AN: Harry Potter and all things Potter belong to JKR. Or, if you recognize it from somewhere else, it is not mine. Thanks to JKR for letting us play in the universe she created!
AN: Still need to delete the first copy of chapter 11, but you have probably figured that out by now. Unfortunately life is getting a bit hectic at the moment. (I am remodeling a bathroom with a damaged floor and no.. this is not my profession. I am making it up as I go! PRAY FOR ME! :D )
AN: I do not like the conversion rate from galleons to pounds used by JKR. So, mine is a bit different. I did the math for historical gold, silver, copper, and tin prices of the 1990s and the conversion rates of 1.8 (since the prices were in US$) and ended with ~35GBP per galleon, ~0.5GBP per sickle, and a knut is ~1pence.
To make my life easier: I am assuming:
a galleon is equal to 50GBP,
100 sickles equal 1 galleon, and
1 knut equals 1 pence.
Or… 50GBP = 1 Galleon = 100 sickles = 5000 knuts.
Chapter 12
"Headmaster, it is time for my first visit to Mr. Potter's guardians." Professor Sprout said abruptly as she came into the Headmaster's office.
"Come in Pomona. Please have a seat." Dumbledore waved to the comfy chair in front of his desk. "How are you? I am doing fine, thank you for asking." Albus smiled.
"Headmaster, we both know that is not going to work on me. You want to distract me with pleasantries and find a method to detour me from my proper course as Head of Hufflepuff. I refuse to forgo a visit with Lord Potter's guardians, especially when child abuse is evident. So, we both know I will get what I want in this matter or you will be discharging me. Which will it be?" Sprout waited with a patient smile. There was no way Albus would fire her. The students of Hufflepuff were a strange mix of loyalty, diligence, and various other traits which made them less suited to the houses of the Brave, Intelligent, or Cunning. Their diversity made Hufflepuff a much more difficult house to keep running smoothly, as compared to the other three. In short, there was no one to replace her. She and Albus both knew it. As such, this 'discussion' was a formality only.
Dumbledore was considering replacing Sprout as Head of Hufflepuff. He had been considering it constantly since Harry was sorted there. To give himself more time to think, Sprout had been diverted gently to the other students whose guardians she had not yet visited. That was no longer possible. Harry was the last.
"I will need to extract some promises from you, before I tell you the address" Dumbledore temporized.
Professor Sprout smiled. She did not need the address, having obtained it from Minerva near the beginning of the term. Knowing victory was near, she was gracious, "What promises would you have of me, Albus? We both know they will take this visit poorly and that intimidation will be required to obtain their cooperation. How much intimidation will depend on how poorly they take this visit. I would prefer the standard veiled threat of constant observation and a few oblique references to guardians who failed to take me seriously in the past. For most rational individuals, that will be plenty. You don't mean to tell me you have placed the savior of the wizarding world in a home with irrational guardians, do you?" Sprout smiled brightly, knowing Albus was caught, unable to admit he knew the Dursleys were terrible guardians.
Albus sighed wearily, knowing he was caught and hoping he could control whatever damage Pomona caused this time…
"Just swear you will not use magic on them, their belongings, or their home." Albus stated flatly.
"Of course! I would never use magic to intimidate the Dursleys."
The Headmaster just raised an eyebrow and stared at her.
"That was a special circumstance and you know it!" Pomona huffed.
"Pomona, your oath…"
"You don't trust me? They must be worse than I suspect. Very well. I, Pomona Sprout, swear upon my magic I will not use magic to intimidate the Dursleys during my visit."
"During your visit? That seems a bit open for abuse, don't you agree?"
"Albus, if you think I will swear on my magic to never use magic on a pair of child abusers, you have lost your mind. Now, is that good enough for you?"
"I suppose" Albus regretfully agreed. "Lastly, promise you will do your best to blend in as a muggle."
"I promise, I will look exactly like a muggle. I have the perfect disguise in mind."
