Book Two: Bart Simpson: Underneath Slytherin's Surface
Chapter One
On a rainy first day of August, Bart and Gemma were lazing on her four-poster bed and watching one of the scamp's favourite films – Star Wars: A New Hope – using a rune-powered television and VCR. While Bart was fully engrossed in the battle between the Rebel X-Wing starfighters and the Empire's TIE Fighters, Gemma was merely bemused, a feeling that was amplified when she heard Obi-Wan Kenobi commanding Luke to "use the force".
"Wait, isn't that the voice of the old man who died?"
"Sure is."
"But he's dead! The dead can only communicate with you if you're holding a Resurrection Stone, and I'm pretty sure this 'movie', or whatever you call it, doesn't have those."
"He's communicating through the fooorrccee, Gemma", Bart teased in a ghostly tone as he raised his hands and wiggled his fingers before Gemma groaned and slapped his hands down.
"I swear, sometimes you're as silly as this film is", she pouted.
Bart rolled his eyes. "Gemma, science fiction is meant to be silly. Only fat losers take it seriously", Bart noted, recalling how the Comic Book Guy's appearance was as unpleasant as his personality.
Ugh, now that's one dude I wouldn't want to see naked, the lad thought with a shiver.
"Now that I can believe. But I can't believe he's listening to this disembodied voice, mentor or no", Gemma noted with disbelief, as Luke switched off his targeting system.
"Relax, Gemma, it'll be fine; just watch", Bart reassured her, having watched the movie countless times.
"Yeah, OK", Gemma sighed as she leant back.
"I have you now", Darth Vader gloated as he seemingly had Luke dead to rights. But just after he fired what should have been the final, lethal burst…
"WHAT?" the tyrant yelled as one of his wingmen was blasted into oblivion. His other wingman looked up to see a large ship spearing downwards.
"Yeahoooooo!" the occupant of said ship, Han Solo, hollered as said wingman's TIE Fighter exploded on the alley wall, but not before knocking Vader's TIE Fighter into deep space.
"You're all clear, kid, now let's blow this thing and go home!" Han cajoled.
Bart's grin only widened when he saw Gemma's expression. She was actually smiling.
It's good to see that even Slytherin pure-bloods appreciate heroes saving the day. Heroes like me, Bart thought as Luke, needing no further encouragement, fired two missiles into the hole leading to the Death Star's core.
Mere seconds later, just as the malevolent moon was preparing a planet-busting blast, it exploded in an outrageous ball of fire, leaving behind only a few rapidly dissipating sparks.
Bart instinctively grabbed Gemma's hand, with Gemma squeezing tight in response before they both looked at each other in surprise, realising what they had just done.
Oh my god, I grabbed her hand! And I don't even have cooties! Bart thought. They loosened their grip, but their fingers still touched for the briefest moment before Bart went to eject the videotape.
"You were right, Bart. That 'movie' was worth it after all", Gemma observed. She usually didn't appreciate Muggle entertainment, like the song Kool Thing, but she understood why Muggles loved this movie. Who knew that silly fluff could be cathartic?
Unfortunately, such catharsis was soon extinguished, with Bart's disposition reflecting the grim weather outside after reading the message on the enchanted parchment that he had just pulled from his pocket.
"Bart, what's wrong?" Gemma asked, concern characterising her features.
"We have to save Harry."
BANG! That was the last thing Gemma expected to hear, and she knew that their summer was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
"What?"
"Harry Potter! The No-Maj – I mean, Muggles – he's living with have imprisoned him! They've put bars on his windows and have stopped him from leaving his room ever again. They live at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."
Gemma felt a twinge of anger. This surprised her because she was hardly the Gryffindor's biggest fan. It was probably because he was previously quite friendly with Bart. She determined that remaining in Bart's good graces necessitated rescuing Harry.
However, she had to carefully assess her options. Neither she nor Bart could publicly associate with Harry – that would decimate her authority within Slytherin while placing Bart at risk of hospitalisation. She thus exploited Bart's contempt for authority by asking some leading questions.
"Bart, why do you think that Potter's living with Muggles?"
"They're his aunt and uncle."
"OK, but he has many wizarding relatives since there aren't many wizards. I believe that Potter and I are fourth cousins, for example. Plus, wizards could use wards to protect him from…Voldemort…and his followers, the Death Eaters. What could Muggles use? 'Shotguns?'
