I can tell. But the best for such a well-rounded individual... This will be a hard match."
Gordon wanders into the back room, and before Mors can ask, Necro explains, "It's common knowledge that the wand chooses the wizard. This is complete bullshit. Different personalities have different magical resonations, and different magical resonations synch with different magical ingredients used in making the wand." Mors blinks. "In other words, it's the other way around, the wizard actually chooses the wand, just not consciously."
Gordon shuffles back into the room, holding a stick. "This," he growls very fakely, "Is solid unicorn horn, with an oaken grip. Both materials represent harmony and balance. They should be average in all forms of magic, like most wands I make, so you'll have to rely on personal skill rather than pansy cheap advantages like those poor sods who buy from Ollivander." He sighs genuinely, "Poor kids don't even realize that so much of their talent isn't even real..."
He sobers and gives Mors one last bit of info, "My wands are untraced, so you don't have to worry about the ministry beating your door down if you cast something out of Hogwarts. Damn Ministry and their damn idiotic..." he shakes his head. "Never mind. Give it a swish." Mors does just that, and a beautiful cascade of rainbow sparks fly from the tip. "Is that normal?" Mors asks, and Gordon shrugs. "When you meet a wand, it sparks in a certain way to say how attuned to you it is. If you like rainbows and sparkles, then yeah, that's normal."
Mors blankly stares at the wand, and eventually says, "Damn wand, making me look gay. I'm not gay." He shakes his head. "Yeah, I think this one might be perfect." Gordon and Necro smile. Mortanis gives a mocking little chirp. A quick exchange of coins later, and the two are off to the next store.
-))((-
"Hey," Mors awkwardly greets a girl his age in the bookstore, "You, uh, you do know Knockturn isn't safe, right?" Her curly hair bounces as she turns to him. Her teeth are slightly crooked, but, England, you know? She gives him a blank look as she responds, "Of course I know, but how am I going to learn about this stuff otherwise? It isn't covered in the course syllabus!" She shoves a book in his face.
"Alchemical Bombs, Cantrips, and Diabolical Elementals?" He asks her suspiciously, giving her a level glare. "A troublemaker, aren't you?" She gets a slight panicked look, glancing at a pair of adults in Muggle clothes. Her parents, Mors realizes with a raised brow. A small smirk plays across his face, and he grabs the girl's arm, pulling her close, "I like that."
She blushes heavily, stammering some unintelligible blather, trying to come up with something to say. Mors feels a tap on his shoulder, and looks up to see Necro glancing down at him, a stack of books in hand. "Mors," he starts, "Quit teasing the poor girl." Mors smiles innocently as Necro gestures for him to follow to the next store. Before he leaves, though, Mors slips the girl a few Galleons, before whispering in her ear, "For the book. See you in Slytherin, cutie," And rushes off after his mentor, leaving the flustered girl behind in a stunned silence.
-))((-
Mors catches up with Necro at the final store on their list. Potions supplies. "I saw that, earlier, Mors. I'm proud. Not a day in, and you've already seduced-slash-bought your first ally. Slytherin would be proud of me, raising you like that." Mors snorts, a gesture Mortanis mimics, opening the door.
The shop itself is rather small. The ingredients are of questionable origin, and the man behind the counter is of questionable breeding and wears a rather old-school brown leather vest. "What can I do for you, sirs?" The man asks, rubbing his greasy palms together. Necro simply shows the Hogwarts acceptance letter to the man. "Ah, basic potions ingredients, pewter cauldron... the basic works. May I interest you in anything else, though?"
He glances side to side conspiratorially, "I happen to be packing some alchemical supplies in addition to the standard fare, you know." He lifts an eyebrow. "Questionable legality, unquestionable quality, and guaranteed legit. Even got a few basic guide books in the back."
Mors looks up at a smiling Necro. He looks back down at Mors, raising an eyebrow. Mortanis squawks. He nods, and Necro looks back to the greasy man. "My good man, you had me at 'alchemical', and you had a guaranteed sale on your hands at 'questionable legality'."
The man reaches under the counter, and pulls out a small book, along with several pots of colorful dust. "A guide book, and some basic alchemical dust," He says, "Not the fanciest out there, but it'll tell you which does what, and that'll keep it from exploding in your eyes, so... good. The dusts themselves are pure, but they only cover the basic elements, fire, water, air, earth, order, and chaos."
He then goes into the back room and comes back out with a cauldron and some more supplies. "And here," he says, "is your standard fare." A quick exchange of coins and goods later, and the three find themselves just about ready to leave.
"Can you think of anything else you might need, Mors?" Necro asks, and his apprentice gives it some serious consideration. He places his hand on his chin and scrunches his eyebrows. Suddenly it hits him.
"We need to get a trunk!" Necro almost slaps himself for overlooking something so obvious.
"You mean like the five-room trunk you made all by yourself last year?!" Mors does slap himself.
-))((-
A month flies by like a caffeinated bat out of hell... in TURBODRIVE. "This is the place," Necro bluntly states, looking down at his apprentice and his apprentice's familiar. They stand in front of a divider in the train station. Mors skeptically looks to his mentor, before catching himself. Wizards are retarded, so why shouldn't their defenses reflect that?
Mors waves at his retreating mentor, knowing good and well how bad he is at goodbyes, before hefting the trunk and stepping through the divider and into a whole new world, one of magic, intrigue, and plot twists. Actually, no, he just steps into a crowd of wizards, or at least robed weirdos, in front of a ridiculously loudly colored train.
He manages, through no small amount of effort, to cut through the crowd and board the train. He quickly finds an empty compartment, and sets down his trunk, before sitting on the provided seat, with Mortanis sitting right beside him.
A few minutes pass, and eventually the crowd outside starts to dissipate, the students on the train, and parents now leaving. Just before he has a chance to crack open a book and start reading, the door slides open. A thin, freckled, ginger boy stands in the doorway, and shyly mumbles, "Uh, hi, uh, all the other compartments are full so..." He looks up, and sees all the skull aesthetics on Mors' robes, "Nevermind." He slides the door closed, and Mors shrugs.
Now, to apologize for the wait and short chapter, I've added in a little sneak peek for something you'll see in about, mm, five to ten chapters.
"Tell me Mors, what do you see in the mirror?" Dumbledore asks. Mors looks to the tall, grandfatherly figure, then back to the mirror. In the mirror he sees himself, with his friends, all wielding wicked blades, dashing through a post-apocalyptic wasteland after a massive demon throwing fireballs at them, as the weave their own dark magic in return. "I see..." 'Better be a bit dishonest.' "Myself. Wearing some really nice socks."