A/N: Would you look at that, another chapter! You guys can thank my friend Tam for it.
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November 15th, 1988
Tuesdays aren't exactly the best day of the week to initiate a new routine, but that's exactly what Michael had to do once the owl carrying the eye potion he'd ordered arrived, a medium glass vial containing a bright yellow liquid in iridescent tones. It came with a dropper in order to facilitate applying three drops of the potion into Harry's eyes, three times a day, for thirty days, and completely convinced Michael that the reason some wixes might choose not to fix their eyesight is because of the sheer inconvenience of it. Still, for his son, he'll handle another change in his schedule.
He'd mistakenly thought there would have been some sort of change after the ritual, an indication from the universe that he was now a single parent of an eight-year-old, maybe a change in Harry's behaviour if anything, but had been pleasantly surprised that, other than now being addressed more as Dad than Mr Wright - as if Harry is taking advantage of the novelty of it -, nothing else had changed in their life.
Of course, being the boy's father through magic was all well and good, but it held little sway over the non-magical court and so he'd proceeded to forward the paperwork for adoption on the next available work day after the ritual and is currently waiting to hear from the judge. Only once his claim is ironclad - in the wixen world and out - will he risk starting to look into Harry's parents' will and his properties.
The second delivery of the day, which had arrived sometime after the potion, was a letter that reminded him of the need to appoint a magical guardian soon. Andromeda Tonks saw fit to remind him that they were due for a meeting about Harry, and her assumption that he owed her some sort of satisfaction about his son only served to cement the decision that she would be an unsuitable magical guardian. If she couldn't respect his authority, especially due to prejudice, he wasn't about to let her influence the child in his care.
It doesn't take long for him to pen a letter in response, equally verbose and empty paragraphs saying much but nothing at all regarding what she truly wants to know and informing her of his very busy schedule and that maybe they can have this meeting at the end of the month, as he is bound to have more free time then. Another fifteen days should surely be enough to appoint a suitable magical guardian and be ready to inform Tonks that her services will not be needed after all. Of course, he won't keep her from visiting Harry if his son agrees to it - they are family after all - but she had lost her chance to have any influence in his upbringing through her unyielding opinions and discourteous letters.
The letter does serve to remind him to look into the tutors' responses to his request, a good dozen envelopes have been waiting for his perusal for a few days and he figures it's as good a time as any to finalize a selection. From the wording in their letters alone, he discards a Yaxley and an Alderton, followed by Travers, Dowson, Bellchant and Miller after a look at their prices since Narcissa had sent him an estimate of the adequate price to keep him from being ripped off for it. Lupin - recommended by Tonks - seems promising but only covers Hogwarts subjects, which is of little use for someone hoping to introduce their child to customs and traditions instead, and a couple of other tutors in the same vein are quickly discarded. In the end, he chooses to schedule evaluation meetings with Farley, Montgomery, Prewett and Edgecombe, near the end of the month but with enough time before Christmas - or Yule as he's learned the wixes call it - to plan something that includes Harry's wixen heritage.
With that taken care of, he's free to focus on the work front. He'd had a meeting with his boss first thing the day before and they were slowly closing in on an agreement for his new contract, which would put him in a similar position to a freelance solicitor, assisting with the legal work on a flexible project basis. He would lose his right to the firm's resources for his pro-bono work, but the lack of a billable hour quota would be worth it to make time for his son.
On the subject of his son, Sarah had stared at him for a full minute after the revelation of the impending adoption before demanding a shopping spree with said child to commemorate the occasion, and it went unsaid that she simply didn't trust his fashion sense and hoped to remedy any damage before Harry became too used to it. Marie's reaction, on the other hand, had been a tight hug and congratulations, along with assurances that he would manage just fine and that it was about time for her to hear the pitter-patter of little feet running through the house again.
~
November 18th, 1988
Magic people's food, Harry decides, is kind of weird.
It's not always obvious that it's magical, they've got some pretty normal-looking stuff that tastes great - he especially loves Butterbeer, Fizzing Whizzbees and Every Flavour Ice-cream - but then sometimes he gets to eat at magic restaurants like the one Ms Chang took them to after they left the bank, a place called Perit Plate or something like that, and gets grossed out by stuff like stuffed Niffler nose, Bicorn stew - which is actually tasty but smells weird - or Flobberworm pudding. He hopes the fancy magic cafe he's visiting with Mr Wright and Ms Chang has something he can eat without making a face and looking impolite.
He's not so sure where they are exactly, since they'd taken the floo to the Changs and then again to Glacial Garden, but they step out of the floo into what looks like a reception room, with white walls and light blue chairs and couches, as well a couple other fireplaces besides the one they had to quickly step away from in case anyone else came in after them. There's only a big central door in white wood and pretty glass drawings of a blue tree in a garden that looks like it should be in a church or art museum, and he's so busy looking at it that he doesn't even notice the little house elf that pops up right in front of them until it squeaks out a question, asking their names.
