Jack, or rather Loki in disguise, was a vision of rugged sophistication. His dark brown hair, styled in an intentionally disheveled cut, framed his face, and his captivating blue eyes shone with mischievous intelligence. He wore a white shirt tucked into tailored trousers that hugged his lean figure and finished off the look with an unassuming black vest. There was nothing ostentatious about him; he blended effortlessly with Midgard's more casual style, a stark contrast to the grandeur of Asgard.
Rose stepped forward, a vision of loveliness. Her transformation was complete—where Thor had once stood was now a woman of remarkable grace and beauty. She'd styled her fiery red hair in an intricate updo, with just a few loose curls cascading down her neck. Her gaze, full of life and determination, drew the onlookers in with its vibrant green hue. She wore a dress of deep emerald green that clung to her curves like a second skin and flowed around her ankles in soft waves. The fabric was simple yet powerful, creating an aura of undeniable beauty.
Jack towered a foot above Rose, his muscular frame and glowing green eyes grabbing the attention of everyone around them. Harry, standing between them, looked up at the tall buildings that surrounded them, admiring the mix of old and new architecture. Music from street performers filled the air, and people rushed by in all directions.
A bewildered look spread across Harry's face as he glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings. "So, how do we get to Diagon Alley?" he asks Jack, hopeful for an answer.
Jack smiled with a cocky grin, his voice deep and experienced. "Follow me," he said confidently. The trio began their journey down London's bustling streets towards the hidden wizarding alleyway tucked away from the muggles surrounding them.
Harry's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He was on the cusp of a new world that was both foreign and familiar. A world that was part of his heritage, yet one he knew so little about. It was a strange feeling, one that filled him with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
Beside him, Thor, now disguised as Rose, shifted uncomfortably. "I don't feel right," she muttered, her voice low. Rose's discomfort was palpable, his large frame ill at ease in the delicate disguise. Jack shot him a sidelong glance, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Shut up, Rose," he retorted, his tone teasing. Rose grumbled in response, her eyes scanning the bustling streets with a wary gaze.
Their journey led them to a nondescript pub in a quiet city corner. From the outside, it looked like any other pub, its worn facade blending seamlessly with the surrounding buildings. The pub's interior was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of ale and the low murmur of conversation. As they made their way through the crowd, the barman looked up from his work, his gaze landing on them.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice carrying over the hum of the pub. Jack, however, didn't stop, his stride purposeful as he led them towards the back.
Just as they were about to disappear into the crowd, The barman's voice rang out, halting them in their tracks. "Wait, is that who I think it is?" The voice was filled with disbelief, the words hanging in the air.
All eyes turned to them, the pub falling into a hushed silence.
"Excuse me," she said, her tone commanding. The pub fell silent, all eyes on Rose. For a moment, Harry could only stare, taken aback by the authority in Rose's voice.
Rose strode forward, her eyes locked onto the man who had called out. The pub was silent, the patrons watching with wide eyes as Rose approached the man.
"The next words out of your mouth will end in death," Rose said, her voice low but carrying in the hushed silence of the pub. The threat hung in the air, a palpable tension that had the man swallowing nervously.
Meanwhile, Jack leaned close to Rose, his voice a mere whisper in his ear. "Rose, honey, act natural," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice despite the tense situation.
"Act natural?" Rose echoed, turning to look at Jack with a raised eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitched, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I am acting natural."
Jack brought a hand up to his face, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Come on, honey, you're embarrassing our son," he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
He made a series of exaggerated gestures, indicating that they were causing a scene. Rose, or Thor, blinked at him, his expression surprised. "Oh," he said, his voice filled with sudden understanding. "Right, sorry, darling."
He announced with a final, dramatic wave, "Carry on!" The pub patrons chuckled, their attention returning to their drinks and conversations.
"Alright, this way," Jack said, leading them toward the back of the pub. They navigated through the crowd, finally arriving at a seemingly dead-end.
Rose stepped forward confidently, her eyes fixed on the stone wall. "Leave this to me," she declared, her voice filled with determination.
Jack raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you even know what this is?" he asked, his tone teasing. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall as he watched Rose.
Rose paused, glancing back at Jack. There was a moment of silence, then she shrugged. "Of course I do," she said, though his voice had a hint of uncertainty. He turned back to the wall, squaring his shoulders as he prepared to reveal the entrance to Diagon Alley.
