Disclaimer: I know nothing of india that isn't fifty to a hundred years out of date. And yes, much of my knowledge was taken from a book of the same name by a famous hunter of maneaters.
My India
Petunia's heart skipped a beat when she heard her husband's car pull into the drive, he was early. She used the opportunity presented by the few minutes it would take for Vernon to get out of the car and into the house to check her appearance and to make sure the cupboard's door was securely latched shut.
"I'm home, Pet," Vernon called out with uncharacteristic hesitancy.
"Welcome home, darling," Petunia said, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Is something the matter?"
"I've been offered a promotion," Vernon announced. It was his immediate superior's way of getting the fat idiot out of his office, the idea had come to the man after someone had lamented the fact that they couldn't have Dursley deported. In another world he'd have put the matter out of his mind, in this one it had simmered for weeks before the solution had come to him. "But it's contingent on accepting a transfer to one of the overseas branches."
"Which one?" Petunia asked.
"India, the company is offering to pay for the move along with a ten thousand pound settling bonus."
"How much more would your pay be?"
He leaned forward and whispered a number into his wife's ear and the couple stared at each other for a few minutes.
"It's an awful lot of money, Vernon," Petunia ventured finally, breaking the silence.
"It is," Vernon agreed. "The problem is Dudley, I won't have him growing up contaminated by a bunch of wogs."
"Of course not," Petunia agreed immediately. "Our Dudders is British bred through and through. We can't let his development be stunted." A thought penetrated her mind, the problem they faced was not a unique one. Generations of British parents in ages past had faced something similar, perhaps they could handle it in the same way their forefathers did? "What if . . ."
"Yes?" He prompted.
"We could have him stay here, get Marge to look after him," Petunia suggested after a bit of dithering, she didn't want to leave her baby behind, but all that extra money could buy him into the best schools in the country. "How much time off are you getting, enough to come home to visit him often?"
"Bloody well better be," Vernon laughed. "No way am I going to spend all my time in that godforsaken place."
And so, the world changed. Marge had been happy to take in her darling nephew while his parents were in exile but had flatly refused to take the other one and so it was the two Dursleys and one Potter that went to India to start a new life. Change is what one makes of it and so each person's view of a new country was quite different from another's
Vernon was not pleased by what he found; it was too hot, the food didn't taste right, the whole damned place was full of wogs and in his words, they "should have never given them their independence, ruddy bastards ruined the place, s'what happens when you give the savages their head." The fact that he was fond of saying his thoughts aloud and where the household staff could hear them may have been one of the reasons why he rarely got any hot water, or why there always seemed to be a touch too much starch in his suits, or why he had a bout of Delhi Belly every week or two. Pity anyone who forgets that their servants aren't just pieces of particularly clever bits of self-mobile furniture.
In contrast to her husband's negative view of their new situation, Petunia was in heaven. She had maids, cooks, drivers, gardeners, and the wives of the other expat executives to meet with. She was somebody important and the power she held over the staff was addictive.
The third person, the child, adjusted the best of all. Both Dursleys were content to pretend the boy did not exist and one of the first things Petunia had done when they'd arrived was hand the boy to one of the maids with instructions that it be kept out of her sight. Harry's situation abruptly changed and for the first time since the loss of his parents he had enough to eat, a soft place to sleep, and best of all affection. It was like walking through a doorway in hell and coming out in heaven, it was blissful.
While the two Dursleys took advantage of every chance they could manufacture to to nip back to their homeland, they naturally left the boy behind and Harry's memories of his time in England became hazy, indistinct, and not of the sort that would make him with to return.
IIIIIIIIII
Minerva frowned when the owl returned to her office, perched on a chair, and steadfastly refused to deliver the letter he'd been given.
"Give it back," she ordered. A quick glance at the envelope revealed the problem. "What in the bloody hell is he doing there?" Obviously this called for a more personal approach. The woman walked over to the fireplace and tossed in a pinch of floo powder. "International Portkeys," she called out as she stepped into the flames.
IIIIIIIIII
Harry was on his belly watching in fascination as his pet mongoose stalked a large rat. He held his breath as the creature darted forward to make its kill.
"Harry," one of his caretakers called out. "You have a visitor."
Curiously, the boy followed the woman back into the house and was presented to an older woman in a strange outfit.
"Hello, Mr. Potter, it has been a long time since I last saw you."
Harry looked up at his visitor for a few moments before a string of foreign words issued from his mouth.
"Speak English for the nice lady," one of the maids chided.
Harry got a sour look on his face and replied in the local tongue.
"He can understand," the maid told McGonagall apologetically. "He's just being difficult."
"I am Minerva McGonagall." She said to the tanned child. "And I've come to offer you a place at the finest school of magic in the world, Hogwarts."
Harry turned to the maid and said something in the local language.
