Harry stood on his stool, furiously scrubbing the skillet from this evenings meal. Normally he would be half-heartedly wiping at the skillet and daydreaming, have completed washing all the other dishes before tackling the greasy mess. Today was different. Harry was thinking about what Mr. Carmichael had said, that everything could be made better if you just worked hard enough.

Rinsing the skillet, and setting it to dry, Harry cleaned the sink and put his stool away. He was surprised to notice that according to the clock above the oven, he had finished his after dinner clean up in half an hour when previously he took an hour or more to complete the work. 'Have I really been that lazy?' Harry thought to himself, remember all the times Uncle Vernon had called him lazy or a worthless layabout.

Harry hurried into the living room where his relatives were relaxing in front of the telly. He stood next to Uncle Vernon's chair and waited for a commercial break. Once the show broke, and a toothpaste advertisement began, Vernon glanced over at Harry who, remembering Mr. Carmichael's admonishment, kept his gaze up and firm while stating "I've done the dishes Uncle, is there anything else for the evening?"

Vernon had noticed Harry standing quietly and respectfully, waiting for the commercial break. He stood up from his chair with a grunt and gestured for Harry to follow him into the kitchen. With Harry trailing behind him, Vernon moved over the sink and rubbed a finger across the drying skillet and plates. Seeing that all was clean and in order, with the sink drained and wiped down as well, he chanced a glance at the clock to confirm what he already suspected. The boy had actually done his work without needing any prodding.

Vernon turned, and to Harry's shock gave him a nod and something that could, under the correct lighting and with just a bit of a squint, be construed as a smile. "Good to see you finally stopped slacking off." he rumbled.

Harry strove to keep his eyes on uncles, and responded "Mr. Carmichael said...", he coughed nervously, cleared his throat and continued "he said that I should work hard at whatever I have to do."

At this, Vernon did in fact actually smile "And he's right boy," he said, for perhaps the first time not lacing the word 'boy' with contempt or dislike. "I didn't buy this house by daydreaming, and slacking off - I work hard, every day." Vernon continued "Keep working hard boy, and you might make something of yourself."

Harry was stunned by Vernon's words. He stuttered a bit as he rapidly blinked away tears "I'm... I'm sorry for being lazy before, Uncle Vernon I promise from now on I'll work hard!".

Vernon continued to smile and stepped towards Harry laying a large, heavy hand on his thin shoulder. "See that you do. You've the rest of the evening to yourself." As Vernon walked out of the room, he couldn't help but think that finally, his nephew was taking a better path, and it looked to be thanks to Mr. Carmichael.

Over the next two days, Harry put his new found work ethic into fierce practice. He got up as soon as he was awoken by Aunt Petunia, no longer requiring the several attempts he previously needed. He prepared breakfast, and packed Uncle Veron's lunch at the same time, saving himself from having to drag out his stool twice, and wash the knives he used to make his Uncle's sandwiches. At school, he got to work as soon as the assignment was given, and forced himself to see it to the end without giving into the temptation to daydream. Once home, he set to his chores with a will and found out that if he applied himself, they weren't nearly as onerous as he had previously viewed them.

His efforts did not go unnoticed, and both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, while not affectionate, at least seemed to not be as hostile, or as exasperated by him.

Dudley was confused by this new Harry. Harry was supposed to be lazy, and useless. But now Harry was quick to finish his chores, and after confirming their completion, even quicker to disappear, either into his cupboard, or outside if there was still daylight. This denied Dudley the opportunity to point out his cousin's faults, and Dudley wasn't quite sure what to do. At least after school, he still had Harry Hunting.

Mr. Carmichael noticed Harry's renewed dedication to his school work, and moreover that he was carrying himself with a little more confidence. He graced the boy with a smile and a nod every time he turned in his assignments, glad to see he was turning himself around. 'Now to handle his cousin,' Mr. Carmichael thought.

It was Friday afternoon, and the students had all left Little Whinging Junior, when Mrs. Upton heard a rap on her doorframe and looked up to see Mr. Carmichael standing there, leaning on his cane.

"Afternoon Joyce," Mr. Carmichael began "Do you have a few minutes?". Mrs. Upton smiled at the man who had quickly become one of her favorite teachers and motioned for him to have a seat.

"Any trouble I should know about?" she asked, trying to read the lines of his face.

"Not so much trouble, as a bit of concern." Said, Mr. Carmichael, as he eased into the chair, taking care to ease his stiff leg. "Young Mr. Dursley seems to have trouble with an overabundance of energy, and I'm afraid that joined with his boisterous nature, that he may be setting down the path to becoming a bully."

Mrs. Upton frowned, and asked, "Have you seen him bullying any of the others?"

Mr. Carmichael grimaced and reluctantly replied, "Not during breaks, but I was headed home, I saw him chasing after his cousin, and it didn't look like a friendly game."

