A/N:

Due to popular(ish) demand... and also a continued flow of story ideas, I have decided to continue my Harry Potter, Scourge of Knockturn Alley series... here is the second chapter in the story, hopefully more will follow soon! I have also changed some of the first chapter slightly (and by this I basically mean added one sentence) to make it fit in better with canon/the timeline I had in my head (which I have included at the end of the chapter to avoid confusion). I apologise in advance for the (quite possibly extremely wrong) Latin that has been used in places in this chapter... blame google translate, and my lack of spell-invention talent :P

Please review!


Mundungus Fletcher arrived home a few hours later than Harry that afternoon- he had no wrapped present, but proudly presented Harry with a voucher he had made out himself, which promised a very special present, which would arrive as soon as it was finished… and in the meantime, a gift of 10 Galleons of spending money for his trip to Diagon Alley the next day.

He then ducked out of the room briefly, returning with a muggle-style birthday cake in the shape of a wizard's hat. Next to it was a sorry looking lump of dough which he shamefacedly confessed to be his own attempt at making a cake. Harry poked at it a bit with a knife and managed to carve it into a passable mouse shape, which they then fed to a fluffy ginger cat which had just snuck in through the open door.

They stuffed themselves with cake for dinner and spent a pleasant evening discussing their 'achievements' that day, before Mundungus sent a reluctant Harry to bed, and slipped downstairs to the pub to celebrate his boy's birthday with a drink… or two…

By the time Mundungus Fletcher arrived back from the pub that night, Harry had long since fallen asleep. His precious red stone was stashed carefully behind a loose brick under the crumbling window frame where Fletcher wouldn't find it.

Stumbling slightly in his drunkenness, Mundungus perched himself unsteadily on the edge of Harry's bed and gazed fondly at the boy he had come to love as his son. Harry had fallen asleep with his glasses on again, so he reached out to slide them off, pausing as Harry stirred, sleepily aware of Mundungus' presence.

His fingers brushed the boys forehead, pushing back the dark hair where Harry's famous lightning-bolt scar was hidden and he sighed, getting up from the bed to take an anti-hangover potion out of the rickety cupboard by the door.

Tomorrow Harry was to meet a member of staff from Hogwarts who would show him round Diagon Alley and make sure he got the things he needed.

For several weeks now he had been preparing Harry for the role he would have to play. They had gone on excursions into the muggle world to learn the things Harry would need to know in order to pass as the confused, muggle-raised child he would be expected to have grown into. He had also been teaching him to perfect the wide-eyed look of surprise he would have to show every time he was confronted with 'new' magic.

Something very few people knew was that Mundungus Fletcher could be extremely organised when he had to be. A few days after Harry's birthday when he had received his Hogwarts letter, Mundungus had called up a few of his connections in the shady world of Knockturn Alley to make a trip to Privet Drive.

Petunia was having a lovely day. She had cleaned the house twice, been shopping for some lovely treats for her gorgeous Diddy Dumpling and, best of all, overheard an argument between the next-door neighbour and his wife. Would you believe it, the man had been having an affair with the secretary at his office- who was a man!

She hummed cheerfully along to the radio as she went upstairs with a small snack for Duddykins- Today was Vernon's birthday and they all would be going out for dinner together. The reservation at the restaurant was a little later than they usually ate, and she wouldn't want her little poppet going hungry.

She was just coming out of the kitchen after putting the rubbish from her precious little poppet's last snack in the bin when there was a smart knock on the door. She rushed to the door and opened it excitedly, expecting it to be her lovely husband. But the half formed 'Happy Birthday' died before it reached her lips as she took in the men standing on her doorstep.

At the front was a filthy looking man, a little older than her with straggly hair so grubby she struggled to determine the colour- though she was fairly sure it was ginger. She shuddered delicately at the thought that this disgusting man had touched her nice clean door.

The man, like the one accompanying him was dressed in a bizarre combination of clothing- he was wearing a grubby white shirt poked out from under a bright yellow rain mac (also grubby). He was then wearing tweed trousers and a pair of purple converses. He looked at her closely, then spoke gruffly.

"Petunia Dursley?"

Unable to form any words, she nodded, beckoning them to come inside- she didn't want these strange men to be seen on her doorstep. She resolved to get rid of them as quickly as possible before Vernon came home- he wouldn't be at all impressed with the odd turnout of these strangers.