"You can too understand her," the maid replied sharply.
The child frowned and said something else.
"He says to thank you for the offer but he'd really rather stay here," the maid reported.
"What?" Minerva's jaw dropped. "He doesn't want to learn magic?"
"He's quite willing to learn magic, but not if it means he has to go to the United Kingdom. He wants to know if you can recommend a school in India?"
"Where is Petunia?" Minerva sighed, it was going to be one of those days.
To Harry's disgust, the old woman had somehow managed to convince his absentee Aunt to send him back to the bloody UK and the woman's ruddy school. Swearing vengeance upon everyone involved in his exile, Harry gathered up his meager belongings to accompany his kidnapper back to the land of his birth.
Minerva kept a firm grip on the child as the portkey dropped them off in Diagon Alley.
"Come along, Mr. Potter," she said sharply. "We have school supplies to buy."
First she dragged him to a strange bank and then to an assortment of shops where she forced him to purchase item after useless item.
"I suppose you can stay at the Leaky Cauldron till school begins," Minerva said after a moment of thought. "Tom will see that you get on the train. See you in september, Mr. Potter."
The whole bloody place was a culinary wasteland. After a week without a bit of decent food, the boy was starting to fear that he'd starve to death, when, salvation appeared. The door opened to admit an attractive woman in a sari escorting two girls that looked to be about his age. In a flash he was by their side, explaining his problem.
"I'm taking young Harry home with us to get a bit to eat, Tom," the woman called out.
"Alright, Prerna," the bartender agreed.
"Actually. I think I may as well take him for the rest of the week," the woman said after taking another look at Harry's pleading face. "It'll give the girls a chance to make a friend before they get to Hogwarts."
"Just be sure you put him on the train," Tom replied. "I promised McGonagall that he'd get to the castle alright."
"Fine, Tom," the woman agreed. After one check to make sure her daughters hadn't gotten into any mischief, the woman gathered up the children and swept out of the bar. "Do you speak English?" She asked the boy after they'd gone a couple blocks.
"Yes, aunty," Harry agreed.
"Good. And for your future reference, there is a rather good restaurant one block up, we'll be passing it in a minute. It's a bit expensive and it's not as good as home, but it's the best you're likely to find without making it yourself. Gives you a way to get something the next time you have to stay here."
"Thank you, aunty," Harry said politely.
"You've met my girls. The one on the left is Padma, the one on the right is Parvati."
The girls gave Harry a once over.
"I'm Harry," he introduced himself. His mongoose peaked out of his collar. "And this is, Raj."
Harry swore everlasting gratitude to the Patil family as it was only through their intervention that he was prevented from starving to death and only through their companionship that he was saved from being forced to retreat back into the depths solitude. The too short week was over in a flash and before the boy knew it, he'd been bundled onto a train and was on his way to his education. Seven years in hell, seven years away from home, it seemed like an eternity to the young boy.
IIIIIIIIII
Hermione was hunting through the passenger compartments, looking for a boy's toad, when she heard the strangest thing coming from one of them. It almost sounded like . . . maybe her mum had been right when she'd insisted upon French lessons? Hermione bit her lower lip, it was her worst subject and now she was going to do poorly at Hogwarts because of her lack of language. She counted to ten, in French, and resolved to spend a bit more time on it before opening the door to investigate.
The three children inside did not seem to notice her. Hermione listened to the children chatter at each other for a few minutes before clearing her throat.
"Was that hindi?" she asked nervously.
"It was," one of the girls agreed.
"Is it a required course at Hogwarts?"
The boy said something incomprehensible, causing the two girls to giggle.
"No, it's not," the other girl replied. "Would you like to join us?"
"I would, but I'm helping a boy look for his toad. It's gone missing."
"We haven't seen it," the girl on the left said.
"Come join us after you find it, if you want," the other girl added.
"We've got chakli and chumuri and a lot of other snacks," left girl continued. "Our mum gave us more than we could possibly eat."
"I'll be back as soon as I can," Hermione promised. To the girl's surprise, her trunk appeared next to the other three trunks. "Wow."
"No one ever said magic wasn't useful," left girl giggled.
The boy said something which caused the girl on the right to giggle and the one on the left to slap him on the back of the head.
"What'd he say?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Something that would have had our mum washing our mouthes out with soap," the girl replied.
"Oh . . . um . . I forgot, I'm Hermione," she stammered.
"I'm Padma."
"Parvati, and this is Harry," the girl introduced the lone male. "Don't mind him, he doesn't like to speak English."
"Pleased to meet you all," Hermione said with a wide smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
True to her word, the bushy haired girl returned a few minutes later to take her seat.
"One of the Prefects knew a spell to find the toad," the girl explained.
"Eat," one of the other girls prompted. "We really can't get it all and it would be a shame to let it go to waste."
