Hand-Me-Down-Clothes
Petunia Decides
"Hello" warily smiled a seven year old Harry Potter at a one hundred and forty seven year old Albus Dumbledore.
"Hello" warmly replied Dumbledore, and bent down to be on the same eye level "You must be Mister Harry Potter"
Young Harry Potter pushed his messy hair out of his eyes and eagerly inquired:
"Have you come to visit me?" he swung the front door wide open, and then had second thoughts
"Wait, no…you're here about Mrs Kenmore aren't you?" the door quickly swung back again.
"I'm afraid not, though I am here to see you. Who is Mrs Kenmore?" and why are you looking so apprehensive about her Dumbledore wondered.
"Mrs Kenmore's my primary school teacher, she really doesn't like me, she's horrible, but it wasn't my fault! I mean, I was at the other end of the class room, I don't see how she could blame it on me, just because she was yelling at me when…" Harry trailed off looking rather sorrowful
"When?" prodded Dumbledore, finding himself rather intrigued.
"When her hair changed colour" gloomily explained Mister Harry Potter
"It changed colour…?" Dumbledore prompted, his lips twitching behind his moustache.
"It turned blue" further offered that serious young man
"Blue?" Dumbledore tried to hide a smile but his voice quavered.
"It was brown before" Harry informed him earnestly, heaving a very grown up sigh.
"Was it a very bright blue?" asked Dumbledore, smiling openly at the suddenly rather abashed little boy.
"Ye-ees" admitted Harry embarrassed, staring at his worn shoes, Dumbledore frowned, noticing how big they were for him, he opened his mouth to ask Harry if he might perhaps come in rather than stand on the doorstep all day when a shrill voice erupted from the kitchen.
"Harry! What are you doing? Who is it?"
Harry jumped, startled, "Oh no! That's Aunt Petunia! Um, who are you Sir?"
"I am Albus Dumbledore," said Albus obligingly, with a gentle twinkle in his eyes.
"Okay" Harry smiled shyly in response "I'll just tell Aunt Petunia"
"May I come in?" quickly asked Dumbledore before his host could disappear
Harry's eyes widened, looking worried he cast a glance over his shoulder at the kitchen "If you want to" he said reluctantly standing aside.
"Of course, of course!" Albus Dumbledore chuckled and stepped into the Dursleys hallway.
"Please, come and sit down in the living room, I'll tell Aunt Petunia you're here" Harry opened a white door to his right and then ran off toward the kitchen, Albus, pleased with his first encounter with Lily and James' son, took a curious look around.
The living room had one beige settee, two beige armchairs and a wooden stool, a polished coffee table sat plump in the middle behind which, embedded in the wall, was a plastic mould of coals in a marble tiled mantelpiece. Pictures hung from flowery-papered walls, big pictures, and small pictures, expensively framed and gleaming with cleanliness, the fire mantelpiece included several smaller pictures (as well as the odd china bluebird and one postcard).
Being a harmless old man (admittedly perhaps just nosy) Albus viewed the pictures intently, and not being quite as old and senile, as he'd like people to believe, he soon noticed something amiss. There were many, many pictures of a rather well-built boy, with short blond hair and rather small watery blue eyes, either on his own (striking various poses) or with his mother (being vigorously hugged) and father (a proud pat on the shoulder). The large family portrait was hung on the opposite wall from the window (to catch the best light); Vernon Dursley stood frowning majestically forward, Petunia Dursley with her long nose slightly elevated and Dudley Dursley, grinning happily with his bow tie almost hidden beneath his double chin.
Yet where was young Harry? Albus could not see one picture of Harry James Potter anywhere; there was not a single sign that anyone else lived here other than the three Dursleys. An uneasy feeling of foreboding troubled Albus as he viewed the ostentatious family portrait, scratching his long beard and hoping that Arabella was wrong, not for his sake but the boy's.
"How dare you" hissed an angry voice from the open doorway, interrupting his contemplation, "get out of my house!"
Albus Dumbledore turned to regard Petunia Dursley and vaguely smiled as he bowed in greeting.
"Good morning Mrs Dursley. I am here to check upon Mr Harry Potter's well being. My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -I don't know if Lily ever mentioned me?" he enquired politely.
The wind was taken right out of Mrs Dursley's metaphorical sails, her righteous anger deflated and she tried to recover herself.
"I, uh, I don't remember that she did"
"Hmm, a pity, both Lily and James made me the executor of their will, it was my responsibility to see young Harry re-homed when they died, I believe I left a letter explaining the circumstances. As such however, I feel that it is high time I remembered my obligations to the boy"
"O- of course" blinked Mrs Dursley, floundering in the face of a stream of official sounding explanations.
"Therefore I am sure you will have no objections to my spending the day with Harry Potter…" Albus ploughed on regardless of her stuttering
"Spending the day..." weakly repeated Petunia, behind her Harry nervously peeked through the doorway at Albus.
"Thank you Mrs Dursley, your co-operation is much appreciated" benignly smiled Dumbledore.
"It is? Oh, well, good, I mean, what? Spend the day with… Harry? Harry! The Boy? Oh no." Mrs Dursley looked somewhat dismayed as she stared at Albus Dumbledore; it appeared her beleaguered brain had finally caught up with the conversation.
