Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, and I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from the writing of this fan fiction.

Chapter Twenty

"What do you mean, I can't take my nephew in? You people just stormed into my brother's home and arrested him along with my sister in law, and took Dudley to some stranger's home to stay. When I was finally informed of what you had done with Dudley, I was told my home would need to be evaluated before he could stay with me. Against my better judgment, I allowed your so-called evaluators into my home, because my nephew needs to be with his family until my brother can get this misunderstanding straightened out and can take care of him again. And you want to say I can't care for my nephew?"

Marjorie Dursley's face was red as she finished her rant.

"Miss Dursley, it is standard procedure to inspect and evaluate the potential home of a child in cases like these. We must ensure that any home a child may be placed in is going to be a place that the child will be cared for and is in the child's best interest. Unfortunately, your home was found to be unsuitable as a possible home for Dudley Dursley, despite his blood relationship to you," the Child Protection worker stated, glancing down at the notes taken during the home evaluation.

"Nonsense, I'm his family! Dudley should be allowed to stay with me, despite what you may think."

"Miss Dursley, when your home was evaluated, the worker doing the evaluation was almost bitten by one of a number of dogs in the house. It's in the report that your home is small, and given the number of dogs on the property, more closely resembles a kennel than a house where someone would make a home, especially if a child will be living there. The worker also wasn't able to find any sort of licensing that would be needed if you are operating a kennel out of your home. Add that to the fact at least one of the dogs appeared vicious, it would not be in your nephew's best interest to stay with you. This agency will not place a child in a home where there is even a slight chance they could be hurt."

"Ripper just doesn't like strangers, so was defending his home. That isn't being vicious."

"And the other dogs? I see in the report there was at least one dog there nursing a litter of pups."

"Yes well, Mabel is one of my females, yes. I sell the pups, although I don't think I'll sell all of this litter. There is at least one that is too small for the breed; a runt. No one will buy a runt. So this may be Mabel's last litter. I'll not keep a bitch that produces a runt. A runt means there's something wrong with the pup, so there must be something wrong with Mabel. You see it all the time when raising dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there will be something wrong with the pup."

"Interesting. And do you have this same train of thought in regard to human beings?"

"It's part of nature, sir, people aren't just born with something wrong unless it's passed down from someone."

"And, Miss Dursley, you have just clearly demonstrated yet another reason why your home is not a suitable environment for your nephew Dudley. Thank you for coming in. Good day to you."

OOO

Dudley Dursley wasn't happy at all. First his freak cousin disappears, then his parents were arrested, and he was taken to live with people he didn't know. No matter how many times he screamed he wanted to live with his Aunt Marge, he was just told that his Aunt Marge wouldn't be taking care of him. Now, he wasn't allowed to eat all of the sweets he wanted to, he was told he had to do chores, and the people he was staying with just ignored his tantrums, so he couldn't even use those to get his own way anymore. He kept trying to get his way, though. It usually worked with his parents, so why wasn't it working now?

Dudley was currently using a broom to sweep the debris and grass clippings of the freshly mowed lawn from the walk, something that his foster father, Lawrence Stephens, had told him was one of his new chores. Mr. Stephens mowed the lawn, and it was Dudley's responsibility to sweep the walk clean after he was finished.

"When you've finished sweeping up Dudley, come inside and wash up. Maria will be home from the clinic soon and we'll be having dinner then. There's something that we wanted to talk to you about after dinner."

"Why do I have to do so much work around here? Mum and dad never made me work like this," Dudley complained.

"Dudley, Maria and I don't ask you to do much in the way of chores. We ask that you keep the bedroom you use tidy, we ask that you wipe the dishes dry after Maria or I wash them, we ask you to sweep up the clippings from the walk after the lawn is mowed, and we ask that you bring your laundry to the laundry room at the end of the week so all of the laundry can be washed. That isn't a lot of work."

"I never had to do anything like this when I lived with mum and dad."

"So you've said. You've also screamed you want your video games, sweets, and a boy named Piers Polkiss to come visit."

"He's my friend, so I want to see him."

"What you don't seem to understand Dudley, is all of the things you scream that you want are considered privileges in this house. You seem to think those are things you have a right to have. And that's just one of the things Maria and I will be discussing with you after dinner."

"What are we having for dinner?" Dudley asked, distracted by the mention of food.

"I made a vegetable stew that Maria especially likes. We're also having a fruit compote for dessert."

"When does Maria come home? I'm hungry."

"She'll be home soon, possibly within fifteen or twenty minutes. You can either have milk or a glass of juice with dinner. Which one do you want?"

"Why can't I have a soft drink? Mum always let me have a soft drink with dinner."

"Because soft drinks have a lot of sugar, and they aren't good for you to have all the time. Once in a while, yes, but not every night."

The sound of a door opening and closing was soon followed by a woman's voice.

"Lawrence, Dudley, I'm home."

As she walked into the kitchen, Maria Stephens was folded into a hug by her husband.

