Author's Note: So, it's been a while on this story. In 2020 I focused on completing as many works as I could, and this work got placed on the back burner. In 2021, having cleared out some of those old works, I'm taking a different approach. This year the 10 works in progress that I've put work on in the last two years that are not complete will be prioritized by how many hits on fanfiction dot net that they received in the prior month. Basically, I'm opening up works in order and seeing if I'm inspired. In the month of January this story was number two on the list behind Laughing Manor. It is somewhat impressive that a work that didn't get an update in December or all of 2020 was that high on the list.
This particular chapter is settling in to the pattern for the story. There is the usual Death Eater encounter with a member of the Dursley Family. There is some classes and some causal time in the Hufflepuff dorm. Finally there is something going on Privet Drive. This is likely to be the format for this story from this point forward. Right now there is no over arching plot for this story but to see how much I can derail canon with a large loving Dursley Family.
I'd like to thank the following for their feedback on this chapter, Jonn Wolfe, Joey Zoot, Yamaban, AlyssonR, Man of Kent, and those on the Surviours of Caer Azkaban discord server and CaerAzkaban mailing list.
Chapter Five: The First Day
Professor Snape always made sure that he made an impression on his students, dunderheads they may be, in his first class. Just because Harry Potter was in the class and what had happened to the Death Eaters who had encountered him, was not going to change the objective behind his. It just made his intended guinea pig change.
He watched from behind the painting of the Bloody Baron, which he'd had moved to cover an alcove across from his classroom. As this was a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class, it was not unexpected for the Ravenclaws to arrive before the Hufflepuffs. Indeed, every single one of them arrived before the gaggle of Hufflepuffs
He was not surprised that a Ravenclaw, Hermione Granger, was the first to arrive. The girl had stuffed back pack on, and Snape was willing to bet that most of her text books, if not all, were in it. The Professor knew the type at a glance. She'd probably be raising her hand all the time, and if he let her answer, no one would ever get an answer. He'd never be able to figure out who was learning outside of tests and quizzes if he engaged in the get attention to show what I know students. Far better to go to the ones whose eyes didn't meet his.
He judged Lisa Turpin to be much the same, save perhaps a bit lighter case. If there was a third in this Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class would have some real trouble on both ends. It looked like Wayne Hopkins was at the opposite end of the spectrum of knowledgeable ravens. The boy was actually reading his text book as he walked down the hall. That usual meant one that wasn't going to raise their hand, but was often a good, if formulaic potion maker.
Snape continued to evaluate each Ravenclaw, getting the initial impression he needed to target his questions. He had a good idea of how he was going to start with the ravens, they were the typical mix of over eager over achievers and reclusive book worms, with a few mixes in between. Nothing that he wasn't used to dealing with, and definitely not as complex and hidden as his Slytherins tended to be.
Then the gaggle of Hufflepuffs arrived. This always happened, and a group arriving so quickly together that it was hard to get an individual impression before he came in. Fortunately there were some he could ignore. He knew Draco Malfoy well, though being sorted into Hufflepuff made Snape question if he really did know the boy. Still, he could focus his attention on the others. He also did not focus his attention on Potter, having already focused enough of that during the feast.
Ron Weasley looked to be engaged in some light hearted conversation with Sean Cornfoot, probably quidditch related if Snape was any judge. He didn't expect either to be focused in class, nor did he expect Ernie MacMillan to be engaged in class, as he patted Cornfoot on the back. The way Roger Malone seemed to be moving, with his upright posture and eyes focused ahead was promising. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand seemed to be hugging the edge of the corridor as he walked with a unsteady rhythm. That did not bode well for making potions which required precise stirring.
As the last Hufflepuff entered the classroom, it was time to step out from behind the painting and start class. He swung open the painting and stepped through, before carefully closing it. During his second year teaching, he'd opened and closed the painting so hard that it fell off two separate days. He had no such compunction when it came to his own classroom door, letting it slam shut right before he began his speach.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," he began, as a pain started in his dark mark. "As such I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making." He reached the front of the room and turned around. "However, for those select few who posses the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."
That was when the pain in his arm around his dark mark caused Severus to stop. His gaze swept around the room. Potter was seated in the front row, directly in front of the black board, not an uncommon choice for a student with glasses. It usually indicated that at some point in time in the recent past the student had delayed getting a new prescription. Serverus realized that the pain had gotten worse when he'd gotten closer to the Hufflepuff.