"What do you want?" She finally managed to blurt out, staring in horror as the dirty man picked up one of the immaculate ornaments in the hallway and examined it closely.

"My name is Mundungus Fletcher. Yer migh' wanna sit down fer this. Don' mind if we invite ourselfs in." Having said that, he wandered into the living room, and Petunia had to stifle a squawk of dismay as he flopped down into Vernon's favourite armchair. That would take hours to clean properly!

The other man kicked his feet up on the sofa, leaving darling Dinky's chair the only one free. Petunia perched gingerly on the edge of it, careful not to sink into the middle where her little Cherub had squashed the cushions beyond repair.

"Righ' then," began the man, "I'm Mundungus Fletcher. Tell me, wha' d'yer know 'bout 'Arry Potter?"

At that moment, Vernon walked through the door. Expecting to be greeted with birthday wishes by his wife, he paused for a moment in the hall, before locating her in the living room. He strode into the room, singing happy birthday to himself, before stopping dead as he noticed the other men sat on the sofas.

"Who's this?" He grunted, staring at the men with narrowed eyes. "I'm not buying anything."

"They've come to see us about… well, something about Harry Potter." Petunia replied- "You know, my… nephew." She added at Vernon's blank look.

"Oh, him. What about him? We're not taking him- he's probably a good-for-nothing freak like his parents were."

"If yer mean he's a wizard, then yeah he is, an' tha's why I'm 'ere-" Interupted Mundungus.

"We are not giving that weirdo anything." Roared Vernon, before Mundungus could finish.

"Yeah alrigh' alright', jus' hear me ou' alrigh'?"

Petunia and Vernon sat, dumbstruck as Fletcher finished his story- someone- Dummleder or something- had tried to dump the Potter boy on them, apparently. Fletcher had found him left unceremoniously on their doorstep in the small hours of the morning on his way back from- well, he hadn't really been clear what. But if he hadn't decided to nick the brat, they could well have been stuck raising the little freak.

And now he was coming along begging to them because the boy was at the age where he'd be sent off to their freak school for learning more freakish behaviour, and this Fletcher wanted them to pretend that it had been them raising the boy.

"Not a bleeding chance." Said Vernon, as soon as the man had finished talking.

"I reckon yer should think abou' tha' a bit more Dursley- it'd be much easier than the other option."

"Are you threatening me, sir?"

"Course no', jus' a bit o' friendly advice."

"Then there's no need to consider, I will not have anything to do with the brat."

"Alrigh' alrigh', plan B it is."

A wand suddenly appeared in the man's hand, and he shot two jets of light at the Dursleys, who yelled as ropes snaked around them, binding them to chairs that had zoomed into the room from the kitchen. Her sweetie pie of a son, who had come down to tell his parents off for interrupting his TV program quickly joined them.

"OK then, they're all yours." Said Fletcher over the sound of Vernon's furious shouting.

The Dursleys cowered as one of the other men approached him. He, too was dressed in a strange assortment of clothes- a purple velvet jacket and green flares, with a flamboyant ruffled shirt underneath. At least he seemed clean, Petunia thought- his blonde hair was enviably coiffed, with not even a hair out of place.

He pointed his wand at Vernon, and muttered something Petunia didn't quite catch- Vernon's face went slack and his angry voice faded suddenly away. The man then did the same to her poor baby and then Petunia-

"Novum memoria eminens" he murmered, and she felt her own body slacken as her brain took pause to await new instruction.

"Concopulo eveniomemorium." Now, there was a sense that a section of her mind was melding with the man sat next to her, and the boy on her other side.

"Ausculto." Petunia's attention was riveted on the men in front of her. The one with dirty hair stepped forwards.

"On the morning of the 1st of September you found Harry Potter, your nephew on your doorstep when you went out to get the milk. He had this note with him." He gave Petunia a note written on a thick sheet of paper in iridescent black ink.

'Dear Petunia Dursley and family,

I t is my regretful duty to inform you that your sister and her husband were killed earlier this evening.

They had been involved in a war waging in the wizarding world against the dark wizard Lord Voldemort, who sought to eradicate muggles and muggleborn witches and wizards.

