I'm here! And it hasn't been a whole year yet! Yay!
November 2nd, 1988
"Get down," Harry hisses up at Hermione while she climbs up one of the library's bookcases, their second try at getting a book they wanted but couldn't reach.
They would have asked Mr Wright for help, but he'd left a while ago after warning them that he needed to take an important work call in his office and Harry didn't want to bother him just for a book, so Hermione decided they could just get it themselves. Actually, she would get it since she's the taller one. They'd dragged one of the chairs from the dining room over to the shelf, but she still couldn't reach it, so she started climbing up the shelf closest to her feet.
"I almost have it," she's leaning to the side with the tips of her fingers brushing the book but not any close to grabbing it.
"You'll get the shelf dirty," Harry insisted with a frown when she raised her foot to climb a second one, "Mr Wright's gonna be mad," he's never seen Mr Wright get mad, not at him at least, but he's never left shoe marks on a bookcase either and doesn't want to find out if that's what makes him mad the first time.
He's been so careful not to break or damage anything so far, not wanting to test his luck, and now here comes Hermione climbing up stuff that shouldn't be climbed on.
"Got it!" Her happy shout makes him look up from her shoes just in time to see her hands slip and make her lose her balance, falling back with a yelp.
"Mione!" He tries to grab her, but he's on the other side of the chair and can only watch as she hits the ground and- bounces? "Wha-" she bounces another two times before the ground stops looking like the one in Cho's flying room.
He walks over to where she's lying on the floor, eyes wide and hugging the book to her chest, but she's standing before he can even try to help her up. "H-here," she holds out the book but it's trembling a bit, like her hands.
"The floor bounced," Harry tells her as if she hadn't noticed, since it sure looks like she didn't. Did he do that? He didn't feel like he did, he'd sort of felt it the other times he'd done magic on accident.
"No it didn't," she glares at him and pushes the book into his arms, "let's put the chair back."
"It did," Harry insists in confusion, "you'd get hurt if you fell from that high and didn't bounce. Did you forget? D'you remember falling?"
"'Course I remember," Hermione crosses her arms, looking down at her feet, "you won't, so leave it alone," she walks past him and starts dragging the chair toward the door.
"What?" He stares at her before putting the book down on one of the sofas and walking over to help her carry the chair without it making that awful dragging noise.
"You'll forget about it, you'll see," is all she tells him while they take the chair back to its place.
Harry frowns all the way back to the library, not sure what Hermione's talking about, but she didn't say she didn't bounce, just that he'd forget about it, but why would he forget? If she did make that happen, since it wasn't him, is she- "You're a witch!"
"What did you call me?" She turns to him looking upset, but why-
"You didn't say you didn't bounce, just that I'd forget," Harry explains, "so it was you, wasn't it? You're magic, like-"
"You didn't-" Hermione tries to interrupt with a frown but he doesn't let her continue.
"Like me! So you're a witch since they're the girl wizards!" He's almost bouncing in place, so excited about his best friend maybe being magic like him.
"Like you?" Her eyes go so wide she almost looks scared.
"Yeah! Here, I'll show you." He grins, grabbing her hand and forgetting all about the book they'd gone through all that trouble to get as he drags her up to his bedroom.
"What-" She tries to ask but is quickly pulled over to a trunk by the end of his bed, which he lets go of her hand to open and pull something from inside.
"Look, it's magic!" Harry grabs the book at the top of the pile and flips it to a page with the animated drawing of a dragon spewing fire, the most obvious magic he could think of at the moment since he didn't – couldn't – have a wand yet.
Hermione grabs the book from his hands, eyes wide as she turns more pages and finds another animated drawing. "I-I'm a witch?" her voice's shaky, nothing like Harry's excited tone, and it makes him twist his hands nervously. "I'm not crazy."
"Of course not!" Hermione's the second smartest person he knows, of course she's not crazy!
"I'm a witch!" She exclaims with a teary grin, throwing her arms around his neck and poking his back with the edge of the book cover. "I thought I was headed to the loony bin. Thank you!"