Pomona's innocent expression as she turned and walked away did nothing to soothe the headmaster's nerves.
Albus realized belatedly, he had not provided Sprout with the address, nor has Pomona requested it. He whispered to himself an old truism, "Two can keep a secret… if one of them is dead."
Shaking his head, knowing it was a minor issue although still frustrating, he reluctantly returned to his paperwork.
In Professor Sprout's Quarters
Pomona searched through her treasures, knick-knacks and what-nots she had collected over the years. Stored carefully in an envelope, she found what she sought; a lock of dark hair she purchased from a muggle she admired, purchased at a charity auction.
'This and a little polyjuice will provide the perfect disguise' she thought happily. 'Not to mention, it is not every day one gets to impersonate one of your idols.'
Last summer a muggleborn 'puff alumna had convinced Pomona to attend the muggle cinema for Mel Gibson's rendition of Hamlet. Mel might be the big name there, but in Pomona's mind Ophelia stole the show. The actress was sublime in her madness.
Unable to resist, Professor Sprout poured out a single draught of polyjuice and added three hairs to it before draining it all. Waiting, her skin boiled and bubbled, leaving her a dark haired young woman, slight of stature with piercing brown eyes. Smiling she quoted her favorite lines.
"Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what it means, say you this:
[Sings] To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning bedtime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
And dupp'd the chamber door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more."
Smiling mischievously, she changed into more muggle appropriate clothing.
'How could anyone live here' Pomona thought to herself as she walked toward her destination.
Houses lined the street on both sides. Little side fences ran toward the sidewalk as if fearing the neighbor might accidentally tread on another's lawn. Perfectly trimmed lawns would soon be dormant as the late fall's chill laid frost upon the tips. All the houses were painted differently, but all from the same color scheme. Insignificantly different. Homogenously distinctive. Or to put it simply, boring.
Professor Sprout approached the indicated address as a woman on a mission should, resolutely. After having to threaten the Headmaster for the 'privilege' to address the parents of one of her badgers, the Dursleys would be on the receiving end of her less than sunny disposition.
Poking the odd circle on the door frame, Pomona heard a musical note sound from within the dwelling.
The doorbell interrupted the Dursley Breakfast Routine. The DBR was very well established with Dudders in Smeltings and the freak at that place. It starts with the newspaper and a steaming cup of coffee during the week, followed by a typical hardy English breakfast. Saturday and Sunday were especially enjoyable. Not having the needs of a workday allowed Vernon to dress casually and linger over his breakfast. It was a most enjoyable way to begin the day, or it was. The doorbell put an end to that.
Assuming it was some half-pence door-to-door solicitor, Vernon rose in a huff from his mostly finished breakfast and stomped to the door to give a piece of his mind (as if he had plenty to spare) to whomever had disturbed his leisure time.
Yanking the door open with a loud "Go away! We don't want any!" before slamming the door and returning to his breakfast. He was already seated before the image of the person on his door step fully penetrated. She was… yes, definitely a 'she'… She was beautiful with an aristocratic air. Dark hair, full lips, impeccable makeup and penetrating blue eyes began to make their impression on Vernon's ponderous intellect.
A cup breaking as it crashed to the floor roused Vernon from his musings. Petunia was in the living room, peaking out the window at the woman. Vernon heard his wife whisper loudly, "Vernon, what have you done?" as she rushed to the front door, pulling it open quickly to find Helena Bonham Carter, THE Helena Bonham Carter, standing at her door. Looking past her, Petunia saw eyes peering from every neighborhood window she could see. Nosey neighbors who would soon be ringing each other, talking about them behind their backs. Taking a deep breath, Petunia collected herself, smiled apologetically and invited Ms. Carter in.
"Please come in Ms. Carter. My apologies for my husband's behavior. He thought you were a door-to-door salesman." Petunia explained, apologized, and invited all at once. This significantly stretched her communication skills, but was worth it to get Ms. Carter away from all the gawkers.
