August 8th, 1988
The issue with forgetting to ask for specific directions, Michael mused, was needing to take the time to locate where he needed to go, but also the difficulty of landing a parking spot once said destiny was reached, he noted a good five minutes after spotting the dingy pub in Charing Cross Road, between a bookshop and a record store, and circling past it a least twice in search for somewhere to park his beloved Aston Martin.
Michael was unaccompanied when he finally stepped past the worn threshold of the Leaky Cauldron, having left Harry at the office under Sarah's supervision for the moment. For the entrance to the main magical shopping district of London, it didn't look very impressive, with a dark atmosphere and shabby furniture, but for some reason, the small pub also felt homey, like a good place to put your feet up and have a good meal after a long day.
Mentally shaking off the urge to ask for a drink, he focused instead on the people in the pub. There was a man hidden behind a newspaper sitting in a corner and nursing what looked like beer while two older ladies in peculiar dresses were making their way towards the back of the pub, it wasn't a lot of movement but, given the time of the morning, he wouldn't have been surprised to find they'd just opened up.
"Can I help you?" a friendly-looking fellow asked once he stepped further into the pub, startling Michael from his observations.
"Oh, right, I'm looking for Tom?" He replied, having searched for a man with a nametag and found none.
"That would be me," the mostly bald man replied, wiping his hands on the side of his 1vest. "What can I help you with, young man?"
"I was told you would open the passage to the Alley for those who can't. I'm a squib, you see." Michael explained, sticking to the story that had proved convenient so far, even without proof to the fact or the contrary.
"Of course, it's no trouble, just follow me," Tom agreed with a smile, though Michael still spotted the pitying look in the man's eyes before he turned to lead the way.
Fortunately, he'd hardly associated himself with the definition of a squib before Mrs Malfoy explained it was probably the reason he could read Harry's letters, or he had a feeling he might take some offence to such a look.
Tom led him through the bar and out the back into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds near a high brick wall. He watched as Tom reached into his sleeve and pulled out a wooden stick much like Mrs Malfoy's, if slightly different in design, striding towards the wall and tapping a couple of bricks in random order.
"There you go, and have a good day." Tom wished as he made his exit. Michael was about to voice his confusion when the bricks in the back wall started to fold outwards into each other, slowly creating a passageway wide enough to pass through and revealing the most chaotic shopping district he'd ever laid his eyes on.
He took a deep breath and stepped through the archway.
Walking into Diagon Alley was tantamount to travelling at least a couple of centuries back and then skipping sideways into a fantasy novel. With their pointed hats, low-hanging sleeves, gowns and long cloaks, Michael felt like his work suit made him stand out more than he'd expected amongst the more old-style clothes in the bustling street.
The stores were something else entirely, he noticed as he went further down the alley, even what seemed familiar was completely foreign. Piles and piles of books proclaimed to teach from how to hex your friends to the history of werewolves - those are real too? - and what one could at a glance think to be a food stall had jars with pickled eyes and cut-out tongues. What had the apparent popularity of a sports store, with children hectically buzzing around in excitement, sold flying brooms of all things! Distracted as he was, the walk to the large white building at the other end of the alley barely registered and he only took notice of the marble structure once he caught sight of the creatures at the front in scarlet and gold uniforms.
Those must be goblins then, he thought back to Mrs Malfoy's instructions.
Michael walked up the stone steps without hurry and, when the short creatures at the entrance bowed, he bowed back before continuing past the burnished bronze doors and towards the large silver one. Once closer, he noticed words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
An unwitting shiver slithered down his spine as he was once again bowed through the doors, reciprocating the respectful gesture and stepping into the vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Browsing the nameplates, he soon found the one he was looking for and approached the goblin who didn't appear overly busy.
"Good morning Mr Gornuk, I would like to exchange six hundred pounds into galleons, as well as acquire some information," he announced, likely a little too cheery for someone who was about to lose a fourth of the value of their money.
"You can ask, sir. The money?" The goblin held out his long-fingered hand.
