Author's Note: I take a week off work, and this is what you get (delayed by a bit of connectivity issue). Perhaps I should take more time off.
Chapter 12
Vernon Dursley opened the door to the twelfth floor. He knew he was getting into better shape. When he'd first started coming to see Doctor Perks here in the Anderson-Cunnigham Medical Endowment Building, the elevator being out would have had him collapsed on the third floor. Opening the door to the office, he was greeted by the receptionist.
"Good Evening Mr. Dursley," the petite woman seated behind the desk said. "Doctor Perks is ready for you, and Miss Perks left a package that she asked if you could take to your nephew?"
"I'll pick it up on my way out," Vernon said, walking directly in to Doctor Perks's room. He'd never quite figured out why it was lit dimly. He took his seat on the worn blue couch. Doctor Perks was already seated, apparently finishing a crossword. It had annoyed Vernon the first time his appointment had started that way.
"So, Vernon, your nephew is home now," Doctor Perks prompted.
"Yes," Vernon said with a smile. If you'd told him that he'd be happy about Harry Potter being back in his house last fall, he would have declared you insane, but it was true. "We started off a bit rough, but I think we're getting along now."
"Really?"
"Does Sally-Anne get the Daily Prophet?" Vernon felt a bit of satisfaction as he recalled the bottom half of Friday's front page.
"Yes. It appears that the Wizarding World is living in interesting times."
"The wizard who killed Dahlia was on the front page Friday. Harry arranged for Pet and me to see his execution on the Tower Green."
"I see, and how did that make you feel?"
Vernon paused a bit before he answered. The execution at dawn had not been what he'd expected. The terms of execution for treason seemed to be perfect for the wizard who had killed his baby daughter as if it was some sort of sport. To witness it, though, that made the terms less academic, and more real.
"Have you ever heard someone's neck break?" Vernon began. "I don't want to hear it again. I watched as they hung all three, Walden Macnair and the other two, one by one dropping as the gallows opened. Then they took them down, and chopped off their heads.
"Doctor, I wanted him dead, I wanted him to suffer, and I wanted to see it happen. I don't think I could see anyone else, but in my dreams I've seen the man going up to the gallows, again. I've seen his unrepentant expression as they put the noose around his neck. I hear the drums roll, and then stop, as he plunges and his neck snaps. I know I shouldn't, but the memory gives me a feeling of triumph ... a feeling that I have gotten my revenge.
"That's not unexpected, Vernon, though if the dreams continue we might have to do something," Doctor Perks said. "So, how did you get to witness it?"
"Harry arranged for it," Vernon said. "He's on their Wizengamot now, and witnessed the trial. I think it gave him worse nightmares. He tells me that they had the three testify under some sort of truth potion. He also apparently witnessed the death of one of his classmates this year. I think he really needs to see someone like you."
"Talk to Mrs. Lanningham on your way out," Doctor Perks said. "I have a few openings in my schedule, though I suspect that getting my schedule and his to match may be an issue."
"It might," Vernon replied, thinking about it. His nephew was having nightmares, still. It was not uncommon for the boy, especially right as he got home from school. He knew it wasn't normal, either. It wasn't likely to get better this year though. The attack after dinner last night may not have made the Times, but Vernon was now a regular reader of the Daily Prophet, and he read that before the Times.
"What do you think about Harry, now?"
"You know, I'm not sure. This morning I was out on a morning walk through the neighborhood, and I encountered Mrs. Grundy, who lives at number nine, and may actually be more of a gossip than my Pet is. She'd apparently noticed Harry's name in the Honors List. He's been knighted by the Queen. Mrs. Grundy wanted to know why. I'm afraid that our lies about Harry's schooling have left him with a rather unsavory reputation in the neighborhood.
"I told her that he'd discovered a plot against the realm, and before I could stop myself I informed her that the same group that caused his parent's deaths were back. I'm not sure how I managed to do it, but I linked them to the Troubles, indicating that Harry's parents were undercover and that I'd only recently found out.
"I think Mrs. Grundy was actually a bit surprised that I said anything. It felt good standing up for Harry, though.