Ms. Carter stepped gracefully into the Dursley's home and waited by the stairs as Petunia closed the front door.
"Please, come this way, Ms. Carter" Petunia simpered as she walked past Ms. Carter into the sitting room.
Ms. Carter walked to the doorway to the sitting room and stopped, looking around the room she noticed pictures of a rather chubby lad who was definitely not Harry. The furniture was generic middle class pretending to be more. Wallpaper continued the pretense of affluence, without fooling anyone acquainted with wealth. On it went, with each item separating the room from the people who lived in it. Or so they would hope. The stress of supporting Vernon was clearly evident in the fabric of the large recliner. A worn path from the doorway to the front window, combined with the larger worn circle showed spying on those outside was someone's favorite pastime.
"How quaint. I see you have an eye for decorating." Ms. Carter said genially. "You have a lovely home. I see your son is a strapping young lad. How do you manage to feed him? I remember my brother at that age; seemed he was always eating."
"Oh yes, our Dudders does like a good meal, just like his father. Money is not a problem though. Vernon, my husband, is quite the salesman. He works in management at Grunnings. He has always provided well for the family." Petunia beamed as she bragged about her family. Even spying on the neighbors was a distant second to the pleasure she felt when relating her family's successes.
Vernon walked through the doorway to the sitting room and stood by his favorite chair.
Waving to the couch, "Come in. Sit. Get comfortable." Vernon said rather louder than necessary.
Ms. Carter smiled, "If you don't mind, I need a moment in the necessary room." She said politely as she turned and walked to the cupboard door beneath the stairs, pulling it open smoothly and taking a step as if to enter.
Petunia's hand covered her mouth as she watched it happen.
Vernon looked confused between anger and embarrassment. Embarrassment won as he turned a bright red and looked anywhere else.
Ms. Carter returned to the room, "I think I can wait. Let's have that discussion, shall we?" She walked into the room and took the couch Vernon had indicated earlier. "I know it is a bit early, but if possible, I would like a spot of tea."
Petunia responded quickly, "Absolutely! The kettle is already hot. I will be right back."
Vernon and Ms. Carter sat in an uneasy silence as Petunia scrambled about the kitchen. Scant minutes later Petunia returned with a tea service for three and some jammy dodgers on a tiered biscuit tray, all on a silver platter.
"Thank you Mrs. Dursley" Ms. Carter said as she leaned forward and poured her cup. Placing three biscuits on the saucer, she set it demurely on her knees as she sipped her tea.
After she served herself, Petunia looked at Vernon to see if he wanted some tea, since he had mostly finished his breakfast when the door rang. The slight nod had her moving to pour for her husband and then herself, before sitting back to wait whatever was about to happen. Petunia was not stupid, although she often acted dumber than she really was. Vernon made it clear early in their relationship that he had no use for a woman with 'too many brains'.
"Well, I am sure you would like to know what is going on, so I won't keep you wondering any longer. I am not Helena Bonham Carter, although I do admire her greatly, especially her Ophelia with Mel Gibson. Superb actress!" Ms. Carter explained.
"You are one of 'them'" Petunia said. It was not a question, but rather a statement of fact.
Vernon's face became red again, although this time anger, not embarrassment, was the cause. "Get out!" he said forcefully. "We don't want your kind here!"
"Yes, that is quite obvious. Such a little pig of a boy", waving at the pictures around the room, "You obviously love him, too much I would say. You spoil him and give him whatever he wants every time he pouts or throws a temper tantrum, don't you?"
Vernon stood quickly, pointing his finger at Ms. Carter, "I don't know what that little freak told you, but we do not spoil our child! Now, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
Ms. Carter smiled, but didn't move. "I think not. We have a conversation which will wait no longer."
Vernon was turning an interesting shade of burgundy as he thundered at the woman who invaded his house under false pretenses, "GET OUT OR I WON'T BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS!"