So why would Potter even live with them in the first place? Surely not voluntarily?"
"I don't…wait, you think that Dumbledore's behind this, don't you?" Bart realised.
Gemma smirked. "Remember what I told you about his desire to enslave Muggles? Maybe he's acting on those desires by forcing Potter's worthless aunt and uncle to do his bidding."
"By jailing Harry?" Bart sceptically enquired.
"Why not? After all, we're talking about a man who would have happily ruled the world in concert with a Dark Lord. Why would that sort of person care about one abused child?"
"Well, you've got a point…", Bart reluctantly admitted, "but he just doesn't seem like –".
"That sort of person?" Gemma knowingly finished. "Bart, you're a Slytherin. You should know that appearances can be misleading. We both know that you've put on act to manipulate people."
Bart nodded. Normally, he would have asked Gemma why he should believe that she wasn't manipulating him. However, he was still too lovesick, so he didn't. Instead, his mind drifted back to July, when he pretended to be Bart Steward to deceive Jake, the Farley patriarch, and further Gemma's ruse regarding his identity.
"Bart, Gemma and I have perused Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy to determine your ancestry, specifically your ties to the Stewards. The book, however, states that the Stewards may have died out centuries ago. Yet here you are. Do you know anything about them?"
While focusing on the revolting image of Homer strip-teasing in front of the Simpson residence to fend off any covert Legilimency attacks, Bart told some porky pies.
"Well, Homer and Marge found me outside their door. The envelope in my cradle said my name was Bartholomew Jo-Jo Steward and that I needed protection from dangerous enemies. So no."
How very conveniently mysterious, the bespectacled, lanky patriach thought with annoyance. There's certainly more to this story than Bart's telling me, especially since he has that nauseating image at the forefront of his mind. Gemma must have warned him about Legilimency at Hogwarts, so he might detect a direct Legilimency attack. I think using Legilimency may alienate him unnecessarily, so I'll just ask him about the 'Simpsons'.
"What about your 'stepsister'? According to Gemma, her magical feats rival yours. The Simpsons must have an extremely powerful wizarding ancestor."
"Yeah. But coincidences happen all the time", Bart noted.
Jake nodded before pressing on.
"Why use the surname Simpson at Hogwarts, rather than Steward? It's certainly not because you're bothered by any attention arising from the latter surname."
"Well firstly Jake, Simpson is my stepparents' name, so I can go by either Simpson or Steward", Bart smoothly responded, flashing his fake ID at Jake for emphasis. "Also, I like attention on my terms, not on other people's terms."
"So you want to control other people's perceptions of you?"
"That's right."
"How very Slytherin. But the other pure-blood families I've encountered are under the distinct impression that you're a Muggleborn. Did you not realise that being a Muggleborn in Slytherin would attract unwanted attention?"
"No, I didn't", Bart grunted as he glared at Gemma, who shrugged and smiled innocently.
Hmmm…so Gemma 'encouraged' him to become a Slytherin without telling him about Slytherin's issues regarding blood status. She knew that the other Slytherins would ostracise him due to supposedly being a Muggleborn, so he would gravitate to the one Slytherin whom he knew wouldn't – Gemma, leading him to us. Nicely played, Gemma, Jake thought with pride.
"Just one other question, then. Why do you keep that truly nauseating image at the forefront of your mind?"
Bart smirked. "It's mental training, Jake. If I can endure seeing that, then I can endure seeing anything."
Jake knew that wasn't entirely true but didn't feel like pressing him further. "Very well, Bart. We will end this conversation and uncover your heritage some other time."
"I'm looking forward to it. But for now, may we practice flying, Gemma?"
"Yes, we may", Gemma replied, pleased with Bart's progress on that front. Sure, he accidentally crashed through a window when they first flew together on her two Nimbus 1700's, just as she had with her father many years before.
However, he progressively demonstrated the agility and balance that made him a natural skateboarder, turning on a dime while displaying a devastating burst of pace that embarrassed Gemma ad nauseum. Bart's thrill-seeking nature also shone through, as he'd sometimes jump on his broom mid-flight and go 'surfing' before seamlessly sitting himself down again.
He'll score loads for Slytherin, Gemma exulted upon witnessing his development.
When his mind snapped back to the present, that same thrill-seeking nature filled him with a desire to rescue Harry. Seeing said desire, Gemma intervened before Bart did anything rash.