"I probably wouldn't even know what happened to Harry, if it weren't for Pet and the Daily Prophet. You know, I never really realized what Harry really is. Not that he's a wizard or something like that. My hatred for wizards kept me from really thinking about it. Despite all the abuse I've given him, despite how we've treated him like he was somehow lesser than anyone else, he's grown up to be a really kind boy."
Vernon found tears going down his cheeks. "I don't know how it happened, but he's got a real sense of fairplay, and gentle justice. You know, they were going to sweep the death of that boy under the carpet, and he wouldn't let them. That boy pulled out all the stops. Pet made me read all of the editions of the Daily Prophet involved. He had Cedric lie in state, an honor guard posted. He did the missing man formation on brooms, and Harry even hosted a wake for Cedric's friends.
"He's been building a water garden, with the assistance of his headmaster, for Pet. I've watched the care he puts into it, making sure each rock is perfectly fitted, each plant is placed exactly right. He spent a whole afternoon making sure that the water cascaded exactly right off the stone into the pond. Harry even asked for pictures of Dahlia so that one of the angels could be made to look exactly like her."
Vernon looked down at his feet, and sat in silence for a couple minutes.
"I don't deserve to have a nephew like Harry Potter."
"Maybe you should work on that."
Pansy felt a bit giddy as she tapped the bricks to open the entrance to Diagon Alley. Behind her was the Queen Mother and a trio of guards dressed in scarlet. Given that the recent wins of the Cannons had caused a surge in orange robes, much to Pansy's eyes' detriment, the guards probably looked less out of place than the Queen Mother's powder blue outfit.
"How fantastic," the Queen Mother said. "I haven't seen such a well-preserved example of British Village Shops since before I married. Though there was that charming little village in Wales, Godric's Hollow, I think it was, a few years back. I stopped there on my way to Prince Charles's Investure. Now where did you say that place is I might get a few back issues?"
"If we're starting with back issues, then we need to start with Archibald and Monk's," Pansy said, directing the dowager queen to a green-painted store front. As the door opened, a chime played, but not just any chime. While when Pansy normally entered, a simple bell rang, with the entry of the dowager queen the chime was practically symphonic. Pansy read the sign by the front counter "We have it or we will get it for you."
The Queen Mother strolled over to some dusty bins, packed with comics. Besides the old shopkeeper, busy sorting some books in the back of the shop, there was only one other person in the shop, a young boy dressed in Hogwarts robes. "Let's see, I believe you're missing one through ten, fifty-two, one sixty to one seventy-three, and three ninety-eight. I think the South African Arc would be my gift to my daughter, that's what, thirty-one to fifty-two?"
"Thirty-six, actually," Pansy said. "Thirty-one is the Wizengamot's Offer. Was that dark wizard there really named Ogabuga?"
"That's what he went by," the Queen Mother said, pulling out a couple comics. "I understand his real name was Fraulein. I'm not sure about his family name. I really don't think that his nom de plume was much of an improvement over his actual name."
"No, I don't think so," Pansy said, giggling as she remembered a line in issue thirty-nine.
"Ah, here it is, issue number one," the Queen Mother said, pulling out a comic with the Snowdon on the front, as a young teen, dressed in the flowing snowflake dress and cloak that had become her trademark outfit. Standing behind her was the Royal Wizard, Prince John, holding the staff that was soon to be hers. "The Snowdon, a tale, suitably embellished, of a real heroine, written by Bertie York, illustrated by Winifred Thomas."
"I think the best stories were written by York, especially the Snowdon of Kilimanjaro," Pansy said. "Though I have to admit that the Snowdon is a lot more snappy with the comebacks with Lee Bet Mountbatten."
"... A comic book writer," the Queen Mother murmured. "The things your daughters never tell you... About how many issues were written by those two?"
"York wrote the first nine issues, co-wrote ten, thirteen, twenty, twenty-five, and the South African Arc, save issue fifty-two, with Mountbatten," Pansy said, reciting from memory. "Mountbatten wrote everything below sixty-two that York didn't, issue one hundred, issues one twenty-one to one twenty-three, one thirty-nine to one forty-four, two twenty-two, three oh one, and four hundred."