"How would one without their key go about regaining access to their vault?" Michael enquired while passing the required notes to the teller, not having asked the Malfoys given the last thing he should do is expose a child's financial situation to perfect strangers, no matter how informative they proved to be.
"A quick blood test can be performed, for a small fee, to confirm one's ownership of any Gringotts vault. If there is one, a new key will be made and all others will be rendered useless." Gornuk informed while hovering a hand over the bills before placing them somewhere behind the counter.
"Thank you, and would you be able to explain what are the advantages of having a Gringotts vault over keeping my money in a muggle bank?" he added out of idle curiosity.
The goblin huffed and offered a sharp, sardonic smile as he finished counting coins and deposited them in a beige fabric pouch, tying it up and reaching under the counter again, his hand returning with a rolled-up parchment which was placed by the coin purse.
"Here's the list of benefits and services Gringotts has to offer, feel free to keep it." Gornuk instructed, and Michael swiftly placed both items in the leather satchel hanging from his shoulder.
"Thank you for your service, Mr Gornuk," Michael added with a bow to the goblin, which earned him a parting nod, before turning and leaving the bank.
Fighting the temptation to explore every single shop in sight, Michael headed at a swift pace towards where he'd seen the bookshop, entering Flourish and Blotts with a one-track mind. The sheer amount of books gave him pause for a moment, noticing that shelves upon shelves lined the walls, from ceiling to floor. The books were of all sizes and different varieties, and almost just as many signs seemed to be posted throughout the shop to help one find their way. It took a moment to identify the history section, but soon enough Michael approached the counter with a few dozen books carefully balanced in his arms, nearly obscuring his vision.
Knowledge is power, after all, and nothing made someone feel as powerless as finding out an entire world existed right under their nose, with a completely different culture, customs and rules he did not know well enough to bend to his safety and advantage.
A glance at his watch instilled Michael with a little more urgency and he stopped marvelling at the shrunk and nearly weightless books - which would be returned to their normal state as soon as he unwove the tread tying them together - to hurry towards the candy store.
Better to have a little treat for when he inevitably turned Harry's world on its head once again.
The remaining time of his day was unfortunately spent in a less magical way, having arrived at the office by lunchtime and promptly gone out to eat with Harry in tow, who still looked too surprised when faced with the prospect of eating at a restaurant for his comfort. The afternoon, of course, was spent catching up on the work he should have done in the morning, oftentimes with Harry sitting on his knee and asking a plethora of questions as he'd taken to doing from the first day he had allowed it. Riding back home took around thirty minutes and it was enough for Harry to take a nap, which he was unfortunately startled from when Michael attempted to pick him up from the vehicle.
During dinner, Michael's eyes kept straying towards the satchel he'd thrown on the couch on arrival, hyper-aware of the books stored inside of it and testing his patience with all their might, but he held on to the routine for Harry's sake, feeling both of them would need this taste of normality to cling to once their dive into the magical world began. Once the table was clean and the dishes put away, nothing else was keeping him from moving on to the next order of business.
"Harry?" He called after collecting his satchel and held back a grimace when Harry tensed in his place on the couch before lowering the fairytale book and looking up at him "I need to talk to you about something, could you come to the office with me?"
"Yessir" Harry hopped off the couch and Michael was a little too preoccupied with the incoming conversation to notice the apprehension in the child's eyes and climbed the stairs two flights at a time, soon enough sinking into his office chair, watching Harry sit across from him a moment later "a-am I in trouble? I-"
"What?" He interrupted, the child's scared tone completely took precedence over his own worries and he mentally berated himself for not being clearer, noticing how this could look from Harry's point of view "No, not at all, I'm sorry for not explaining, it's just- we've got quite a… delicate conversation ahead of us. It's about the Malfoys and what they've told me" he assured, not wanting to cause any undue worry.
There would be enough due worry in their future.
"Oh?" Harry seemed to deflate in relief, leaning back on the chair instead of the tense, straight-backed position he'd held a moment ago.
