(A/N: I actually researched British law and had compiled a whole list of points to be used against/for the Dursleys until I realized that all the laws I had gathered didn't take place until at least 1989... which is after this point in time. So I'm moving back the Children's Act of 1989 to 1986 in order for it to make sense. Please bear with it.)
HARRY POTTER and the ART of WING CHUN
2
the juvenile barrister
The next few weeks were the most brutal in all of young Harry's life—and that was including the time where Petunia Dursley shut him out of the house during the hottest day in June and forced him to pick weeds until sundown. His arms ached from push-ups, his stomach from crunches, his legs from sprinting, and muscles he didn't even know about from the hundreds of obscure exercises Wu Sifu invented. But Harry was determined to practise until he could successfully defend himself from Dudley, and even at just eight years old—well, almost eight years old—he didn't make a single complaint.
When their lessons—which were mostly conditioning—first began, Wu Sifu was acting in a very peculiar manner. Sometimes Harry caught him staring at him during exercises, muttering under his breath:
"Surely he's not...?"
"But the resemblance is striking..."
"How could I not have noticed it before?"
And the strangest one by far:
"What was Dumbledore thinking, sending him to a place like this..."
Harry learned to ignore Wu Sifu during these moods. Whenever he tried asking questions, Wu Sifu would suddenly shut his mouth and refuse to say anything more. Harry did notice, however, that during Wu Sifu's free time (which was very scarce), he would be stooped over a very thick and heavy book of law—the kind of book that Hermione Granger might be interested in. Harry wanted to ask him about that too, but Wu Sifu always looked so deep in thought that he felt bad for interrupting.
"Well, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said one afternoon. (Harry had snuck out of the house while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were having lunch with a friend.)
"What is?" Harry asked curiously.
"You said that Sifu is studying law," Hermione said very slowly, as if she were speaking to a very dense child.
"Yes," Harry said, beginning to feel a little annoyed.
"Which act, specifically?"
"Which act? Come on, Hermione, how would I know that?"
"Pay attention to the title next time you see him," Hermione said in her know-it-all voice.
So Harry did. It was difficult, but he managed to get a glimpse of the cover when Wu Sifu was slipping it back on his shelf.
Children Act of 1986, Regarding the Care, Supervision, and Protection of Children.
::-::
The eve of Dudley's birthday hit the two-week training mark.
Dudley had been, well, oddly inactive. He didn't boss Harry around. He didn't bully Harry with Gordon or Dennis or Piers. He didn't even wake Harry up when he slept in late, exhausted from training. Harry didn't know why, but he decided not to ask questions. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke Dudley into bullying him—as if he didn't have enough of that already.
Dudley wasn't the only one acting strangely. Harry's aunt and uncle were also in an unusual sort of mood. Uncle Vernon didn't lock Harry in his cupboard. Aunt Petunia didn't make him cook every meal. Neither of them ragged at Harry very much, and he returned the favor by making himself as invisible as possible—he didn't want his lessons cancelled. At one point, Harry wondered if this was just all in his imagination; that, perhaps, martial arts had made his circumstances more bearable to him, since he had something to focus on besides his relatives.
But everything would change on Dudley's eighth birthday.
It started out as all Dudley's birthdays did: Petunia Dursley woke him up to cook breakfast. With bleary eyes he stumbled out of his cupboard, gathering bacon, eggs, and toast for Dudley. Thankfully he hadn't had a lesson with Wu Sifu the previous day, but the long nights were still getting to him.
"Don't you dare let anything burn," Aunt Petunia said shrilly. "I want everything to be perfect on my Duddy's birthday."
Harry decided to ignore her, as this sort of comment was becoming rather redundant. Aunt Petunia had said the exact same thing on Dudley's seventh birthday, and on his sixth, and on his fifth—in fact, Harry was pretty sure that she'd said it on his first birthday, even if he couldn't quite remember it.
