Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.

Chapter 2 – Guardianship
posted August 8th, 2005

Aileen McAllister was a kind and gentle woman in her forties, who had had many troubles in her life. Despite her intelligence and school grades, her father hadn't supported her wishes to leave Ardbeg, on the Scottish island of Islay, and she had helped him until he died. Incidentally, the old man's death and her subsequent departure had been fatal to the trade and the distillery had been mothballed two years afterwards, cutting her main source of income.

Eight years ago, she had married Chandril, a brave man whom she thought faithful and open-minded, giving birth to a couple of daughters soon afterwards. However, she had soon realized that the man's open-mindedness concerned solely the bed he was sleeping in, and they had divorced after two years of chaotic marital life. Moreover, to her utter dismay and despair, the man had managed to keep hold of the two daughters by convincing the judges that his job as a merchant was more stable than her lack thereof – and by implying that he'd sue for racism if he didn't get what he said was his due.

She hadn't been able to seduce a man afterwards without having second thoughts, either thinking about Chandril's slyness or her own father's tyranny. She had undergone a course in basic healing and had survived with part-time jobs for two years, before finding her current assignment. Since her divorce, though, she had seldom seen her daughters, and her maternal instincts were yearning for a baby to cradle.

Her current job as a school nurse was also dragging all sort of troubles to her. She had seen her lot of tears about grazed skin, torn clothes, or bruised egos. The kids of the local upscale school had quickly sorted her as the type of woman you could get anything from, and had been getting anything from her for three long years before she slammed the door of the principal's office on her way out. The talk she had just had with the man had just been the peak of the discomfort provided by the school.

She has just given him her customary 1-month resignation notice. And, as today was Friday, July 31st, it meant that the man would have less than said month to search for a replacement. Not that she cared, though. The damn school was full of spoiled brats.

Except one.

She had noticed Harry Potter coming and going, helplessly pushed around and, when inspected medically, always shameful of his scars and welts. The school's principal was the only person she could tell about them, but he had always stifled the case, as if he had a personal interest in not pushing it. The topic had come up in the heated talk, and she had learned, by listening to the non-verbal conversation, that it was actually the case. The man was kept silent by the boy's uncle, no doubt the one abusing the kid if the 10.6 inches footprint-shaped welt was of any indication.

Now that she didn't have her job to keep her from doing it, she felt the urge to phone the Children Protection Service as soon as she arrived home.

Three hours afterwards...

Hugh and Jessica had worked together for years, and some of their colleagues joked about it, saying that they should be married by now. Despite having shared a romantic relationship years before, the two of them had seen so much disarray in regular families that they had been vaccinated against marriage and children. Being inspectors for the Social Services wasn't an easy job.

When they parked in the empty driveway of number 4, Privet Drive after their scheduled patrol, they found the house closed, nobody seeming to be inside. They returned in their car to wait a few minutes, writing their report at the same time. In the middle of said report, someone honked from the street. A large driver in an expensive car was yelling at them through his half-open window and the car's position indicated that he wanted to park at that place.

"...doing here... private... superior..." was all they could make of his speech. It didn't seem to disturb the man that they couldn't leave with his Sedan in the way.

"Vernon Dursley?" asked Hugh, his stern business-like expression back in place. He had learnt early that people always reacted seriously to this façade, despite being cautious.

It calmed the man a little, though. "Who are you and what are you people doing in my property?" he demanded a little more intelligibly.

"Are you Vernon Dursley?"

The man in front of him went through several tinges of red, until he barked "Yes! Who the hell are you?"

"Hugh Fixier and here is my colleague Jessica Warner. We have been sent here by the Social Service to investigate the living arrangements and state of one..." he looked at his mission sheet, "Harry Potter, your nephew."

Vernon Dursley's face had, once again, passed through several shades, but the ending colour was whiter than his usual reddish pink. He stuttered for a few seconds, until the woman next to him, bending around his massive bulk, spoke through the driver's window.

"He's not here."

"He's not here?" asked Hugh, an eyebrow raised. He had the feeling that the couple wasn't acting normally, and his experience screamed that the case was a valid one.

"No." said the bulky man. "He's gone with his fr-" he stopped dead in his track.

"Friends. His friends." said the woman, certainly his wife although Hugh had the feeling that they weren't of the same species. The man looked like a hippopotamus and she resemble a giraffe.

"Yes, his friends. They left three days ago. Now, get out of my driveway or I'll call the police on you." Vernon Dursley, persuaded to be in his own right, had recovered his usual rudeness.

