Sorry to those who may have accidentally skipped a chapter because I posted three at the same time and the notification for chapter 3 came before the one for chapter 2, I'm just trying to catch this story up to the AO3 one.
July 31st, 1988
Tap tap tap
Harry burrowed further under the covers and pressed the pillow over his ears. If he ignored the birds, they would go away, right? He thought with a sigh, pressing his eyes closed and pointedly ignoring the noise.
Tap tap tap
"Go away!" He whisper-shouted at the window, shoving the covers aside. This wouldn't work.
Harry stood up again and opened the window, seeing a different owl had taken the place of the last one on the flower box. It was actually a very pretty owl, with white feathers in her face and belly and brownish ones on her wings and in a circle around her face. But Harry still wanted it to go away before his guardian woke up to the insistent tapping, and he needed some sleep himself.
"Shhh!" He put a finger to his mouth when the owl hooted as if it would understand him. It didn't do it again, so maybe it did.
The owl did pick up the letter on top of the flowers and pointedly held it out to him. Harry sighed and took it, watching the owl as it seemed to wait instead of flying off again. He jumped back on his bed and opened the letter, again only simply addressed to 'Harry Potter'.
Dear Harry Potter,
I read your last book today because Pansy wouldn't shut up about it, and it's really fun but I don't think it's true because you're supposed to be the same age as me and even if you have some super special magic, dragons are an XXXXX beast and really hard to fight, magic doesn't work on them as easy as on other beasts and they have big teeth and huge wings and are a lot bigger than I am, so you're probably small next to it too. I know a lot about dragons, they're my favourite! And there's one in your book, so does that mean you like them? If you do, we could be friends and go to a reserve to see some, then I could tell you all about them!
Father says you're not going to answer because famous people get lots of letters and can't read them all, but I think you should read my letter anyway so I can tell Pansy you did and she'll be jealous. I'm not being mean, she did it first when she bought the book before me and didn't let me read it. So please answer me so I can know you read my letter, and tell me if you want to go see dragons with me, I'm sure father can take us, he can do anything, the other day I wanted to see a game of quidditch and father came home with tickets for a Puddlemore game!
Oh and happy birthday! I'll tell Cito to be even faster so you get my letter first thing, Cito is my owl and mother says her name means quick so she's the quickest owl around. I'll tell her to wait for you to answer, maybe give her a treat before she flies back since we don't know where you live and she might be tired from flying.
Best wishes,
Draco Malfoy.
Harry was still looking at the letter when the tapping started again, and he saw the owl- Cito tapping her beak on the wooden frame of the open window.
"Uh, I don't have any treats," He told the owl, looking around his room.
Even if the letter wasn't for him, it wasn't fair to leave Cito hungry, he decided. Standing from the bed, leaving the two letters behind, he went to open his door and tip-toe downstairs. The house was mostly dark, but the light in the kitchen was on, so the stairs weren't very hard to see. Harry didn't think to question the state of the lights until he stepped into the kitchen, squinting slightly at the light, and found himself under a curious look from Mr Wright, who was doing- something.
"Still up, are you?" Mr Wright asked, putting a large bowl down on the kitchen island, which had some packages open on top of it. Harry spotted flour and chocolate before Mr Wright spoke again "or did something wake you up?"
"Didn't sleep yet" Harry answers a little nervously, glancing around the kitchen. He knew he could eat, Mr Wright kept reminding him he didn't have to do anything to earn it, but he wasn't sure what kind of snack an owl would like.
"Well…" Mr Wright glanced up at what Harry figured was the clock on the wall before continuing "given it's already past midnight, I wish you a very happy birthday" he smiled at Harry "how does being eight years old feel?"
"Thanks," Harry said with a smile before shrugging "the same?"
"Fair enough" Mr Wright looked down at whatever was in the bowl and then back at Harry "it'll hopefully feel sweeter once this cake is done, I was planning on making it for breakfast but I might have to wait for Marie"
"A birthday cake?" Harry's eyes widened slightly as he stepped closer to the kitchen island.
"It's supposed to be" Mr Wright smiled sheepishly "but I think I've missed something. I don't suppose you'd know what?"
Harry tried to see what was inside the bowl and couldn't quite reach it, but suddenly he was lifted up by the waist and deposited on top of the counter next to an egg carton. The bowl had a brown batter inside but it looked clumpy and hard, not like you could pour it. Looking at his new sitting place, he saw sugar, yeast, and oil there too.
"I think you're missing the milk" Harry pointed out, having seen Aunt Petunia bake cakes before.
"Oh… right you are" Mr Wright moved to the fridge to get the milk, and once he added it the batter looked more right "wait, did you come to get something from the kitchen?"
"Um…" Harry hesitated, not sure what to say. He could ask for a cup of milk but he didn't think owls drank milk. Maybe they liked cookies? He could ask Mr Wright what owls ate, but then he'd know Harry wanted to feed an owl and ask about it, and he'd have to tell him about Cito and all the owls outside.
"It's alright if you want a snack before sleeping, Harry. Or some hot chocolate? I could make that" Mr Wright assured, and Harry felt guilty about wanting to lie to him about the owls.