Care would have to be done with getting near Potter. He spotted that Miss Granger had her head down and was writing something across the room. Severus strode across the room, the brief pause serving only to heighten the tension in the classroom. "Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough not to pay attention! Miss Granger."
A glace at the notebook open with quill poised to record his next word made him change course. Still he needed to explain his approach. She was a Ravenclaw, a hatstall at that. He saw a thrust to prove herself in the girl's pose. It reminded him a bit of Lily, actually. A hard question, one that would show that the girl had been reading ahead, then move on to someone else, he decided. It was unlikely that even a marginally reasonable question would catch the girl out, he judged."Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"Most likely the Drought of Living Dead, sir, but I suppose it could also be the Wolfbane's precursor."
"Two points to Ravenclaw, Miss Granger," Severus said, the extra one going because it would have taken some really deep reading to discover the potion that wolfsbane had to be stored in for at least two days before. "Though one would have to add iodine to that."
He turned to the student against the wall. Draco was the lone Hufflepuff not in the gaggle. "Mister Malfoy, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat, sir," Draco replied, bright and firmly. Severus was glad to see that the boy wasn't letting being a Hufflepuff stop his enjoyment of the one class that he'd long said he was looking forward to.
"One point to Hufflepuff, Mister Malfoy," Severus said, eying the back row of students. It was time to go a bit out of potions text, to a related but to Severus's opinion the second most important class in Hogwarts, behind his own. He strode right up next to Longbottom. "Mister Longbottom, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane."
Longbottom had lowered his head at his approach, but as soon as Severus completed the question, he looked up, his eyes alight. "They are the same thing, sir. It's also called aconite and should be handled with care as its leaves are very toxic."
"Two points to Hufflepuff," Severus replied, turning around and strode up to his desk. He stood to the right of it, instead of the left, putting enough space between him and Potter to make the pain in his mark a dull ache. He drew his wand, and summoned his lectern from the other side. Then he looked at the blackboard behind him. It had a boils curing potion on it. That was a usual choice for a first potion, but perhaps something a bit different would be a good option. He wiped the board with a non-verbal spell.
Severus opened his card file of potions. There were many choices, but most of them he immediately discarded. Either they didn't make a good first day potion, or they might cause issues down the road if the whole class knew how to do it. Then his eyes caught a potion that just plain would be ineffective to use on his Slytherins. The Ravenclaws might be able to figure out how to change the color to theirs, but it just wasn't possible to go Gryffindor. He placed the card into a slot on his lectern. The instructions appeared on the blackboard.
"We will be starting with a hair potion," Severus began. "This one goes by the rather pedestrian name of formula fifty-six. It is also an early step in what is known as Sleek-Easy hair potion, which as you will discover in later years is an amalgamation potion..."
VBDF
Ron Weasley had long thought that his brother Bill was the coolest of his older brothers. That was before Bill opened his mouth. "Up front, Ron. I think we need to talk a bit before we start class." Percy may have told him to arrive early but sitting in the front row was another thing. Bill took a seat across the desk from him, his arms crossed against the back of the wheeled chair that reminded him of the one for his father's roll top desk that had briefly served as an extra kitchen table chair a few years back. It looked like solid oak, was armless but had once had arms. It had a deep brown padded seat, which Bill was sitting the wrong direction.
"I'm sorry that I wasn't able to talk to you before class," Bill said. "I had the Gryffindor password, but I'm not even sure that I know where the Hufflepuff dorms are. I didn't date one like Charlie did. I know where Ravenclaw Tower is, hard to miss that after the triennial space launch, and if a Gryffindor doesn't know where Slytherin is in the dungeons, well. Hufflepuff tends to get overlooked, like you do."
Ron looked up at his oldest brother. Somehow Bill had managed to notice what he'd long felt. At the Burrow it wasn't uncommon to hear about Bill as head boy, Charlie with Quidditch, and recently Percy's new prefect badge. Fred and George were twins and big jokers who always got attention. Ginny was the girl and the youngest. That left Ron, sitting in the corner being ignored save for occasional games of chess with his father or Percy. Not so much lately with Percy, since Ron had been beating him so throughly lately. It had almost been enough for Ron to throw a few games just to get Percy to play with him more, but Ron couldn't do that. It was one of the few things he was good at.
"I know, having a big brother as a Professor isn't going to be easy for you, and don't expect me to make this an easy class. If it was an easy class, I don't think you would have pride in doing well in it. I'm not going to favor you, but I'm also not going to make it impossible for you. Read the chapter before class, I'm sure you'll be able to answer the questions I ask. But not today, today isn't in the book.