Harry was just turning over the eggs when he heard a shrill screech come from the kitchen table. Dudley had been counting his presents—and appeared to not be pleased with the resulting number.
"Twenty-five?!" Dudley raged. "Why are there only twenty-five?!"
Harry rolled his eyes, turned back to the stove, and proceeded to block out all the noise from his ears. He thought through the different blocks of Wing Chun as Aunt Petunia dithered, reviewed the three kicks he had learned as Uncle Vernon pampered, and considered the ostentatious flip he had seen on the telly as Dudley screamed and tossed about. It would be best not to get involved in this sort of affair.
"Boy! What are you doing just standing there?! Get over here!"
Or not.
"Uncle Vernon, the eggs will burn..."
"DO I NEED TO REPEAT MYSELF?!"
If your sad excuse for a brain allows, said the snarkier part of Harry's brain while his mouth automatically said, "No, Uncle Vernon," and his legs automatically moved to the living room.
Dudley tossed a sofa cushion at Harry. It hit him right in the face. "DON'T LET HIM ANYWHERE NEAR MY PRESENTS!" Dudley howled. "HE'LL STEAL THEM!"
Harry rolled his eyes and started back to the kitchen.
"NOT ONE STEP MORE, BOY!" Uncle Vernon roared.
"But the eggs—"
"THAT'S IT! BACK INTO YOUR CUPBOARD, AND DON'T YOU DARE COME OUT!"
As Uncle Vernon hoisted Harry under one arm and stalked toward the cupboard beneath the stairs, Harry could not help but think how unfair this whole business was. He was just cooking breakfast like Aunt Petunia told him to, and then he went out into the living room like Uncle Vernon told him to, and then he didn't go near the presents like Dudley told him to, and—Harry just wished he could get up, right at this instant, and run away.
In fact, Uncle Vernon had just opened the cupboard door when the ringing note of the doorbell bounced down the hall.
"That must be Piers," Dudley said gleefully, his earlier tantrum all but forgotten as he leapt to the door.
But it wasn't Piers who stood on the picturesque whitewashed porch of number four, Privet Drive.
It was Hermione Granger, dressed in all black with her hair—lathered with gel in a sad attempt to tame it, Harry noticed—tied up into a frizzy bun.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Dursley," she said placidly, disgust flickering over her face as she spotted the cupboard beneath the stairs. "My name is Hermione Granger. I am Mr. Harry Potter's barrister-at-law."
::-::
"You're seven."
"Well! I never! I, Mrs. Dursley, am eight! And I am to be nine come September 19th!" And Hermione turned up her nose.
Aunt Petunia fidgeted, casting an incredulous look at her husband. He did not look amused.
"Harry's with our barrister!" he barked. "You're too young to have credentials!"
Hermione turned up her nose even higher. "I have credentials, obviously." She began counting off her fingers. "I took first place at the National Spelling Bee in my age group last year, second place in the National Book-Reading Competition—first place was a junior in high school, you know—and third place in the youth-seventeen debate at the city hall. I have also checked out every single book of law that they have available at our local library." Hermione tossed her head for good measure. Her bun almost burst open.
"This is outrageous!" Aunt Petunia said severely. "You're eight!"
"Almost nine!"
"You can't be a barrister!"
"Can too!"
"Can not! You need to take the bar exam!"
"I have taken the bar exam! I aced it!"
Aunt Petunia stared. "What?"
"I made up my own when I was bored," Hermione said. "The library was closed."
It took all of Harry's willpower not to burst out laughing. Hermione Granger was truly one-of-a-kind. "You made your own bar exam?" he choked.
"Well, just because most people have the mental capacity of a teaspoon doesn't mean I do," Hermione said. "Now, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I tire of this small talk. Let's get to the matter at hand."
"You're not a barrister!" Vernon said, his face growing very red.
Hermione Granger threw her hands up in the air. "Fine then! Whatever! I'm not a barrister! But I have researched the law, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, and I'm warning you to keep your eye on the Children Act of 1986!"