Hugh smiled, though. A cold, knowing, and efficient smile. He wasn't going to be fooled by their by-play. "As I said earlier, we have been mandated to inspect the state and living arrangements of your nephew. And we could call the police if you don't consent to open your door."

He was sure, now. They both blanched. And the whale of a kid behind them – presumably their son, since he looked like Vernon Dursley without the moustache – who had been complaining since the beginning, was now silent.

"Let us in." he articulated. "Now."

Vernon Dursley was defeated, but not annihilated. He had a brief silent discussion with his wife, before turning the car down and extracting himself from it with difficulty. While his wife exited the car too, looking around to see if the neighbours were watching, he opened his door and shoved both inspectors toward the stairs. Despite being in their early forties and as fit as one could be, both of them had no choice but proceed forward as Vernon Dursley's large frame blocked the stairwell.

"You wanted to see his living arrangements, right?" Vernon snarled. "His room is upstairs, first on the left."

They went to said room and found a quite large bedroom, furnished with all kind of games for today's kids, while torn books and action figures decorated a large bookcase. It seemed alright, but Hugh knew the man wasn't honest.

"So, that's your nephew's bedroom?"

"Right. Now leave!"

"And where does your son live?"

"He has his own bedroom, and your mission concerns the brat, not my Duddikins."

As he was speaking, spit unwittingly flying in all directions, Jessica was writing notches on the unfinished report.

Hugh steeled himself from the man's reaction. "As I have the feeling your are lying to me, Mr Dursley, I'm mandated to ask you to show us all rooms in your house. Where does your son sleep?"

"Leave him alone! He's a fragile boy, and you are going to... to..."

Vernon Dursley was becoming frantic, not knowing what to say. His mind reeled, searching for a way out. There weren't many, and he pushed the two of them aside as he rushed out. Fearing a fleeing offence, Hugh and Jessica hurried out too, but Vernon hadn't wanted to flee. Like a cornered bear, he was fighting to the extremes, and had extracted his shotgun from the appropriate shelf of his closet, and was threatening them with it.

"What are you going to do, now, Mr Dursley?" asked Hugh. "Are you going to leave your wife and son to fend for themselves because you pulled the trigger?"

"Give us that rifle." said Jessica soothingly. "Relinquish it and the courts will go easier on you."

"NO! I'm not going to the courts. You'll soon be pushing daisies!"

And Vernon Dursleys condemned himself.

He pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening, and was heard outside too. Several neighbours, who were peeping already, phoned to each other or went outside to get a closer view. Only one of them had the presence of mind to call the police.

When the police arrived, followed by an ambulance, they found the house closed again, and the Dursley's car gone. Each of the neighbours, however, had his own story to tell about the happenstance. As most of them implied a murder by firearm, the policemen opted to force the door open, and they found the crime scene. Hugh and Jessica had almost paid for their dedication with their life. Hugh was sporting a collapsed lung, damaged voice box, and spine damage. Jessica, for her part, had blood seeping from a head wound. The ambulance brought the two unconscious employees to the nearest hospital, where they would slowly recover.

The firearm described by the neighbours wasn't there, and, after launching an arrest warrant for an armed and dangerous Vernon Dursley, the policemen left the house, locking the door with a "crime scene" seal.

After all, the crime scene was self-explanatory, right?

The report Jessica had been filling while Hugh was grilling Vernon, though, had been forgotten in the house.

Soon after the police left, as the neighbours were still in front of the house, discussing things madly, sound of glass breaking resounded in the deserted house's backyard. The door unlocked and softened footsteps could be heard as the masked intruder, obviously female, approached the abandoned crime scene. A delicate hand grasped Jessica's report and eyebrows rose as the visitor parsed it. She then looked around, visiting each room of the house without finding the desired target. As a last resort, she decided to open each and every cupboard. When she opened the lock on the one under the stairs, she was first taken aback by the smell, and thought she had entered a closet of some sort. She found the switch outside

"Oh my god!" she gasped. "What have we gone into?"

Finding the boy brought her motherly feelings en masse, and she decided to help him, alone. She just didn't trust any man. And she didn't know any woman enough to bring one into that secret.

Once safely settled in her apartment, the delirious boy opened his eyes.

"Are you my mum?" he asked.

"No." she whispered, before snuggling his frail body closer. She would have someone to care for, now, despite all that Chandril Patil did to her. The boy then said something which made her heart beat faster.

"I wish you were my mum."

To be continued in next chapter: Introductions...

Let's get this story growing.
I haven't decided yet
How long or thorough it'll get.
Next part will see friends meeting.