A Study in Magic
by Books of Change
Warning/Notes: This is a BBC Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover AU. The HP timeline and BBC Sherlock's timeline has been shifted forwards and backwards to match up. One major BBC Sherlock character's gender has changed for the sake of the plot. The story was planned and written before season 2 (but incorporating elements of thereof as much as possible). Late term miscarriage scare in this chapter. Readers beware!
Chapter Forty Six: For Life
Lestrade and Ellen checked into the hospital within an hour after Small Group per the advice of their midwife, after they told her the Cola trick didn't make Isaac move. Martin, Rupert and Elise were left at Jackie's as usual, but Julia opted to come along. Ellen was taken to the examination room after a fifteen minute wait, an unheard of occurrence. The nurse on duty did the usual checkups and called for another attempt to excite Isaac with a sugary drink. The general air was that of treating a false alarm. It all looked so ordinary—routine.
Everything started to change when the nurse started frowning. She called in reinforcements and a doctor.
The doctor came, and after feeling around for ten minutes, she declared Isaac needed to come out now. Something wasn't right.
Lestrade hadn't seen a C-section before. But he was used to seeing and even touching human blood and guts, being a police officer in Serious Crimes, so he stayed for emotional support. Ellen needed it; she didn't say anything, but wouldn't let go of his hand.
No experience in Serious Crimes prepared him for what was to come. It was an entirely different game to witness your own wife with an incision and her guts lying on the table. The sight almost undid him.
The doctor took out Isaac. He was as white and limp as damp papier-mâché. He didn't cry.
In fact he looked dead.
Lestrade barely registered the questions directed at him after Isaac was transported to the NICU. The doctor in charge mentioned severe blood loss, possible organ failure due to shock, and brain damage from the lack of oxygen. Cause of blood-loss was still unknown. Did Ellen have any incidents of physical trauma? Even the slightest bump could've caused the haemorrhage.
Then the doctor said Isaac will have to go through an immediate blood transfusion. That snapped Lestrade into high alert.
"You can't," Lestrade stuttered. "I have a … rare blood type. It's genetic. I got a blood transfusion as a tot, and though I didn't kill me, it caused all sorts of problems."
"What is the name of the blood group type?" asked the doctor.
Lestrade frantically tried to remember what Robert told him last year.
"…Magus; it got registered at the ISBT five years ago."
Lestrade soon found himself sitting on the floor because he couldn't prop himself up anymore. Someone had grimly reported Isaac's body didn't react well to the first transfusion attempt and they were rushing to find a unit of O and Magus positive blood.
The clock was ticking and they were losing him fast.
As he stared at the floor, heart in his mouth, Lestrade desperately willed the staff to hurry up, please hurry up, please save Isaac, let Isaac live.
He also prayed the same, many times.
The silence that echoed after his desperate prayers was frightening.
-oo00oo-
Isaac's second and third transfusions went through without any problems. But the transfusions depleted the entire supply of O and Magus positive blood in London. The hospital wanted at least six pedi units in reserve, just in case Isaac needed it later, which wasn't unlikely.
Lestrade didn't know who spread the word—Julia perhaps?— but he was this close to grabbing a nurse by the cuff and demanding that they just take all his blood, never mind procedure, when John arrived at the scene with all of his in-laws, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Sirius Black, and Albus Dumbledore.
"They're all positive for the Magus blood group," John announced, somehow looking awe-inspiring despite the ever-present cardigan and pregnant bump.
"How are they all here so quickly?" protested someone inconveniently sharp. "The antigen was discovered in America and all known occurrences of Magus positive persons are from there! How did you know about this? What's going on?"
Lestrade spied Dumbledore waving his wand under his summer coat.
"Here is the documentation," said John, brandishing a blank sheet of paper.
"…Everything seems to be in order," said the sharp someone from earlier, his eyes out of focus.
"You just need to verify everyone's ABO type and process their blood as usual," said John calmly. "You don't have to take my word or records by faith."