"Or what?" Uncle Vernon snarled.
"Or I'll be able to take Mr. Potter from your household because it is an environment unbefitting of a child his tender age!" Hermione crowed. (Harry decided not to point out that she was practically the same age as him.)
"Fine!" Uncle Vernon said, his thick hands rolling into fists. "We never wanted the boy! Why didn't you take him sooner? Get him out of here! He's a bad influence on Duddy-dums!"
But Aunt Petunia's face suddenly went as white as a sheet. "V-Vernon, dear..."
"What?!" Uncle Vernon barked.
Aunt Petunia leaned over and began whispering a very fast and panicked stream of words into her husband's ear. Uncle Vernon's face went white, then red, then purple, then white again, then a bit green.
"You... don't say?" he said weakly once Aunt Petunia had finished.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events; it appeared that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had to keep Harry with them.
"Let me suggest a compromise," Hermione said primly, crossing her knees and leaning forward. "Mr. Wu, the sifu of Da Hai Kwoon, has been looking into acquiring legal guardianship for Mr. Potter."
Harry felt his heart give a leap. Legal guardianship? Wu Sifu only knew him for such a short amount of time, and he was already looking into being a legal guardian? If that meant what Harry thought it did—if he could get Harry away from this place—
"B-but..." Uncle Vernon began to splutter.
Hermione held up a single hand to silence him. "Listen to these terms. It appears that you cannot fully relinquish your guardianship for personal reasons. Consequently, there remains only one solution: Mr. Potter stays with Mr. Wu, who will become a legal guardian, and simultaneously, you shall retain your own guardianship."
As Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia huddled close and began to speak very quickly, Harry tried to calm his racing heart. Surely this was too good to be true. They wouldn't let him go. Not when he'd been held captive here for seven—nearly eight—years.
"Petunia, would they notice?"
"I don't know..."
"I don't want that old coot coming after us."
A shudder. "Oh, Vernon, imagine what the neighbors would say!"
"I don't want anything to do with their kind!"
Nod-nod-nod.
"But this is a chance in a lifetime, Petunia. He could be out of our hair!"
"I can hear you, you know," Harry said.
"The extra space would be great for Dudley," Petunia agreed.
What? Does Dudley want the cupboard beneath the stairs? Harry thought wryly as Hermione snorted in a very un-ladylike fashion.
"But if we do allow him to stay with Long..."
"Long knows martial arts," Petunia said. "He can keep the boy safe, I'm sure."
"So they won't come after us, then."
Nod-nod-nod.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to hear an answer before the end of the world," Hermione Granger said dryly, tossing her head.
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia turned back to her.
"We will allow Harry to stay with Long," Aunt Petunia said stiffly, "but if something goes wrong..."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry," Hermione said, just as stiffly. "He'll be in better hands than yours." And she stood up, swiveled on one heel, and marched out the door.
::-::
It took Harry less than a minute to pack. After all, he didn't have much, and most of what he did have he would rather leave behind.
He couldn't believe his luck. After nearly eight years of misery at the Dursley household, he had given up all hope that someone, someone kind and loving with a great big box of photos of his mum and dad, would swoop down to number four, Privet Drive, and carry him away. Although Wu Sifu had no box of photos, Harry was sure that he was kind, and if he took in Harry, Harry could take proper classes at the kwoon.
Hermione all but assaulted him the moment he stepped out the door, a pitifully small bag slung over one shoulder. "Oh, Harry! I'm sorry I didn't come sooner!"
"Why? Hermione, this is the best thing that's ever happened to me!" Harry said.
"No, no," Hermione said, shaking her head so quickly that her bun came undone and her bushy locks slapped at her face. "I should have come years ago! Oh, I didn't know the Dursleys were so terrible! Why has nobody done anything about it?!"
"'Mione, it's okay," Harry said calmly. "Almost everyone around here's like the Dursleys. And besides, you didn't even know me years ago."