"Reservation under Chang," Ms Chang tells the elf, who only nods and starts walking toward the big glass door.
The elf looks younger than the ones he's seen at Ms Chang's house, and it's wearing a white dress covered with a blue apron. It's all so small that it makes the elf look kind of cute, with the huge blue eyes and mop of black hair to boot, a little like a strange doll with very big ears.
When the glass door opens, Harry realizes the image on the glass is just a painting of how it looks inside. They step into what looks like a huge garden, it looks a little like the glasshouse in the botanical garden he'd visited with Hermione before, but most of the plants look nothing like anything he's seen before, and everything's a little bit covered in snow like it's been sieved over it all like powdered sugar, and the season outside doesn't seem to make a difference on the inside. It's obviously not somewhere they go just to see plants though, since they're mostly spread along the glass walls - he can't really see outside of them except for some tall, snow-covered trees, and are they even in London still? - and spread all over the room are transparent-ish tables with what looks like glass chairs, or maybe ice, making him scared of accidentally breaking any.
The plants, or their vines, sort of climb the glasshouse walls all the way to the ceiling, with bright lamp-ish flowers shining light down from where they're hanging up there. He already feels like he walked into a fairy tale book, but the coolest thing in the room though, which he saw as soon as the door opened, is a huge tree in the middle of the room that looks like it's made of pure ice, with small glowing dots floating around the top of it. Just as they walk by it, there's a small noise and Harry looks up to see a small branch of it break and float over to an occupied table where a witch moves it into their cup and twirls it with their wand like it's just a very cold spoon. Another look at the tree and he sees the spot where the branch broke from start to form a new one right away.
Something almost runs him over and he blinks at the floating tray carrying food to a table
Magic is so cool!
"Ms Chang, Mr Wright, it's a pleasure," he hears someone greet and realises they're already at their table, it looks like a snowflake and he wonders if they're all the same or different like every snowflake is supposed to be. There's a little silver bell in the middle of it, but when he looks around he spots one on every table he can see so it's not something someone else forgot.
There's a woman there waiting for them, wearing brown and beige robes and shaking Ms Chang and Mr Wright's hands, "and you must be Mr Potter, it's an honour, truly! My name's Joanna Dodderidge."
He almost flinches back at the hand suddenly in his face, but shakes it with slightly wide eyes, glancing around. Somehow, no one seems to have heard her saying his name.
"There are privacy wards around the tables," Ms Chang whispers to him as they take their seats. Harry's happy to notice the chairs aren't cold as ice since they look like they should be, but still pulls it and sits carefully, just in case. "No one can hear us talking, just like we can't hear them."
When he stops to listen, just to be sure, the only noises in the room are the buzzing of the little lights floating around the ice tree - are those the fairies he'd read about or a spell? - and some tinkling from plates and cups touching when the floating trays fly to their tables. Huh.
He wishes Cho was here so he could ask her about the lights and trays, she might just say 'magic' to mess with him but most of the time she did explain how stuff worked if she knew it, not like Hermione did - repeating lines from one book or other - but like she's had it explained to her before, too bad she's spending the day over at her friend Su's house. She did promise to invite her over when he's around one day so they can all play together, and though Harry's still not sure what to do with all the friends he's making, it makes him feel warm and bubbly inside that she wants to share her friends with him too. He told her she'll have to meet Hermione too - maybe even Draco, though he writes to his friend more than he gets to see him since Mr Wright doesn't really seem to trust the Malfoys - and he would have invited her when he had Hermione over if her house wasn't the one with the flying room. Hermione would probably prefer to read all the books in there than fly though, but he'd at least have something to do while they read.
The voices around him get louder and he tunes back into the conversation only to hear the lady sounding upset, "You can't do that, this is my life's work!"
Huh, I think I missed something.
Mr Wright only raises one brow at her, "As you've just told us, it's not your work."
"Oh, please," Harry doesn't think her sharp tone means she's asking for something, "as if this would have amounted to anything without me. She's a squib, she's lucky I bothered to invest in her silly little stories."
"These silly little stories, as you claim, have certainly been lining your pockets well," Ms Chang cut her off, "but it's no matter, the true issue is your use of Harry's name and likeness without permission, as we've already stated."
"He's a public figure," Ms Dodderidge argues and turns to him with a weird smile, wide brown eyes and raised brows like she's expecting something, "It's alright, right Harry? Don't you like the stories? Everyone loves those books."