Mr. Someone nodded. "Yes, of course."
Only Arthur and Molly were O positive and eligible for donation.
"Do you have any children over the age of eighteen?" asked the phlebotomist who was rubbing iodine on Arthur's left arm. "We want to have as much blood in reserve as possible."
"Yes, Bill, Charlie and Percy," said Arthur, who was staring at the proceedings with terrified fascination. "Bill and Charlie are overseas, but Percy, he still lives with us."
Molly called Percy over the MMN right after this, just before she got her blood drawn.
"Can't this wait, Mother?" said Percy sanctimoniously. "I'm terribly busy at the moment. I'm working on a report for a new regulation on cauldron bottoms. There have been an increase number of incidents of leakage lately…"
Lestrade wanted to scream. His son's life was on the line, and the prat had the gall the talk about reports? Cauldron-bottom reports?
"PERCY IGNATIUS WEASLEY, YOU WILL COME HERE THIS VERY INSTANT!" Molly roared, making everyone jump. "A BABY'S LIFE IS ON THE LINE AND HE NEEDS YOU!"
"…Alright," said Percy, looking quite alarmed. Then he turned to someone they couldn't see and said: "Excuse me, Mr. Crouch, but I need to leave for a moment. I'll return as soon as I see what the fuss is about…"
"If your son doesn't show up in five minutes, I won't be responsible for my actions," muttered Lestrade after the call ended.
"I understand," sighed Arthur. He picked nervously at the plaster covering the fresh puncture on his arm. "Now don't you worry; he'll be here in a moment…"
Lestrade wanted to believe him.
-oo00oo-
Percy Weasley arrived in three minutes, thus saving Lestrade the trouble of killing him.
"Are you sure this is safe?" asked Percy after answering a volley of questions he didn't understand, but secretly advised on how to answer. He looked as though he was about to face torture as the nurse looked for a suitable vein. "Father, are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes, it's perfectly safe. Muggles do it all the time," said Arthur. Then he stretched out his arm. "I just went through it myself, and see: nothing went wrong! You'll be fine!"
"Why wasn't the baby delivered at St. Mungo's?" Percy demanded, turning pasty white when the nurse brought out the needle. "He would've been healed immediately with a blood-replenishing potion!"
"Mrs. Lestrade is a Muggle, Percy," said Arthur wearily after modifying the nurse's memory. "Besides, the baby lost too much blood; he doesn't have the strength to eat on his own …"
Arthur was forced to use the stunning spell on his own son because Percy lost it when it came time to actually insert the needle. He just couldn't stomach the idea of a hollowed needle going into his arm while he was still conscious. Lestrade told himself it was no good to call the person who could save your child a coward as he watched the nurse mechanically draw blood from a stunned Percy. The vacant look on the nurse frightened him to the core. He also wondered if they'd get enough blood from a magically stunned person as Arthur squeezed Percy's hand for him.
"Good job, Percy," said Arthur brightly after the nurse was done. "You've done very well. Thanks to you, Isaac has a sporting chance of living!"
"…I should hope so," said Percy with a would-be dignified voice. "That was very … uncomfortable. I've never been more thankful for wizard healing. Well. I better go, now, Father, I told Mr. Crouch I'd return as soon as I can…"
"Don't move too quickly," Lestrade muttered as he watched the nurses transport the blood pack for processing. "You just gave away a pint of blood. You'll black out if you do. No showers for the next 24 hours. Eat well and drink lots of water."
"Yes, Mr. Lestrange," said Percy pompously as he got unsteadily to his feet.
"It's Lestrade," Lestrade growled.
Percy was abashed. "Sorry, sir," he apologised quickly.
"No, sorry, that was uncalled for," said Lestrade wearily. "Thanks. This … means a lot to me."
He went to visit Ellen after talking to the doctor in charge. She looked pale in her pastel blue nightgown that had teddy bear patterns. Lestrade practically collapsed on top of Ellen, and they held each other tightly.
