Destinies Collide

Bloodlines

October 15th, 1988

As much as Michael would have liked to have a quiet week before the day of Harry's bloodline ritual, it was sadly not in the cards for him. The business side had kept him freer than usual, a few of his contracts were passed down to other partners as he attempted to negotiate his exit from the firm with the senior partner, but Treves was holding tight to his metaphorical leash. He wasn't the most valuable partner, but he was aware enough to know he was up there, high enough to be left to his own devices most of the time since he had a habit of delivering exactly what he promised and never promising more than he could deliver. It seemed that the boss didn't want to see him go with or without a non-compete clause, and the raise hinted at during their last meeting only backed up his observations.

If those negotiations weren't time-consuming enough, he spent a good chunk of the week reading the books provided by Chang, when not exchanging e-mails with her about the content of said books, and dedicated some time to corresponding with Healer Dahlia about the ritual. They settled on performing it at his address, where she would be arriving by floo, and on getting Harry's done with before anything else in case a new guardianship opportunity presented itself and did away with the need for Michael to undertake the ritual as well. Chang did suggest performing it either way, but a couple of conversations involving the treatment of squibs in magical society made him wary of figuring out what kind of family would abandon their child at a stranger's door. He doesn't regret being raised by his ma, she had been the best parent he could ask for, but the knowledge that he could finally find out where he came from if he so wished had his stomach in loops every time his thoughts turned in that direction.

He'd also owled one of Chang's recommended potion masters to put in an order for Aspectum drops, the price had been steep but nothing that put too much of a dent in his savings - coming from a rich background already and not having much to spend his above-average salary on other than books and the occasional car repair had left him with a more than decent amount of money - and the potion would arrive in a month since it apparently took a long time to brew, something that probably contributed to the price tag as well.

Harry had, surprisingly, also been a bit of work. The kid simply adored flying and went as far as whining for a visit to the Changs, only deterred by a reminder that he had other friends to play with, Hermione would surely miss him if he spent every evening with Cho, and when had he last written to the Malfoy child? It worked well enough to distract him, but Michael really needed to work up the nerve to tell the boy no to those almost unnaturally bright, wide green eyes when they turned to him with a request, rare as it was, since redirecting his attention might not work the next time.

After such a busy week, the weekend couldn't come fast enough, and Michael almost sags in relief at the sound of the floo activating around the exact time he'd told the healer to come around. He puts aside the half-chopped chocolate bar - Healer Dahlia had told him to have something ready for Harry to wash off the taste after the ritual and hot chocolate seemed like a good option - and walks over to the living room to greet their guest.

"Welcome to my home, Healer Greengrass," he bows in greeting, earning himself an exasperated look.

Dahlia's second letter had been half-filled with a plea to drop the formalities and to 'stop writing as if you're drafting a wizengamot bill', which was fair when he wrote to her in the same vernacular he would have used when writing to Malfoy, and an explanation that while politics may benefit from tricky wording, the healing arts did better with clear and concise communication. She did go on to warn him that Chang had informed her of his 'condition' - he tried not to be offended by that and mostly succeeded - and that she would not look down on him for it, no matter how he worded his letters.