"Bart, you're a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. What would a Slytherin do in this situation?"
"Cover their tracks so that Harry disappearing from Surrey can't be traced back to them?" Bart replied, recalling how he had framed the Gryffindors for an attack that he had staged on the other three houses' common rooms.
Gemma smiled. "Exactly. These Muggles are presumably quite close to Dumbledore, so if we rescue him from their house ourselves, these Muggles will presumably tip off Dumbledore and identify us by appearance – not to mention your cute American accent."
Bart blushed but he knew what she meant. "Then he'll be able to track us down and question us here or at Hogwarts."
"Yes. Or if not him, someone from the Ministry. We're both still underage, which means that the Ministry can detect magical activity that occurs around wizards who are under seventeen."
"Then why haven't we received, like, a billion warnings from the Ministry? We've cast plenty of spells when we've duelled."
"The Ministry don't bother sending warning notices to wizarding homes because they don't know whether the parent or the minor cast the magic. Homes occupied by Muggleborns, or those raised by Muggles in Potter's case, are treated differently because it's not like the Muggles living with the minor could have cast the magic. So the Ministry assumes that the minor cast the magic."
So that's why Dumbledore told me that I'd risk getting expelled if I used magic in Springfield, Bart thought, recalling the headmaster's warning when they were at Kings Cross.
"I seeeeee. So how do we get Harry out?"
Gemma placed her hand on her chin. "Let's consult father."
"Let's."
The pair duly solicited Jake's input in the manor's drawing room, an aesthetic marvel with a wooden, 25-feet high ceiling that was lit by two crystal chandeliers. The dining table was near a weathered brick mantlepiece located a short distance away, above which rested a gilded mirror and an intricately scrolled frame.
Meanwhile, Gemma and Bart faced Jake as they relaxed on two mulberry silk sofas, separately only by a venerable ebony table.
Man, this silk is soft enough to make my butt feel like it's sitting on air, Bart marvelled inwardly as Jake considered his options before bringing Bart out of his reverie with his response.
"Well…normally I would hire some bounty hunters to collect Potter for us, but it's best not to capture somebody in a Muggle neighbourhood using magic. That would tip both Dumbledore and the Ministry off.
So the question is – how do we extricate Potter inconspicuously via Muggle means?
Bart, you were raised by Muggles. Do you have any ideas?"
Unfortunately, Bart didn't…until he recalled how the Springfield Mafia had taken a financial hit after Seraphinus had helped expose their role in smuggling cocaine into Ilvermorny.
Wait a sec! The Springfield Mafia can help us out! God knows they need the money, and they would know how to intimidate people. Plus they owe me one for almost taking the rap for them when Skinner disappeared for a while, Bart bitterly thought, recalling what unfolded after he became their bartender. Before that, they almost murdered him on sight due to his reputation after he fell at their door, but they spared him because he could quickly summon bottles and serve drinks.
Well, now it's payback time, Bart snickered.
"Why yes, I do. I know some Muggle associates who know a thing or two about kidnappings, and they need some financial assistance after some recent business setbacks."
Bart's smug expression then turned serious, for he knew that his next observation would displease the Farleys.
"But we'll need to go to Springfield to meet them."
True to Bart's expectations, Gemma and Jake both cringed.
"Very well, then. We will depart post-haste", Jake stated with as much enthusiasm as somebody attending a loved one's funeral.
"Oh, and Jake? Please don't wear that tweed jacket", Bart requested to Jake's bemusement.
"Why? Isn't that contemporary Muggle attire?"
Bart almost facepalmed. "No. Tweed jackets haven't been coo-I mean, contemporary, for around 25 years, so my associates might not take you seriously if you wear one."
Gemma's cross expression changed as she realised that Bart wasn't merely being impertinent.
Hmm, he wants us to wear appropriate business attire. He almost slipped into using American Muggle slang just then, but he stopped himself. In fact, he hasn't used any since he's been here, and he's spoken less casually than before. He's clearly learning our ways, Gemma thought, heartened that etiquette lessons were finally bearing fruit.
Jake sighed but noted, "This is the most formal piece of Muggle attire I own. Does a store in Springfield sell more contemporary formal attire?" He didn't like spending more time there than necessary, but if remaining in Bart's good graces necessitated such, he would. He wasn't about to alienate a generational talent over trivialities like Muggle clothing.