For a while they just sat there, feeling exhausted to the marrow.
"They finished giving Isaac his third blood transfusion," Lestrade reported at length. "He responded well. They're going to put him on cooling therapy soon."
"What's cooling therapy?"
"They'll put him on a chilled blanket to lower his body temperature. They're basically putting him in a state of hypothermia to shut down his body so it won't take away the blood his brain needs, and his brain is the highest priority right now. They're going to keep it up for the next 72 hours."
"Oh."
They sat for another long moment.
"Even if he survives, he might not be okay," said Lestrade brokenly. "All the delays to get him the right blood … plus that failed first attempt… he might have severe brain damage. The doctor said he might develop cerebral palsy, cognitive impairment, or hearing and vision loss later. Ellen, can we do this?"
It was their worst fear, having a disabled child. Ellen had worked for an adult home for the severely mentally retarded once, and she barely lasted a year there. For the residents of the home, self-awareness was an unknown quality. Lestrade had seen less severe cases plenty of times, and what had struck him the most was how even eating normally was a luxury for these people.
Could they raise a son like that? A son who would have to depend on caregivers for the rest of his life?
Would he end up like those low-lifes who abused their mentally disabled children because they couldn't cope?
"We need to pray," said Ellen. "Only God can help him now. We've done everything we humanly can. Now it's up to Him. I know God can heal him."
Then she started to choke up.
"And even if … God says no … and he … doesn't make it … I know he'll be okay and so will we."
"I don't have the kind of faith you have, Ellen," Lestrade mumbled.
"That's okay," said Ellen shakily. "It's not about how strong your faith is. It's about how trustworthy is the thing you put your faith on."
-oo00oo-
Ellen and Lestrade were clear to visit Isaac a couple of hours later.
"We've connected him to a ventilator because his lungs aren't working 100%. Otherwise he's doing pretty well and his body responded well to the latter blood transfusions. You'll be able to take him home once he's finished with cooling therapy and he starts breathing on his own," said their doctor.
"So he's in the clear? Is his brain going to be okay?" asked Ellen.
The doctor didn't reply.
The NICU was only a few halls away from the patient rooms where the new mothers stayed at. Yet the trek was among the longest Lestrade ever took. He dragged every step as he both dreaded and longed for the sight of his son.
They had to stop just beyond the door that separated the NICU from the rest of the hospital. All visitors had to wash their hands because the infants inside were fragile, susceptible to infection. Lestrade scrubbed his hands clean.
It was eerily quiet inside the NICU proper. Lestrade caught a glimpse of a baby no bigger than one of his palms. It looked like a clay doll. He wondered how big Isaac was and felt distressed when he couldn't remember.
Ellen suddenly stopped and grabbed his arm. Lestrade followed her line of sight.
There was Isaac, lying inside an Isolette. He was hooked up to too many machines and shivering on top of a blue mat. He was naked except for his nappy, and his entire body was the shade of purplish-red bare hands took when outside the cold for too long. His eyes were sealed shut and both of his tiny clenched fists were resting next to his face.
Lestrade blinked back the tears that sprung up.
You're alive, he thought. Thank God, you're alive. Please be well. Please, please be well…
-oo00oo-
Quite a few visitors came once the news got out. His mates at the station came bearing balloons, sweets and caffeine drinks. Ellen couldn't eat any of the solid edibles until much later because she hadn't passed gas yet, and the hunger and pain killers made her very cranky. Donovan visited too, and so had many of his old SOCOs, including Anderson. Jason and Jeremy stopped by, the former bearing food and the latter several changes of clothes. Jackie and the not-pregnant Small Group ladies were there all day, every day, pretty much, relieving Lestrade of his hovering duties whenever he wanted to go see Isaac (which was all the time) when they weren't praying for Isaac's full recovery.