"Ah, an aficionado of the Snowdon," the kindly gentleman shopkeeper said, having quietly approached. "It seems that there are more and more of them this week. Those are our more worn copies. If you're interested, I have some copies in the back in better condition, including a copy of issue one autographed by Bertie York, himself. He liked to duck into here to, as he said, 'pick up a few books on the way back from the Wizengamot.' I never quite figured out why he went to watch the Wizengamot so much ..."
"What do you have in the South African Arc?" the Queen Mother asked.
"Fully stocked on that," the shopkeeper said. "I have one copy of issue thirty-six autographed by both writers and the illustrator. I have three copies of issue fifty-two signed by Mountbatten, one of which is the rare middle initial R and M crossed. I think she was distracted by her son's accidental magic when she was signing that one. One has to look out when the little tikes come into a store. A little girl last week turned the Mad Muggle comic display into candy."
"I'll take that signed issue one, and this copy too," the Queen Mother said. "The autographed issue thirty-six, and this copy of issue two signed 'Margaret' of course..."
The Queen Mother was nearly run over by a young boy in Slytherin-trimmed robes. "Parkinson?" the boy said as he came to a stop in front of Pansy. He looked quite scared, and it appeared that he'd been living that way for a while. His hair was messier than Potter's, and it looked like he'd been trying to ease his collar away from his neck.
It took Pansy a few minutes to identify the boy who had just completed his first year. "Baddock?" There was a slight change in the boy's expression, that Pansy had to classify as relief.
"Parkinson, is it true that you're under royal protection?" the boy asked, his voice cracking. "'Cause I need some help and they might be the only ones who can."
"You might say I am," Pansy said, her hand moving to indicate the Queen Mother. "If you do need help from them, apologizing for bumping into Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother might be a good place to start, Malcolm."
"I'm sorry, your majesty," Malcolm said, his voice cracking worse. His hands shuffled the comics he held. "I really need help. You might be the only hope I have for my mother, brothers, and sisters."
He seemed to be on the verge of panic. He was breathing hard, and trying to bring himself under control. His internal monolog became external, as the whispered words escaped his lips. "Draco did this. I can do this too." He looked around the shop, examining every corner for someone.
Then he straightened, took a deep breath, and said, just loud enough for Pansy's and the Queen Mother's ears, "Voldemort is at my home."
As Pansy marveled at the young boy's Gryffindorish courage, she noticed that the Queen Mother was pulling something out of her handbag. It appeared to be about twelve inches, and made of oak. The next thing she knew, two silver lionesses bounded out of the room.
At Pansy's questioning expression, the Queen Mother remarked, "I can't do that wandless. Now, Malcolm, I believe it was?" Malcolm nodded. "Princess Margaret should be here shortly, as should Prince Edward. In the meantime, may I suggest that this shop close for a late lunch?"
The shopkeeper flipped the sign with a flick of his wand. "Quite," he said. "May I ring up your purchases while you wait for the Snowdon and the Royal Wizard?"
"I believe so," the Queen Mother said. "If you've got a little better preserved copies of issues five and six, I would prefer them, but other than that, these will do."
"I believe so," the shopkeeper replied, beginning to ring up the purchases. "And young Master Baddock, have you decided which one you're planning on getting for young Miss Edmee's seventh birthday?"
Malcolm looked at the choices he'd gathered. "Issue fifty-five." He put the copy on the counter. It had the Snowdon sitting in a boat, fishing, with a castle that Pansy managed to identify as Balmoral peeking over the hill. "It's a Scottish issue," he proclaimed, as if it explained everything.
"That will be four galleons, three sickles, and five knuts, your majesty, and as for you, Master Baddock, seven sickles, even," the shopkeeper said. "Is there anything that either of you wish to place a look out for?"
There was a crack of apparation just before the Queen Mother replied. "Actually, if you could put me in touch with the publisher. I have a few stories about the Snowdon to tell."