"Yes, but you'll have to convert some Galleons into American dollars first."
"Very well, then. I'll be back soon. You two remain here", Jake commanded, as he confidently strode up to the mantlepiece and collected a container of Floo Powder. He then threw some in the fireplace. An all-consuming roar ensued as the resultant green fire towered over Jake. Unperturbed, Jake simply stepped into the fire and barked "Diagon Alley!" before vanishing into the flames.
"WHOA, THAT IS SO AWESOME! Are we doing that some time?" Bart eagerly, and impulsively, asked before turning to Gemma. The stony expression on her face was not one that he wished to witness.
Oh crap, language, Bart realised before Gemma hit him over the back of the head.
"Clearly you need more etiquette lessons, Bart", Gemma grumbled.
"Yes'm", Bart sheepishly agreed.
Gemma's annoyance with Bart was forgotten, however, since Bart had successfully found more fashionable Muggle clothing for her father to wear.
Indeed, after Jake had returned and apparated them to Springfield – a consistently disorienting experience for Bart – the trio were soon strolling out of Royal Majesty for the Obese and Gangly Gentleman, the store where Homer had brought his suit after briefly growing hair and being promoted. To avoid unwanted attention from the town's prejudiced denizens, Bart had disillusioned and silenced himself beforehand, along with the backpack full of American dollars that they planned to pay the Mafia off with. Gemma, meanwhile, simply wore a tight green shirt and dark denims.
Jake looked the most distinguished of the trio, being dressed in a snazzy dark green suit, a white dress shirt, and a solid brown tie that matched his brown leather shoes. The entire outfit broadly symbolised Jake's nature. The green represented the cunning, ambitious, resourceful side of him that so characterised a Slytherin. The white signified his more morally admirable aspects, like his care for his family, while the brown reflected his overall moral ambiguity.
However, Bart cared not for symbolism, but that this suit was far more fashionable than Jake's old tweed jacket.
"That suit's much better than your old tweed jacket, Jake."
"Thank you, Bart. Now, how do Muggles normally travel between countries?"
"Airplanes."
"OK. How do you expect that they will kidnap Harry?"
"By renting a car – you know, like that purple vehicle outside of my house – from a car rental place and shoving him into it. Why?"
"I was merely curious. Now let us greet your associates", to which Bart nodded as Jake entered a secluded location before apparating, ensuring that they weren't overheard.
In a jiffy, Bart, having removed the charms on himself, was knocking on the door of…
The Legitimate Businessman's Social Club? Jake thought dubiously. The Farley patriarch had assumed that Bart's associates were shady when Bart mentioned that they kidnapped people, and this title confirmed that.
A truly legitimate business would not bother advertising that fact, he thought as both he and Gemma loosened their wand holsters upon his prompting.
Jake had consorted with such shady characters before – namely, the less loyal Death Eaters who sold him information to sell on to Professor Dumbledore. He knew full well that such people lacked honour – indeed, a couple of them attempted to incapacitate or kill him for the money on his person. Luckily, true to his ancestry, Jake was a skilled duellist who was lightning quick on the draw, so that ended badly for his would-be assailants.
As Jake was reliving these unpleasant memories, the door opened to reveal an imposing, corpulent man with greying hair. Said man's shock at seeing Bart on his doorstep made Jake think that he was going to suffer a heart attack. Luckily, that wasn't the case.
"Bart!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Fat Tony", Bart unctuously replied. "How's business going?"
The mafioso frowned. "Not very well, as of late. We ran into some…business troubles which cost us some dough. We've resorted to smuggling in heroin – it's apparently the trendy drug, now. But we still haven't made back our losses."
"Well, I can help you make your losses back way faster if you help me out", Bart slyly remarked as he showed them the backpack of American dollars.
Fat Tony's curiosity was piqued. "How, Bart?"
"By coming over to England and kidnapping a friend named Harry Potter for us", Bart bluntly remarked, knowing that Fat Tony had no moral objections to kidnapping, or much of anything really.
"We would usually decline because our business does not extend into England. But given the amount of money you are offering, we will gladly accept, if you can provide transportation."
"We sure can", Bart cockily remarked.
"Now, whom might these two distinguished individuals be?" Fat Tony enquired.
"These are my friends, Gemma and Jake Farley. Gemma and Jake, meet my…associate, Fat Tony."