"Thank you," Hermione said, digging in. "This is much better than the shop round the corner from my house."
"Mum made it," left twin replied.
"She says it's cause she doesn't have to pay attention to local tastes," right twin added.
"Da says it's cause of the spices," left twin added. "But he might just be saying that cause that's his business."
IIIIIIIIII
The room went silent after Harry's name was called and the boy walked up and allowed the hat to be placed on his head.
"Could you try thinking in English?" The Hat asked hopefully. It waited for a few minutes before giving up. "Fine, I have other ways of doing this. How about Slytherin?" It sent the boy an image of a snake and was rewarded with an image of the boy's pet attacking the snake. "I'll take that as a no. Maybe Ravenclaw?" The image it sent of a raven came back with said raven pecking the eye out of a corpse. "I'll take that as a no also. How about Gryffindor?" It sent the boy a lion and got a tiger in return. "Close enough," the Hat sighed. "GRYFFINDOR!"
IIIIIIIIII
Minerva's joy at seeing the offspring of her two favorite student's in her classroom was short lived. The boy seemed to go through the motions expected of him, but would not reply in a comprehensible language when asked a question.
"I know you can understand me, Mr. Potter," Minerva said though clenched teeth.
The boy in question replied with something that sounded insulting, causing one of her other first years to break out into giggles.
"You can understand him, Ms. Patil?" Minerva asked.
"Yes, Professor," the girl agreed.
"Good." Minerva's smile turned cold. "What is your next class, Ms. Patil?"
"Potions, Professor," the girl replied.
"Mr. Weasley," Minerva barked.
"Yes, Professor?" Ron asked nervously.
Minerva snatched a parchment off her desk and wrote down a few quick lines. "Give this note to Professor Snape."
"Yes, Professor," the boy agreed.
"Everyone but Ms. Patil and Mr. Potter may go," Minerva said loudly. She waited until the room was clear before carefully closing the door and raising up a privacy charm. "Ms. Patil, please be good enough to translate for me."
"Yes, Professor," the girl agreed.
"I know that you can understand me, Mr. Potter." Minerva paused to allow the girl to repeat her words in Hindi. "And I know that you can speak English."
The boy just glared at her.
"Why are you being so difficult?" Minerva asked.
The boy let loose a long torrent of words before his translator had a chance to relay.
"Well?" Minerva prompted.
"He says you took him away from home and brought him here where the food's bad, it's too cold, it rains too much, everyone smells funny, he has to wear a stupid dress . . . um, there's a lot more."
"Thank you, Ms. Patil." Minerva sighed. "What do you want, Mr. Potter?"
The two children looked thoughtful for a moment before launching into a furious conversation.
"Ms. Patil?" Minerva interjected during a lull.
"Could we bring my sister here?" The girl asked sweetly.
"Why?"
"Um . . ." the girl blushed. "I'm not . . . uh . . . I grew up in England, Professor. My Hindi isn't the best and my parents are from a different part of India than Harry is. Hindi is my third language, but it's the only one we share."
"Your sister's is better?"
"Not better, but it's easier if there's two of us to try to puzzle out the difficult words."
Harry and Parvati smiled at each other. They were both aware of how important the boy was to the English wizards, being the daughter of a merchant Parvati was well aware of what you did when you controlled access to something of value.
"You called for me, Professor?" Padma said as she walked into the room.
"I did," Minerva agreed.
"I need your help to translate for Harry," Parvati explained.
"Ah."
The three children launched into a furious discussion drawing to a close after a few minutes when Padma pulled out a parchment and quill to make a quick list.
Elected as the group's spokesgirl, Parvati took the parchment and handed it over to her Head of House.
"Harry says that this is the bare minimum for now to get him to start speaking English," Parvati announced.
"What is his definition of edible food?"
"Food from back home," Parvati replied. "He says that he's willing to make an effort to blend in and that does include eating the local cousine . . ."
"Cuisine," Minerva corrected automatically.
"Cuisine," Parvati agreed. "But that he's not willing to take it to the point that he'll starve to death."
Minerva's eyes flicked to the second entry. "Why does he want your sister to be given full access to the Gryffindor tower?" Minerva demanded.
"He says it's so he can have a civilized conversation and that if he's going to be forced to use English during classes, he's damn well not going to use it outside them."
"Language," Minerva chided.
"Sorry, Professor," the girl said with a blush. "But it was the closest translation I could make."
The woman's eyes narrowed when the boy mumbled something that caused one of the sisters reached forward to slap the boy on the back of the head and the other to dissolve into a fit of giggles.
"Language, Mr. Potter," Minerva barked. "I shall speak with the Headmaster about your demands, in return I have a few of my own. The first is that you abstain from using filthy words no matter what language you are speaking. Hogwarts graduates are expected to be ladies and gentlemen, not merely witches and wizards."