"They're- I like them," he wishes he wasn't the main character, but the stories are fun and he has the whole collection - all four of them so far - on the trunk by his bed. "But- you didn't write them?" he should have been paying attention before, but from what he did hear it's not really her work.
She scoffs, "It's the ramblings of my little sister, I could hardly allow her to go against the Statute and release it to muggles. My editor revised it, of course, so it was at least worth something, and who better to star in daring adventures than our own little hero?"
The more she talks, the more Harry feels like he's dunked his whole body in something slimy like the aloe he sometimes took from the Dursley garden, "So we can't stop her from making them 'cause it's not hers?" he asks Mr Wright and Ms Chang, ignoring the woman. He knows it's rude, but the way she talks about him makes him want to find a place to hide.
"We can definitely stop her from publishing," Ms Chang assures, "You're a minor, which means that your questionable status as a public figure does not excuse free use of your name and image. We were considering other options because you've said that you like the books, but if you want them gone, they will be."
Harry's cheeks warm up at the realization that they're only doing this for him, to do what he wants. He looks at the woman again before pulling at Mr Wight's sleeve so he'll lean closer, feeling brave enough to say something but not out loud in case the woman decides to yell at him. "Can we make the money from the books be just for her sister instead?" He whispers in his dad's ear.
Mr Wright nods and gives him a small smile before turning to the lady, "Our work is done here, we will be getting in contact with your sister soon. Meanwhile, this is a request for an overview of your earnings based on these publications so proper royalties can be calculated as it's long overdue." he grabs a paper from the messenger bag he'd put on the chair by his other side, "I'm sure we would both like to avoid this becoming a warrant."
Ms Dodderidge's face keeps getting redder and redder the more his dad talks, and Harry wonders if magic people can explode like balloons if they get angry enough. He sure hopes not.
"She can't negotiate anything, this is my business!" The lady finally yells, then turns to him in a slightly softer and strained voice, "Harry, every child loves reading about the Boy-Who-Lived and his adventures, you wouldn't want to upset them, right? Think about this, boy."
He flinches out of habit at her last word before the sharp, hot feeling that had been growing in his belly starts to feel more like it's boiling over, making him look up at her with a glare, "I don't want you to make money off of me! You're rude and mean and- and I feel bad for your sister if you're like this. I wanna talk to her instead." he crosses his arms, trying to hide his shaking hands and looking at his feet instead, not sure what Mr Wright will do with him for yelling.
A hand touches his shoulder and he forces himself to stay still, but it only squeezes it a bit. "You heard him, Ms Dodderidge. We will not be doing business, and if you don't want us to come back with a warrant, you'll send that report in a week and pay your dues."
"And not a word of this to anyone," Ms Chang reminds her, "remember the agreement you signed."
The lady looks like she wants to yell some more, but just gets up fast - her chair almost falls - and stomps away instead. Harry finally breathes out, glad that there wasn't more yelling, and hears a chair scrape on the floor while Mr Wright's hand moves to his back and- oh, he's kneeling in front of him.
"It's alright, Harry. No one's mad, you did good," Dad tells him, pulling him into a hug that Harry's happy to melt into. "She was a nasty one, I'm sorry for putting you through that, I'll make sure to meet them alone first from now on."
He's not sure if he's happy or sad about not going to the meetings, but decides to figure out another time since he's just happy there will be no punishment for yelling at another adult. "Can I... uh- when you meet her sister, can I be there? She- she's a squib, right?" He thinks he remembers hearing that. "Like you? So she'll be nice."
He hears Ms Chang scoff and looks up from Mr Wright's chest, he seems to think Harry wants to get out of the hug - he doesn't but he's too embarrassed to say so - and goes back to his chair. "She's not nice?" He asks, not sure why Ms Chang made that sound.
"Oh, she could be, but it won't be because she's a squib," she explains, voice going softer at the end. "Not all squibs are nice, just like not all wixes are mean, people are just people. We can't be sure of their temperament until we experience it ourselves."
Harry frowns at the big words but figures she means he can't know what people are like 'till he meets them. "Like how Hermione's parents are nice but the Dursleys are mean and they all don't have magic?" he asks, just to be sure.
"Exactly like that," Mr Wright ruffles his hair but stops with his hand on Harry's head, making him look up at him through the mess to see what's wrong, "Huh. Your hair looks curlier."
"It does?" He asks excitedly, the bad feelings left behind at the thought of his hair changing and he pulls on a lock trying to see it from the corner of his eye. Ms Dahlia had explained that sometimes the adoption changed people's looks or magic, but since Mr Wright is a squib it might change just his looks, and he was excited to look a bit more like his dad since Mr Wright's hair is soft and curly when it's not all tidied for work instead of the straight-ish but messy hair Harry has.