His father-in-law visited every evening. He didn't talk much, if at all, but Lestrade was certain he was doing some kind of subtle magic whenever he stood over the sleeping Isaac; he always had a deep look of concentration on his face, and his jacket rustled as though a wind was blowing, but there wasn't any wind. Mr. Shin also tossed out the healer from St. Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries Jeremy brought in to look over Isaac after the healer made a comment that implied it might be a kindness to let Isaac go considering he may not have the magic that would've prevented this from happening in the first place.
Magic children didn't haemorrhage inside the womb, according to the healer.
Superintendent Chambers came to visit two days after Isaac's birth. Lestrade was shocked because he thought Chambers regarded him as a grunt with a funny last name and a dubious work record. He later cynically wondered if there was some political motive behind the visit. Ellen chided him for not giving his Super the benefit of the doubt. After all, Chambers was a father too.
Then Sherlock came to visit by himself.
"Where's John?" asked Lestrade stupidly, acutely aware there were several days' worth of growth on his face.
"Baker Street," grunted Sherlock. "I told John to stay."
Lestrade wondered about the shouting match the fiat must have triggered.
"And John let you?"
"We didn't argue," said Sherlock, almost defensively. "Now are you going to let me see your son or not?"
Sherlock stared at Isaac like a tall, gaunt, granite statue. His face was expressionless, but something about his stillness suggested he was in state of deep turmoil.
Was he imagining Benedict in same state as Isaac? Was he wondering what he would do if something like this happened to Benedict? Was he considering the possibility Benedict may not even survive if the same thing happened to him?
Lestrade received no answers. Sherlock left abruptly without saying a word.
"Sorry about him," John sighed when Ellen and Lestrade told what happened over the phone. "I rather hoped … G-d, I married a winner, didn't I?"
"We don't mind," said Ellen. "You know, you should stop being so mean to him."
"I'm mean to him?" said John blankly. "Um, do you read the blog…?"
"You compliment him as a detective and as Harry's dad, but you put him down whenever you talk about him as a husband," said Ellen flatly. "Why do you do that when they're the same person?"
John was silent for a long spell.
"…I do that, don't I?" said John.
"Yeah you do," said Ellen without a trace of malice.
John let out a tiny sigh.
"What a winner I am," said John ruefully. "Thanks, Ellen."
Then quietly she hung up the phone.
-oo00oo-
Lestrade returned to the flat after Isaac was off cooling therapy, but still on the medical ventilator. There he checked himself in the mirror for the first time in four days.
An old man looked back at him. His hair appeared to have gone from mostly grey to almost completely white.
He wondered what happened as he idly pinched a few stands between his fingers.
"Daddy you look old!" Martin declared when he went to Jackie's to pick up his other children, whom he had neglected horribly.
"Beard!" shouted Rupert, pointing at it.
"Yes, beard, and I look old because I am old," said Lestrade. He looked around. "Where's your sister?"
"Older or younger?" Martin asked.
Lestrade sighed. "Both."
"Elise in bed," said Rupert, "Julie with Hawwy."
Lestrade blinked. "What?"
As though summoned, Julia and Harry entered the living room. Julia was holding Elise, who was squirming energetically, and Harry had a stuffed
bear in the one hand, a robot doll in the other, something green and slimy was dripping off his wireframe glasses and his hair looked as through something blew up in his face at close range.
"Hi Dad," said Julia, sounding terrifyingly calm and mature. "I told Auntie Jack and grandpa to take a break. Then I called Harry for help because I couldn't take care of Elise and Martin and Rupert all at the same time."
"I was useless," Harry muttered.
Lestrade wasn't sure if he wanted to shoot Harry or thank him from the bottom of his heart.
"So how is Isaac?" asked Julia.
"He opened his eyes," said Lestrade. "I took a picture. Look—"
He took out his phone and flipped through the photo album for the correct photo (he'd taken many).
Julia's breath hitched when she saw Isaac's chubby face. He had a head full of dark hair, rosy-red cheeks and his nostrils still sported the ventilator tube. Both of Isaac's tiny fists were next to his face in a boxer pose, and he was staring straight at the camera through his dark, penetrating eyes.