Harry watched the exchange between his 'parents', a smile tugging at his lips.
Rose's hand moved to his side, instinctively reaching for the familiar weight of his hammer. His fingers closed around the handle, ready to summon the power of Mjolnir to reveal the entrance to Diagon Alley.
But before he could raise his hammer, Jack's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. "No, Rose," he said, his voice firm. "We do not want to do that."
Rose turned to look at him, confusion written across his face. "But I thought..."
Jack shook his head, releasing Rose's wrist. "Watch and learn, Rose," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He stepped forward, his fingers snapping in a quick, precise motion.
The stone wall responded almost instantly, the bricks shifting and moving as if alive. They twisted and turned, rearranging themselves to form a narrow archway. Beyond it, the bustling streets of Diagon Alley came into view, filled with witches and wizards going about their day.
Harry watched in awe, his eyes wide as he took in the sight. This was entirely different despite everything he had seen and experienced in Asgard. It was magic, pure and simple, and it was beautiful.
Rose, on the other hand, looked slightly put out. He glanced at his hammer, then back at the now open entrance to Diagon Alley. "Well," he said, a hint of grudging admiration in his voice. "That was... impressive."
Jack simply smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I told you, Rose," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "There's more to magic than just brute force."
Harry couldn't help but gape at the sight before him as they stepped into Diagon Alley. The narrow, cobbled street was lined with shops, their windows filled with magical items. Witches and wizards of all ages bustled about, their robes billowing around them as they moved from shop to shop. The air was filled with the sound of chatter, the occasional hoot of an owl, the smell of freshly baked bread, and something distinctly magical.
Rose looked around wide-eyed, her gaze darting from one shop to another. "This is... incredible," she murmured, her voice filled with awe.
Jack simply smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Told you you'd like it," he said, nudging Rose with his elbow.
Rose turned to look at him, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I never said I didn't believe you," she said, his tone defensive. "I just... didn't expect it to be this... magical."
Jack laughed, the sound echoing down the street. "Well, it is a magical alley, Rose," he said, teasing. "What did you expect?"
Rose simply huffed, crossing his arms over her chest. But her smile was on her face, a clear sign that he wasn't distraught.
Turning to Harry, Rose asked, "So, what do you need for school, Harry?"
Harry pulled out his Hogwarts letter, unfolding it to reveal the list of school supplies. "Well, it says here I need a wand, a cauldron, some books, a set of robes, a hat..."
As Harry read the list, Rose and Jack listened attentively, their eyes scanning the shops around them. It was clear that this was going to be an exciting day.
"Well, first things first," Jack said, interrupting Harry's reading. "We need money. Let's head to Gringotts."
They made their way through the bustling crowd, weaving between witches and wizards as they headed towards a large, white building towering over Diagon Alley's rest. As they stepped inside, Harry and Rose were met with the sight of dozens of goblins, all hard at work behind a long counter.
Rose stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as he took in the sight. "What are these creatures?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.
Jack, who had been leading the way, turned to look at him. "These are goblins, Rose," he said, his tone serious. "They run Gringotts, the wizarding bank."
Staring at the goblins with equal parts fascination and fear, Harry turned to look at Jack. "Goblins?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jack nodded, his gaze serious. "Yes, goblins," he said. "And it's important to remember to treat them with respect. They may not look like much, but they are knowledgeable and not to be underestimated."
Rose, who had been staring at the goblins with fascination and apprehension, nodded. "Right, respect the goblins," he said, his tone serious. "Got it."
As they approached the counter, a goblin teller looked up at them, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Name?" he asked, his voice gruff.
Rose, who had been looking around the bank with wide eyes, turned to look at the goblin. "Thor," he said, puffing out his chest. "God of Thunder."
Harry and Jack both facepalmed simultaneously, their heads dropping in unison. The goblin teller, however, simply raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Right," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I suppose you're here to withdraw your vast wealth from your vault?"
Rose, not catching the sarcasm, nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly!" he said, grinning. "We need to exchange some Asgardian gold for your... What do you call it? Galleons?"
The goblin teller stared at Rose for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Harry and Jack's surprise, he chuckled. "Asgardian gold, you say?" he said, his voice filled with amusement. "Well, I'm afraid we don't accept that here. But if you're looking for books, there's a shop outside the bank."
Rose, not deterred in the slightest, simply grinned. "Books, you say?" he said, his eyes lighting up. "Well, that's perfect! We're here to buy school supplies for our son."