"Now, Ron, it is about time that class starts, but if you don't mind, I'd like to stop by your dorm every once in a while. Perhaps this evening after dinner? It's been way too long since we've be able to talk with each other without interruption."
"Has that ever actually happened, Bill?" Ron had to finally respond. The Weasleys were a big and boisterous family. Quiet talks without interruption rarely if ever happened.
Bill laughed heartily. "You have a point," Bill said, slapping his arm around Ron's back, before heading to the front of the classroom.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts... "
VBDF
It was just after four when Lily, Porta, and Colin entered the Stone Playhouse. Already seated on chairs along the side wall nearest the door were the defendants, Dennis Creevey, Godwin Porkiss, and Crispin Adams. They were sitting in the red chairs, which were a little small for them, and per tradition their pants were around their ankles to "prevent escape."
Lily, Porta, and Colin had on the traditional play judge wigs and all wore black shirts. Only Carrie Stone had a black robe to use, and those were actually her bathrobe. There was a hand-me-down old one of hers that had been stashed in the play house, but with the full panel, well it was better to match.
The Stone Playhouse was a rather large play house as play houses went. It had a set of fake petrol pumps out front next to the oval of pavement that various childhood vehicles had circled around. Inside it had a fake kitchen, complete with a fake washer/dryer, oven, and stove. There was a high table, which the judges would sit behind on stools, and a set of bunk beds along the back. On the side that the defendants were seated there was a well-used chalk board, a clock, and a bell that could be rung from the house.
It had been built by Mister Stone, with a solid stone foundation and a thatched roof that was replaced regularly. He'd intended on it outlasting his children, some day turning it into a workshop, which explained it's foundation. As Carrie was having his first grandchild, that wasn't likely to happen any time soon.
Lily had been chosen to be the chief of the panel by majority vote, 2-1. She couldn't fault her fellow judges' reasoning, much as she thought being the sister of the victim didn't make a good panel, but sometimes it was inevitable. After all the defendant and one of his co-conspirators were younger brothers of the two other judges. There wasn't a judge who wasn't related in this case, something that she knew was going to be a way too common case.
Lily brought down the gavel, whose sound echoed rather nicely. Then Violet spoke up, acting as baliff, "Before this court, Judge Lily presiding with Judges Porta and Colin, en blanc, in a combined case, over Dennis the Menace . verse the Crown, the thirty-fifth such case. Defendants are the aforementioned Curly Crispin, and Pieface Godwin, also known as the Menaces. The honorable Iris Dursley, stands for the crown." It was tradition that each defendant went by a nickname. In the two cases that she'd been brought before the court, she'd been Lily the Fire
"Iris, what are the charges that you bring before the court?"
Iris smiled one of her too good to be real grins. "Dennis the Menace is charged with three counts of destruction of lawn, two counts of soiling of clothes, one count of incitement of canine attack, harriment outside of agreed games, simple assault, and prevention of obeying parental orders. Curly Crispin is charged with a single count of destruction of lawn, two counts of soiling of clothes, harriment outside of agreed games, attempted restraint, and prevention of obeying parental orders. Pieface Godwin is charged with destruction of a planter, dangerous deliberate targeting of a squirt gun, simple assault, and prevention of obeying parental orders."
"How do you plead, gentlemen, and I use that term extremely loosely?" Lily asked, directing her glare right at Dennis. It looked like he was a bit afraid of her, which Lily thought might be a good thing.
"I plead guilty on all counts, and throw myself on the mercy of this court," Dennis replied. After a moment's silence, he elbowed Crispin and Godwin, who were seated on either side of him.
"I thought we were going to test the new judges," Crispin whispered back.
"I read the Kipling that she quoted," Dennis said, his voice low and unsteady. "Harry, Dudley, Piers, they were males, and females are deadlier than the males. Yes, my older brother is on the panel, but he's a coward. And to quote:
"'She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells—
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else. '
"There is a reason we don't appeal to Carrie, even before she got pregnant. Now we should hope and pray that my brother can cede us some mercy in sentencing."
Both Godwin and Crispin gulped visibly before echoing Dennis "I plead guilty on all counts, and throw myself on the mercy of this court."
Lily looked at Colin, who shrugged and remarked, "Okay, I was wrong, Kipling is amazingly effective."