"…When is he coming home?" Julia whispered.
"We don't know yet," said Lestrade, "Soon, hopefully."
Julia nodded as she studied her newest brother with damp eyes.
-oo00oo-
Isaac was able to breathe on his own 24 hours after he finished cooling therapy. He was the same weight as the day he was born: exactly half a stone. Lestrade didn't care about that. All he cared about was now he could hold him.
Isaac was by no means the smallest newborn of his children, but he felt the most fragile. Lestrade held him gingerly against his chest, his right hand curling protectively over the back of Isaac's head, and savoured the minute tickling sensation of Isaac breathing. Then he laughed when Isaac slowly made his way down to one side, mouthing.
"Hungry, yeah?" he said, feeling the tear slid down. "You better go to mummy."
Ellen wept openly as she held Isaac.
"Oh, praise God, praise God," she whispered, facing the ceiling and clutching Isaac. Then she looked down, her eyes overflowing with tears, and kissed Isaac's head. "Hi baby."
There was a lot of crying when the Small Group reconvened early that day to celebrate.
"Your child is seriously God-blessed," Becky declared, drawing a large circle with her hand and then pointing for emphasis. "If Ellen didn't have the foresight to talk to her midwife … if Greg didn't know he had a rare blood type … if Julia wasn't there to contact everyone … if John didn't know all those people who had the same rare blood type as Greg … I mean, Isaac only made it because everything worked so perfectly together. If this isn't a miracle, I don't know what is!"
"It was so God-full," Ellen said fervently. "We came at the perfect time. The doctor said … if we'd come earlier, they may not have noticed something was wrong and sent us back home and he would've died."
She paused for a moment to collect her composure and brush away the fresh onslaught of tears.
"I knew he was going to be okay," said Ellen more calmly. "Even when the doctor said he might have brain damage, even when no one could tell me if he was going to be okay, I knew he was going to be fine. I mean, even if he died, I knew it was going to be okay because God is taking care of everything, but I just knew he was going to okay one way or another."
-oo00oo-
All of the Weasleys came to visit the day Isaac came home, including Arthur and Molly's two eldest, Bill and Charlie.
"Thought you two lived overseas," said Lestrade after shaking their hands.
"We came back home for the World Cup finals," said Bill. "I wish I came earlier. I would've donated blood, too."
"Me too, and I wouldn't have passed out," said Charlie, grinning.
Lestrade was able to take a good look at the entire clan while everyone oohed and aahed over Isaac. There were seven kids in total, six boys and a girl (Lestrade felt a ridiculous sense of competitiveness against Arthur for one-upping on him). Three of the boys were built like Arthur, who was tall and lanky, and the other three boys (which included a pair of identical twins) took after their mother, who was short and stocky. Everyone had freckles and red hair, though Arthur's temples were grey and there were streaks of silver in Molly's hair.
Lestrade was about to pass over Arthur and Molly's grey hairs until he noticed Percy—the tall one with short hair wearing horn-rimmed glasses—had several white hairs peeking through the bright ginger.
"Did your hair turned grey after giving blood?" Lestrade asked in a low voice.
"Well, I only notice the greys about two days afterwards," said Arthur, rubbing his neck. "I didn't think much about it because I was expecting it to happen sooner or later. But Molly started to worry when Percy sprouted white hairs, too, so we all took a trip to St. Mungo's. We lucked out. Remember Robert Dongyi Ju? He started working at St. Mungo's since this week. He checked us and gave us a clean bill of health."
"What did he say about the white hairs?"
"Mmm, something about a person gives away a bit of their life when they give someone else their blood," said Arthur, frowning in concentration. "I didn't quite understand what he meant by that, but … apparently when a witch or a wizard donates blood, they often manifest white hairs, which is their magic's way of representing the life that was drained out."
Lestrade rain a hand through his almost entirely white hair.