"Oh no," Countess Snowdon said, placing her hand on her forehead. "It was bad enough when father and sister did it, along with Uncle Henry. Then my niece took over, and now mother gets in on it."
The Queen Mother only smiled, as the Royal Wizard and Madame Bones apparated in together.
"You said you knew where Voldemort was?" Madame Bones said without preamble.
"Young Mister Baddock, here, does," the Queen Mother said, placing a hand on Malcolm's shoulder.
Pansy placed her own arm around Malcolm's shoulders in encouragement, and felt Malcolm draw himself up. The cracking in his voice disappeared, as he drew confidence from their presence. "He's set up base in my home, Findlater Castle. He's in the main keep using the Great Hall. Mother's been keeping us in the Green Tower, but Grandfather showed me him."
"When are you expected back?" the Snowdon asked.
"A couple hours at the latest," Malcolm replied.
"I can have my active owlets there in thirty," the Snowdon said, turning to Madame Bones. "How long will it take the Aurors?"
"I can meet that," Madame Bones replied. "I think we've plugged the leaks, but I shall keep the destination secret until the last possible minute."
"Go," the Snowdon said. "Pansy, will you be joining us? I need someone to handle the outside team."
"The doctor didn't put any restrictions on me, so yes," Pansy said. She figured that Draco might have an objection, but she was proud that the Snowdon had asked her. She wasn't going to let her down. "I'll need a ride though. I haven't got long distance to coordinates apparation down yet."
"Edward, take her, and if you can give her a quick tutorial, good," the Snowdon said. "Mother, I'm going to need you in the Round Tower. Take Malcolm with you. Assuming, of course, that you can still apparate?"
"I'm old, but not that old," the Queen Mother said. "As long as you two remembered to key me into the wards of Windsor this time."
"We're not going to be allowed to forget that, are we?" the Royal Wizard asked the Snowdon.
"Of course not," the Snowdon said. "Never mind that it was the first time in three decades..."
In an impulse that she had no idea where it came from, Pansy drew Malcolm in for a hug. He whispered into her ear, "Save my little brothers and sisters from the Dark Lord, please." Pansy couldn't find words to reply, just hugging him harder, and trying to smile.
Harry was hoping that today wasn't a session for the history books. Today, the Member from Surrey was going to be the presiding officer for the first time. It was traditional for new members to preside in the chambers during the committee meetings that they were not a part of. The afternoon session was mainly just a bunch of scheduled speech time, where members would be allowed to speak on a topic of their choice.
It was also the time when members would allow their heirs to sit in substitution. The heirs, or in some cases the minor holder, couldn't vote other than present, but due to an archaic rule, could
count towards there being a quorum. Without that quorum, the Wizengamot would have to go into a recess, and the committee votes could not be reported as a result. They were allowed to express their opinions on the floor, as well. Hermione hadn't found another legislative body with such a rule.
Harry took the presiding officer's seat. None of the Queen's children were present. He'd heard that the Duke of York was attending the Justice Committee hearing today. He hadn't know it at the time, but the Princess Royal had been seated in the back of the committee room during the Education Committee's hearing on Tuesday. The Royals could blend in quite well when they tried. It seemed that the Queen was making sure that at least one of her children were in the building.
Harry looked down at the Herald. Since Monday the regular herald had been replaced by the young Prince William, on the orders of the Queen. The previous Herald was currently residing in the Tower at the pleasure of the Queen. From what Harry could tell, William was having fun where he could at an otherwise boring job. Harry nodded, and William stood up, tossing the staff of office into the air before catching it and pounding it thrice as he began.
"Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, the Wizengamot no longer stands in recess on the fifth day of its Summer Session on this the hundred fifty-first day of the forty-third year on the reign of her majesty, Queen Elizabeth, the second of that name to reign over the British Isles, Defender of Faith, Lord of all that is Magical. The Member from Surrey, Sir Harry, presiding on the order of Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore. God save the Queen."
Prince William turned smartly, and saluted Harry with the staff, before marching back to his seat and tossing his staff back into its holder, a funnel like stand. The staff stuck into the stand perfectly, and Harry could hear the "Yes!" from the son of the Prince of Wales.
