Petunia Snaps Part Eleven Meeting The Minister

JK Rowling created Harry Potter and its characters; I didn't. I don't own the characters or their surroundings; JK Rowling and Warner Brothers do. I do not want, expect, or deserve financial compensation for my writing. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

Petunia Snaps*Petunis Snaps*Petunia Snaps*Petunia Snaps* Petunia Snaps*Petunis Snaps*Petunia Snaps*Petunia Snaps* Petunia Snaps*Petunis Snaps*Petunia Snaps*Petunia Snaps* Petunia Snaps

Rated T for language and situations. I am writing for adults and older children. If the language and situations bother you, maybe you should wait until you're older.

"So where is this place you told the driver to take us?" asked Petunia.

"The Leaky Cauldron," said Harry. "It's off Charing Cross Road."

"Ah," said Petunia, "I've heard of it from your mother, but I've never been there."

"You know, Aunt Petunia, Muggles can't see the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron," said Harry. "If you need my help, I can—"

"I can see the entrance myself, thank you," said Aunt Petunia, and began briskly walking down the sidewalk towards the entrance.

Tom was already standing on the sidewalk and waiting when Aunt Petunia went around him and through the entrance. "Do you need a room, Master Potter?" said Tom.

"I dunno," said Harry, thinking about his aunt, who had just stormed through the Leaky Cauldron's front entrance. "We might."

"I'll hold the bags until you—" He paused. "Until Mrs Evans—"

"—Dursley," Harry interrupted. "Mrs. Dursley."

"Makes up her mind," finished Tom.

"Thank you," said Harry.

"I'll hold these for you," said Tom.

Harry gratefully yielded his shopping bags and walked inside. Business was light this time of night. He went searching for his aunt and found her sitting at a small corner table with a large cup of what Harry guessed was tea. His aunt was steaming as intensely as the hot tea in the mug she was holding.

"I'd spent fifteen years trying to create the perfect, normal home but nothing, nothing I can do is good enough for that woman," fumed Aunt Petunia. "If I had spent so much as another minute in that house with that woman, I would have struck her."

Harry's eyes widened. He'd never seen Aunt Petunia admit the slightest problem with Aunt Marge.

"I never saw any abnormal things before and I was quite happy not to," said Aunt Petunia. "They stayed out of sight and out of mind even when you lived under my roof. Now they're coming out of the woodwork."

That wasn't quite true, and they both knew it. Harry remained silent.

His aunt looked at him.

"Do you want something, boy?" said Aunt Petunia. "Then go get something."

Harry went up to the counter, ordered a hot tea, then returned to his seat opposite Aunt Petunia.

Aunt Petunia ranted all the way through her first cup of tea and Harry learned what she really thought of Ripper and the old dog's habits. He was surprised to learn that while she didn't like his owl Hedwig, she did give it points for being relatively tidy, so much so that she might give Hedwig permission to come downstairs.

Aunt Petunia still had things to say, stood up, and walked to the bar for another cuppa. She began a new rant about the neighbors, Aunt Marge's treatment of Dudley, and then went on a separate rant on how the teachers and staff at Smeltings' treated his cousin. She finished her second tea and walked up to the counter.

"I assume you take normal money," she said.

The Publican smiled and said "We do. Pounds and sometime dollars, US and Canadian. But we don't take charge cards."

"Can I use your telephone?" she said. "I left my cell back in my house."

"No, we don't have a telephone," he said. "But there's a little shop down the block that does. We have a mutual understanding and they let our customers use their telephone in a crisis."

"Good," said Aunt Petunia.

"Come along, Harry," said Petunia. She walked towards the entrance out onto Charing Cross Road. Harry had to move quickly to catch up with her.

It was a tiny storefront that looked closed but still had a couple of small lights on and someone who looked like he was from India working on his accounts.

Petunia rapped on the window. The immigrant looked at Harry and Petunia and let them in.

"We're from down the street and would like to use the telephone," said Petunia.

Petunia picked up the telephone and began dialing. Harry could tell by her finger movements that she was calling Privet Drive.

Uncle Vernon must have picked it up at the other end.

"Hello, Vernon? I'm all right," she said. "The car broke down on the motorway but I was able to get transportation into the city."

"No, he didn't," she replied. "The radiator hose broke on its own, no magic involved."

"Actually he tried to fix it."

"The boy mended the radiator hose, but the car still won't start."

"What? I told him to fix the d_ thing, and the car still wouldn't start," said Aunt Petunia.

"No, I don't know what happened to Marge's vocal cords," said Petunia.

"I don't care," said Aunt Petunia. "Marge went too bloody far, and if the boy did it, I won't beat him for it. Besides, he might know someone who can square things away and put Marge right again."

"Oh, there's somebody there now. Well, leave them to their work then. If they want coffee or tea, Dudders can serve them. The sooner that Marge is mended and they're on the way, the better."

"Where am I? I'm in the city," said Aunt Petunia. "A pub off Charing Cross Road."

"Well, it's too late to come back this evening. You've had a bit too much to drink and musn't drive. No, I don't want to waste money on a taxicab. I'll come back tomorrow," said Aunt Petunia.

"Put Dudders on the phone," said Aunt Petunia.

"Mummy had a breakdown and will return tomorrow," said Aunt Petunia.

"Mummy knows you're a strong boy and can take care of yourself," said Aunt Petunia.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Dudders. I love you and give my love to Vernon."

"Thank you," said Aunt Petunia to the store clerk. "How much do I owe you?"

The shopkeeper gave her a figure. Aunt Petunia opened her purse and extracted a couple of notes. There was also a tip jar, and Aunt Petunia put some coins there for a tip.

