He told Social everything. How his family either ignored or bullied him, starved him and locked him up for punishments, he even told her about the hanger he got for his sixth birthday.

He honestly had not much hope that it would do anything. She pursed her lips and asked questions, requested Aunt Petunia to show her around the house, and went as far as opening the little door under the stairs. Harry was dismayed to see it cleaned spotless and filled with buckets and brooms. Behind her back, Dudley grinned.

By this time both his aunt and uncle sported purple faces and he feared the worst to come when she left. Vernon said, "Lies! I do not understand the boy, his parents were bad sorts, involved with a criminal organisation, but we've been doing our best! We've treated him as if he was our own son!"

Aunt Petunia clutched Vernon's arm with white fingers. "Nature will always win, dear. You can't expect to make gold from garbage."

"Oh that's a little harsh, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, beyond caring. "They can do a lot with recycling these days."

Dudders choked on his sweet and Petunia sent him out.

"Well, I think I have heard quite enough," Social said, and turning to Harry, she held her clipboard out. "Sign here, please."

He couldn't make anything out from the expression on her face. Surely if she took his side she would be angry and spitting at his family? His heart sank. That was it then. She didn't believe him either. He took the pen she held out and searched for the line needing his signature. "They didn't make me sign last time."

"This is the first time we came here," she said, and pressed her pink manicured nail on a line. It was not. It figures, Harry thought. Uncle Vernon always said he knew people. He was not at all surprised that they had no record of him. "Sign there, by signing you confirm that you've told us the truth."

He had the urge to write something silly, what did it matter when it was only going to disappear like his past records? In the end he didn't. This was his final try and he was going to do it properly from his side at least. He signed his full name on the line, scratching it out in angry strokes, and the black ink glinted briefly. What was that?

"Thank you, Harry, you may call me Matilda," Social said, and signed her own name with a flourish next to his, Matilda Brown-Honey. Like his, her signature glinted gold before settling down and he took his first proper look at her. She was young, her face soft and smiling. Hadn't she been middle-aged before? "I apologise for not getting here sooner," she said, taking her pen back. "Due to some unfortunate bureaucracy that we're working on, my section can only attend to children over the age of eleven—we'll be amending that soon to include all ages under eighteen—hold your ears, dears, he's never soft."

Taking a wand out of her hair, she swished it, and a silver bird fluttered from the tip to fly off. Aunt Petunia gasped and Vernon sputtered. She clasped her hands over her ears and a confused Harry did the same. Directly after, a deafening cracksounded in their living room.

Harry knew that sound from school, the seventh years practically apparate to breakfast, the only group allowed to practice apparition in Hogwarts for two months a year. His aunt and uncle stumbled away—his aunt squealing—and Dudders appeared in the door to see what the noise was about, a liquorice string hanging from his mouth.

The newcomer was a young man with a wild mop of brown hair that could put Harry's to shame, and dressed in the most awful brown tweed suit. "Simon Brown-Honey," the man said to the room, and gave a sweeping bow before turning to So—Matilda. "You called, love?"

"What is the meaning of this!?" Uncle Vernon shouted before she could answer.

With knees suddenly knocking, Harry sat down on the couch, not daring to hope.

The man turned to Vernon. "Simon Brown-Honey, at your service, sir. Magical Social Services for children over the age of eleven—we'll be amending that soon to include all ages under eighteen—we've come to investigate a complaint. Have my wife not said?"

"Not yet, Harry had only just signed." She handed him the clipboard and turned to Vernon while he looked it over. "We are a secondary branch of Muggle Social Services, why don't you take a seat next to Harry, and we'll sort it all out."

There was something in her sweet voice that moved his aunt and uncle to obey. Ron had told Harry about the forbidden spells but he didn't think it was that. Matilda Honey-Brown smiled, and even aunt Petunia moved to sit next to Harry on the couch.

"You too, Dudley, dear," Matilda said, waving Dudders over. "Oh, not enough space, I see. This is a three seater couch? That will just not do in a four person family, will it?"

"On it, my love!" her husband called and slipped a wand out of his sleeve. He waved it at the couch—Petunia and Vernon cringed away—and the side next to Harry elongated, making space for Dudders.

"I'm not sitting next to Harry!"