"Yes, Professor," the boy agreed, uttering the first words the woman could comprehend.
"Good."
AN: Been meaning to write this for a while, a ficlet by Troy Guffey posted on my group along with a fic by canoncansodoff have pushed me into writing a bit more of it.
Basic Idea is:
Vernon gets transferred to India
Dudley stays with Marge so that he isn't contaminated, Harry does not, and he's placed into the care of the servants. Grows up speaking Hindi and learning the local culture from the servants, immediately takes to the Patils as they're the only sign of home
Ideas by: danashort, Ed Becerra
Correction by Tommy King
Omake Snape
Minerva looked up when the door to her office burst open and one of the oh so useful Patil twins darted in.
"What is it?" Minerva asked, her heart rate spiked when she saw the state the breathless girl had worked herself into.
"Snape hexed Harry," Parvati gasped.
"What! Is Mr. Potter alright?"
"I don't know," Parvati was on the verge of tears. "Snape won't let us take him to the hospital wing."
"You may tell me what happened on our way down," Minerva decided.
"Yes, Professor," the girl agreed.
"Hold still, I'm going to cast a spell on you to allow you to keep up with me," Minerva commanded, taking out her wand. A quick flick and the girl was floating at her side. "Speak."
"Snape asked Harry a bunch of questions and then insulted him when he didn't know the answers," Parvati began. "Then he insulted him about not showing up to the first class, said some really vile things about Harry, about Harry's Da, and about the worthless snots that had raised him."
"What happened next?" Minerva winced, this had the makings of something very bad.
"Harry said something rather rude in Hindi and got up to leave. Said, in English, that the school couldn't give him enough to make him deal with a petty bully like Snape and that he was going home."
"I take it that Snape was less than pleased?"
"He turned purple and started screaming at Harry," Parvati confirmed. "Harry just ignored him and packed up his things. Snape cursed him when he got to the door. Hermione started screaming then, demanded that Snape let us take Harry to the Hospital Wing and told him that we were all going to file complaints against him and get him arrested. Snape started screaming back and threatening to hex her too if she didn't . . . um . . . 'shut her stupid bint mouth and sit down with the other Griffindor sluts' and, um, there was more than that but I slipped out since he was distracted and came running to you."
"Very good, Ms. Patil, one hundred points to Gryffindor plus whatever Snape has taken off the house today."
"Thank you, Professor," Parvati replied.
Minerva canceled her spell when the got to the Potions hall and looked the girl in the eye. "Stay here, I shall be back in a moment."
"What if you're not?" Parvati asked nervously.
"If I do not send for you in five minutes or if you see Snape in the hall, you are to run to Professor Flitwick and tell him what happened."
"I will, Professor."
IIIIIIIIII
Albus rubbed the bridge of his nose, it was going to be one of those days.
"Now, Minerva, I'm sure it's not as bad as all that. I'm sure you understand that . . ."
"He hexed a student," McGonagall interrupted. "If that was the only thing he did, it would be bad enough, but he hexed Harry Bloody Potter. If nothing else, his stupidity should be reason enough to have him dismissed."
"I refused to coddle that spoiled brat and this is . . ."
"Because of you, Harry Potter may well return to India for good," Minerva barked.
"No loss," Snape sneered, pleased by the idea.
"Will the public or the Ministry agree with you?" Minerva shot back. "What do you suppose they'll do to the man that chased off their savior?"
Snape turned a deathly pale at the thought.
"I'm sure it's not as bad as all that," Dumbledore interjected, seeking to take control of the situation. "We'll simply tell Mr. Potter that he'd normally be expelled for his actions but that it was decided to be lenient."
"Hoping to shield Snape by punishing the boy to make the bloody idiot's actions seem justifiable?" Minerva laughed. "Might work with most of the students, but not with Mr. Potter. Get it through your head, Albus, he does not want to be here. Our meeting about him was to keep him from running out of the school. You do what you're suggesting and we'll lose the boy forever."
"What do you think I should do?" Dumbledore grumbled. "I think you'll find it easy to criticize, but much more difficult to think of solutions, Minerva."
"I'd suggest you immediately dismiss Snape and refer the matter to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Minerva replied. "Showing that we take assaults on the students by members of the staff seriously will provide protection to Hogwarts and may well give me enough ammunition to convince young Mr. Potter to stay."
AN: Inspired by a comment made by agnar. An additional note on motivation; Snape is a petty bully but the spell he used to restrain Harry is fairly harmless, even if he wanted to kill Harry he wouldn't do it in public. McGonagall went to all that trouble to get and keep Harry and is more than a bit annoyed at the others for ruining all that. Dumbledore is the master of his domain and is doing his best to protect his empire, cover your ass is the phrase of the day.