"I told you. Gentlemen, you sentences have already been discussed among each of us, and we have decided that you're going to get to chose from each of our sentences, but you will not know which is which. Yes, we're going with dirty sentencing," Lily said, sliding her sentences for each of the three into her envelope. "Your sentencing envelopes, judges?"
Colin and Porta each handed Lily an envelope which she shuffled with her own. She was pretty sure that the sentences each of them had given were pretty close to each other, after all they'd discussed the options, but the Menaces didn't know that. The Menaces had no idea even who might be the easiest or hardest sentence. That made the game of a full panel with guilty pleas a bit less fun or predictable. Lily drew the middle envelope from her shuffling.
"I have here envelope number one," Lily said, knowing exactly whose envelope it was, even though they looked outwardly the same, unless you looked very close. The Menaces couldn't look that close. "It seems to be a rather thick sentence, which might be worrying to you, especially given that, as Kipling said, the females of the species are deadlier than the male, and two of us three happen to be just that. Of course, you could take your chances on envelope number two. I assure you that both are fair sentences."
"Our judgements are absolutely equitable," Colin picked up. "Though perhaps the fact that I know you so well, Dennis, might make whichever envelope is mine a bit more on point."
"I think my little brother might be a tad bit more worried," Porta said. "After all, Piers gave me the big book of little brother punishments, right Godwin?" Godwin paled a bit at Porta's smile.
"So, Dennis, as the first on the docket, envelope one or two?" Lily asked.
"One," Dennis said boldly.
"I really didn't think he'd stick with that one, Lily," Colin said. "Dennis, you're a brave man."
"Unless he wants envelope number three," Porta remarked. "It doesn't bode well for Godwin. So, little brother, two or three?"
"Th-th-three," Godwin stuttered.
"That leave two for Crispen, unless he wants to risk taking one from Dennis?" Colin asked. "My little brother might not like that, or then again, he might just like you to steal the envelope from him. It could be from one of those females of the species, or it could be from me. My sentences on Dennis – well perhaps it's better that you don't know my thoughts on punishing him."
"You're not tricking me into taking from Dennis," Crispin replied.
"So, Dennis, would you like to take three from Godwin?" Porta asked. "I kind of hope you do, it would be so fun if he ends up with what I gave him."
"That one has to be my brother's, I'm taking three," Dennis said. "Sorry Godwin."
Lily made her biggest smile before turning to Godwin. "You know, I've found that knowing too much about someone really makes the punishment work so well. Are you sure you don't want two from Crispin?" Godwin shook his head. "Very well. Time to see exactly how creative everyone got with the sentences."
Lily opened envelope number three. It was Colin's sentences. "Oh boy, Colin, I have to say you're evil."
VBDF
"My oldest brother is evil," Ron Weasley said dropping his books on one of the tables in the Hufflepuff First Year Dorm. "Ending class with a tour of the library ... how is that Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"I don't know, his Dark Arts of Madame Pince's Library tour certainly gave us some defense against her," Harry said as he leaned back on one of the scattered low chairs in the wide main chamber of the Hufflepuff First Year dorm. He'd already dropped his robe in his alcove and picked up his Transfiguration book to look over for the next day's class. "I think Hermione enjoyed it. At least she had much larger load of books when she left for Ravenclaw than you picked up."
"I asked Bill what I really needed to check out first. It had to be on the very top shelf in the very back of the collection," Ron replied. "I thought I'd be able to relax a little at school instead of Mum always pushing me to do stuff. Then bloody Bill had to become a professor. Why did Quirrel have to die?"
Harry weighted responding for a moment. "Sorry about that, I didn't think trying to shake his hand would turn him into ash. The smell was horrible."
"You were there when it happened?" Ernie MacMillan asked, as he tossed his robe into the alcove he shared with Malfoy. After classes were over you didn't have to keep the school uniform on, and the Hufflepuff dorms were on the warm side. Pretty much all of them had ditched the black wool robes. MacMillan had rid himself of his tie, and unbuttoned hid white dress shirt to reveal a Wasps t-shirt.
Malfoy leaned out of the alcove, "at least try to get it on your bed, MacMillan." Malfoy was still in his uniform, save that the tie was gone. Malfoy seemed to really hate his Hufflepuff tie.
