Summary: Vernon gets the smarts when accidental magic in response to a bellow breaks the compulsion to be mean to Harry. He is well sore with the magical world which is making a child soldier by grooming Harry, so he decides to turn the weapon back on them by teaching Harry all he needs to survive.
Rating: T
Words: 39,225
Status: Complete
Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12834497/1/Harry-the-weapon
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Eight year old Harry Potter was not unhappy. His uncle and aunt expected him to work hard doing chores, but they were not onerous. They also expected him to do well at school. Dudley had a tutor to help him do better at school, but Harry was encouraged to do better on his own. He usually had books for his birthday, and now he was to join Cub Scouts. And then Uncle Vernon sat him down, and explained, with great distaste in his voice and on his face, about the magical world. He went on,
"You live here for your protection and ours because of something your mother did, and there are wards which use your blood around the house. Your aunt and I did not agree to this; you were left on the doorstep with a letter, the cowards did not even speak to us." He almost spat.
The penny certainly dropped at that.
"I see. I am sorry, Uncle Vernon, I am sorry that others of my kind were so rude."
"Well, we've raised you to be more mannerly and more sensible, but the reason they want to protect you is because of their war," said Vernon. "Your mother died to save you and you are some sort of saviour to them; I heard them celebrating that the freak terrorist who killed your parents was dead because of some curse bouncing off you and killing him, but they never found a body. You see, I made a note of the freaks celebrating, and I've got a few of them drunk over the years to piece together what happened. And I reckon that the old coot who left you with us doesn't think he's dead and wants you to be a weapon."
Harry gasped.
"But I'm only a little boy!" he said.
"Yes, and this seems to be a point those lunatic freaks have missed," said Vernon. "Whatever we do, short of moving to Australia, if they even let us escape, they are going to use you. I didn't want you, but you've been a good nephew, and if you have to fight this war, I don't want it spilling over into the normal world, so I'm going to see that you are as good as you can be"
"Thank you, Uncle Vernon," said Harry, who was scared.
Vernon patted him on the shoulder.
"I shouldn't think you'll be expected to face him before you are 17, which is adult in their world, but I didn't want to take any chances. When you are 11 you'll be sent for to go to that freak school of theirs and I doubt they'll take no for an answer. This is one reason I've encouraged you to work hard, and get two years ahead, so you'll have some experience of school before going there, and know how to network, as well as having a good grounding in sensible studies like mathematics and the sciences. I'm going to send you to Smeltings, my old school. The uniform is ridiculous but you'll have to live with it, the education there is very good. I'll expect you to keep up with those studies in your own time when you are away at this freak school, and we can get a tutor over the holidays as well. Study ahead in their subjects too. When you are older, I'm going to enrol you in the Cadet Corp to teach you basic military skills. You might not think it to look at me now, but I was in the cadets, and in the Territorial Army when I was young, and, er, had a figure. I thought you could start karate now; you don't have the build to do boxing. It's about something called situational awareness, which will let you figure out what is going on around you."
"Yes, sir; I should think that will help," said Harry.
"You're a good lad, you take it all in and get on with life," said Vernon. "We've built some good muscles on you with the heavy garden work, and you've learned preparation when cooking, which will help with chemistry, and your aunt says they have subjects about the properties of herbs and making potions, like in Macbeth, I suppose, at that school, so it won't go amiss. One of the freaks thinks he's a friend of mine, and he's got you some books on how their world works, which I'm going to give you now, and he's going to get you some text books for you before you start, so you can read ahead. I'm hoping I can persuade him to take you to the freak bookshop when you've done some reading so you'll know what to get. I'm going to get you some good, normal books as well, SunTzu, Clausewitz and Machiavelli's 'The Prince'. They're a bit advanced for you at the moment, but you'll do well to read them when you can. Also 'Mein Kampf' by Hitler; it's a dreadful book written by a dreadful man, but it might help you understand the mind of a megalomaniac terrorist."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon, thank you for going to so much trouble and expense for me."
"It's a small investment if you are supposed to save the world," said Vernon. "You've been very good about not doing too much freakish stuff, and your aunt and I appreciate it, though turning your teacher's hair blue was, between you and me, hilariously funny. I didn't like the old bat either."
Uncle and nephew caught each other's eye and chuckled conspiratorially.
"Uncle Vernon, is being able to talk to snakes and understanding them part of it?" asked Harry.