The goblin teller, clearly entertained by Rose's enthusiasm, simply shook his head with a small smile. "Well, in that case," he said, "I suggest you head to Flourish and Blotts. They have everything you need."
Just as Rose was about to launch into another enthusiastic tirade about Asgardian gold, Jack interrupted him. "Harry Potter," he said, his voice firm.
The goblin teller looked taken aback, his eyes widening slightly. "Harry Potter?" he repeated, his voice filled with surprise. "Do you have a key?"
Jack reached into his pocket and produced a small, golden key without missing a beat. He placed it on the counter, and the goblin teller picked it up, examining it closely.
Rose, meanwhile, was staring at Jack with wide eyes. "Where the hell did you get that from?" he demanded, his voice filled with disbelief. "And where's my key?"
Jack simply shrugged, a small smile on his face. "I have my ways," he said, his voice filled with amusement. The goblin teller, still clutching the key, gave them a curt nod before turning to leave. "I'll fetch the accounts manager," he said, his voice gruff. As he walked away, he could be heard muttering, "Bunch of weird ones, these are..."
Jack, Rose, and Harry exchanged glances, a hint of amusement in their eyes.
The arrival of the accounts manager was a spectacle in itself. He was a goblin of considerable stature, his sharp features accentuated by a stern expression. Ten guards flanked him, their armor gleaming under the bank's lights.
"Hand over the boy," the manager demanded, his gaze fixed on Jack and Rose. His voice echoed through the grand hall, causing several heads to turn their way.
Jack and Rose exchanged startled glances. "Kidnap?" Jack echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. "We haven't kidnapped anyone."
The manager's gaze didn't waver. "We have reason to believe that you've kidnapped Harry Potter," he said sternly. "Hand him over."
Standing quietly by Jack and Rose's side, Harry finally spoke up. "I'm not kidnapped," he said, his voice steady. "These are my... guardians."
The manager's gaze shifted to Harry, his expression softening slightly. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone less accusatory now. "Can you confirm this, Mr. Potter?"
Harry nodded, meeting the manager's gaze. "Yes," he said. "I'm here willingly."
The tension in the room eased slightly, but the manager's gaze remained on Harry. "Very well," he said, returning to Jack and Rose. "We will proceed with the transaction. But remember, we are watching."
The accounts manager led them through a maze of corridors and into a small, dimly lit office. The room was filled with stacks of parchment, ink pots, and quills. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows on the stone walls.
"Please, take a seat," the manager said, gesturing towards a pair of worn-out chairs. As Jack, Harry, and Rose settled down, the manager took his place behind a large, cluttered desk. He shuffled through a stack of parchments before pulling out a thick, sealed envelope.
"This," he said, holding up the envelope, "is the last will and testament of Lily and James Potter."
He paused, his gaze shifting between Jack, Rose, and Harry. "According to this document," he continued, "all of their possessions, including their vault at Gringotts, are to be transferred to their son, Harry Potter, upon his eleventh birthday."
He paused again, his gaze hardening. "However, there was an attempt to destroy this will and transfer all assets to Albus Dumbledore, claiming that Harry Potter has been missing for the past ten years."
Rose's sudden outburst startled the room into silence. She stood, her finger pointed accusingly at the bank manager, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Our son hasn't been missing for ten years," she declared, her voice echoing in the small office. "He's been with us in Asgard."
Jack's sudden punch to Rose's leg caught her off guard, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oww!" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her leg. "What did you do that for?"
Jack gave her a pointed look, his eyes flicking briefly to the bank manager. "Rose," he said, his voice low and warning. "Remember where we are."
Rose huffed, rubbing her leg. "Well, you didn't have to punch me," she muttered, glaring at him. But she fell silent, her gaze shifting to the bank manager.
"Rose," Jack interjected, his tone firm yet gentle, "what my wife is trying to say is that Harry has been in our care. We've adopted him, and he's been living with us. We have all the necessary documents to prove it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of papers, handing them to the manager.
The manager took the documents, his eyes scanning them scrutinizingly. "I see," he murmured, setting the papers on his desk. "This is... highly unusual. But everything seems to be in order."
He looked up at them, his expression stern. "I must warn you, though, that if any of this is false, there will be severe consequences. Gringotts does not take kindly to deception."