He leaned forward as much as he could, and continued "Now, I don't know much about that household, save for one of the boys is well dressed and the other wears his cast-offs - neither seems starved or beaten, so it isn't my place, but I'd like to talk to Dudley's father."

Mrs. Upton raised an eyebrow at him and queried "Surely not to accuse young Mr. Dursley of actions we've not witnessed?"

Mr. Carmichael snorted, and leaned back gesturing expansively "No, I'd just like to see if we can't give Dudley an outlet for all that energy." He rubbed his leg absentmindedly "When I was a lad, I was always running around kicking a ball, chasing after friends, just blowing off steam." He made a sweeping gesture around the school "It seems like these kids go home, and sit down in front of the telly - and that works for some I suppose, but I think Dudley would be better served if he had an outlet for that energy."

Mrs. Upton nodded slowly, her face pensive "I know his father, he serves on a few local committees, and he is a fine man, a bit loud - Dudley comes by that honestly- but well-meaning, and from those who work under him at Grunning's I hear nothing but good things about how hard he works."

Mr. Carmichael rubbed a hand across his pate and then nodded, "I imagine if I could get him to the local legion and get a snifter or two in him, I might convince him that his son needs a bit more fresh air, and bit less telly."

Joyce leveled a stern look at him and scathingly said: "Carol said your doctor advised you not to drink."

Mr. Carmichael gave a sigh and gestured to himself "I'm not exactly taking a lot of years off my life Joyce, and if it takes a dram or two to help set a young man down the right road, well, I can bear up under that sacrifice."

Mrs. Upton sniffed "Yes, Carol has often bemoaned the fact that her father has raided her liquor cabinet."

Mr. Carmichael gave a quick grin, and the years faded a bit, revealing the boyish charm his daughter had spoken of "Well if she'd stop stocking it with Macallan, I'd have to search elsewhere." He gave her a wink and stood up slowly "Luckily, the legion stocks it as well, so I'll give Mr. Dursley a call this evening, and see if he can meet me for a drink."

Later that evening, Vernon Dursley piloted his Range Rover into a parking spot at the Legion, just a few miles from his home. His secretary had passed him a message from Mr. Carmichael asking if he would meet him for a drink. As he stumped into the Legion, he could see it was packed, which wasn't unexpected on a Friday night. He eased up to the bar, and once he had the bartender's attention, asked where he might find Mr. Carmichael. The bartender nodded and pointed out a small table towards the back, where an old man sat.

Mr. Carmichael watched as a man who could only be Mr. Dursley made his way over. The family resemblance to his son was strong, and if Mr. Dursley was on the rounder side, he moved like a man who had once been very active, whose muscle hadn't completely gone to seed.

Mr. Carmichael stood to greet Dudley's father, offering his hand as he said: "Good evening Mr. Dursley, I'm glad you had the time to meet me this evening."

Vernon shook his hand, noting that the man was older than he had thought he would be, as Vernon had expected a veteran of the Second Great War, not the first. "Always have time to meet with a man who received the Victoria Cross," he smiled "and the man who finally got my nephews head out of the clouds."

Mr. Carmichael gestured towards the seat across of him and gave a wave and a nod to the bartender. "Yes, young Harry is a bit of dreamer, which isn't a terrible thing, but he needs to put his work first," said Mr. Carmichael, attempting to gauge Mr. Dursley's attitude towards his nephew.

Vernon gave a short nod "Whatever speech you gave the boy worked far better than my efforts," he said "I've spent the past few years telling him he needed to work hard to get anywhere in life, but I was afraid he was going down the same road as his parents until this week."

The bartender approached the table, and set down a bottle of Macallan and two snifters, and departed without a word.

Pouring each of them a dram, Mr. Carmichael asked: "If you don't mind, what is the story behind his parents?"

Vernon took a sip of the whiskey, and gave a sigh "His mother was my wife's sister, and I suppose she wasn't a bad sort, although she and Petunia grew apart in their teens." He frowned "Her husband I only met once, but I can tell you for certain that the man was a layabout."

Mr. Carmichael sipped his own dram and nodded for Vernon to continue.

"He came from money you see," Said Vernon as he leaned forward a bit, gesturing with his free hand "he and his friends were what he liked to call 'Merry Pranksters', when in fact they were little better than bullies." Vernon scoffed and went on "He didn't work, and when he and Lily died in a car accident, it seems that he had managed to drain his estate dry."

Vernon downed the rest of his dram in a single swallow, and said: "And so Harry appeared on our doorstep on the morning of November first, with a letter stuck in his basinet, telling us that his mother and father and tragically died, and asking us to take him in."

He leaned further forward and nearly hissed "A bassinet, on the porch in November! And no telling how long he'd been out there either, the boy was nearly blue with cold." He straightened up "Well, we couldn't refuse to take him, he is family, but I can tell you not a shilling of support has come from any sort of insurance or estate."