"Gathered Wizengamot," Harry began, "We have an afternoon of speeches this afternoon. Please use your voting marbles to request a spot on the schedule." Harry looked down at the array of marbles that had already arrived in the yea gutter on the presiding officer's desk. He had some discretion on the order, though it was generally done in order of arrival. Harry looked down at his cheat sheet. Some of the patterns on the marbles were a bit confusing. "The chair yields fifteen minutes to the member from Nottinghamshire for his maiden speech."
"Sir Harry, Baron Amesbury, Lord Riverwald, Members of the Wizengamot," Dirk Cresswel said after standing. "I stand before you as a merit member, the first born not of parents magical since the reign of her late majesty, Queen Victoria. It has been seventy-nine years since the death of Theodora Graham. Most unfortunately, I also took office on the day of the death of the last member who served with Lady Theodora, as she was known.
"Dedalus Diggle, was that member. Many of you, even those not on the floor of the chamber knew him. He never missed a day in ninety-two years serving this august body. In case you're wondering, that's eleven thousand, five hundred, ninety-two days, sitting in the desk you now see draped in mourning. He did manage to miss exactly two votes in his entire time, though I suppose we can excuse those misses, as he had to go to the bathroom some time.
"It is my hope that I can at least do as well as Da Diggle, as many referred to him. He served on the education committee, and was Chief of the Law Lords. Many a panel of judges were headed, or early in his career had him as member. Though he effected a certain persona of absentmindedness, his mind was quite sharp, and his written opinions were the model of justice. During the last thirty years of his life, he has the distinction of being the only law lord who didn't have one of his decisions overturned on appeal to this body. It was said that if Da Diggle ruled against you, that was that.
"It is my task today, not just to praise him, though. I have asked the Acting Chief of the Law Lords, the member from Dumfries, Ewart Kerr, for the honor to announce the decision of the last panel which Dedalus Diggle was on.
"Before I do so, I ask the chamber for a moment of silence for the late member from Norfolk."
Harry rapped the gavel once. "Herald, conduct the moment of silence."
Prince William stood, and with perfect form, rapped his staff on the floor thrice. "The chamber will rise for a moment of silence." Everyone in the chamber stood, even the elderly Elphias Doge. "All shall remain silent in honor of the late Member from Norfolk, Dedalus Diggle, Commander Magical of Great Britain, Order of Merlin Second Class." He rapped his staff on the floor one more time, and it echoed throughout the chamber.
It was the only sound in the chamber, as the silencing charm prevented all other sound from being heard. It was eery. A minute passed, though it seemed longer, before Prince William rapped his staff again, and the charm was lifted.
"The member from Nottinghamshire still has the floor," Harry reminded the chamber.
"Thank you, honored presiding officer," Cresswel said. "It gives me great pleasure to announce the last decision of the Chief of the Law Lords. In the annulment case of Faith Kerr nee Thicknesse vs. Malcolm Kerr, Diggle presiding along side Vance and O'Rouke, the panel by an unanimous vote finds for the wife, Faith, that the marriage did not and should not have occurred. The prior arrangement of Faith was not legally voided. The intimidation of Mr. Kerr and Faith's Father to force the marriage through the use of the Imperious Curse was illegal. The marriage is hereby void.
"In addition, this court, through its powers as Law Lords of the Wizengamot hereby issues warrants for the arrest of Pius Thicknesse IV, the member from Staffordshire, for the crime of use of an unforgivable, and for Malcolm Kerr for the use of an unforgivable and multiple counts of rape.
"In my own persona as a recently installed Law Lord, empaneled to issue them, I charge the member from Staffordshire, as well as the member from Suffolk, and Malcolm Kerr, as a member of the outlawed organization known as Death Eaters and follower of the so-called Dark Lord Tom Riddle, having witnessed them acting as such during the attack on the Puddlemere Chudley game. I call for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to execute these warrants without delay."
"I yield the remainder of my time to the chair." With that, the member from Nottinghamshire sat down.
