Author's Note: This story is one that currently falls into my nothing else is inspiring me to write slot, so it has taken a while for this part to appear, especially since I chose to make 2020 my finish up some of these works year. For 2021, I'm going back to where the muse gives me, with a priority list based on views the prior month for works that I've already posted. This means that By Hephaestus Forged and Very Big Dursley Family are neck and neck for what I'll be looking at in January first. Then again, this story will probably shoot up since I'm posting a part of it, which is okay, because I finally know what I'm doing with it. I'm also letting myself start new works in the new year now that my works in progress are at manageable level.
For this particular chapter, I'd like to thank Matt Arnold, joey zoot, Alysson deMerel, those who responded in the discord Survivors of CaerAzkaban, Young Marrissa A, and the irreplaceable Jim Trigg.
Chapter Two Delighted
Minerva McGonagall listened to Dudley stomping up the stairs with some satisfaction. She'd only narrowly escaped having her tail pulled by the boy when she had scouted out Number Four again before deciding to convince Molly Weasley to claim her rightful inheritance and move into Cackle Hall. It hadn't been easy at all to do so, but by letting Molly believe it was Dumbledore's idea, she had done it. Albus had no idea that anything was changing in Little Whinging. He was too busy dealing with his ICW duties caused by something called a Toyota in an African town called Aouzou.
Minerva really didn't know the details about that, just that it had left her in charge of Hogwarts for the last two months of the school year. More importantly she'd been in the Headmaster's office when Arabella Figg had contacted her about being unable to continue watching Harry Potter for a while. The poor woman had managed to break her leg in four places, then catch cold, followed by pneumonia. Her healer was sending her to a place in St. Ives for the Sea Cure.
It was her first chance to do something about the awful muggles that Harry had been left in care of. She intended to have an irrevocable system in place by the time Albus returned from the ICW. It was likely to be quite some time, because Albus had already sent word that she was going to have to hire the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
The first thing she had to handle was getting a better watch that could do more than occasional child minding. Fortunately, from among her Gryffindors she had good option right away. She'd been greatly surprised some years back when William Weasley had started back in '81 and his address had been "the Burrow" instead of "Cackle Hall." She knew that Molly should have inherited it. She'd even asked the Devonshire housewitch. Apparently she'd never considered it, and figured that in a couple more years they'd have to sell it when more of their children were attending Hogwarts.
Well now she'd considered otherwise. Now the elite of Little Whinging were about to discover the changes that Minerva had wrought. Of course that to start with this small ticky-tacky house. Really, did muggles have to be so uniform. Every single one on the block had the same plan, only differentiated by number, paint, and the brick pattern. Okay, three of them had new dark almost green tile roofs, but otherwise, they were the same.
"Perhaps we should sit down, Petunia," Minerva said, with a glare that she'd long used on certain members of her house, as well as a few Professors since she'd become Deputy Headmistress. "We need to have some words about proper child rearing, in particular that of your nephew, though some words about you son, may also be warranted, as it does influence your nephew's treatment."
"Come into the parlor," Petunia said, nervously. "Can I get you some tea?"
"Not this time," Minerva said as she was led into the parlor.
Once they were seated in the parlor, Minerva in the chair that she was sure was usually Vernon's, with just a bit of wandless and wordless transfiguration to make it feel better, and Petunia on the floral patterned sofa, Minerva began her lecture.
"In my many years as a Professor at Hogwarts, I have seen many a parent while introducing their children to the magical world. Quite often I observe them before hand in the guise of my animagus form, a tabby cat. I find that one can tell a lot about children and their parents by how they handle an encounter with a cat. Some run away. Some, like yourself some years ago, find a saucer and some milk to give the cat to drink. Some attack the cat and try to pull its tail. Some pet the cat and tell them of their troubles. Each of these is quite revealing as to parenting, as well as the personality of the child.
"A child who runs away is scared, or may be allergic to cats, the former is more revealing. Such a child will have difficulty with change, and often requires a special hand when being introduced to the magical world. Their parents are often strict, sometimes abusive, but usually not.