"It could be the new products," Ms Chang says with a pointed look at his dad, who smiles sheepishly. She'd heard all about how Hermione's mum had given him some hair products and said Mr Wright doesn't know how to take care of hair that's not covered in gel every day.
Still, Harry hopes he'll look more like his dad, maybe his eyes too. People always tell Mr Wright that his eyes are pretty, they're this light blue sort of grey that's brighter and bluer than Draco's grey eyes but not as blue as Mrs Malfoy's. He would like it if people thought his eyes were pretty, and then they wouldn't be looking at his scar.
"Well, no use wasting a reservation, right?" Mr Wright says in a happier tone, poking Harry's side and making him twitch - it was kind of tickly - but also smile and nod to agree. The foods he'd seen in the trays had all looked pretty and yummy so far and he really wants to try some. "Is there a menu?" he asks, and Harry notices there's nothing on the table besides the little bell.
Ms Chang nods too, reaching for the little silver bell and shaking it so it chimes with a sound like the one his knife and fork make when they touch during lunch. There's a small popping sound and the house elf from before is standing right by their table. "Menus, please." She says and the elf pops away just a second before three menus appear on top of the table.
Harry searches the menu for anything he knows, but he's never been to a cafe, he'd never even been to a restaurant before Mr Wright took him, so the only things he'd recognize are things he's cooked before or eaten in the past three months, and he doesn't always ask what he's eating so the names don't really help. He does spot a hot chocolate in the middle of the funny-named drinks, though the menu says it's spicy for some reason. "Why's the hot chocolate spicy?"
"Hm?" Ms Chang looked at her menu before answering, "Oh, it's not very spicy, but it's got fire-lily powder so it's a bit like... sharper cinnamon, maybe? Makes your tongue tingle for a bit," she explains. He just shrugs since it's kind of hard to explain the taste of something to someone who's never eaten it. "I think you'd like the Astract Pie, the plum's sort of sweet but has a zing to it." She looks annoyed that she can't explain it better.
"How about we order a couple of different things to try, it's fine if we don't like them," Mr Wright offers and Harry nods, reading the menu again from the top to find whatever sounds the funniest or most interesting.
Later, when he finishes a cup of Boom Berry juice and it fills up again when he puts it back in the cup coaster, all he can think is, again, Magic is awesome.
~
November 19th, 1988
If Michael's being entirely honest with himself, after the whole fiasco the day before, he doesn't have high expectations for that day's meeting. He won't be taking Harry, and it's supposed to take place in a rented room at the Leaky this time, since according to Chang's recommendation they shouldn't give the woman they're meeting - one Rita Skeeter - anything on them if they can help it.
He understands the usefulness of going straight to the top columnist, it only makes sense to aim for higher visibility when they do decide a story needs to be told, but he's read the woman's past works and can't muster a better description than sensationalist gossip. He hopes to be pleasantly surprised, but won't be holding his breath.
"Dad!" The exclamation - doesn't seem to be of pain or panic he notices quickly - is followed by quick approaching footsteps and Harry nearly slams open the door of his office in a rush to his desk.
"Harry, careful," he starts to remind him but freezes in place once he catches sight of him properly.
"Look, look, we match now!" Harry's eyes are wide as his grin and entirely the wrong colour.
Instead of the dark emerald he had just the day before, they resemble the light blue he usually sees in the mirror.
"I- can see that," he mutters, surprise and confusion coursing through him. It warms him to see Harry so excited about sharing a trait, but he doesn't think it was actually supposed to be happening this way, or at least not this quickly. Dahlia had mentioned slow, nearly imperceptible changes if any at all, not an overnight switch of eye colour. Actually- "Is your hair curlier than yesterday too?"
Where Harry's hair was usually a mostly straight and unruly mop, it now seemed still messy but surely wavier than he remembered, reminding Michael of his own hair, and maybe even slightly lighter.
"Is it?" Harry shifts in place from foot to foot, his grin slowly falling, "'s it bad?"
"No, it's not bad," He's quick to reassure the child, "But that's- um, why don't we ask Dahlia if that's what's supposed to happen, just to be sure?"
"Oh, 'kay." He loathes to hear the disappointment in that little sigh, but he'd rather be safe than sorry.
With only a thought to the fact that he's never used the floo for a call, he stands and heads down to the living room. No time like the present to learn.
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A/N: If anyone's curious, here's how a corner of the Glacial Garden is roughly supposed to look like:
I have some other location illustrations, if anyone's interested let me know in the comments and maybe I'll add to previous chapters or on the next ones.
Some of the foods are based on one post or another I've read on The Monster Blog of Monsters, definitely recommend checking it out if you like worldbuilding.
... I'd say sorry for the small cliffhanger but I'm really not XD