Ms. Carter's smile became a full grin, "Or what? Will you call the bobbies? Maybe you will introduce me to your belt? Perhaps a smack or two about the face and shoulders? Teach me a woman's proper place." Ms. Carter looked sharply at Petunia and knew she would not be the first woman Vernon had 'taught her place.'
Vernon sputters as spittle flies from his mouth, a red rage descending upon him.
"Can't hit a woman?" Ms. Carter continues looking at his wife, knowing he probably had, "…yet… I am sure the time will come. Maybe you only hit kids? Or is it simpler than even that? Maybe you only hit Harry…"
Vernon had enough! He lunges across and grabs Ms Carter by her upper arm to drag her from his home! In his rage he did not notice the small dots of pain across his palm as he pulled Ms. Carter from the couch and began dragging her to the front door.
Ms. Carter never lost her smile as she was dragged roughly from the couch and almost dragged from the sitting room. Almost, because before he had quite made the sitting room door, his grip loosened and her arm slipped from his fingers.
Vernon was angry and confused, never a good combination for him. His hand would not obey his commands. It just hung there on the end of his arm. Well, his other hand was fine! He reached out and grabbed Ms. Carter again, dragging her toward the front door. Had his brain been functioning properly, perhaps he would have noticed Ms. Carter made no attempt to escape his second assault upon her person. Perhaps he would have noticed the numb feeling creeping up from his now useless hand. Perhaps. Perhaps not. But as he neared the front door, he did notice his other hand would no longer grip Ms. Carter tightly. She merely stood still and his hand slipped off her arm.
"What did you do to me you WITCH?" Vernon bellowed.
Ms. Carter just smiled.
Petunia was pale as a ghost. She knew Vernon was dying.
"What do you want?" Petunia pleaded.
Ms. Carter replied politely, "I just want to talk to you about Harry. I even promised the Headmaster I would not use magic to intimidate you. Of course, I have been known to break a promise now and then, when the need requires it." Looking at Vernon she continued, "No, I did not use magic on you. Not a bit. You are so afraid of magic, but truth be told, the muggle world holds far more potential for death and destruction than the magical world ever will."
"What did you do to him?" Petunia whined.
"Nothing. He did it to himself. I was warned he could be a violent man, so I prepared for it. Something like a healer wearing a mask to visit a contagious patient… no, that is not quite right… Like a soldier carrying a weapon on guard duty. Yes, more like that." Looking at Vernon again, "You poisoned yourself Mr. Dursley. When you grabbed me, the thorns which decorate my dress punctured your hand. Thorns, I should mention, which were soaked in curare, an entirely muggle compound. Of course, I have the antidote with me. Would you like it? It is entirely muggle also; a derivative of several plants you can buy almost anywhere in Britain. That should make you feel better, right?"
Opening her clutch, she pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, handing them to Petunia.
"His hands won't work now, since he was stupid enough to attack me with both. You will need to hold this for him while he smokes it."
"Vernon doesn't smoke" Petunia protested.
"Today he does. Of course, if you would like to give me permission to use magic, I could fix him up right as rain in two shakes of a lamb's tail. But he will have to ask me to cure him." Ms. Carter smiled.
If looks could kill, Ms. Carter would be quite dead from the glare Vernon sent her way, "I want nothing from you freaks!"
"Very well, then you will have to cure your muggle problem with a muggle solution. The smoke will go straight to your lungs where it will be absorbed very quickly, which is a good thing since the curare will kill you in minutes. Now I should warn you, there will be some rather annoying side effects of that drug cocktail. You will get nauseous, dizzy, a honking big headache and so on. There may also be some confusion, muscle pain, belly pain, trouble sleeping tonight, runny nose, constipation, shakes, anxiety, hallucinations, sweating, burning on urination, changes in heart rate, and suicide." Ms. Carter rattled the list Poppy had her memorize.