Last night, Lord Voldemort managed to break the protective enchantments on their house, and broke in where he killed them both. However, for reasons which I have not yet entirely fathomed, he was unable to kill young Harry. The curse he used on Harry was turned back on him, and appears to have killed him instead. This has made Harry extremely famous amongst the witches and wizards of the light, and puts him in great danger of attack from Dark witches and wizards.

It is for this reason that I must ask you to take him in and raise him as your own- through your relation to his Mother, you share Harry's blood. Using this connection it will be possible to place a magical protection on your house to ensure that none who wish him ill can find him. I must reassure you that this protection will also extend to your own family, should someone come looking for the child.

This magical protection will expire on Harry's 17th birthday, until which time he must reside here for at least a few weeks each year- long enough that he considers this house to be his home. If this condition is not met, it would put both him and the rest of your family in danger. Many people will assume that he has been sent to live with you, and may try to seek you out to gain some knowledge of his whereabouts. This arrangement will protect you and your family just as much as it protects Harry.

May I offer my most sincere condolences on the death of your sister.

Sincerely,
Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
(Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards, Chocolate Frog card No. 136)'

With shaking hands, Petunia passed the letter on to her husband who read it through, his face reddening as he read. Fletcher spoke again as he finished the letter.

"You took the boy, and raised him. This is now the truth. Hoc est autum verum."

Petunia suddenly felt a strange rush as her mind accepted the 'memory' and fabricated new memories as a result of it. The blond man stepped forward again and raised his wand, swirling it in a loop to capture the three of them.

"Prae se fero."

Mundungus watched with mounting anger as the life his almost-son could have had played out before him, projected straight out of the Dursleys minds. In their new memories, the Dursleys argued furiously about what to do with the boy left on their doorstep, eventually agreeing bitterly that they would have to keep him. The baby grew up with only the minimum of attention needed to make him look presentable, whilst their biological son was lavished with attention. Almost as soon as Harry was able to move himself around he was set to cleaning the house. Once he was tall enough to use the stove they had him cooking for them- that at the age of 8. All the while, he was kept in the tiny dark cupboard under the stairs and ignored unless he was needed, or had cried for so long he was hoarse.

When his Hogwarts letter arrived, they ran halfway across the country to try and escape them- convinced that if they could somehow stop Harry from getting his letter, his 'freakishness' would eventually go away.

Here Fletcher interrupted-

"When you were at the hotel, the manager who tried to give Harry the letter decided it wasn't right of you to withhold it from him, so he made sure to sneak a copy of the letter to Harry. Harry then managed to contact Hogwarts through the muggle postal system and arrange to meet up with a member of Hogwarts staff to visit Diagon Alley."

The projected images changed- Harry was punished for contacting Hogwarts behind the Dursleys' backs with several weeks spent in his cupboard with nothing but meagre amounts of cereal to eat and water to drink- the Dursleys were now hoping that if he was weak enough he would be unable to perform magic and be kicked out of the school. That would be a problem- though skinny, Harry was far healthier than he would have looked coming from a life with the Dursleys- and Mundungus was not prepared to starve his boy just to make a cover story.

"A neighbour noticed the boy was looking rather too thin and commented on it to you. After that you made sure to feed him better." His voice was little more than a growl.

Harry was still in the cupboard though- and as if to compensate for having to feed him, the tiny space was stripped of anything non-essential. Harry was made to spend nearly 24 hours a day in near-complete darkness, with nothing but a mattress on the floor, a ragged blanket and a pillow with half the stuffing hanging out.

The blond man quietly performed one last spell to cause the Dursleys to continue constructing mutual memories of Harry living with them, and then stepped back.

His hand shaking with such anger he could barely hold him wand straight, Mundungus knocked out the Dursleys with a stunning curse and propped them up in their chairs, arranging them as if they had just been watching television.

He cut a large chunk of hair from each of them, sealing them in small plastic bags he had bought in a muggle shop. As a final measure, he placed an undetectable charm on the doormat as he walked out the door to severely trip anyone by the name of Dursley who walked across it- hopefully there would be more than one trip-each- to casualty before they got rid of it.