"We understand," Jack assured him, his tone sincere. "We have no intention of deceiving anyone. We're here for Harry's sake."
The manager nodded, seemingly satisfied with their response. "Very well," he said, standing up from his desk. "I'll have one of our goblins escort you to the Potter vault. And remember, respect is paramount in Gringotts. Any disrespect towards our staff will not be tolerated."
With that, he led them out of the office and towards the vaults, leaving Jack, Rose, and Harry to process everything that had just happened.
The trio stepped into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a quaint little shop between a bookstore and a quill shop. The air was filled with fresh fabric and a hint of magic. Bolts of cloth in every imaginable color were stacked neatly on the shelves, and a small, bustling woman was flitting about, measuring tape in hand.
"Ah, new students, I presume?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind her round spectacles. "Come, come, let's get you fitted."
Harry was led to a stool and draped in a robe of soft, black fabric. The woman, Madam Malkin, moved around him, her wand waving and tape measure flying about, taking measurements. Jack and Rose watched with wide eyes, fascinated by the spectacle.
Just as Madam Malkin was adjusting the length of Harry's sleeves, the door chimed, announcing the arrival of new customers. A regal-bearing woman with platinum hair pulled back in a tight bun stepped in, followed by a boy with the same blonde hair and a haughty expression. Their robes were of the finest quality, their posture stiff and formal.
"Ah, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy, welcome," Madam Malkin greeted, her tone respectful. Jack, Rose, and Harry exchanged glances, clueless about the identity of the newcomers.
The woman, Mrs. Malfoy, gave a curt nod, her cold eyes scanning the room and landing on the trio. "Good day, Madam Malkin," she said, her voice as chilly as her gaze.
As Madam Malkin continued her work, Mrs. Malfoy elegantly navigated towards Jack and Rose, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure," she said, extending a hand adorned with a large diamond ring. "Narcissa Malfoy."
Jack shook her hand, a polite smile on his face. "Jack," he introduced himself, then gestured to Rose. "And this is my wife, Rose."
Narcissa's eyes twinkled with amusement as she looked at them. "You both look so young," she commented, her gaze lingering on Jack for a moment longer than necessary. "New to the wizarding world, I presume?"
Rose, never one to hold back, laughed. "Young? My dear, we've lived for a millennium."
Jack's eyes widened, and he quickly elbowed Rose in the side. "Rose, be a dear and check on Harry," he said, trying to divert her attention. He turned back to Narcissa, an apologetic smile on his face. "Don't mind my wife. She tends to exaggerate things."
Just as Narcissa was about to reply, the door chimed again, in with the same platinum hair as Narcissa and Draco. A man, his eyes were cold and calculating, and he carried an air of authority around him. "Narcissa," he greeted, his gaze falling on Jack.
Narcissa smiled "Lucius. This is Jack."
Lucius Malfoy extended a hand towards Jack, his expression unreadable. "A pleasure," he said, his voice as cold as his gaze.
Lucius Malfoy's gaze was sharp, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Jack. "I can't say I've seen you around," he commented, his tone hinting at suspicion. "Are you new to Britain?"
Jack, quick on his feet, came up with an extravagant position. "Indeed, we've recently moved here. I'm currently leading an international research project on the effects of magical artifacts on Muggle technology. Quite fascinating, really."
Lucius's scowl deepened, clearly unimpressed by Jack's explanation. "I didn't get your last name," he said, his voice icy.
Jack's smile didn't falter. "It's Tracey," he replied, his tone light.
Rose walked back into the room, focusing solely on Harry. She paid no mind to the Malfoys, focusing entirely on her son. "Harry, you need to eat more," she declared, her voice echoing around the room. "You have no muscle."
The room fell silent, all eyes on Rose. Lucius's scowl deepened, clearly taken aback by her lack of decorum. But Jack simply laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "That's my Rose," he said, his voice filled with affection. "Always looking out for our boy."
Narcissa, Lucius, this is our son, Harry."
Draco, who had been standing slightly behind his parents, stepped forward to get a better look at Harry. His grey eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Harry, a flicker of recognition passing through them. "Harry Potter?" he questioned, his voice filled with disbelief.
The shop seemed to quieten at Draco's words, the surrounding chatter fading into a low murmur. Narcissa's eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips. She looked at Harry, then at Jack and Rose, her mind trying to piece together the puzzle. .