"The pleasure is all mine, good sir", Jake remarked as he firmly shook the mafioso's hand. Sighting some bottles in a bar behind Fat Tony, Jake suddenly realised that he could transport them all back to England without risking apparition, and the lost body parts that could result given that he was now transporting clueless Muggles, not just wizards.
I can pay the necessary fines to MACUSA and the Ministry of Magic for setting up an unauthorised Portkey later, he thought indifferently as he diplomatically set his plan into motion.
"Tony, can you trouble me for a nice bottle of whisky?"
"I most certainly can. Please – come inside", Fat Tony requested as he ushered the trio through.
Before long, Gemma, Jake, Fat Tony and his henchmen Louie and Legs were conversing around a table as Bart served everyone Manhattan cocktails bar Jake, who was content with mixing his small bottle of rye whisky with water. Fat Tony was thoroughly enjoying his.
"Bart, you've always been one helluva bartender! Are you sure you don't want to work for us again someday? Your Manhattans would score us a lot of clients."
"No thanks, Fat Tony", Bart casually replied as he sat. "By the way, who's the new police chief? I heard Chief Wiggum got fired."
Fat Tony's face darkened. "None other than Mr. Homer Simpson."
The trio groaned.
"You haven't tried to whack him yet, have you?"
"No, that ended badly for us the last time we attempted that", Fat Tony responded, grimacing as he recalled how a mysterious assailant shot him in the arm just before he could murder Homer at his home. "But we don't think that he wants to risk antagonising us too much, either. So he's mostly left our heroin-smuggling operation alone – or at least Lou and Eddie have - while cracking down on petty crime and cocaine users."
Bart nodded, recalling how Lou and Eddie only seemed clean and competent next to Chief Wiggum.
"Eh, he'll get bored and give the job back to Chief Wiggum."
"We live in hope. So where does this Harry Potter live?"
"4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."
"Hmmm…once we arrive in Surrey, I will present my fake ID and rent a popular van to blend in. We will then transport him to your location of choice. So, how do we get to England?"
Jake then nudged Bart and gestured to the bottle, having surreptitiously cast a Portus charm to direct them to the 'car rental place' closest to Harry's house while nobody was looking. Bart looked quizzically at him before experiencing an epiphany.
Of course! He's put a spell on this bottle to take us there!
Bart let loose a light, airy laugh. "Business class, gentlemen. But before we depart, let's all grab this bottle together, in celebration of what will be a successful kidnapping."
The sextet obliged. Before Bart could say 'boo', he felt like a hook was dragging him somewhere behind the navel as his vision swirled and twirled for seconds that felt like minutes before finally, mercifully, they found themselves in front of a car hire company in Surrey.
Ay carumba, who needs benders when you have spells like that? Well, thank God for small mercies, he thought as he discovered that Jake serendipitously transported them into a sheltered area. Plus, his constitution didn't give way. The Muggle gangsters weren't so lucky, as they unceremoniously vomited on the footpath. Jake braved the resultant stench and placed the whisky bottle in a secluded location before casting a Mass Obliviate on them while they were incapacitated.
"Obliviate! The six of us travelled here by business class on 'airplanes'."
So that's why he asked about No-Maj transportation, Bart realised upon witnessing this.
After the Memory Charm took effect, the criminal trio recovered their bearings. Seeing the vomit on the footpath and feeling the foul stench permeating his breath, Fat Tony winced.
"I ain't vomited like that since seeing Godfather III. But never mind that. Let us commence this operation", his voice becoming tinged with a calculated malice as he sighted the company.
"Let's", Bart replied with a smirk.
A short while later, the sextet was parked outside 4 Privet Drive in a brand-new white Ford Transit van, which appeared respectable enough to not attract undue attention in your typical middle-class English suburb. Not that Jake was satisfied with his ride.
I can't say that I've travelled in a bin before, but there's always a first time for everything.
His distaste was only amplified when he saw the row of functional but generic-looking houses in front of him – a distaste which Fat Tony vocalised.
"These people, do they have no sense of style?"
"Obviously not", Bart replied, having grown accustomed to the Farley Manor's opulence. Jake and Gemma both murmured their agreement as Fat Tony left with Louie and Legs. Upon reaching the shelter by the doorway, the three gangsters cast their umbrellas down, before Fat Tony knocked.