"Well, if you must, you must, but I warn you! He's a naughty like boy, constantly in trouble and always telling fibs" she crossed her arms and glared at Dumbledore to prove her wrong. Behind her lingered still, seven-year-old Harry Potter and a more downcast face you would be hard put to find when he heard his Aunt's words uttered to the kindly visitor.
"Oh, well, I can't quite believe that, no, no not at all," said Albus firmly, his eyes fixed on the pale little face by the door, and there was a twinkle in them when Harry jerked his head up, a hopeful little smile twitching his mouth.
"Hurumph!" sneered Petunia Dursley in response, she turned to leave with a muttered "Do what you want with him" but was stopped by Albus' deceptively soft voice querying
"Why is it Mrs Dursley, that there is not one picture of Harry in this room?"
Mrs Dursley stilled, then with a twist of her pursed lips she mumbled
"The boy's camera shy" to which Albus Dumbledore only raised an expressive eyebrow in a rather sardonic response.
On her way out Petunia Dursley clipped Harry's ears for "letting strangers in", but the little boy flinched only automatically it seemed, for his large emerald eyes shone with childish innocence as he followed Dumbledore's movements with a kind of reverence.
"Come in Harry, come in" Dumbledore beckoned, and Harry, looking a little self-conscious walked in to stand a good metre away from Albus, who was, without realising it, frowning slightly as he cast a critical eye over Harry's attire.
Harry was wearing a pair of Dudley's old trousers, they had holes in the knees, were frayed at the ankles and were looking patchy and thin, his shirt, although tucked in had simply too much material to be contained and so hung down almost to his knees.
His wire-framed glasses had been broken so many times by Dudley and his gang that only sellotape was holding all the various bits together. His shoes were boats beneath the bagginess of his clothes and his hair looked as though the only scissors it had ever seen was the kitchen knife.
Looking closer, Dumbledore saw that twine was wrapped several times around Harry's waist and knotted tight to hold up his humongous trousers, and there was the faintest suggestion of a shadow on his left temple, just the slightest coloration that made Albus Dumbledore's frown deepen ominously.
"Please sir?" whispered a timid voice
"Yes?" Dumbledore practically growled, Harry jumped back alarmed and Dumbledore quickly recovered his previous good-humour.
"Sorry Harry. What is it?"
"I was just wondering why you were staring so hard at me sir"
"It's been a long time since I last saw you Harry Potter. Now, to business! I have come all the way from Scotland to spend the day with you Harry-"
"Why?" interrupted that young fellow blandly, Dumbledore was stumped for a moment.
"Why? Well, why not? But to tell the truth, I was a great friend of your Mummy and Daddy, and they would have wanted me to come and see you" he winced inwardly and the deception, but it would hardly do to tell the boy he'd come because he'd been ordered to.
"Oh, okay" said Harry trustingly
"Well, how about I introduce myself properly. I am Albus Dumbledore, and you are?" Dumbledore held out his hand formally, Harry fearlessly reached forward and placed his much littler hand in it.
"I'm Harry Potter," he said simply and solemnly, taking the moment very seriously indeed, and they shook hands.
"Will you sit down with me Harry Potter" Dumbledore smiled unthreateningly and sat down on the beige settee, its worn springs sunk a little under his meagre weight. Harry nodded, and ran across the room to pick up the little wooden stool that Dumbledore had noticed earlier, silently he trotted back and placed it at Dumbledore's feet, whereupon he sat on it. Albus Dumbledore blinked
"Is that what you usually sit on?" he asked unbelievingly
"Yes sir" replied Harry squirming under the somewhat fierce gaze.
"Well not today, come and sit up here with me" Dumbledore patted the cushion beside him invitingly and Harry, beaming, was quick to leap up and settle himself down beside the old man. The difference between the two was striking, Albus was a full grown man with a shock of white hair and a long beard, Harry was just a child, and his hair was jet-black, short and shaggy.
"What would you like to do today Harry?" Dumbledore looked down at his small companion questioningly; Harry's round little face tilted up to him
"I don't know sir"
"How about you show me around where you live, we could start with the house, and then the garden and then maybe we could go to the park…?"
"Go to the park!" Harry grinned suddenly "Yes sir!" he exclaimed enthusiastically and gave a little bounce on the settee.
"You don't have to call me 'sir' Harry, you can call me…" Albus trailed off, he was a little lost, children generally called him 'Headmaster' or 'Professor Dumbledore', but little Harry Potter didn't know about Hogwarts, and wouldn't until he was old enough to be able to understand…
"Mr Dumbledore" suggested Harry breaking into Dumbledore's meditations
"Hmm, yes that will do me very well. Thank you Harry" Albus Dumbledore smiled at Harry's evident pleasure at being praised, "Now, where shall we start the 'Grande Tour'?"
"My cupboard of course!" said Harry jumping up impulsively
"You mean your bedroom Harry" corrected Albus, laughing
"No" Harry's emerald eyes were bright with excitement as he grabbed Mr Dumbledore's hand "I meant my cupboard, come on!"
Author's Notes: Wow, I got an amazing response to the first chapter, so how could I not continue it? I hope this chapter pleases all, I wish I had the time to do personal thank you notes to everyone who reviewed, but suffice to say I was honoured by the enthusiastic replies to my question 'to be or not to be', Thank You!