Harry stood tall, his posture straight and confident. Despite being only eleven, he was almost as tall as Lucius, his broad shoulders hinting at the strength he would grow into. His hair, a rich black, was styled similarly to Jack's, falling in soft waves to just above his shoulders. His eyes, a vibrant green, were clear and bright, unobscured by glasses. His skin was fair, a stark contrast to his dark hair, and his features were sharp, giving him an air of maturity beyond his years.
He was dressed in his new school robes, the black fabric hanging perfectly on his frame. The robes were simple yet elegant, the Hogwarts crest proudly displayed on his chest. He looked every bit the young wizard he was, his appearance starkly contrasting with the casual clothes he had been wearing earlier.
"Harry, dear, let's go. We still have a lot to do," Rose said, in her own world, kept bowing to the Malfoys as she backed away while guiding Harry away, her actions drawing a few chuckles from the shop's other patrons. "It was nice meeting whoever you are!" she called out, her voice echoing in the quiet shop. She turned and began to walk out, calling over her shoulder, "Come, Jack!"
Jack, however, remained where he was, a smile playing on his lips. He turned to Lucius and Narcissa, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It was very nice meeting you," he said, extending his hand towards Lucius. After a moment's hesitation, Lucius shook his hand, his grip firm and cold.
Jack then turned to Narcissa, bringing her hand to his lips in a gentlemanly kiss. Narcissa, taken aback by the gesture, blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. As Jack pulled away, she licked her lips, a small smile playing on her lips. "Any time, love," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
With that, Jack turned and followed Rose out of the shop, leaving the Malfoys stunned.
The trio made their way to Ollivander's, a shop that seemed to have been squeezed into its place between a bookshop and a music store. The sign above the door read, "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." The shop was narrow and shabby, with peeling gold letters over the door. Its windows were crammed with a jumble of wand boxes, and a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
As they stepped inside, a bell tinkled softly, announcing their arrival. The shop was dimly lit, its walls lined with countless narrow boxes eataining a wand. The air was thick with the scent of dust and old wood, and the only sound was the soft rustle of the wand boxes as they shifted slightly, as if breathing.
Behind a counter, a man appeared, his eyes bright and curious. This was Mr. Ollivander, the shop proprietor known for his eccentricity. His hair was white and wispy, his eyes a pale, silvery blue that seemed to see right through you. He looked at Harry and Rose with interest, his gaze lingering on Harry's face.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," he said, his voice soft and slightly eerie. "I've been expecting you. And who might this be?" His gaze shifted to Rose, who stood tall and proud, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Before Rose could answer, Jack stepped into the shop, the bell tinkling softly. Mr. Ollivander's gaze shifted to him, and his eyes widened in surprise. He took a step back, his hands trembling slightly. "You..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I did not expect to see you here."
Despite his fear, Mr. Ollivander managed to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, straightening his robes. "Well," he said, his voice more robust now. "Let's find you a wand, shall we?"
Rose's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking between Jack and Mr. Ollivander. "I think I'd like to hear this story, Jack," she said, her voice firm. Jack merely shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Perhaps another time," he said, his gaze meeting Mr. Ollivander's. There was a silent understanding between them, a shared history that neither seemed eager to delve into.
Harry, however, was not so easily deterred. "I'd really like to hear the story," he insisted, his eyes wide with curiosity. Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Trust me, Harry," he said, his voice gentle. "It's not a story you'd enjoy."
Before Harry could protest, Mr. Ollivander had moved on, his attention now focused on the task. He handed Harry a wand, it's wood smooth and polished. "Try this one," he said. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches."
As Harry was being attended to by Mr. Ollivander, Rose leaned in to whisper to Jack.
"I don't like those Malfoys," she murmured. "That Lucius fellow was eyeing up Harry like he was some sort of prize."
Jack's gaze met Rose's, his eyes serious. "That's exactly why we need to keep an eye on them," he said, his voice low. "It's always wise to keep your enemies close."
Rose frowned, her protective instincts flaring up. "And let them get close to Harry? I don't think so."
Jack placed a reassuring hand on Rose's arm. "We won't let anything happen to him, Rose. "
As Harry took the wand, a sense of warmth spread through his hand, a feeling of rightness that he couldn't quite explain. He waved the wand, and a shower of sparks erupted, filling the dimly lit shop with a warm, golden light.
Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands together, a smile spreading across his face. "Excellent," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I think we've found the right wand for you, Mr. Potter."