"Hold on, I'm coming, I'm coming", a gruff voice responded before unceremoniously throwing the door open.
Before Fat Tony stood a dark-haired, purple-faced, moustachioed man who rivalled him for corpulence. The man took in the suits and the scowls of the three gangsters facing him and quickly realised that they weren't to be messed with.
"What might you be after, gentlemen?" the man enquired in his most proper tone.
"Greetings, sir", Fat Tony unctuously replied, pronouncing each word in his signature syllabic manner. "We are here to collect one Harry Potter."
The moustachioed man's eyes widened in shock.
"You're one of that lot!" he gasped.
Fat Tony wasn't sure what he meant, but the man likely suspected that they were criminals. So he decided to confirm the man's worst fears. Why not, if the mafioso could collect Harry more quickly?
"That's right, good sir. We are members of the Springfield Mafia."
The moustachioed man was clearly not expecting to hear that response, since his face paled from its usual puce. Scaring off witches and wizards with his trademark bluster was one thing, but how could he scare off men like these? He could see it in their cold, unfeeling eyes; these men had killed. A feeling of fear thus took the place of his previously shocked impulse.
Seeing said fear lining the moustachioed man's face, Fat Tony moved in for the proverbial kill.
"So please – the boy", the mafioso requested, steely malice infiltrating his hitherto neutral tone.
Vernon stood there and shook impotently as a pair of blondes approached him from behind.
"What's wrong, Vernon?" the older, horse-faced one asked.
"Dad?" the younger, bloated one enquired with concern that belied his usual belligerence.
"N-nothing Dudders", Vernon weakly reassured his son.
Seeing an opportunity to force Vernon's hand, Fat Tony turned to 'Dudders' with a predatory glint in his eyes.
"Unless you would like us to take 'Dudders' instead?" Fat Tony enquired with feigned innocence. Vernon's response was predictable.
"P-Petunia, g-get the boy."
"What?"
"GET THE RUDDY BOY!" Vernon bellowed; his blackened heart pounding so hard that it threatened to burst his eardrums.
Seeing unmitigated fear on her husband's face, Petunia realised that their precious 'Dudders' might be in danger, so she grimly nodded and rushed upstairs.
Moments later, Harry was escorted downstairs by Petunia as he held an owl in a cage.
"Please grab your possessions and leave", Petunia requested with uncharacteristic courtesy as she unlocked the cupboard under the stairs so that Harry could collect his trunk. After he did so, Petunia all but shoved him into Fat Tony.
"You have the boy. Now please go", Vernon requested with all the resolve he could muster.
"Gladly. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Vernon", Fat Tony insincerely replied as he gestured for Harry to follow him. Harry was briefly dumbfounded, but after realising that these men were offering him freedom from the Dursleys, he followed without complaint, with Vernon hastily closing the door before the boy could change his mind. Not that Harry intended to.
"Apologies for the short notice, Harry, but my client insisted that we quickly collect you. My name is Fat Tony, these two gentlemen are Louie and Legs, and we are from The Legitimate Businessman's Social Club in Springfield."
So Bart came to get me after all, Harry thought in shock and elation as he quickly shook their hands, instinctively realising that these men were both American and dangerous. Trust him to hire some obvious criminals though. Voldemort was right – he really does belong in Slytherin, Harry thought, negativity surging through him as he recalled how Bart had betrayed his trust to fuel his own self-interest.
Unfortunately, he had faced a sadistic choice – remain imprisoned at the Dursleys forever or rely on somebody who had previously betrayed him to rescue him – if Bart even saw Harry's message to begin with. It wasn't like he could rely on Ron or Hermione; Dobby, the house elf who visited him, had made sure of that by preventing him from communicating with them.
In the end, his love of magic, Ron, and Hermione outweighed his desire to spurn Bart. Truth be told, he couldn't even remember how the enchanted parchment they communicated with ended up in his jeans pocket – he must have placed it there without thinking when he returned to 4 Privet Drive.
I guess it was just meant to be, Harry thought, shaking his head in resignation.
However, he couldn't dwell on such dismal thoughts for long, for Legs had ushered him into a van next to…
"Bart!" Harry remarked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
"Harry!" Bart effused, before momentarily gasping as he observed his friend's incredibly shabby countenance. He was accustomed to Harry's scrawny figure wearing ill-fitting, old clothes, but he looked even more unkempt than normal. Indeed, he had clearly been eating so poorly that he resembled an urchin, not a celebrity wizard.