Harry hugged her back, his own grin nearly hurting his cheeks. "Now you can meet my magic friends too!" she let go of him and looked back at the book, closing it and noticing the title with a frown.
"Harry Potter and The Dragon's Bane?" She read in a confused tone.
He felt his cheeks start to burn at the reminder that he'd been reading the books about his supposed adventures and that's why they were at the top of the trunk. "Uh… there's a lot I have to tell you."
Hermione was the one to grab his hand this time, dragging him over to sit on the bed. "Tell me everything!"
A loud squeal followed by childish laughter breaks through Michael's concentration, interrupting his second read of the contract that had been emailed to his home computer. He had just ended a very productive call with his boss, closer to settling the employment issue than ever before, and was busy making suggestions and notes to the freelance-like contract they'd sent him for evaluation when the lively sounds reached past the one-way silencing ward on his office door.
Are they in Harry's room?
He stands with a groan, stretching his arms and shaking out his legs from the prolonged time spent still before stepping out of the office in curiosity, figuring he should probably check on the children and maybe prepare them a snack, he hadn't meant to spend so long on the phone so they were probably hungry unless they'd taken a break and decided to feed themselves, which is just as likely when it comes to Harry now that he is growing used to being allowed to eat anytime he wants – to a reasonable degree that is. Harry is, thankfully, more prone to snacking on fruits than sweets for some reason – though the size of the Dursley child does come to mind – and Michael isn't about to complain.
Exiting the office, he makes his way toward his ward's room to ask for their snack preference, their voices becoming clearer at every step.
"But how does it do it?" He discerns Hermione's annoyed tone as he reaches the slightly open door, "Just magic isn't an answer!"
Harry's following giggles do very little against the sudden feeling of his stomach falling, a chill of fear coursing through him as he opens the door further and spots the source of Hermione's frustration: a large plush dragon – supposedly an Antipodean Opaleye according to the tag when they'd bought it – with iridescent wings was currently flapping them and flying around the room in a display only possible through magic. Magic which he'd made clear that Harry was not allowed to show anyone who didn't already know about it.
"Harry James Potter," He subconsciously imitates the tone his mother used when he'd been in trouble as a child, trying to reign in the fear that this would be the last straw resulting in getting his ward taken from him. If he can't even get him to keep magic a secret, what business will he have raising a wizard?
The kids visibly jump at the sound, the giggles dying down from Harry's spot on the bed and Hermione's arms falling back down, no longer trying to reach the flying dragon looping circles near the ceiling. A couple of steps bring Michael closer to it and, reaching up a hand, he interrupts its path and renders the flight effect – which activates whenever the toy is tossed up in the air – dormant again.
He turns to Hermione in an attempt to mitigate the damage, not willing to discuss magic in front of the child who should not be aware of it in the first place, "Please go wait for us at the library."
"Mr Wright-" she tries, but he's quick to interrupt.
"Hermione, I need to talk to Harry," he warns, finally getting through to her as she gives his ward a backward glance before walking quickly out of the room, the door falling closed behind her. He lets out a sigh, stepping closer to the bed and placing the now inanimate dragon into the open trunk at the end of it. There are magical books strewn around, animated drawings broadcasting the existence of magic at every movement, and it all had been seen by Hermione.
Lord, what a mess.
"I'm s-sorry," Harry's slightly choked-up voice makes him turn his attention back to the child curled up at the head of the bed, knees hugged close to his chest as if to make himself seem smaller, the sight of it cutting through the fear for a moment long enough to realize he might be scaring the kid.
"Harry," he softens his tone, seeing no use in being harsh when time couldn't be turned back around and the mistake had already been made, "I thought you'd understood that magic was supposed to be a secret."
"I know," Harry mumbles, "B-but Hermione-"
"Will have to be obliviated," he explained, knowing they'd been through this before. "It's the law, Harry. I'm having enough of a hard time keeping custody of you without it being broken. I'm sorry that you can't tell your best friend, but-"
"She's a witch!" Michael is taken aback by the loud protest, and Harry's eyes immediately widen with fear, but he watches as his ward latches on to stubbornness even in the face of it and refuses to back down, "She- she fell from the bookcase and bounced, like the ground at Cho's! And then- then she thought I'd forget, 'cause it happened before, but I didn't so I had to tell her, she's like me."