"You're home early, Maria. Not much traffic today?"

"And the fact one of the other doctors offered to see my last patient so I could come home. Fortunately Doctor Sims knows we have a new foster child, so told me to go ahead and start home."

"Dudley, please set the table while Maria gets settled. Then we'll have dinner."

As Maria set down her handbag and hung up her jacket, Dudley's muttered complaining could faintly be heard. One sentence in particular was said a bit louder than the rest.

"I get treated just like the freak that got Mum and Dad in trouble here."

Raising a brow, Maria looked toward her husband. With a nod, he answered her unasked question and walked to the doorway of the dining room.

"Dudley, please come into the living room. Maria and I would like to talk to you before dinner."

When Dudley entered the room, Maria pointed to a chair, wordlessly telling Dudley to sit down.

"Dudley," Maria began, "would you care to repeat what you just said in the dining room?"

"I said I'm getting treated like the freak who got Mum and Dad in trouble here."

"First, as I understand it, the boy is your cousin," Maria said, before Dudley interrupted.

"He's still a freak."

"Who taught you saying that about someone is in any way acceptable? Never mind, because my guess is, your parents taught you that. So why don't you explain to me what your parents told you the word 'freak' means?" Maria requested, voice tight with anger.

"Someone not normal. Mum, dad, and me, we're normal. A freak is somebody that does strange stuff or does something so people always look at them. Somebody with something wrong with them."

"Dudley, would you say that something someone had no control over made them a 'freak', as your parents taught you the meaning?" Maria asked, eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean? How can somebody not control if they're a freak or not?"

"Most of the people who live around here have dark hair. Your hair is blond, so makes you stand out here, and people look at you because of that. Does that make you a freak as your parents taught you the meaning?" Lawrence asked.

"Lots of people have blond hair. I get it from my Mum, she said. That doesn't mean I'm a freak."

"Am I a freak according to what your parents taught you, Dudley?" Maria asked, voice deceptively sweet.

"You're a doctor for kids, you said. Mum and dad says someone like that is the right sort and respectable. Why would you think mum and dad would say you're a freak?"

Maria was quiet for a moment, then sat down and slowly began to roll up one of her trouser legs, then the other. The shoes were the same, but one of her legs looked different.

"When I was a child, my family were driving to the shore for a short holiday, and there was an accident. Someone else hit my parents' car, and I was badly injured. It took emergency workers a couple of hours to be able to get everyone out because my parents' car was almost crushed in places, and we were all taken to hospital. My injuries caused a bad infection, and no matter what the doctors did, the infection wasn't getting better, so they had to remove my leg from just above the knee to save my life. If they hadn't, the infection would have killed me. I've worn a prosthetic leg since I was not much younger than you are right now. And it isn't something I asked for, nor is it something that the doctors, or my parents could control. It just happened. So I ask you again: am I a freak, according to what your parents taught you Dudley?"

"I-I don't know. You look normal when both your trouser legs are down, and you're a doctor. I don't know."

"Maybe you should think about what the word 'freak' actually means, and then ask yourself if what your parents taught you a freak is was correct and true. There's a dictionary in the bookcase in the hall. I suggest you look up the meaning of the word. We can continue this discussion when you've had time to not only find and think about the definition, but what Maria and I have said tonight. For now, dinner is getting cold, and I'm sure Maria is hungry," Lawrence said quietly, "let's have our dinner."

OOO

The next day, Harry was feeling much better, so he got ready to go to the summer program center. After dressing, he walked into the small dining room for breakfast. Lord Black was still looking at his newspaper, so Harry stayed quiet. After a few moments, Lord Black put his newspaper down.

"Good morning, Lord Black."

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes Sir, I am. Am I allowed to go to the summer program today?"

"No more aches, Mr. Potter? You no longer feel hot? Your throat is no longer sore?"

"No Sir, I feel better now."

"Well, I'll call Healer Greengrass so she can make sure, hmm? I don't want to have you get worse if you're still slightly ill and don't realize it because you feel better than you did when she saw you last. If Healer Greengrass says you're well, you may go to the summer program center."

"Thank you, Sir."

"That's quite all right Mr. Potter. I'll contact Healer Greengrass after breakfast."

As Harry began eating his breakfast, Arcturus watched him carefully. He was pleased to see Harry had begun to slow down when eating, and was doing his best to sit up in his chair, rather than lean forward over his plate. As he reached for his glass of milk, Arcturus spoke up.

"Sip it, Mr. Potter, remember, you don't need to try to swallow large amounts. If you try to drink it too quickly, you could have problems and begin coughing."

After breakfast, Arcturus went to the Floo and called Amy Greengrass.

"Good morning, Lord Black. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Healer Greengrass. Young Mr. Potter says he's feeling better, and has asked to go to his summer program today. I told him I would allow it if you said he was well again from his cold."

"So you'd like me to examine him to be certain? I'd be happy to; one moment, just let me grab my medical bag and I'll step through."