Man, Lisa will blow her top if I tell her about all this. Maybe I shouldn't, Bart thought, picturing Lisa demolishing their house in furious rage after he told her. He then turned to the Farleys, who were giving each other meaningful frowns after sighting Harry's sorry state.
"By the way, Harry – "
"Yes, I know. Hello, Farley." Harry's curt greeting was reciprocated by Gemma.
"Hello, Potter. This is my father, Jacob."
"A pleasure, Harry. Please call me Jake. It looks like you've endured a most trying time", the elder Farley observed as he shook Harry's hand, using the famed wizard's first name to ingratiate himself with the boy. Harry, however, seemed unmoved.
"It's really nothing. They're only the Dursleys; I can handle whatever they throw at me."
Bart burst out laughing.
"DURSLEYS? That's their name? More like the Turd-sleys!"
The criminal trio started laughing, with the other three wizards, even Harry, struggling not to join in. It seemed that even highbrow wizards like Gemma and Jake believed that was an apt surname. Fat Tony, who always enjoyed raunchy humour, provided a suitably dirty rejoinder.
"Yes. And you could say that the man is named Turd-on."
Bart, still in fits of laughter, replied, "Yeah, he probably ate half the neighbourhood! That's why he's so fat and Harry's so thin!"
Harry gave him a dirty look.
"Sorry, Harry."
Realising that he couldn't stay mad with the boy who had just rescued him, Harry relented.
"That's OK. Besides, his son's fat enough to eat the other half."
Further laughter erupted before a potential problem dawned on Bart.
"What if they call the co-"
"The police?" Harry replied with a hollow laugh. "Trust me, they won't. They're happier without me there."
The criminal trio weren't too perturbed – they weren't his legal guardians, after all. The other three wizards, however, exchanged concerned looks, as Bart's worst fears regarding Harry's treatment by his relatives were confirmed. Bart made to say something, but Harry waved him away.
"Bart, just forget it, OK?" Harry tetchily requested, clearly unwilling to discuss the matter further.
Knowing that their relationship still hung by a thread, Bart obliged him.
The trip back to the car hire company was mostly uneventful, bar an awkward moment when Fat Tony enquired about Jake's vocation. Bart, being a consummate liar, saved Jake's bacon by improvising a yarn about Jake running a chemist, which Fat Tony swallowed with his usual sizeable portions. Bart sat back and smirked at Harry, who just shook his head in exasperation.
Upon returning the van to the car hire company, they gathered in the sheltered area where the whisky bottle lay.
"Alright guys, let's have a group huddle to celebrate a successful kidnapping!" Bart yelled as he saw Jake's foot inching ever closer to his Portkey.
"A good idea, Bart", Fat Tony noted as Bart gestured for Harry to join them. Shrugging his shoulders, he did. Just as the huddle formed, Jake touched the bottle, sending them all back to Fat Tony's lair.
Harry was unaccustomed to travel via Portkey, but he had not eaten much recently and so managed to recover his bearings faster than the criminals, who all vomited yet again. Jake took advantage in the same manner as before while cleaning up their vomit.
"Well, that was a comfortable flight", Fat Tony noted ironically. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Bart. You and your guests are most welcome if you require our services."
"Sure thing, Fat Tony", Bart casually remarked as he led the wizarding quartet out into the open.
Having recovered his bearings, Harry surveyed his surroundings in astonishment, not recognising the scenery before him.
"W-where are we?"
Bart smirked. "We're in America, Harry. Enjoy the scenery while you can because we're going back to England…right now!" Harry couldn't even muster a response before the scenery changed, as he felt like he was travelling at warp speed through a flexible tube.
Before Harry knew it, he was on his derriere before the wrought-iron gates leading into the magnifique manor owned by the Farleys. Bart laughed at the famed Gryffindor's predicament before helping him up and guiding him to the mansion's door as Jake underwent the usual formalities.
"Like what you see, Harry?" Bart slyly remarked. Harry could only gape. Living in deprivation for so long, he just couldn't believe that he would ever experience such luxury.
"Yeah, it's loads better than the Dursleys' place."
"Yes, I would hope so", Jake remarked, with Bella coming to greet them as they entered the manor.