The words Harry was saying took a moment longer to process after the fact that his ward was standing up to him – though in defence of someone else. Hermione is a witch?
"And you're sure it wasn't your accidental magic acting up?" He feels the need to confirm, glad when his ward uncurls slightly to reply.
"'S not, I feel it when I do it," Harry insists, "she's magic too."
Unfortunately, he has absolutely no idea what to do with that information.
"Alright," Michael declares, the previous panic dying down to an apprehensive simmer. "I'm not sure what the protocol is when dealing with children without magical parents, so- wait, why was she climbing a bookcase?"
Harry's previous worry quickly seems to return, "uh- she wanted a book up there."
He sighs again, taking a seat on the bed, and wonders at what age children acquire a sense of self-preservation. Was he climbing up furniture at this age? He didn't think so. "I know I said I had an important call, but you can always come get me for anything, especially if the alternative might get you or someone else hurt. The shelf could have fallen on top of her, or both of you, and that would be much worse than putting my call on hold for a minute or two, or even waiting until I was done to fetch the book since it isn't going anywhere."
"Sorry," Harry offered again, looking a little lost.
Michael offers him a soft smile, "Luckily, it was fine. Come here," he motions for his ward to come closer and Harry wiggles over to his side, letting him wrap an arm over his shoulder. "I'm proud of you," wide emerald eyes stare up at him incredulously at that with a quick jerk of the kid's head. "You should have talked to me before telling Hermione about magic, but I understand that you were excited. Still, you defended your decision, as you should."
"'M sorry 'bout yelling though," Harry mumbles into his side, hiding his reddening face on Michael's shirt as if he's never had a compliment directed at him before.
Then again, knowing the Dursleys, he probably hasn't.
"It's okay, though you shouldn't do it again. Still, never let an adult treat you in a way you think is unfair, not even me, got it?" He ruffled the boy's already messy hair.
"Mhm," he received a short nod in response, but it would have to do.
Michael stood up from the bed, "Well, just to be sure, I know just the place to go grab a bite with Hermione," he prompts Harry into sliding off the bed and back on his feet, "but you should probably grab a hat."
Having some butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron, which is supposedly invisible to muggles, should be enough to prove whether or not she is a witch. After that, he'll have to write a letter to Chang, since he has no idea what is the protocol around children with non-magical parents.
5th November 1988
Dear Michael,
There's hardly a moment of peace with you, is there? Thankfully, while British muggle-borns are usually introduced to the wizarding world on their eleventh birthday, there is no law prohibiting their awareness of it before then. Their immediate family is allowed to know about magic at any time so long as it stays between them, it's just unfortunate that Miss Granger's magic has never noticeably manifested in their presence but you are free to inform them of her status and offer whatever form of proof you think is best.
About your inquiries regarding the blood adoption ritual, I've corresponded with Dahlia on the subject and it shouldn't be incredibly complicated. It only requires five witnesses, and she recommended renting a Gringotts ritual room for the occasion. It shouldn't take more than an hour in its entirety and, since it has no direct core effects on the adopter, it will be safe for you to partake in. I'm forwarding her letter along with mine in the envelope and recommend directing any further ritual-related questions her way.
On the matter of the apprenticeship…
November 6th, 1988
"Harry, I've got something I'd like to discuss with you in the office," Mr Wright tells him once they're done with breakfast. It's a Sunday, so Mrs Fellowes isn't eating with them – Harry had memorized the times she'd be around by now and it was never during the weekend unless Mr Wright asked – and they'd just finished bringing all the plates to the kitchen sink.
His belly still makes a loop at the phrase, but he doesn't feel scared like he'd been the last time since now he knows Mr Wright likes to talk about magic in the office to be safe and it doesn't mean he's in trouble, "Okay," he nods, following Mr Wright up the stairs.
Even if I was in trouble, Harry thinks as he walks and remembers the last time he'd messed up even if it had been because he was excited, maybe it wouldn't be the worst.