Harry rubbed his scar, which had started to hurt. Somehow he knew he couldn't preside over a normal session. "The scribe shall enter the judgements into the record," Harry said. "The scribe shall issue the warrants and have them transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, forthwith. The Crown shall be notified of the warrants against the members from Staffordshire and Suffolk."
Harry looked down at the marbles waiting. Maybe if he let someone sitting in substitution speak it would be something light. "The chair yields fifteen minutes to Mr. Neville Longbottom, sitting in substitution for the member from Lincolnshire." Surely Neville wouldn't make his day harder.
Neville moved to stand in the well of the chamber. "Sir Harry, Baron Amesbury, Lord Riverwald, Members of the Wizengamot," he began. "I stand before you today as the minor holder from Lincolnshire, though today's presiding officer is actually a day younger than me. Not that I begrudge his seat. It's just that as his dormmate at Hogwarts, I can not pass up the opportunity to tease him upon his recent elevation, and this is the first time I've had the opportunity ..."
Okay, he wasn't going to make Harry's day harder, he was just going to make Harry want to strangle him. That wasn't good when his scar was hurting so bad.
Author's Notes: Some have asked that I provide some information about the various names used by the writers of the Snowdon Comic. Most of them are members of the Royal Family, though they're writing under other names.
The first writer of Snowdon comics wrote under the name of Bertie York. He was born Prince Albert Frederick Arthur George, and known among his family as Bertie. In 1920 he was made Duke of York, and in 1936 he succeeded his elder brother Edward VIII as King George VI. In this story he was sole writer of issues one through nine, cowriting issues ten, thirteen, twenty, twenty-five, and thirty-six through fifty-one. Issue fifty-two was dedicated to him.
The illustrator of all of the comics to date is Winifred Thomas. In real life, Winifred Thomas was the childhood companion of the youngest brother of Edward VIII and George VI, Prince John. Prince John suffered from epilepsy, and possibly autism. He died in 1919 at the age of 13. For this story, I decided that Prince John actually lived, and his illness was cover for his attendance at Hogwarts. He was the predecessor as Royal Wizard to the Snowdon, and died early during WWII by that war's Dark Lord. In this story Winifred Thomas is Prince John's widow.
The second writer was Lee Bet Mountbatten. She was born Princess Elizabeth of York. Her childhood nickname was Lilibet. In 1947 she married the Duke of Edinburgh. The Duke of Edinburgh was born a Prince of Greece, though he left the country as a baby in one of the many times that the Greeks expelled their king. Before his engagement with then Princess Elizabeth was announced, he had renounced his Greek and Danish titles, and become simply Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten, RN. The day before their wedding he was made Duke of Edinburgh by King George VI. In 1952, Princess Elizabeth ascended the throne as Queen Elizabeth II. She co-wrote issues ten, thirteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty-six though fifty-one, and wrote issues eleven, twelve, fourteen through nineteen, twenty-one through twenty-four, twenty-six through thirty-five, fifty-two to sixty-two, one hundred, one twenty-one to one twenty-three, one thirty-nine to one forty-four, two twenty-two, three oh one, and four hundred.
The third writer referred here as Uncle Henry, was born Prince HenryWilliam Frederick Albert. In 1928 he was made Duke of Glouchester. He served most of his life in the army and died in 1974. He served as the primary writer of the Snowdon comic until his death. In fact, enough finished scripts had been completed by him that the comic was still under his by-line until 1977.
The fourth and current primary writer is referred as "my niece" by the Snowdon. Princess Margaret only had one niece, Princess Anne. Princess Anne was a noted Equestrian and went to the 1976 Olympic games where she rode a horse owned by her mother, Goodwill. She writes the Snowdon comic under the name Annie Goodwill. The first issue with her pseudonym as the writer was illustrated such that it appeared that there was a question mark after Goodwill, and she's still dealing with the fall out from that. Her son and daughter, Peter and Zara, appear as guards in Chapter Four.
The next issue of the Snowdon comic will have a fifth author, who will be going by the name Beth York, to enable her to sign comics as B. York, like her husband did.. The identity of the new author should be evident by this chapter.