"A child who offers the cat a saucer of milk is kind. The have grown up in a world where charity is not a courtesy, but a duty that all should and do. Often they have yet to be exposed to the evils of the world, and this can change as a result, but these children have the greatest potential for good.
"A child who pulls a cat's tail is without restraint, and often grows up cruel. With proper early intervention, such a child can be taught restraint, and learn proper morals and behavior. You son is such a child."
Minerva could see Petunia about to object, with a sharp hook to her voice, she cut into Petunia attempt before her mouth could take the deep breath required to begin such an objection. "Do not object to that which you know in your heart is true. Open your eyes, and stop allowing yourself to believe what you hear about your son is really that about your nephew. Your son is a bully, who when a cat approaches seeking a petting, he pulls the tail and attaches cans to it! You know I am right, Petunia."
Then softer, she concluded her tale of children encountering her cat form. "A child who pets and talks to the cat is the most revealing of all. They tend to be eager for friendship, and are most often victims of bullies. They tend to be caring, and tend to put others before themselves, often to extremes. It is from these children that you find out the most as a cat, for their want for friendship and their belief that the cat can not tell on them allows them to open up and tell the truth about their lives.
"Harry Potter spent several hours petting me. I know how he was treated by you and Vernon. I will be by this evening when Vernon gets back from work to talk to him. Now, though, let me explain how you're going to change to make sure your son and nephew grow up to be good people..."
Harry Potter wasn't exactly sure he had found himself sitting in what he thought was a parlor, at least that was the closest room he knew of to what this room was, though on a considerably larger scale than the fount parlor at the Dursley's. He was sitting on a couch between Ginny and another boy his age, who was apparently her brother Ron. The twins, Fred and George, had been sent off to return to cleaning the cloak room, whatever that was. Bill had found a seat across the room and was sipping a tall glass of lemonade.
Most importantly, though, there was Mrs. Weasley, who had just summoned a chair from across the room and was now sitting in front of the three on the couch. And the word was summoned, as in magically called it to move, not having someone move it, or moving it herself. It was magic, and the Dursleys had always told him that there was no such thing as magic.
"There is magic," Harry whispered, as if any louder would break the new reality that he was in. "There can't be magic. Uncle Vernon said so."
"Yes, Harry, there is magic, and you are a wizard," Mrs. Weasley said.
"No, I'm normal. I'm not a freak," Harry replied, shaking his head.
"You are not a freak," Mrs. Weasley said calmly. "Despite what you may have been told, the ability to do magic is not freakish. It is normal, perhaps even special."
Harry shook his head. He he'd been told that it was freakish but he couldn't stop it sometimes.
"Oh, I see I'm going to have to demonstrate," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now my older boys are not supposed to use magic out of school, so perhaps I should bring out the old standby. Arthur once took me to see a muggle movie, I think it was called 'Cinderella,' and it had this wonderful scene in it. The words aren't really right for the spells, but a little practice and it makes a good bit of entertainment."
"Oh, Mommy, can I be Cinderella?" Ginny said, jumping up from the couch.
"I think we'll do Cinderella and her prince this time," Mrs. Weasley said. "Stand up Harry."
Harry stood up somewhat nervously, just before Mrs. Weasley began to sing.
"Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
Put 'em together and what have you got
bippity-boppity-boo
As Mrs. Weasley began to sing, sparkles shot out of her wand. First they just changed what she was wearing, changing the slightly worn house dress to a glimmering blue dress with a hooded cape. Then the sparkles caught Ginny, turning her dress into a ball gown, her sneakers into glass slippers. A tiara was conjured and placed upon her brow.
Then the sparkles caught Harry, changing his clothes into a classic deep purple prince's tunic and pants. His sneakers became stout dark leather boots, and a crown appeared on his head. Ginny curtsied towards him, and he returned it with a bow.
Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
It'll do magic believe it or not
bippity-boppity-boo
Then the sparkles hit the coffee table, transforming it into a kids size royal one horse carriage. Ron stood up, and a rat shot out of a nearby cage, transforming in mid-air into a pony, which soon found itself hitched to the carriage. His outfit transformed into a deep blue footman's tunic with pale blue pants and black boots. Bill's outfit changed into the coachman's outfit, as he moved to hold the pony.
Ron held the door, and Harry took the cue to lead Ginny over to the carriage and helped her up the pair of steps. He joined Ginny in the carriage just as Fred and George's clothes were transfigured into fools outfits. Though the back window, Harry could tell that Ron had found a perch at the back of the carriage, and Bill jumped up to the coachman's seat.
Salagadoola means mechicka booleroo
But the thingmabob that does the job is
bippity-boppity-boo
The carriage jolted forward and proceeded into the next room which appeared to be some sort of untamed garden. Mrs. Weasley followed, still singing.
Salagadoola menchicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
Put 'em together and what have you got
bippity-boppity bippity-boppity bippity-boppity-boo
The carriage threaded through the untamed garden, passing a boy who appeared to be between Bill and the twins in age, closer to Bill. Ginny waved at him. After a couple laps, the carriage went back into the room they'd started in.
Suddenly it transformed back, leaving Harry and Ginny sitting on the coffee table, their clothes transfigured back to normal.
"I think we can agree that magic is real," Mrs. Weasley said, now back in her house dress. "And a bit fun at times."
Harry nodded his head with a smile.
"Now that we've got that out of the way, though, I think it is time that you know why we're here, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said. "You're a wizard Harry, and an important one at that."
Harry moved back to the sofa, and shook his head. There was no way he was important.
"It all began before you were born. There was an evil wizard that was terrorizing Magical Britain ..."
Vernon Dursley was a man who did not like disruption in his life. He was a director at Grunnings Drills, and firmly believed that disruption was not good for you as a person or for business. Stable growth was what he expected. He also expected his wife Petunia to be waiting for him when he got home, with his cup of tea. Sometimes they'd share a cup or two, before she had to start on the evening meal. His son Dudley would tell him about his day, then he'd turn on the Six O'Clock News, after which the evening meal would be ready.
This time there was no one to greet him. Petunia was in the parlor, talking with some elderly lady that reminded Vernon a bit of a governess if anything. Petunia having tea with a lady in the parlor when he got home wasn't unheard of, but it was something that usually signaled that his evening was going to be disrupted somehow. As noted before, Vernon did not like disruption in his life.
"Petunia," he called out as he dumped his briefcase on the hall table.
"In here, Vernon," Petunia called back. "Come in, join me and Professor McGonagall."
This was not a good sign. His alarms started to rise as he stepped into the parlor to discover a severely dressed lady sitting on the sofa with his wife. If he had any word to describe her attire it would be that of a Victorian Governess. In fact he was quite reminded of Mrs. Bracegirdle, an old long passed retirement age battleaxe of a teacher that he'd had for maths in grammar school. His hands flinched involuntarily as he remember the way Bracegirdle would slap his hands with a ruler for misbehaving.
Vernon found himself standing, his hands positioned at his side and back straight, just like he had when Mrs. Bracegirdle had called him to the front of the class. When Professor McGonagall looked up at him, his shiver was almost exactly the same. It was not until the Professor gave a slight nod that Vernon found his seat in his easy chair. This time, though, it didn't feel like the most comfortable seat in the house, but just like the hard oak chair beside Mrs. Bracegirtle's desk.
"Dudley is currently spending the rest of the night in his room, after attacking some other children with his gang," Petunia informed. "It seems that your dismissal of his behavior towards Harry has allowed it to expand into going after other children..."
Dudley had never before found himself so bored. He wished he could honestly blame his cousin, but he couldn't. His cousin hadn't even been there when the Governess caught him. His mother had made him take everything out of his bedroom and left him in the room until dinner. A room that only had a single bed, an almost empty desk, and a chair. On the desk was a single book, apparently one from his mother's childhood, or possibly grandmothers, or even great grandmother's based on the frayed dull brown binding and almost illegible print on the side.