"My family was visiting Diagon Alley for my school supplies. From what the Auror told Aunt Petunia a few days later, Professor Quirel had been possessed by the seriously evil wizard who killed my parents, and the protection that my Mum created by her death for the rest of the family literally burnt the Wraith of You-Know-Who out of his body. He'd been possessed too long, effused with the wraith throughout his body, so he burnt up. I had nightmares for days. That smell."
"It's not just the Dark Lord's possession that burns," Malfoy said almost inaudible to Harry as he exited the alcove and found a seat. It wasn't close to the other chairs, which were pretty close to the center of the chamber, but over almost all the way to the door to the boy's corridor.
"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Harry said, curious. After all, if it was something that his mother's protection did, he needed to know. At first it didn't look like Malfoy was going to respond.
Malfoy seemed to sink into himself as he sat in the chair. He wasn't opening the book in his hand, as his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. Harry nearly resigned himself not to find out, before Susan spoke up. "Come on, Draco. I think you need to say it."
Malfoy stood up, and uneasily moved forward. He let the book he'd had in hand drop to the floor. As he began to pace, you could hear his deep breath, as he settled himself, as if he was about to release a big load from his body. "My father was a Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, so they say. He claims that he was under a curse to obey. All of the Dark Lord's inner circle have this mark, father calls it the Dark Mark, that the Dark Lord gave him.
"Father always tries to hide it, I'm not sure why. Anyway, he was in Diagon Alley when your family went by, Potter. The Dark Mark caught fire, and the burns, they're not healing well. I'm worried for him."
Harry stood up and went to stand by the now stationary Malfoy scion. He placed his arm around his fellow Hufflepuff, much the way he'd done so when his younger cousins were in similar moods. "He's your father, fathers are important, and you should feel that way. I don't have one anymore, but I remember when Uncle Vernon, my guardian, broke his arm at work. Seeing the cast on his arm, well, I thought he was going to die like my father did at first."
"Father is too important to die," Malfoy said, as Harry turned him so they faced each other. Draco was actually just a little bit taller, but somehow Harry still managed to envelope him in a hug. As Harry held Malfoy, it was like something went loose inside Malfoy, as he slumped against Harry. Tears started going down his face. For a long minute, nothing was said, before the gates opened up.
"I'm afraid he'll be disappointed in me," Draco admitted pulling slightly away from Harry. "Father expected me to be in Slytherin, to rule the school, or at least my year within days. Now I'm in Hufflepuff that's not going to happen."
"Don't count on that," Harry replied. He was kind of used to this. It seemed that all of his younger siblings and their friends had ended up in his arms at one point or another. Aunt Petunia said it was because he was like his mother, a natural at getting people to open up. "Like Professor Sprout said, we're Hufflepuffs, we can do anything."
Draco pulled out of Harry's embrace, pulled out a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his robe, and blew his nose. "Not going to happen. I already know who is going to rule our year, and it is not me. It never was going to be. And you know, I really don't mind."
"We haven't been hear a full day, how do you know that, Malfoy?" Macmillan asked.
Draco looked around the chamber. "It was always going to be Harry, come on. Boy-Who-Lived? Heir to the Most Noble House of Potter? Who somehow filled a compartment on the Express with no less than three children of Wizengamot members, and one head of a minor department of the Ministry. Don't scoff at that, Weasley. Your father might be in a small department, but my father has real respect for the office, even though he's been a rival of yours since their first years.
"If Granger doesn't end up being number one in our class, I'll be surprised, just based on sharing a couple classes and being in the library with her. You know she memorized Hogwarts, a History?
"Both Thomas and Finnigan are likely to be tops in Gryffindor. You saw how they greeted and introduced the others to us. Though I already knew Crabbe. Zabini is going to rule Slytherin since I'm not there, and that's only because he sat with you on the Express."
"Sitting with me isn't that important," Harry replied, feeling his face warm with his blush.
"It's Slytherin, who you're seen with is all important. That and who your family is, and what your parents do. Everyone knew who was going to be what in Slytherin. Then I had to be sorted in Hufflepuff, because, apparently, I will do well here. Mangey old hat!"
VBDF
"Bradley, get the mail," Vernon ordered, as he heard it hit the floor and the mail slot snap shut. He was hoping for a letter from Dudley. It may have only been a couple days since he'd dropped his son off, but Dudley had said that he'd write earlier and more often than Harry would. A white form glided through the open kitchen window, before landing on the back of Petunia's chair. It was Hedwig, and it looked like she had a letter.