It's Mr Wright's house after all, and… Harry didn't think he'd be blamed for the owls, not like Uncle Vernon blamed him for every little thing. Owls are their own animals and Harry can't tell them what to do, so there's no reason for him to be blamed for it. He didn't do anything freakish. He takes a deep breath before speaking.
"There's an owl in my window" He admits, kind of ignoring the offer even if hot chocolate sounds great.
"...what?" Mr Wright paused his pouring of the batter into a cake pan.
"Uh, there's owls. Two had a letter, I think they all have?" Harry fidgeted with his hands on his lap "I dunno who they're for, but there's lots of them on the tree outside my window"
"That's- strange" Mr Wright finished pouring the batter and moved with the pan to the oven.
"The letter says the owl needs a treat" Harry adds since Mr Wright didn't seem mad, just confused "what do owls eat?"
"Meat" the oven closes and Mr Wright starts putting the ingredients away "I think there's some chicken we didn't use for lunch in the fridge, let me cut that up and we can go check on those owls of yours."
Harry watched Mr Wright cut a few pieces of chicken and put it into a little bowl before asking to be shown to the owls. He walked up to his bedroom while Mr Wright followed and hoped the owls were still there, he didn't want to look like a liar. Once they came in, Harry was relieved to see Cito was still on the flower box, though there was another owl by her side with a letter on its beak.
"Oh my" Mr Wright blinked in surprise at the sight before walking a little closer "aren't you beautiful, can I take that?" he reached for the letter, but the owl moved away.
Harry walked closer too, holding out his hand, and they watched the fully brown owl move closer again and drop the letter right on it before hooting and flying away.
"Curious" Mr Wright pointed out, watching Cito, who was peering interestedly into the bowl "oh, yes, here you go" he pulled out a chicken strip and held it up to the owl, who happily gobbled it up. He then turned back to Harry "well, let's have a look at those letters then?"
Harry glanced at the back of the new letter, once again only seeing his name on it, before handing it to Mr Wright and fetching the other two. Mr Wright opened the third letter and pulled out a small piece of the same strange brownish paper he'd seen in the others, along with two coloured, smaller pieces that looked like tickets to something.
"What in the world is quidditch?" Mr Wright asked, putting them aside before moving on to the opened letters. By the time he was done reading, another owl was already on the flower box next to Cito "this is quite peculiar, I don't suppose it could be someone playing a prank?"
"I think my relatives would say it's… freakish" Harry points out since they're the only people he could think might want to prank him.
"Nonsense, it's simply very unusual, but people do use birds to communicate sometimes" Harry took Mr Wright's word for it since he'd never heard of such a thing "still, I suppose you're right. And training owls for delivering letters seems very time-consuming for a simple prank, doesn't it?"
"I guess" Harry shrugs, looking back at Cito as an idea struck him "I could answer it? And say I think the owl found the wrong person" his voice diminished as he spoke, not as confident as he'd started.
"It's a good idea," Mr Wright said, bringing a smile to Harry's face "There's no harm, and the Malfoy boy's letter did say his owl was waiting for a response, unlike the others."
With that settled, Mr Wright fetched Harry some envelopes and paper, while he grabbed one of his pens. The work turned out to take longer than they thought it might since more owls just kept coming after the ones already there left, and at some point, Harry leaned into Mr Wright's side where they were both working on the letters and ended up falling asleep.
Michael was glad most of his Saturdays rarely saw him in the office, given the letter business had kept him up past a reasonable hour. It did make for an interesting read, with letters varying from complimentary tickets to something named quidditch and requests for sponsorship to birthday wishes from people Harry had clearly never heard of, most of them mentioning his parents in one form or another, and thanking Harry for apparently vanquishing… someone they should apparently already know the name of, given he was only referred to as "you-know-who".
They did not, in fact, know who.
The whole ordeal was quite puzzling, to say the least, but their response letters would hopefully shed some light on this conundrum. Most letters had been from children, a few referencing some sort of book and magical creatures like dragons and mermaids, and some from apparently grateful adults and varied well-wishers. He hoped for at least a few replies if only to let them know the letters had reached the wrong person, but he wasn't sure how long those would take to arrive.
It should at least prove amusing to tell Marie what the leftover chicken had been used for.
"Comin'" He heard Harry's sleepy voice after knocking on his door. He'd put the boy to bed after he fell asleep on his side while they read the apparently infinite amount of letters the night before, but it was now nearing lunchtime, and Harry should wake up to enjoy his own birthday.
"Good morning, sleepyhead" Michael greeted jovially "ready to commemorate your birthday? We're leaving in half an hour to have lunch with the Grangers."
"Oh" Harry looked surprised but smiled all the same "thank you" he seemed to wake up fully once his mind processed the warning, running right back inside before coming back and smiling sheepishly at him "good morning" he answered belatedly and promptly closed the door.
Michael shook his head with a smile and went to find the car keys.