They returned to the Cauldron. Much to Harry's mystification, Aunt Petunia was again able to find the Cauldron's entrance without any trouble.

What was going on, he wondered.

Tom ambled over to Harry's and Aunt Petunia's table.

"The Minister would like to see you and your aunt, Harry," said Tom.

"I have no desire to see any sort of priest or preacher," said Aunt Petunia. "Useless fools in robes, the lot of them."

"You don't understand, ma'am," said Tom. "It's the Minister, as in government."

"Well, in that case," said Petunia. She rose from her table.

"Up the stairs, Madam," said Tom.

Tom led the way. Aunt Petunia gingerly climbed the stairs to the second floor. They were old and narrow, and reminded her of a couple of seventeenth century buildings she and Vernon had visited while they were courting.

"The first door on your right," said Tom.

Petunia entered the room. To her surprise, or perhaps not, Harry's owl was sitting on a perch right beside the door. The owl looked dubiously at Petunia. To her surprise, Petunia nodded at Hedwig; the owl was something familiar, howbeit uncomfortable, and Hedwig had done her a good turn.

The room looked very old, like something out of Tudor or Jacobean times. There was a man there, clean-shaven, wearing a proper grey pinstripe suit and bowler hat. He might have been a senior official at Whitehall, but the effect was ruined by a matching cape. He drew a wand, pointed it at the fireplace, and a fire burst into flames.

The burst of magic frightened her. She gritted her teeth and told herself to think of it as a fancy fire-starter.

"Good evening, Harry, Madam Dursley," said Minister Fudge. "I'm Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic."

Harry recognized the minister. In fact, he had seen Minister Fudge once before while he was wearing his cloak of invisibility. He decided that it would be wise to act like they'd never met.

"Good evening, sir," said Harry.

"How do you do," said Petunia dubiously.

"About two hours ago, the Improper Use of Magic Office received reports of accidental magic occurring at your residence at Number Four Privet Drive," said Minister Fudge.

Harry went pale and Petunia hoped that the Minister didn't note her gasp of fright.

"Upon investigation, ministry workers discovered that Miss Margaret Dursley had lost her vocal chords. She is currently undergoing emergency treatment at St. Mungo's and will be released and returned to Privet Drive after they have been restored. The procedure should be complete early this morning, and her memory will be suitably modified."

"I understand that you then set off on a drive," said Minister Fudge. "You then had some difficulty on the motorway. A broken radiator hose, I understand, and young Harry mended it."

"He fixed the hose all right, but he couldn't get the car to start," said Petunia.

"And you used an umbrella to conceal what your nephew was doing," said Minister Fudge. "I doubt that even a witch or a wizard with a sneak-o-scope could have seen what he was about. Your discretion is admirable."

"Thank you," Petunia said warily.

"I understand that you then boarded the Knight Bus and rode it into the city," said Minister Fudge. "Admirable pluck."

"The conductor said that I wasn't allowed to board," said Petunia, frowning at Minister Fudge.

"Technically no, but for some reason or other you were able to see the bus," said Minister Fudge.

"And now you're both here and you're safe," said Minister Fudge, looking pleased with himself, "and that's what counts."

"Madam Dursley, what do you want done about your automobile?" said Minister Fudge.

"Just move the car someplace where it will be safe from hooligans and I can have it towed to a garage and repaired tomorrow," said Aunt Petunia.

"Already done," said Minister Fudge. "Your car will be fixed and you will be able to drive it home tomorrow. We'll bring someone by the Cauldron when you're ready to pick it up."

"I didn't think anyone in the wizarding world was that good with cars," said Harry.

"Ah, but many of us have friends and relations who have friends and relations, young Harry," said Minister Fudge. "Some of those relations might not be magical, but they make up for it by being good auto mechanics."

"Madam Dursley, your car should be back in good working order and ready for you tomorrow."

Or someone's head will roll, thought Petunia. Underneath the smiles and bonhomie, this man was a scheming politician. He must want something.

"Thank you," said Petunia.

"In the meantime, I invite you both to enjoy the hospitality of the Leaky Cauldron," said Minister Fudge. "I believe Tom has a room for both of you to spend the night. You can ask downstairs for the keys."

Petunia and Harry both rose, thinking that the interview was nearing its end.

"And Harry, I would ask you to co-operate by remaining here at the Cauldron or within the bounds of Diagon Alley for the remainder of your school holiday," said Minister Fudge. "And please don't stray."

Minister Fudge turned his attention to Petunia. "Would that be satisfactory, Madam Dursley?"

"Yes," said Petunia.

"I do have a few things back in Little Whinging that I'll need for school," said Harry.

"I'll have someone co-ordinate their retrieval with you later," said Minister Fudge.

Good-byes were exchanged, and aunt and nephew departed. Minister Fudge sighed in relief. He was none too sure about which one of those two had performed the accidental magic. Albus Dumbledore had airily assured him that Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, had been tested in childhood and found to be lacking in magic. Dumbledore had scoffed at the notion of either Mister or Madam Dursley possessing magic. But sometimes, as Minister Fudge was uncomfortably aware, women well into their middle years began to manifest magical abilities even if they'd spent their childhood and earlier adulthood as Muggles.

Was Madam Dursley one such? He hoped not. Her sister, Harry Potter's mother, had been a member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. He did not want Petunia Dursley to fall into the wily old headmaster's orbit. She could make an admirable spokeswoman for Dumbledore's views, something Fudge did not want. And, perhaps even worse, she was a formidable harridan in her own right, and the less he had to deal with her, the better.