Arcturus stood and stepped back, and a moment later, Amy Greengrass stepped out. After brushing off the soot, she faced Arcturus.

"Where is Harry? And were you able to arrange for one of the Goblin Healers to examine him to find out what's wrong with his scar?"

"Harry said he was going into the library after breakfast; he wanted to read a bit while waiting for you to arrive. As for arranging to have his scar examined, I've scheduled an appointment at Gringotts for tomorrow. I didn't want to wait very long if it had you that concerned."

"Any other issues or concerns you wanted to bring to my attention before I see him? I know he still needs his inoculations for the magical illnesses, and I'm still waiting on his Muggle medical records to discover if he needs any vaccines for those illnesses."

"Jilly has mentioned nightmares; he seems to be slowing down when he eats his meals now. Would you mind checking that he's gaining weight? He was underweight when he arrived here, as you know."

Nodding in acquiescence, she followed Arcturus to the library, where Harry was reading.

"Hello, Harry, Lord Black tells me you said you feel better."

"I do feel better, Healer Greengrass. Lord Black said I would be allowed to go to my summer program today if you said I was well from my cold."

"Well, let me examine you to see if you're truly over your cold and well again, Harry. Will you stand in front of me, please?"

Amy Greengrass started her scan, noting that the issues with Harry's scar and core were the same, however, he no longer had a cold. Smiling a little, she knelt to Harry's height.

"Well, Harry, it looks like you're all better from your cold now. I need to talk to Lord Black for a moment before I leave, but I'm glad you're better now."

"Thank you Healer Greengrass. I have fun at the summer program, but Lord Black said if I was sick I couldn't go."

"Mr. Potter, why don't you ask Jilly for a glass of juice? I'll be out to take you to your summer program after Healer Greengrass and I have our talk. Wait for me in the dining room, please."

After Harry left the library, Amy brought out the parchment of the latest scan from her wand. Glancing briefly, she highlighted the same two areas she had before.

"There is still something wrong with his core, and the Dark magic is still around his scar, Lord Black. Hopefully they can find out what's wrong at Gringotts tomorrow. I'll make a copy of this for you to show the Healers at Gringotts; I need the original for Harry's file. I also want to get him updated on his various magical vaccines, but that can begin next week, to give him more time for his body to recover from the malnourishment he suffered with his Aunt and Uncle. He should weigh approximately twenty-eight point six kilograms, but right now weighs approximately twenty-two kilograms. That's slightly less than the average weight of a seven year old boy, Lord Black, and Harry is nine. The good news is that he has gained some weight while here. Keep encouraging him to eat, and I would recommend adding at least two or three snacks to his daily diet. Fruits, nuts, and dairy are all good choices for snacks to help him with his weight and not overload on sweets. I can check his weight again in a couple of weeks. I also want you to continue with the nutrient potion with his meals; they're obviously helping."

"Thank you Healer Greengrass, you've just answered the questions I had been about to ask. Honestly, I keep waiting for the day he asks how you can examine him without the things he would have seen at a muggle doctor's office or clinic, but so far he hasn't."

"Unfortunately, Lord Black, given his condition when he arrived here, I think it's unlikely he saw a muggle physician. His Aunt and Uncle would have been hesitant to allow a medical professional who is obligated to report cases of child abuse to authorities, to even see Harry. His abuse would have been reported much sooner if they had taken him to a physician."

"There are times when I greatly resent the need to keep the Wizarding world secret. I would dearly love the opportunity to curse those animals masquerading as people into oblivion," Arcturus said, his face showing his irritation.

"I can sympathise, Lord Black. Before I go, how is your grandson Sirius responding to his treatment?"

"The Healer you recommended says he's responding well; while he does have nightmares, that is to be expected. He's also underweight still, but gaining weight back, and the Healer has him on a stringent potions regimen to help repair the damage done by his stay in Azkaban, undeserved as it was. So far, he's on the mend."

"I'm glad to hear that, Sir. I'll be going so you can take young Harry on his outing before he gets too anxious or excited."

OOO

A frown creased the brow of the Constable sitting in front of the computer. The way their newest prisoner kept insisting he needed to take a pair of prisoners home might have been delusional, but the Constable decided to check the files anyway, just to be on the safe side.

Looking at the computer screen, the Constable saw that a note from a Magistrate in Family Court had been attached to the file. Because the prisoners the elderly new prisoner kept insisting needed to be taken home had been charged with Child Abuse and Child Neglect, the Constable looked at the attached note.

Possible accomplice still under investigation; if anyone beyond a solicitor, physician, or Court employee attempts to see or arrange release for defendants, the Child's solicitor, Kyle Stanton (Morton, Greengrass, and Stanton), as well as the Magistrate for the Child's Family Court hearing, are to be notified. Child's solicitor will inform the Child's guardian ad litem.

After making note of the contact information, the Constable reached for the phone.