"WHAT?" Petunia yelled. "Suicide is a side-effect?"
"Potential only. Many muggle drugs have suicide as a potential side effect. But it is unlikely and you did say you wanted to do things the muggle way. So, light the cigarette and hold it for him to smoke while we talk, Mrs. Dursley." Ms. Carter smiled as she walked over to the cupboard and opened it. Her smile faded as she imagined Harry living here for a decade.
Turning back to the Dursleys, an icy tone evident in her voice and lethal consequences evident in her stance, Ms. Carter began, "Now that I have your undivided attention, we are going to have a conversation. Well, I will talk. You will listen. When I ask questions, you will answer clearly and politely. Do you understand?"
Both nodded. Petunia jumped as the cigarette burned her fingers.
"Vernon, you need to smoke a bit slower, otherwise you will be throwing up on the floor. Trust me, not being able to use your arms as you throw up will be very messy." Ms. Carter said as she handed Petunia another cigarette.
"Now, where to begin?" Ms. Carter's face began to bubble and contort as the polyjuice wore off. "Ah yes. Perfect timing. Good thing this dress is 'one size fits all'. Still a bit tight though and the shoes had to come off. But, all in all, not a bad choice." Smiling she curtsied, "I am Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of House for Hufflepuff at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry is a member of my House and as such I take a special interest in his safety and well-being. In case I am being too subtle, that means for the next seven years, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year I will be 'interested' in how he is being treated. And that most definitely includes how he is treated by you two and your son."
Taking a deep breath and giving the Dursleys the smile which caused the Weasley twins to remember something they needed to do somewhere else.
"So, let's start at the beginning. Tell me how Harry came to live here…"
Several hours and a quick swig of polyjuice later, Ms. Carter left Number 4 Privet Drive, leaving Vernon throwing up everything he had eaten and then some. Dry heaves are never fun, but she couldn't think of a more deserving wretch to experience them. She was quite angry, having at last heard all the fine details of exactly what Harry had survived. Yes, 'survived' was the appropriate word.
It would have only taken 5 cigarettes to counter the curare Vernon injected himself with, but as she heard more of the abuse, she kept giving Petunia another cigarette as each burned out. She wanted to make sure the Dursleys believed they needed more of the antidote she and Poppy had meticulously measured and rolled into those coffin-nails. But mostly, she wanted to make sure her visit and not so thinly veiled warnings were remembered.
Her last comment to the Dursleys as she left, "If I have to come back to defend Harry or avenge him, I promise I will not be so lenient. I will bring MAGIC with me, as well as many friends and when I leave, this fine home will be a pile of toothpicks and both of you and that lovely son of yours will be paralyzed; prisoners of your own bodies. You will spend the rest of your VERY long lives that way. And I will come visit you every day in your long term care facility. I will use magic to assure you live long enough to regret every indignity you caused Harry." The absolute terror in Vernon's eyes told Pomona her message had been heard and understood.
As she walked down toward the sidewalk, Ms. Carter stopped for a moment and pulled two eggs from her clutch. Examining each carefully, she threw one to each side of the walkway, causing them to break upon the beautifully maintained lawn.
Whistling as she walked away from Privet Drive, she enjoyed her act of petty vengeance.
Dumbledore said Harry must stay where his mother's blood resides. Dumbledore said Harry would be protected from Voldemort and his followers as long as he lived with his mother's blood at least four weeks of the year, as long as he called this place 'home'. 'Dumbledore said, Dumbledore said, Dumbledore said… Dumbledore says a lot of things' she thought bitterly.
An evil smile crossed Ms. Carter's face. 'But there are always loopholes to what Dumbledore says', Pomona thought.
Earlier in the semester, after a very long argument, Dumbledore had convinced her Harry needed to live at Number Four at least a few weeks of each year and needed to be able to call this home.
The Headmaster had not convinced her Vernon was critical to that plan.