The next few days passed in a blur of memory charms and the careful construction of a virtually watertight backstory for the boy-who-lived. They visited the homes of the teachers he would have had in school, the pupils he would have been in classes with, the neighbours on his street- even a few cashiers from the nearest supermarket, so that all of them would be able to remember the young dark-haired boy who lived with the Dursleys (or, as many knew them, 'that snobby family down the street with the massive kid.')

The hardest person to find was the manager from the hotel who had, supposedly been instrumental in getting Harry his Hogwarts letter. He had long since moved on from work in the hotel, and after a long and incredibly dull paper trail, they found him working as a janitor at a youth camp in the New Forest. Their work was complete.

The morning he had arranged to meet the person from Hogwarts, Harry woke up with light pouring through the cracked shutters on the window- as usual. His Dad was still passed out on his own bed, an empty flask of anti-hangover potion sat right next to the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey on the shelf over his bed- as usual. Being careful to keep quiet, he wriggled the loose brick out from under the windowsill- sure enough, his magic stone was still safely tucked away where he'd left it- as usual.

Grinning, he put the brick back and rolled out of bed. His feet thumped on the floor, causing Mundungus to snort in surprise before rolling over and continuing to sleep. Harry went into their small bathroom and got in the shower. He took his time washing, knowing that the groans and screeches coming from the hot-water pipes would soon rouse his dad.

He wandered out of the bathroom several minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist, and let out a shout of surprised laughter as he spotted his Dad staring miserably into a muggle coffee flask, dressed in a floral dress which was much too tight for him.

"Shuddup" Grunted Mundungus, "Take a look at this."

He held out the flask – inside it was a liquid Harry had never seen before- it seemed almost thinner than water, and yet it was a pale yellow colour that made it look like slightly gone-off milk.

"You gotta drink that?" He asked in disgust. "Why?"

"S'my disguise. It'll make me look like yer Aunt Pet-oo-ni-a" He pronounced the name slowly, as if it were distasteful to him.

"Go on then." Urged Harry with a grin. "Let's 'ave a look at you!"

Mundungus threw him a glare, pinched his nose and took a large gulp of the potion.

"Ugh." He shuddered, grimacing. "Tastes 'bout as gross as it looks."

Harry stared as his Dad's skin began to bubble. The too-tight dress seemed to let out a sigh of relief as he shrank inwards until it hung loosely off his new bony frame, the buttons no longer straining across his chest. His hair receded back into his head and changed colour and his eyes changed to a pale watery blue. Mundungus pointed his want at it and grudgingly muttered a charm which made it puff out to an immaculate bob which just about managed to add some volume to the wispy blonde hair. He now looked exactly like one of the photos of Aunt Petunia that Harry had seen.

"Get a bleedin' move on then." He barked- Mundungus' uncultured accent sounding very strange in the shrill voice of the woman. He picked up a large handbag and stuffed the flask containing the rest of the polyjuice potion inside it. "I ain't staying like this a minute longer than I 'ave to."

A couple of days before he was due to meet the person from Hogwarts, Mundungus had sent another letter allegedly from Petunia saying that they would drop Harry at the Leaky Cauldron, which she knew the location of having gone there with Lily as a girl- they didn't want any weirdoes showing up on their front drive- just imagine what the neighbours would think! This made it much easier for Mundungus to play his part as Aunt Petunia, because he could just dump Harry at the Leaky Cauldron and leave. The polyjuice potion was really just a precaution.

Harry scrambled to get ready. He pulled on a pair of muggle trousers (jeans, he reminded himself) and a top, both of which were ridiculously big for him, and followed his Dad out the door, casting one last glance back at the spot under the windowsill where his magic stone was still safely hidden.


A/N:

And now the timeline:

24th July (approx)- Harry receives Hogwarts letter (I tried to work this out by working backwards in the relevant chapter of the Philosopher's Stone, so it may be wrong... but for this purpose, it'll do!

25th July- Mundungus goes to dursleys. Sends reply to Hogwarts via muggle post (because Harry allegedly has no access to an owl) arranging to meet a Hogwarts staff member on 1st August

31st July- Harry sees Hagrid in Diagon alley and nicks stone. Hagrid still picked up the stone on the 31st of July even though he was not in
Diagon Alley with Harry because Dumbledore was anxious to get the stone to Hogwarts as soon as the protections were ready- which they now were!)

1st August- Harry meets Hagrid in diagon alley