His uncle blenched.
"More than likely, and please don't speak to me about it unless it becomes important," he said. "Maybe you can get a pet snake in the freak shopping centre and train it to sneak in and bite enemies. That would be a useful thing, unless it's common for wizards to speak to snakes, but I reckon it isn't, or they'd set them to watch you. Where have you spoken to snakes?" he asked suddenly.
"On the common when we went for a picnic," said Harry. "I've never seen any snakes in the garden; so I guess they don't use snakes to spy."
Vernon nodded.
"Good. Reckon they use cats though; that Mrs. Figg is too nosy and too crazy to just be a crazy cat lady. And her cats are always watching. That's why I hector you in the front garden; when I see a cat. I reckon from the way that letter about you was written the old coot Dumbledore wants you to be a bit browbeaten. He needs you to be cowed and ready to accept anything he says, because you're glad to be away from home."
"Does he want me to die, do you think?"
"It wouldn't surprise me, my boy, but I wasn't going to say so. However if you've sussed it out for yourself, I won't lie. You had a nasty scar on your forehead which wouldn't heal when we took you in, and he hadn't bothered to get it treated. Took three operations to discover that there was something very nasty, they had to cut into your skull to cut it out, though I doubt you remember it."
Harry shuddered.
"I do remember, it kept screaming at me," he said.
"These freaks are nasty types," said Vernon. "No care for other people, and they are very nasty to people like your mother who was the first in her family to be… to be a witch. And even nastier to your aunt, not letting her learn anything about what her sister was studying."
"Perhaps she could study with me, some of the things I'm to learn," said Harry.
"I reckon she might like that," said Vernon.
The books on wizarding life were interesting, and the etiquette just took good manners a few stages further. Discovering his name in a who's who in the Wizarding World was a shock, and Harry took that to show Vernon, who huffed.
"Who would have thought that rude boy would have been one of the upper ten," he said. "Harry, my boy, this is more serious than I thought. It seems as though Dumbledore meant to deprive you of knowledge of the fact that you are the nearest thing they have to nobility in their world."
"Yes, sir, and without the etiquette book, I would have probably inadvertently insulted a lot of people I should either be allied to, or keeping my friends close and my enemies closer, like you told me."
Vernon shook his head.
"This is looking more and more sinister, I'm afraid, lad," he said. "Damnit, I may not have wanted you, but I've become more or less fond of you, and it riles me to see that old coot and his cohorts playing footsie with your life"
"I'm not overjoyed myself," said Harry.
"You will be as good as I can get you," vowed Vernon. "And look here, boy, if you keep it in your bedroom, I'll not interfere in you practising magic on your own before you get there, and Petunia has agreed to let you brew potions in the kitchen. You should be getting some books on what first years do very soon."
"Thank you, uncle," said Harry. It gave him a warm feeling to know that his uncle actually cared about him as a person.
Harry worked hard on starting to understand magic. He read that until he had a wand, anything he did would be considered accidental magic, and that even when he did, he could still brew potions. He could also try applying for an exemption. After all, they could only say no, and they might say yes, as he was supposed to be some saviour. This always made Harry snort; he was saved by his mother dying. And now he knew more about her because hesitantly at first, but with growing enthusiasm, his aunt had told him about her sister.
"I won't exclude you from what I do at the freak school," said Harry.
"I can't believe that I've made this potion and it seems to look like it's supposed to," said Petunia, looking at her boil-cure potion.
"I bet you're what they call a squib, someone who can't do spells, but who can do some things in their world," said Harry. "Normally it's someone without magic born to a magical family, but what if it's someone just not quite magical as well?"
"I don't know. I don't really want to be a part of it, but I know some of their cures work," said Petunia.
"Cool! We can make sure to stock up your medicine cabinet for when I'm off at Smeltings then," said Harry.
So they did.
Harry also visited Diagon Alley with Mr. Scarpin, the wizard Vernon had cultivated, and visited Gringott's bank, where he discovered that Headmaster Dumbledore held his key and that his parents' will had been sealed. He changed the money Vernon had given him for books since he could not access his account yet, and bought books on runes and arithmancy, to ally with classics and mathematics. He also got one on goblin etiquette, so he would be ready to assume control of his account when he was eleven, and wizarding law in case he wanted to sue anyone, like the publishers of some very silly books about him. He bought a couple to ask Vernon his opinion of whether he had a legal case. It was nice, however, not to be recognised, since he had no scar, and was wearing contact lenses not the glasses he wore for yard work. Someone must be taking photographs of him to use for the illustrations, thought Harry, but at least they were assuming the scar was still there. It was a nuisance that his hair had grown back overnight when Aunt Petunia had cut it for him, but perhaps he could work on willing it to look different. It was a dreadful hairstyle.