They met up with Jean, Hugo and Hermione at a nice restaurant in Kensington, and he watched as Harry took in their hugs and birthday gifts with a surprised sight of someone who'd probably never had a birthday party of his own. Well, he still technically wouldn't have one, given this was a simple lunch, but by next year Michael was sure Harry will have made enough friends to invite for a birthday party and he could-
Oh.
He was unusually silent for the rest of their lunch and, while the Grangers didn't question it, Marie's knowing look told him she might have an idea of what was going through his mind. Once lunch was done, they sang happy birthday to Harry, ate some cake - which Michael had brought once Marie was done decorating it - and took their little group to Kensington Gardens for a walk.
Watching Harry and Hermione talk excitedly, the latter pointing at the Peter Pan statue and probably regaling Harry with the tale of lost children and faeries from the known old book, only solidified his decision. Yes, he'd never quite wanted children of his own blood, but something in him felt he could never let go of the little boy he'd only just taken in. Incredible, he mused, how much one could change in a week.
"Mr Wright" Harry's voice snapped him out of his musings and he looked down to see the boy's hopeful look turned on him "can I get the book Hermione was talking about? With Peter Pan and the fairies in the garden? Please?"
"Of course, we can stop by a bookshop on the way home" he answers, and can't help smiling at the sight of the boy's resulting grin at the answer, watching as Harry runs back to Hermione's side.
Incredible indeed.
"I might need a hand around the house" Marie points out, and Michael suddenly realizes she'd been standing by his side this whole time "since I have a feeling your temporary ward won't be temporary for long."
"We'll hire some help, then" Michael refuses to get flustered by how well she knows him anymore.
"You're doing good, Mike" She assures him with a smile and a sideways hug.
"I hope so," he admits in a whisper, returning the embrace.
His decision, however, is not the one that matters, and he finds himself strangely reluctant to bring up the subject with Harry. His analytical mind points out it would be better to ask once the boy is more settled, probably in a month or so after he's been in the new school long enough to form friendships and is more familiar with their little family and dynamics, but it feels awfully manipulative of him. On the other hand, the boy just had his first birthday celebration and is likely riding a happiness high, so asking right now would be equally manipulative. He sighs, cursing his habit of overthinking, and decides to ask when it feels right.
His instincts had yet to fail him, after all.
Their return to the house comes late in the afternoon, given Hermione had insisted on accompanying them to the library to retrieve Harry's book and the Grangers could hardly say no to their little girl. A simple book retrieval turned into an afternoon of reading for the children, and Hugo shared with him his pleasure that his daughter had met someone as avidly interested in the written word as she is and thankfully near her age. Michael returned the sentiment fully, hardly thinking of anyone better to have become Harry's first friend in this new environment. The group finally dispersed by six, with Marie leaving them for an apparent date, and Michael drove back an ecstatic Harry in possession of at least a dozen more books besides the one he'd asked for.
They were barely out of the car when a hoot stopped them in their tracks, and Michael looked up to the sight of an owl descending on them, landing on top of the car with a letter in its beak. He reached for it only to have it raise its talons at him.
"Oh, Cito!" Harry smiled, reaching up but not quite managing to reach the owl on top of the car.
"And she has something for you" Michael pointed out, a little put out for not being allowed to take the letter, but he supposed it was a good thing the owl somehow knew to deliver only to the recipient.
"Can you follow us in?" Harry asked, and he realized the boy was talking to the owl, who incredibly enough nodded at the question.
He resignedly took out his keys and unlocked the door to the house, leading Harry and the unusually smart owl into the sitting room, where Cito landed on the centre table. Taking his time in locking the door and putting Harry's gifts away on one of the couches, he watched the boy take the letter and open it, sitting on the armchair to read it. A few moments later, Harry held it out to him.
Dear Harry Potter,
I'm very sure Cito didn't deliver my letter to the wrong person. She's the smartest owl around, plus there's no other Harry Potter in magical Britain besides you, and you can't be a muggle because father charmed the letter so no muggle could read it. I asked father if the spell could have failed, but he said it couldn't, and he's always right.
Father asked me to ask you who you're living with if you don't know what I was talking about. Does that mean the books really aren't true? I knew it, of course, but It would be nice to really know. Pansy will be disappointed, I'm sure. Anyway, do you live with muggles? That must be awful. Father says that if you give us an address, we could meet, and then we could teach you all about the magical world! Plus I could tell Pansy I met Harry Potter since she didn't believe you wrote to me, but I'll prove it's true and then she'll stop bragging about her new broom all the time.
I'll tell Cito to wait on you again since Father said you might not have your own owl to answer me with. We should get you an owl, the owlery in Diagon Alley has the prettiest ones!
Best wishes,
Draco Malfoy.
"What in the world…" Michael mutters as he puts down the letter, finding it too sincere to be some sort of elaborate prank, and yet having no idea what to make of its contents.
"What's a muggle?" Harry asked, looking up at him from his seat, an open book already having found its way into his lap.
"I have no idea" he admitted "but I suppose there's only one way to find out"
Leaving the letter on the centre table, amused by the owl's attempt at pecking his hand, Michael went to fetch a pen, some paper and an envelope.
This was the last chapter I had prewritten, time to get writing.