*Discontinued* No Longer

To Adopt Oneself

Era Damon White**

He felt the formal clothing encasing his limbs, slipping over his skin with magic to prepare him for this next occasion. It felt a bit odd, to be so constrained after fighting dementors for hours, but he had more on his plate than simply learning to fight, even more than fighting Metus.

Era had a world to renovate, a world where people could be killed for what they were, and had to hide away in forgotten pockets to achieve even a fraction of peace. He was first going to adopt himself to receive the seats officially that Harry possessed, and then he would attend the Wizengamot, though only as a shadow member. 

It would do him no good to be made available too soon, and he needed to gain their intrigue and respect. He watched the younger version of himself entered the dorm room, hair slightly damp and very curly, with intelligent green eyes and a properly fed body.

"Ready?"

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, "Duh. Are you dense?"

"Just asking. No need to be so hostile about it. Especially considering I'm about to adopt you."

"Shush. Just because I'm going to be your-our? son on paper doesn't mean we aren't the same person. And you are most certainly an idiot for not having realized."

Era pinched the bridge of his nose. Literally every time he met himself this happened, "Please, for once in our natural lives, can you just be civil?"

"Well, I suppose I could, but where's the fun in that? And anyways, it's not as if you don't already know everything I'm telling you. And if you didn't know you were an idiot, that makes you a nincompoop."

"What is it with you hurling insults at me every second of the balance cracked minute?"

"I just told you," Harry said calmly as he inspected his nails, looking every inch a teenager.

Era grabbed Harry by the bicep and pulled him through the portal at the same time he apparated to Gringotts.

Iliam was there, as expected. Era had messaged ahead to let him know he was coming.

"Welcome Era," he said, bowing halfway.

"Thank you. This is Harry."

"Is it indeed? Well. It doesn't look like much, does it?"

"Would you kindly stop referring to me as 'it'? I'm a person."

"Of course you are," Iliam said blandly, with an empty smile.

Harry rolled his eyes before composing his face and standing with perfect military posture. He held his wand in his right hand out from his body at a 45 degree angle, put his feet toe to heel and his left arm out to mirror his right. With a cool expression, he bowed from the waist. He raised his head then, meeting Iliam's eyes.

"Good Sir, please excuse my unforgivably impolitic behavior. I pray that given my lifetime before me, I can make amends a thousand times over to erase my deplorable rudeness in the instance prior. I pray your blade is sharp, mind is cunning, and that your pockets are forever heavy. I grant thee permission to use my given name, Harry, though I know I am unworthy of such beneficence," Harry said in perfect Falnock, making sure to use the proper accent.

"Young Potter, I forgive you for any stone you have laid in my path, with such an apology it is certain to be smoothed over. I grant you leave to call me Uncle Iliam, as you are very much my junior and soon to be sworn son of my well-met acquaintance, the Prince of Natural Life. I can only pray that the time spent companionably in one another's midst may ease our broken path and find true depths to our relationship."