"Bella, this lad is none other than the Harry Potter."
"Really? I never thought that we would have the pleasure of hosting the Boy-Who-Lived in our humble home. I am Isabella Farley, but you may call me Bella."
"And you can call me Harry", Harry remarked as he shook her hand, his cordiality belying his resentment at being objectified as some saviour. Why can't I just be Harry to these people? I don't even remember what I did that was so bloody great!
Harry sighed. He was tired, so he only wanted to assure Ron and Hermione that he was OK, rather than luxuriate in the manor's opulence like Bart apparently did.
"Umm, Jake, Bella…can I please contact my friend Ron Weasley?"
The Farleys briefly shared a frown before Jake responded.
"Ah yes, another wizard celebrity from Gryffindor. It shouldn't surprise me that you and the Weasley boy are so well acquainted", Jake replied, not catching how Harry's eye twitched in resentment. "We are not so close to the Weasleys, unfortunately, since we socialise in different circles."
Of course, you guys are all Slytherins, Harry irritably thought before Jake cupped his chin.
"They used to live at a place called The Burrow, I believe. With any luck, they will still be there. Sleazy!"
A house-elf with alert ears, mischievous eyes and a sleazy smirk abruptly appeared.
"Hello master Jake sir, what's up?". The elf tried to sound smooth, but his squeaky voice almost made both Bart and Harry burst into laughter.
Maintaining his composure, Jake requested, "Sleazy, can you please take Mr. Potter to The Burrow?"
"OK master Jake. Sleazy will take Mr. Potty. Then Sleazy will get some favours outside."
"Please do", Jake requested. Before Sleazy could grab Harry's hand, the bespectacled boy turned to Bart.
"By the way, Bart."
Bart looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"
Harry cracked a genuine smile. "Thanks."
"No problem", Bart replied as Harry disappeared with Sleazy. At that moment, Bart believed that the warmth filling his heart could power the entirety of wizarding Britain. However, such warmth turned to concern as the rune-powered telephone in the manor's drawing room rang. He knew precisely who was calling him, and that something significant must therefore have occurred.
Why the hell is my family calling me?
Author's Notes for Chapter One
Apologies for yet another lengthy delay, but at least this one wasn't 18 months long!
This chapter was meant to get Harry's rescue out of the way without requiring several chapters. It was inspired by 'The Twisted World of Marge Simpson', wherein Fat Tony, Louie and Legs confront Homer and Marge directly for the pretzel profits. While Vernon is a bully, he does care for his wife and son, and would do anything to ensure their safety, including giving up Harry – whom he loathed – to whomever was threatening his family, which Fat Tony obviously did. Also, I don't recall any other fanfic using intimidating Muggles to rescue Harry!
Gemma mentioned in Chapter 18 that she'd purchase a genealogy book to help Bart uncover his ancestry. She also mentions in Chapter 13 that she'd train Bart to be a Seeker, so that's explored here too.
I've tried to avoid turning her into too much of a Mary Sue by having her rely on her more experienced father for assistance regarding flying, generating ideas and executing plans.
Yes, the 'cradle at the door' thing is a mythology gag.
The rune-powered telephone allowing the Simpsons to quickly contact Bart wasn't explored before, partially because I didn't consider it, but also because there was no pressing reason for them to contact him. In episodes like 'Bart On The Road', they don't bother contacting him – he instead contacts them to get out of trouble. That said, I think Marge and Lisa, who are more paranoid maternal types, would want to quickly contact him if necessary.
The transition from cocaine to heroin smuggling marks society's gradual transition from the 80s to the 90s.
The Nimbus 1700 is taken from Hogwarts: A Mystery. It makes sense that an older student like Gemma would have an older broom than Harry's, especially since she has no incentive to buy a newer one given that Marcus Flint has barred her from the team for sexist reasons.
Farley Manor is basically a slightly less luxurious Malfoy Manor (lower ceiling, slightly cheaper mantlepiece materials), reflecting the Farleys' lesser wealth.
I referenced that part of A New Hope for reasons that will become clear in later chapters. ;)
Issues like the consequences of Bart, Gemma and Ron's celebrity will be explored in subsequent chapters.
bauers374: 1) Yes, I ripped that from Harry Potter lore, plus Gemma briefly mentions Anthony Goldstein in Chapter 6, 2) let's just say that he'll play a massive role in this book.