Mr. Ollivander's eyes gleamed with peculiar intensity as he regarded Harry. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice in a reverent tone. "This wand is quite special, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand gave another feather... just one other."
He paused, his gaze never leaving Harry's. "Curiously, you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar," he said, pointing a thin finger towards the lightning bolt mark on Harry's forehead.
Harry's hand instinctively went to his scar, his mind reeling. "You mean this wand's brother gave me this scar?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Ollivander nodded, his expression grave. "Yes, Mr. Potter. The other wand, the brother to this one, is the one that belonged to... him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
A heavy silence filled the room. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of Mr. Ollivander's words sinking in. He looked down at the wand in his hand, a sense of unease creeping over him.
"But why would this wand choose me?" Harry asked, his voice shaky. "If it, brother... if it..."
Mr. Ollivander held up a hand, cutting him off. "Ah, Mr. Potter, the 'why' of the wand chooses the wizard... that is a question many have asked, and none have answered. It remains one of the most impenetrable mysteries of our craft. I can tell you that the wand chooses the wizard, and it is not always clear why."
He gave Harry a reassuring smile. "But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."
Jack stepped forward, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at the wand in Harry's hand. "You see, Harry," he began, his voice steady and calm, "a wand is not just a tool. It's not just a piece of wood with a magical core. It's much more than that. A wand is a partner, a companion. It's a part of you."
He paused, glancing at Mr. Ollivander, who nodded in agreement. "When a wand chooses a wizard, it's not just randomly picking. It's not just about the type of wood or the core. It's about the wizards themselves. Their character, their potential, their spirit. The wand senses all of this."
Jack gestured towards the wand in Harry's hand. "This wand, Harry, it saw something in you. Something it is connected with. Something it recognized. It saw your courage, strength, and potential to do great things. And it chose you."
He smiled at Harry, his eyes warm. "The wand chooses the wizard, Harry. It's not about who you are now but who you can become. It's about your potential, your future. And this wand," he said, pointing at the holly and phoenix feather wand in Harry's hand, "believes in you. It believes in your potential to do great things."
Harry looked down at the wand in his hand, his mind whirling with Jack's words. He felt a strange sense of comfort, a sense of rightness. This wand, his wand, believed in him. And that was enough for him.
Mr. Ollivander looked at Jack and shivered, "I'd rather not have happened last time you were here," he said.
Jack chuckled; a low, rumbling sound echoed around the small shop. "Ah, yes," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "That was quite the day, wasn't it? I assure you, Mr. Ollivander, those events will not be repeated."
Mr. Ollivander, however, didn't seem convinced. He eyed Jack warily, his gaze flicking to the wand in Harry's hand and then back to Jack. "I would appreciate it," he said, his voice firm, "if you would leave my shop. Now."
Rose, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, stepped forward. "Come on, Jack," she said, tugging his arm. "Let's leave the man in peace. We've got what we came for."
Jack allowed himself to be pulled towards the door, but not before he turned back to Mr. Ollivander. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Ollivander," he said, his voice sincere. "And thank you for helping Harry find his wand."
Witk, Rose, and Harry stepped out of the shop, leaving a visibly relieved Mr. Ollivander behind.
They made their way to the Magical Menagerie, a shop filled with creatures of all shapes and sizes. The air was filled with a cacophony of sounds, from the hooting of owls to the hissing of snakes and the occasional roar of some more giant, unseen creature.
Rose's eyes lit up as they entered, her gaze darting around the shop with childlike wonder. "Oh, this is fantastic!" she exclaimed, going over to a cage filled with bright, chirping birds. On the other hand, Jack looked slightly overwhelmed, his eyes wide as he took aware of a slumbering creature that looked suspiciously like a dragon.
Harry, meanwhile, was drawn to a large cage at the back of the shop. Inside was a massive cat, its fur a deep, glossy black. The cat was lounging lazily, its bright green eyes watching Harry with a look of mild interest.
"Wow," Harry breathed, stroking the cat's fur. The cat purred loudly, its eyes closing in contentment. "I think I want this one."
Rose and Jack joined him, looking at the cat with surprise. "That's a Norwegian Forest Cat," Jack said. "They're known for their strength and agility. And their size, of course."
Jack chuckled, reaching out to scratch the cat behind its ears. "Well, he certainly seems to like you, Harry," he said, watching as the cat leaned into Harry's touch. "I think he's a perfect fit."