Used to it, Harry moved to the end, and they all shifted one over, Petunia, then Vernon, letting Dudders squash in beside his dad.

"How lovely," Matilda exclaimed. "Now, I think we will all agree, this cannot be allowed to continue. You are a family and need to act like a family. Parents should not be horrible to children or there will be consequences. But we do believe in giving people a chance. All this love and devotion I've seen you display in the last half hour, Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, it all can be real if you just want to try. I know you have the capacity inside each of you."

"Who said it wasn't real!? He is a liar, we've been telling you, you can't believe a word he says!" Vernon shouted.

Her smile must have worn off, Harry figured. It was probably for the better, he couldn't see his family suddenly brimming with love for him, if it was in them it was hidden very deep. Think Mariana Trench. The moment she and her husband left it would all revert back to normal, with him being the outcast. Worse maybe. His stomach churned. If he was smart he should ask them to Obliviate his family before they go, to save him from being starved for the next week.

"We don't want his sort," Dudders said, pulling another liquorice string from his shirt pocket and stuffing it in his mouth.

"It will not be forced on you, you all need to agree," Matilda said. "Harry has more family he can go to if need be."

Harry sat up. That would be brilliant! Hagrid had given him a photo album of his parents but said nothing of him having any other family. Maybe he hadn't known? "I have? Who?"

"The Malfoy's." Mr. Brown-Honey said. "They are family on your father's side."

"They were also enemies of his parents, be serious, dear," said Matilda. "How long before they use Harry to resurrect You-Know-Who?"

"They can be ordered to behave. A little game of Simon-says, and presto."

Matilda paused and turned from Harry and his family to give her full attention to her husband. "This makes a lot of things suddenly clear. Tell the truth, love. I would like to know if you 'ordered' Michael to eat his brussel sprouts."

Her husband laughed heartily and picked up her hand to look at her with adoring eyes. "I would never order our darling son to do anything. Why, not even if he left his cute little socks in my soup."

"No, this is a serious issue, Simon. I've never seen a child go from hate to love in a hot minute. Did you order Michael to eat his brussel sprouts?"

"Marriage should rest its foundation on trust…"

"Did. You. Or did you not. Order our son. To eat his brussel sprouts."

Harry and his family cringed away from the fearsome sight their social worker was to behold but her husband was made of sterner stuff. He sighed. "I guess the secret is out. I can't hide anything from you, my love. I did not. I charmed them to taste like donuts."

"Oh!"

"You can't be angry about that, love. The spell doesn't do anything to its nutritional value, and Michael is asking for second helpings, I—"

"No." She raised her hand for him to stop. "This is not good, Simon. Not good at all. Here you've been able to charm food to taste like donuts and you made me eat brussel sprouts—as is—just to be a good example? Now, the more important question, honey-bear… How did yours taste?"

"Excuse me," Harry interrupted. As much as he was curious about the idea that some food could taste better—why didn't Hogwarts do it?—he wanted to hear more about the Malfoy's. "I don't really want to go to the Malfoy's, can I go to the Weasley's instead?"

"Harry can stay if you magic everything to taste like donuts," Dudders said.

"I don't want to stay here. They don't want me."

"We don't," Vernon agreed.

"See?"

"I'm sorry," Mr. Brown-Honey said. "The Weasley's are not family. It was explicitly stated in your parent's wills that you need to stay with blood relations. We will not let you stay here without support, Harry. Family bonds are important, and I know you might not feel it at the moment, but when you're older you will appreciate having had the opportunity to be closer."

Harry thought of the album in his trunk. "I—"

"Harry has to live here," his aunt interrupted. "That old wizard said this is the only place where he would be safe."

"How safe am I if you're going to be the ones to kill me?"

"We won't."

"I think we need to make a decision. Shall we take a vote? Hands up who want Harry to go."

Harry and Vernon raised their hands. Petunia pulled Vernon's hand down and only Harry's stayed in the air.

"I want donuts for breakfast," Dudders said.

"You will be given all possible assistance," Matilda promised Harry. "You'll not be left alone one minute, and if by the end of the month you still feel you can't stay with your family we will make another plan. Choose wisely, dear."

Feeling a headache starting, Harry made his decision.

"Excellent," Matilda said. "We'll…

… call the Nanny." (chx)

… take you to the Malfoy's right away." (chx)