"Well, remember when we established that you were a magician?" Michael prompted, to a nod from the boy "it seems we were nearly correct."
"What's that mean?" Harry braved to ask.
"It means you're a wizard, Harry" he explained "at least, that's what magical people call themselves, witches and wizards. Which is what the Malfoys are, and apparently so were your parents, and so are you."
"My parents?" There was an eagerness in his tone that nearly broke Michael's heart.
"Their names were Lily and James Potter, and I'm afraid the Dursleys lied once again when they said your parents died due to a car crash. The story of how they died is a lot more complicated. I'm sorry," he elaborated somberly.
"H-how did they die, then? Was it m-magic?" Harry's hands had a strong grip on the arms of the chair, but Michael could clearly see tears starting to form even as he looked hungry for any knowledge.
"The Malfoys told me a version of the story, but I bought some books that may explain it better than I could. I thought we could look at them together?" Michael reached into the satchel and grabbed the tied-up books, depositing them over the mostly empty desk.
"I- huh?" Harry frowned and Michael held back a chuckle at the adorable look of confusion.
"Just a little bit of magic," he pointed out as if it was a regular occurrence and pulled at the knot, untying the books and promptly having his desk piled up in now regular-sized tomes blocking his view of Harry. "I should probably have planned this better."
The slight chuckle from the boy made him smile and he motioned for Harry to move around the table, grabbing for the book he'd skimmed over in the bookstore and mimicking their usual office arrangement that would allow them to read at the same time. Opening Modern Magical History and locating the correct chapter, he settled in for an emotional read.
It was past midnight when Michael managed to put an exhausted Harry to bed, the redness in his eyes and nose just beginning to fade. He'd been quite overwhelmed and Michael was almost sure it was not only due to the newest revelations, given such a sudden change in environment can be rather jarring for a child this young in a psychological sense, even if a change for the better. At least in the end he had enjoyed catching a couple of chocolate frogs before devouring them and was asleep nearly as soon as his head touched the pillow.
With a tired sigh, Michael closed the bedroom door and headed back to his office, which was still filled with books, if on the ground and chairs rather than in their initial position. He glanced at the titles still remaining on the desk: Legislative Guide to the Proper Use of Magic, Magical Misdemeanors and the Modern Law and A Legal Compendium 198 were a few of the titles in the small pile, but given the subject of the evening, he reached for Unforgivable Curses and Their Legal Implications instead, grabbing a notepad and a pen from one of the drawers before settling in for a long, long night.
Tap tap tap
Or at least it would be, if he managed to get to it, Michael sighed as he stood to open the window to his office, letting the waiting owl fly in and land on top of one of his chairs.
"Hello, Cito, is that for me?" He reached for the letter she'd dropped on his desk on the way to the chair and, once his eyes were back on her, received the most deadpan look he'd ever seen on an owl as if she couldn't believe such a dumb question needed answering.
It took a minute for his chuckles to abate. God, he needed some rest.
"I'll get you some chicken in a minute, okay?" The answering look could not be interpreted in any way other than an annoyed if you must, but he took it as permission and proceeded with breaking the seal in the letter.
Dear Mr Wright,
Given our very brief acquaintanceship, I have found it prudent to extend an invitation to visit the Malfoy household with your ward, not only to familiarize yourself with the daily matters of a wizarding household but also to allow young Mr Potter to become more familiar with the magical world and all it has to offer.
My wife and I shall be very much pleased if you would join us for lunch on the 13th, and will be awaiting confirmation by letter so that we may provide you with a means of transportation, most likely a portkey.
I hope you will take the time to come and expand your horizons.
Sincerely,
Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.
Only after the second time reading the letter did Michael huff out a slight chuckle and shake his head in disbelief. Lord Malfoy? Talk about laying it on thick. If the blond expected him to kowtow to his every unreasonable request - and it was unreasonable, to visit through a means of transportation he could not control and arrive at a location he knew nothing about and with still very little knowledge of magic and its capabilities - he was in for a surprise.
Grabbing an envelope, some paper and a pen, he started composing a response.