Mr. Carmichael listened to the tale, and when it seemed Vernon had run out of steam reached over and clasped the man's free hand. "You've done as well as you could by him - in my time he'd have wound up in an orphanage or maybe with the church." He let his hand go, and said: "I'm glad the lad seems to have taken my advice to heart, but I actually wanted to talk to you about Dudley."

Vernon blinked, surprised "Dudley? I know he isn't the top of his class, but he's doing well isn't he?" concern evident on his face.

"Oh he's doing well enough, but I think he could do better," said Mr. Carmichael as he not so subtlely refilled Vernon's snifter. "Let me ask you a question," he continued on "Your height and build, I bet you played rugby, yeah?"

Vernon took a moment as the conversation suddenly shifted gears and said slowly "Yes, both in school and later in college, why?"

Mr. Carmichael gave him a grin, the years dropping away "Well, your son is clearly your get, and I'd bet he would make a fine player as well, although these days the kids seem to prefer footie."

Mr. Carmichael drained his snifter and leaned forward as if to impart a secret "The thing is, Dudley is what I think of as a born athlete. He needs to be up and moving around, running, doing things." He gave a nod towards Vernon "You were the same way as a boy I imagine, but things are different now."

Mr. Carmichael leaned back and with a sigh gestured around the legion his point quickly becoming clear "It's the damn telly, no one turns them off, and the kids just park themselves in front of it."

Vernon gave a sigh, acknowledging the point "That's too true, lord knows I'm guilty of it," he glanced down at his midsection "and it hasn't been that healthy for me either."

Mr. Carmichael very carefully ~didn't~ look at Vernon's midsection and said: "What Dudley needs is to get out and get active - he's terribly restless in class and his work suffers, all because he has so much energy to burn." He refilled his snifter. "He has a natural sense of leadership about him, and I've seen him run around the play yard, he could be amazingly fast once he grows into himself."

Vernon ran his hand through his hair, and said "The problem has always been Petunia," he lowered his voice "Dudley's birth was hard on her, and the doctors told her she wouldn't have any more children, as a result, she has always been so protective of him, and I suppose I have as well."

Mr. Carmichael leaned back a bit, and thought for a moment, composing his thoughts "I'm sorry about that, you've done a good job raising your son, but I'm afraid over caution and overindulgence might be the ruin of him." He shifted his snifter from one hand to the other, "Sport today is different from both of our youths," he gave himself a depreciating wave "Even if mine was awfully long ago - today every sport has the kids in helmets and pads."

He took a sip as Vernon appeared to give the idea some consideration, then suggested: "Take the wife out to a few of the youth leagues, and bring Dudley with you, I bet between the two of you, and after seeing the sport, you'll bring her around."

Vernon took a sip of his whiskey and fell into thought. Hadn't he been captain of his rugby team? He had had good times and good friends and made great memories. Also, Dudley ~was~ heavier than Vernon had been in his youth, and it certainly didn't come from Petunia's side of the family, as he couldn't get her to gain weight to save his life.

He gave himself a nod. He drained his whiskey and stood up offering his hand to Mr. Carmichael "Damn if you aren't spot on, I'll talk to Dudley tonight, and drag Petunia out tomorrow afternoon."

Mr. Carmichael smiled and stood, shaking Vernon's hand and said "If you don't mind a bit more advice from an old man who was happily married for sixty-eight years, I'd say after your done at the fields, drop Dudley off at whoever is watching Harry, and take her out to a nice dinner." He gave a chortle and a wink "Just because you can't have any more children, doesn't mean you can't keep up the practice."

Vernon choked back a laugh, and grinned back at the older man "Too true." He chuckled to himself as he left the Legion, thinking about how much the man reminded of Petunia's father, who had shared that same wicked sense of humor, and air of knowledge and wisdom.

The following two weeks proved to be busy ones, as Vernon implemented Mr. Carmichael's suggestions, and Dudley found himself in an after-school football program. Harry continued to dedicate himself to working hard in school and at his chores and found that he had more free time than before, which he spent reading, often in his cupboard. When Harry had hesitantly asked Vernon for a lamp for his cupboard, so he could read in the evenings, Vernon had smiled - actually smiled! And brought down an old lamp that Petunia had deemed entirely unsuitable for the living room when they had moved in.

Mr. Carmichael found himself a guest at both the Langham and the Dursley households, having been invited over for Sunday dinner by both. His stories and general good humor made him a welcome addition, and the children clearly looked up to him.

Sadly all things come to a close, and Mrs. Smith returned from the hospital visit, paler and crankier than usual. Mr. Carmichael's goodbye the preceding Friday had been a bit tearful, but he had reassured his pupils that they would still see him around the school, as he had accepted an offer from Mrs. Upton to join the staff as a floating substitute and break monitor - all of which comprised a position she had created for the sole purpose of keeping the man around the school, as he was just too valuable an asset to lose, and Carol had mentioned how much more energy he displayed when he was working with the children.

And so time passed.