"So," Mr Wright starts once they've sat down and then stops, moving around some papers on his desk. Harry thinks he looks nervous, and it makes him nervous too since he doesn't know what Mr Wright is nervous about. "Remember the talk we had about you staying with me?"
Oh, he looks down at his swinging feet, "I-It's okay if you changed your mind," the last three months were the best of his life, so he'd almost forgotten it wouldn't be the same forever.
"No, of course not," Mr Wright says and Harry looks up only to see him frowning for a moment before he reaches over the desk to take Harry's hands, looking all soft again the way he does every time Harry's gotten something completely wrong, "I'm not changing my mind, I promise."
He only nods, relieved but mostly confused, "Then… what about it?"
"There's a thing we can do called a blood adoption, Ms Chang told me about it as a last resort in case we didn't manage to find a blood connection between us or a good magical guardian," Mr Wright explains, "It's a ritual involving a potion," Harry was the one frowning this time but, before he could say he didn't want Mr Wright in pain because of potions again, Mr Wright squeezed his hand a bit and smiled slightly, "it isn't supposed to channel a magical core, so it won't be the same as last time, okay? It's not dangerous at all."
"When do we do it?" Harry asks instead, sliding off the chair and back to his feet. If Mr Wright thinks it's safe then he's not too worried.
Mr Wright is frowning again, did he get something wrong? "Harry, I need you to understand what this would mean. You know how adoption works without magic, right?"
"You'd be my- my dad," He stutters, leaning forward on the desk and nearly pulling his hands back to himself but Mr Wright just squeezes them again. "In the eyes of the go-ver-ment." He adds, remembering something he'd read in Mr Wright's office before.
"Government," Mr Wright corrects and pauses before letting go of his hands and motioning him over. Harry hurries to the other side of the desk, climbing onto Mr Wright's lap, and it's much better than sitting on the chair on the other side of the table talking about this. "The magic version though, would make it seem like you'd always been my son. That's why I want you to think about it carefully, alright? It won't erase your parents, I'd never do that, but I'd- well, be one of them too, according to the magical government."
It didn't take very long for Harry to remember the talk he had with his parents and reply, "I wanna do it."
"It's okay if-" Mr Wright stares at him looking surprised, "are you sure? I can still try to figure something else out, I just thought you should know this is something that can be done. You can take some time to think about it, Harry."
"Nuh-uh," he shakes his head, not wanting to risk Mr Wright changing his mind even though he said he wouldn't. He just wants to keep this, the hugs and friends and room and gifts, and he really wants to have a family, a real one, "Please?" he asks, because maybe it's Mr Wright who doesn't want to adopt him, but then why would he bring it up just to tell Harry he can't do it? He's not mean like the Dursleys. "Please be my dad?"
Mr Wright chuckles but he's smiling when he pulls Harry to his chest in a hug, "I'd be honoured to, kiddo."
I'm adopting a kid, Michael can't help but rehash the decision in his mind once he's in bed that night. An eight-year-old child will be entirely my responsibility.
Even though it feels entirely right, that doesn't mean the concept isn't a scary one. He'd never planned on children, never even considered the possibility throughout his life, which had been the deal-breaker in great part of the few romantic relationships he'd had before, and now he would become the father of a little one all on his own. How is this my life?
The fact that his impending parenthood – or at least its officialization given the fact that Harry has been living with him for a few months now – is somehow more baffling than the existence of actual magic probably says something about him, though he's not sure exactly what.
With a sigh, he turns over on the bed and tucks the covers under his chin. He would have time to overthink things tomorrow.
"And you remember all the words?"
"Yes, brother, just as I did the last ten times you asked."
"Well, then it should be no hardship to repeat them one last time."
"I willingly ask, with the blessing of our goddess, to be accepted into…"
Writing this chapter was like pulling teeth until I got to the very end, I'm so sorry for the wait. Hopefully, the next ones will flow a bit better. Also, I appreciate everyone who's still sticking with this fic as well as the more recent readers and comments, you guys are great!