With a nod of agreement from Harry, they purchased the cat, a large carrier, and a set of supplies. As they left the shop, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. He had a new friend and was one step closer to starting his journey at Hogwarts.
As they stepped out of the Magical Menagerie, Harry got the Norwegian Forest Cat and cradled the giant cat in his arms; he couldn't shake off a peculiar feeling. There was something about the cat, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was as if the cat was more than just a cat.
The Norwegian Forest Cat, now named Shadow by Harry, was a creature of majestic beauty. Its glossy black fur shimmered in the sunlight, and its bright green eyes held a depth of intelligence that was almost human-like. But it was the cat's behavior that was most intriguing.
Shadow seemed to have immediately liked Harry, purring contentedly whenever Harry stroked its fur and nuzzled its head against Harry's chest. However, when Jack and Rose tried to pet it, the cat's demeanor changed instantly.
Shadow hissed at them, its fur standing on end and its eyes narrowed into slits.
Jack and Rose both withdrew their hands, looking at the cat with surprise.
"Well, he's certainly got a mind of his own," Jack said, rubbing his hand where the cat had swiped at him. "I've never seen a cat take such a disliking to me."
Rose, on the other hand, seemed more intrigued than offended. "There's something about him," she said, her eyes thoughtful as she watched Shadow nuzzle against Harry.
With their shopping complete, the trio returned through the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. Jack and Rose led the way. Meanwhile, Harry was lost in his thoughts, his mind filled with the day's events and the strange sensation that Shadow, the cat now nestled comfortably in his arms, was more than he seemed.
As The crowd began to thin as they neared the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to the magical world from Muggle London, the noise of the busy street faded into a dull hum, replaced by the quiet chatter of the pub's patrons. Jack pushed open the door, holding it for Harry and Rose to pass through.
Inside, the Leaky Cauldron was as busy as ever. Witches and wizards of all ages were scattered around the room; some huddled over their drinks, others engaged in animated conversation. A few heads turned as they entered, eyes widening as they recognized Harry, but most were too engrossed in their own affairs to pay them any mind.
They made their way through the pub and out into the bright sunlight of Muggle London. The noise and chaos of the city hit them like a wave, a stark contrast to the relative calm of Diagon Alley. Cars honked, people shouted, and the constant hum of city life filled the air.
How are we getting back to Asgard?" Harry asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Loki simply winked at him, pulling a small, golden device from his pocket. "With a bit of magic, of course," he said, pressing a button on the device. In an instant, a swirling portal appeared before them, its vibrant colors reflecting in their awestruck eyes.
Loki stepped into the portal without hesitation, disappearing into the swirling vortex. Rose followed suit, giving Harry an encouraging nod before he, too, disappeared. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped into the portal, his heart pounding.
The journey back to Asgard was a blur of colors and sensations. Harry could feel the magic pulsating around him, starkly contrasting the mundane streets of London they had just left behind. In what felt like no time, they were stepping out of the portal and into the grand halls of Asgard.
As they returned to Asgard, Odin, and Frigga were waiting for them. They greeted Harry warmly, asking him about his day and how he was adjusting to his new life. Harry, still holding his new cat, told them about his adventures in Diagon Alley, his voice filled with excitement and wonder. He showed them his new wand and school robes and introduced them to his new feline friend.
As Harry recounted his day, Loki and Thor joined the gathering back in their original forms. Loki's eyes twinkled with mischief as he listened to Harry's tales, while Thor merely grumbled at the mention of their disguises.
Harry's new cat, Shadow, jumped out of his arms and sauntered to Frigga. The queen of Asgard bent down to stroke the cat's thick fur, a soft smile playing on her lips. "What a lovely creature," she murmured, her fingers gently scratching behind Shadow's ears. The cat purred in response, its tail flicking contentedly.
Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Shadow turned its gaze towards Odin. The Allfather met the cat's eyes, his own eyes reflecting deep wisdom and understanding. The room fell silent as the pair locked eyes, a silent communication passing between them. Then, to everyone's surprise, Shadow dipped its head in a slight bow, a gesture of respect and acknowledgment not lost on Odin.
"Well chosen, Harry," Odin said, a twinkle in his eye. "Your new friend is indeed special." The meaning behind his words remained a mystery to all but Shadow and Odin. The cat simply flicked its tail and sauntered to Harry, resuming its place by his side as if nothing unusual had happened.