Lily was smiling as she stepped up to get the letter off of Hedwig. "I told you my older brother would write first," she said, addressing Bradley as he got up. Vernon had known for a while that Lily was not actually his child, being magically transferred to Petunia on her sister's death. It had been something he'd suspected at first when she started having accidental magic. For a while he'd thought that the sign of a Dursley was no magic, then Bradley had summoned his pacifier, and he'd discovered Violet adjusting the color of her shirt the next day. Still, it actually hurt him a bit when Lily started aligning with Harry instead of Dudley.
Lily still called him Dad though. Vernon missed her calling him Daddy. The way she used to plead with him, drawing out the word had never been matched by his younger children, and even Harry was his child, as far as he was concerned. Lily was growing up way to quickly. She was nine, now, and just starting to show signs of her development. He was hoping that she would develop more of a sense of modesty, soon. Thus far, the only sign he'd seen of it was the one time he'd opened the garage door to discover that she was showering in the back. That reminded him, it was past time for him to finish installing the privacy wall for the shower and sinks he'd installed as a project last summer.
"He's in Hufflepuff!" Lily said unscrolling the letter as she read it. Bradley was returning with the stack of Royal Mail that had been shoved through the letter slot. "Told you he wouldn't be in Griffindor, Noel! And definitely not Slytherin, Brad."
Bradley looked up from shuffling the letters. "Nothing from Dudley," Bradley said in a monotone. It had only been a couple days, but Vernon could tell that Bradley was missing his older brother. Bradley was now the oldest of his boys at home, and third eldest child not away at boarding school. He'd hoped that it might give his son just a little bit more maturity, with some additional responsibilities devolving to him, namely taking more a role with Noel and being responsible for the cleanliness of the room the two shared. Judging from the peak he'd taken of the room, that wasn't happening yet. "There is a letter from Aunt Marge."
His children didn't like Vernon's sister. There were times where he had to agree with them. The Ripper Incident being one of the primary examples. He'd nearly torn his sister a new one when the dog, after chasing Harry up a tree had bit then two-year-old Noel. It had taken a while before she was welcomed back to the Dursley home. Marjorie, she'd insisted on being called by her legal name after Vernon turned ten, was his sister, though, and the usual Spring visit to her home out in the Lake District where last year they'd been able to ride the Steam Yacht Gondola was a highlight of the Dursley family's year.
Vernon opened his sister's letter, as Harry's letter got passed from Lily to Violet. It began with a whole page about the antics of her dogs, which Vernon only skimmed. It was an interest he didn't share with his sister. He was a cat person, not a dog person, and if it wasn't for practicality, he probably would have encouraged Harry to go for a cat instead of getting the owl. Next was a little bit about some house and kennel renovations, then a request on how Petunia was doing with her latest pregnancy.
Vernon looked up to discover that Petunia was just entering the dining room. As she passed near enough, he reached out to pull her into a kiss, causing his children to immediately groan. She was sixteen and a half weeks, now, and showing it a bit. "How is the baby this morning, Pet?" he asked.
"So far, avoiding making me sick this morning for the first time in weeks," Petunia said, looking over his shoulder. "Marge? I'll give you a couple paragraphs for your response. Violetta, I'm next for Harry's letter, and Brad-de-kins, good attempt at making your bed, but you can do better."
"Yes Mummy," Violet said. Bradley merely nodded back at his mother before going back to his breakfast. Violet, on the other hand, seemed a bit hyper this morning, squirming in her seat as she finished Harry's letter.
Vernon turned back to his sister's letter. It seemed that there had been an incident with Colonel Fubster, whose old regimental secretary had stopped by. Marjorie was afraid that she might have made a fool of herself. Vernon huffed. It was almost a certainty that she'd made a fool of herself. His sister had it bad for the Colonel and really should give it up, because the Colonel did not and would not ever, as far as Vernon could tell.
The Colonel had apparently volunteered to watch the kennel, though, so she could make her yearly trip to visit family in the South of England. Most of which, Vernon was sure, could care less for her visit. His children were not alone in that feeling. She was his sister, and at this point, it was tradition. Violet would move in with Iris and Primrose for the visit for the weekend of her visit. Without Harry and Dudley, they wouldn't need to make up the parlor at night for the children. He was sure that his children would miss that. It was apparently great fun to camp out there. Last year he'd discovered all eight of them asleep in the parlor on the third morning of his sister's visit.
"Marge will be here from the twenty-fifth to the twenty-seventh, this year," Vernon announced, to his children. The groan from the six was epic.