Hermione made a very strange face, like she had swallowed too much water in one gulp and wanted to spit it back out, but she nodded tightly. "Alright. If you insist."
Harry noticed her strange reaction, but he decided to keep silent.
::-::
Wu Sifu was immersed in classes when Harry arrived at the kwoon. Although Hermione insisted on his entrance, Harry was determined to stay away. If he walked in right now, covered in Dudley's baggy hand-me-downs with glasses made more out of tape than anything else, he knew that he would be a laughingstock. And that would make Wu Sifu a laughingstock. Harry didn't much fancy making either himself or Wu Sifu into a laughingstock, so he decided to hide outside.
"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione said with a huff. "It's not like I thought poorly of you when I first met you."
"You're not like most people, 'Mione," Harry pointed out.
At that, Hermione agreed for him to stay outside, under the condition that she keep him company the whole time. So they snuck around the kwoon to an abandoned bench, where Harry showed her the few items he had taken along from the Dursley household.
"This is my change collection," he confided. "I pick up pence that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon miss. Sometimes I even see a stray pound around the house or streets. Dudley's very forgetful, so he loses a lot of them."
Hermione's eyes widened. She took the money-laden sock in her hand as gingerly as she would a porcelain doll.
"I thought of running away once," Harry said. "How far would I get?"
Hermione's lips pursed as she counted out the money. "Two... four... six... Why, Harry! You found a five-pound coin!"
"Would that get me out of town?" Harry asked eagerly.
"I don't think so, but that's a lot for a coin," Hermione said. And she continued counting.
Around ten minutes later (Hermione had wanted to triple-check to make sure she got the right amount) they came up with twenty-five pounds and fifty-six pence.
"You must have very sharp eyes," Hermione said seriously. "When did you start this collection?"
"When I was four," Harry said. "I found tuppence in my bedroom—the cupboard, I mean. I figured not to show Uncle Vernon."
Hermione pursed her lips again. "I am glad you are away from that horrid place," she said, wrinkling her nose. "If the Dursleys protested more, I would have scoured every inch of the Children's Act to get you out! Why, part three, provision of accommodation for children, section twenty—that alone might be enough! Oh, or even better, part four, general, section thirty-one... Ohhh, if only they didn't have part five, section forty-four! That almost ruins everything..."
"I'm not with the Dursleys anymore, 'Mione," Harry said.
"Well, yes. But there's nothing wrong with being prepared!" Hermione fixed him with a sharp look. "They might force you to go back, Harry. I don't think that they were supposed to let you leave the house."
Harry was quiet for a moment. What force could cause the Dursleys to keep a child against their own will? He knew his aunt and uncle were scared of only two things: the concept of magic, and Dudley, who could easily be mollified with money or sweets. But what good would magic do when it didn't even exist?
And then there was Hermione. Going off of her strange reaction a little while ago, she had known him from before. But from what? And as nice as the Grangers seemed to be, would they really sponsor a stranger just from the kindness of their heart? Why was Hermione reading up on guardianship law, just for him? What if they... wanted something from him?
Harry tried not to think about it too much. This was the first time he had made a real friend.
He didn't want it to be his last.
(For previews, extensive notes/backstories, and a progress bar on the upcoming chapter, check out my blog at lcli dot tumblr dot com.)
Q: Why is Hermione enrolled in martial arts? Why didn't any of the adults in Little Whinging act on Harry's situation? (Esp. Wu Sifu and the Grangers) If everyone knew Harry was being abused, why didn't they do anything?
These questions will be covered in the next few chapters. (In addition, I went back and corrected several small details in the previous chapter.)
Q: Why is Dumbledore keeping Harry at the Dursley's? What is his motivation?
Although this was technically covered in the canon series, I wasn't very pleased with the motivation and decided to flesh it out a little more. Dumbledore's reasoning will be covered in the future. (A long while in the future, unfortunately.)
(You have my gratitude for taking the time to read this story. If you have any questions, critique, or other comments, I will gladly accept them and answer as is appropriate.)