Dudley was bored, but not so bored that he was willing to read a book. He looked back at the book, reading the title on the side. "Elsie Dinsmore." Elsie was a cow's name to Dudley's limited exposure to such names. Reading a story about a cow was even less appealing. Dudley looked at the door. His mother had told him that he wasn't getting out of his now boring room, and was likely to be spending a lot of time in it.
Dudley was not an imaginative child. It may have been genetic, though certainly Petunia had once had a vivid imagination. That left his father as why Dudley Dursley was bored out of his mind. He'd considered doing a temper tantrum to get of the room. Something stopped him though. Maybe it was the Governess. That woman was scary.
He'd seen his friends' parents reactions to the matter of a fact descriptions of the things they had done that day, some that he didn't think she'd been around for. Dudley had the misfortune of being the last of the boys delivered home. Her description of what each of his friends had done to Harry and "her charge" had been devastatingly accurate. It was like she'd been watching them all day and had photographic memory. He was pretty sure that everyone of his friends were going to be grounded for at least a week if not a month.
His stomach growled. Dudley knew he wasn't going to be allowed to have a snack before dinner. He'd be lucky to have dinner. His parents often did that to Harry when he was punished. He was so bored. He looked back at the book. He wasn't that bored.
Ginny Weasley stepped out of her own bathroom into her new room in Cackle Hall. The five-year-old, (almost six) had never had a bathroom of her own before. The whole family had to share one before they'd moved that morning. Ginny wasn't exactly sure how many bathrooms were in their new house. She knew she'd lucked out by getting her Mum's old room. Only a few bedrooms had been deemed clean enough to use by bedtime.
The master suite where her parents were sleeping was done, of course, though just enough to sleep in, and the bathroom was still good. Her mother's old room had been cleaned out for her, and the old nursery which would eventually become Bill's room was currently housing all six of her brothers as the other rooms were not quite ready. In fact her mother had apparently taken a look at Uncle Fabian's and Uncle Gideon's old rooms and determined that those two rooms would require massive clean up.
Fred and George had, of course, immediately claimed those two rooms. Mum had immediately locked them out of those rooms until she could personally inspect them to make sure that there was nothing dangerous or inappropriate, whatever that last word met. In fact she informed them that they'd be cleaned by her personally and they should not expect moving in any time soon. Ginny had seen her mum looking at pictures of Uncles Fabian and Gideon, who Ginny had never met. She suspected that it would take her mum a long time before she completed that cleaning.
Her mum's old room hadn't even needed dusting, unlike most of Cackle Hall. When Ginny had asked why, her mum had knelt down beside Ginny and whisper, "I'll claim accidental magic, but I stole my own mum's wand to clean it up after my brothers messed it up. It was glorious when they tried to get me in trouble for not cleaning my room and discovered it perfectly clean."
And it was perfectly clean. Even the tub had been squeaky clean when she had used it. It was somewhat a new thing that Mum trusted Ginny to wash herself, which had happened just a week before she'd declared that Ron was washing himself well enough not to require supervision, and Ron was almost a year and a half older!
Ginny put her night shirt over her head and climbed into the large bed which in addition to being twice as wide was also higher off the floor than the one at the Burrow. She snuggled under the covers as her Mum looked in.
"Already in bed, Ginny," her mum noted, entering the room. "Do you want me to read you are bedtime story, so you can fall asleep, maybe your favorite?"
Ginny's favorite had been a Boy-Who-Lived tale, whose book was already well thumbed. Today though, that wasn't on Ginny's mind at all. After all she'd met the real Harry Potter. She shook her head and yawned. "Too tired," she said. As her mother pulled up the sheet to tuck her in, Ginny closed her eyes and drifted off in to dreams where she played with her new best friend, Harry Potter, all night long.
Do The Twins have a selection of new, muggle, test subjects?
Will Dudley suffer a nervous breakdown after being transfigured into a pig once too often?
Or will he really bring home the bacon?
All these and other questions will be answered in the next installment of ...
Laughing Manor
Or Not