"Makes intuitive sense, I suppose."
The sea of visitors was now taking turns holding Isaac. As though apologising for the fuss he raised over his birth, he remained remarkably calm as he was passed from one person to the next.
"C'mon, Percy, you should hold him at least once!" said one of the twins, after handing Isaac back to Lestrade.
Percy looked deeply reluctant as Lestrade approached.
"He's not a bomb, you know," said Lestrade. "Just the boy you saved. Thank you so much, by the way."
Percy hesitantly reached out as he said stiffly: "You're welcome."
"He'll be as comfortable as you are," said Lestrade, passing the baby over. "Just make sure you're supporting his neck."
"Yes, sir," said Percy, taking Isaac in manner that suggested he was handling volatile and explosive material.
Everyone sniggered as Percy just stood there, stiff and awkward, with Isaac snuffling against his chest.
"Ooooh, you're a natural, Percy," cooed Molly. "Look how comfortable he is."
"He likes the man-hands," said Ellen as she took a picture.
Percy flew into panic when Isaac started to whimper and squirm.
"Why is he doing this? I didn't do anything wrong!" he exclaimed.
"He's just tired," said Ellen kindly, taking Isaac back. "He had a long day."
"Having a new baby would make going to the Quidditch World Cup very difficult, wouldn't it?" said Molly.
"Yeah, I was expecting him to pop out three weeks later," said Lestrade. "It's going to be many sleepless nights and dirty nappies from now on. I need to stay."
"You can go," said Ellen, patting Isaac's back.
"Nah, I want to say at home," said Lestrade firmly. "Arthur, you can have my ticket, if you want it."
"I'm well set," said Arthur, smiling. "What about Julia and the others? I can take them with my brood, if you like."
"My brothers-in-law are taking them, but thanks for offering. You met them before, yeah?"
Right on cue, Jeremy and Jason made their presence known. Bill and Charlie recognised them immediately.
"The Shin brothers," Charlie breathed, "Never thought I'd see you two here."
Jason wiggled his fingers and Jeremy beamed in an overtly friendly way.
"Quidditch star and our old Head Boy; charmed," drawled Jeremy.
"I heard your old house lost its winning streak for the last three years. The quality of Slytherins must've gone further downhill since you left," said Charlie beaming in a cheeky but good-natured way.
"One could argue Gryffindor's current winning streak is only propped up by a certain famous someone, and not because of any improved quality of its members," Jeremy shot back. "If I led Slytherin, we would've had a different story."
"But you're not in Hogwarts anymore," said Bill. "And how can you be so sure?"
"Winning against your old house is easy," said Jeremy haughtily. "Your lot is all will and passion, but no winning strategy."
"Jeremy," said Jason, frowning, as the twins, Ron and Ginny rose up in anger.
"I'm just saying," said Jeremy, shrugging his shoulders artfully before putting on a deeply contrite face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up old rivalries. Even if I was still a student, I wouldn't have begrudged Gryffindor's win at all—you've worked hard for it."
Those words mollified the Weasley children, but Jason continued to regard his brother with a stern and forbidding expression. Lestrade never realised this before, but Jason looked alarmingly like his father when he was serious.
At any rate, Lestrade had enough of the unexpected demonstration of Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry.
"Sorry, but visiting hours are over," said Lestrade. "I'm really sorry, but Isaac needs his bottle and nap."
"I'm sorry you can't go," said Arthur as his family prepared to depart. "Perhaps I could record it? I know how to use a redeo vicorder now…"
"Nah, I'm good," said Lestrade. "My sister-in-law is working on something. I have no idea what she's doing, but she mentioned something about a magical alternative to video streaming."
Ron and Jeremy perked up when he said that.
"She found a way to stream the game live?" asked Ron.
"I guess?" said Lestrade. "She said give her another week, and I'll be able to watch it like I was there."
A shrewd, calculating look flashed across Jeremy's face.
