Title: Mr. Johnson
By: morpher
Summary: Vernon is threatened in a way he understands.
"Oh, Harry, it's you," Aunt Petunia with an evident tone of disgust. "And who is that?" she continued with a bony finger pointed at the stranger.
"Well, Aunt Petunia, this is Mr. Johnson. He is the founder and director of St. Brutus' Center for Incurable Criminal Boys," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"VERNON!" Petunia screamed before fainting.
Harry could hear all the way to the other side of the house Vernon's roars of 'that no good little runt' and 'son of a bitch' all the way from the other room. When he reached Petunia's limp form, Vernon's purple face closed in within two inches of Harry's and bellowed, "What is the meaning of this! Is this another of your friends! Is he going to blow up my kitchen now!"
Mr. Johnson, seemingly perturbed that this large man would accuse him of blowing up his kitchen, introduced himself, "I presume you are Vernon Dursley, guardian of young Harry here. I'm Mr. Johnson, founder and director of St. Brutus' Center for Incurable Criminal Boys. I wish to speak with you as to the treatment of young Harry Potter." Mr. Johnson then reached in his pocket to pull out his business card.
Vernon snatched the card out of the man's hand and looked at it, then he said, "Let me check your story." He eyed Harry, then the stranger, then left them on the front porch while he made a few phone calls. Vernon was obviously seeing if the phone number actually brought up St. Brutus' and if there was a certain Mr. Johnson as founder and director.
Harry was beginning to be embarrassed by his relative's behavior. He shouldn't have expected much, coming from them, but he certainly didn't expect them to leave a guest on the front porch for all the neighbors to see. At least, that was Aunt Petunia's credo: Don't let the neighbors see! And she was still lying on the floor. Vernon, however, was more concerned for his kitchen than propriety.
When Vernon was satisfied that the man on his front porch had an 80 chance of indeed being the head of St. Brutus', he came back to the front door and said, "I don't see what it matters to you how I treat my charge. We give him food and shelter and that's all this boy deserves."
"Well, first of all, Mr. Dursley, would you kindly invite us in. It's a little chilly out here and I see at least three neighbors peeking out their curtains…"
"Oh fine, come in!" And Vernon stepped back enough to barely allow them access to the living room. Mr. Johnson and Harry showed themselves to their seats.
Mr. Johnson continued the conversation that had started outside. "As I said before Mr. Dursley, I am here to check up on the well-being of one Harry Potter."
"And as I said before, Mr. Johnson, you have no business to interfere in these matters. I already told you he gets food and shelter and that's all he deserves."
Mr. Johnson donned a mischievous smile and said, "But that's where you're wrong Mr. Dursley. You have claimed, for the past six years, that Mr. Potter is a charge of St. Brutus'. If indeed this is true, then I have every right to see how Mr. Potter is treated at home. Because, you see, that is part of my work. I rehabilitate delinquent boys. Part of my job is to see how these boys are treated at home and to see if I can provide a better environment. Surely you read the brochure?"
Vernon face had drained of color. Here was another muggle, not unlike himself in a lot of ways, telling him how to treat this obvious reprobate.
"But let me get serious here, Mr. Dursley. I take my work very, very seriously. I rehabilitate young boys who have missed their chance in the world. I have seen the dregs of society turn into upstanding members of the community. I am very proud of my work, Mr. Dursley, and I cannot bear the thought that someone, with a son like yours, would make light of it. If I could, I would like to take Harry from this place but I realize there are extenuating circumstances as to that. However, I will make a bargain with you. If you give Harry proper food and clothing and I mean clothing that fits, new from the store and not hand-me-downs, then I won't think about turning you in to child services or calling the police on your son the next time he destroys a mailbox in my neighborhood. Even if they do find you innocent, I don't think you'd want to endure the public embarrassment of having either child services or the police show up at your door. Oh, and I would think about letting a friend visit once in a while. Harry tells me it has been a terribly long summer without his friends. I shall take my leave now. I have intruded enough already. Harry will make sure our bargain is carried out. You have my card, Mr. Dursley." With that, Mr. Johnson left.
The moment the door shut, Vernon yelled, "PETUNIA!"
Petunia woke from her stupor and approached Vernon. "Yes, dear?"
"He… He… That BOY has now got regular people on his side. The gent threatened me! ME! He threatened to call the police with false charges against Dudley and against us for child abuse!"
"Oh, Vernon! What are we going to do!" Mrs. Dursley squeled.
"I tell you what you're going to do. You're going to take my mastercard and by Harry some decent clothes. He's an embarrassment to us all in that drab wardrobe."