"What are you up to?" asked Lestrade suspiciously.
"Just had an idea," said Jeremy, smiling in a disarming way. "Don't worry. I'm not plotting to take over the world. Ron and I take care of the business side of Jackie's enterprise, and bless her, she rarely realises how profitable her inventions can be. MMN, case in point."
Lestrade couldn't argue against that. "And the streaming spell she's working on is the other example? How? Wizards don't have telly."
"We don't need it," said Jeremy patiently. "Just you wait."
Jeremy left after bidding everyone farewell and promising to send an Owl to Ron later. Jason followed him.
"So you work with him, huh?" said Bill to his youngest brother. "How is he like?"
"He's decent," said Ron, scratching his head. "I didn't know he used to be in Slytherin. But it makes sense. He has that cunning thing."
"He is that," Bill agreed. "When he and Jason were still at Hogwarts, none of the other Houses could win the Cup because of them. Those two showed me what it really means to be cunning. They actually sat down and analyzed where you can gain the most house points, and then they organised the entire house of Slytherin into a point-earning machine. Jeremy coached all the younger students to target the teachers that gave the most points, and made sure they answered all the 'point-awarding' questions at class and at the clubs those teachers led. That automatically stopped any house from earning too many points."
"Jason led the Quidditch team," said Charlie. "His tactics were insane, but it worked. If you didn't stop him, he'd score three times before you can take a breath. If you did try to stop him, he tricked you into fouling, and he'd still score. Then he'd take a penalty shot and score again. It was crazy."
Later, after all the guests left, Lestrade and Ellen talked about Hogwarts as they watched Isaac sleep.
"I don't like the house rivalry," said Ellen. "Why can't they just put everyone in one big dorm?"
"It's probably traditional," said Lestrade.
Ellen hummed thoughtfully as she rubbed Isaac's tummy.
"Where do you think Martin, Rupert and Elise would get sorted into to?"
"Well Rupert loves imitating Julia, so he'll probably want to go to Hufflepuff. Julia said she talked the Sorting Hat into putting her anywhere but Slytherin because she didn't want to be in the same house as the Malfoy brat. He might do that."
"I can see Rupert in Hufflepuff," said Ellen. "Martin is pretty analytical, so maybe Ravenclaw. Elise loves dive-bombing straight into anything, so maybe Gryffindor."
"Where do you think you'd be sorted to?" asked Lestrade, smiling.
"I wouldn't be able to go there. I don't have magic."
"But if you did…"
Ellen shrugged. "I don't know. Anywhere is fine. What about you? Where do you think you would be sorted in?"
"No clue."
"I think Hufflepuff," said Ellen seriously. "You and Julia are exactly alike."
"Julia takes after her mum," Lestrade protested.
"Maybe her looks, and maybe her smartness, but her personality is all you. That's why I love her."
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: Isaac's story is based on what actually happened to one my closest friends (written with permission). I followed the timeline of events almost exactly and replicated what was spoken as accurately as possible (minus the magic-related bits, obviously). The baby Isaac is based on is currently a healthy and happy seven month old. Though on the small side (being a three weeks premature), baby E is hitting the developmental milestones with flying colours. I still have all text messages that told me what had happened and what was going on. It still seems very unreal whenever I read them.
I've donated blood in the past, though not recently because I don't make the weight requirements. The International Society of Blood Transfusion (ISBT) actually exists. I figured in a world that has magic, the possibly responsible chromosome would be discovered sooner or later, if only by accident. There are 30 human blood type systems recognised by the ISBT, including the well-known ABO and Rh systems. Most of them are named after the patient the antigen was first discovered. The fictional Magus system would be the 31st.
None of the blood donation related drama would've happened in real life. There are very strict guidelines to blood transfusion. Nothing is taken by faith and most medical practices don't do whole blood transfusions anymore (thanks Dream's Abyss for reminding me!). In short, BOC made stuff up for dramatic value. And to torture Percy for the giggles. I am a horrible person.