With books on mind magic as well, it took Harry three weeks to learn how to control his hair to look just how he wanted. He would go to Smeltings with a neat, side parting and look totally normal.
It did freak Petunia out a bit when he turned his hair the same colour as his mother's hair in the photos Petunia had showed him.
"Haha, my boy, if you do that for Hogwarts, you'll seriously upset those idiots who think they know who you are," laughed Vernon, patting Petunia on the back comfortingly. "Show them you're our family, not that twat James Potter's kin!"
"Vernon! Language!" said Petunia.
"Do you think I should freak them out, or be what they expect?" asked Harry, quizzically.
Vernon considered.
"There are tactical advantages to both," he said. "To be as they expect lulls them into a false sense of security, but to freak them out keeps them wrong-footed."
"I reckon I could make more friends and contacts on this five-hour train journey to Scotland if I make friends with people who want to know Harry rather than people who want to know the Boy-Who-Lived-in-a-hyphenated-trope."
"That's a very good point, my boy, and you will want all the friends you can get. Those who are the right sort, who are on a par with you socially and who are allied to your family will ally with your family, not with who you look like, so long as your behaviour is correct. Of the others, those who want to know the Trope-who-has-a-scar you are well shut of. Besides, Dumbledore might even have persuaded one or more to latch onto you by doing their family some favour, and before you know it, the silly brat is busy pratting to the headmaster of all your doings."
Harry grinned viciously.
He would have neat, black hair for Smeltings, James Potter hair in the holidays, and Lily Evans hair for Hogwarts
Smeltings was fun, and Harry duly networked and made sure there were other boys in his own class who would look out for Dudley when he came in two years time.
"My cousin isn't very clever, or hard working, but he'll be useful on the boxing team, and at rugger," said Harry. "He just needs someone to keep his nose to the grindstone so he gets passing marks for his schoolwork."
"Won't you be looking out for him?" asked Harry's friend, Alan Smethwyk.
Harry made a face.
"Unfortunately it's a condition of my parents' will that I go to their old school when I'm eleven," he said. "It's a pain, but it's paid for and I don't get my inheritance unless I do go there." This was a lie, of course, but a convenient one.
Smethwyk pulled a face.
"We'll look out for your little cousin," he said.
Harry decided that it was not a good time to mention that Dudley was a lot bigger than he was, though at least the slimming potions he and Petunia had brewed had helped both Vernon and Dudley to achieve a healthier weight.
Potions and Chemistry were enough alike that Harry enjoyed that class, and excelled in it. Indeed, he excelled at most of his lessons, and enjoyed himself. He hated rugger, but loved cricket, and athletics, and gymnastics Smeltings definitely promulgated mens sana in corpore sano. Harry studied particularly hard at Latin, to help him ultimately to cast spells, and mathematics, to cross-correlate that with arithmancy, to help with crafting spells. That he loved learning for its own sake helped, and he was never apostrophised as a swot since he played as hard as he studied and was not averse to a bit of extra-curricular fun like a midnight feast in the observatory, and using an amber rod to charge with static electricity to sneak behind the physics master to make his hair stand on end.
He was caned for firing a metal pencil erasor out of the solenoid and breaking the window.
As Harry had achieved a place at Smeltings by examination, he was not asked his age when he joined the school Combined Cadet Force. He loved it, and found he was a natural with the L98A2, 5.56 mm Cadet General Purpose rifle, was good at first aid, had great fun in kayaks, and was too short to learn to fly the Grob Tutor aircraft. He started work towards skills he would need for his Duke of Edinburgh Award, when he was over 14, which he could work on in the holidays from Hogwarts with the local Army Cadet Force. He was a bit peeved that he would probably not have a chance to fly, but he was able to fly the Grob Viking glider, which was great fun. He spent three nights in detention writing "I am not a bird and the Viking does not like stooping like a falcon" and "I am not the Red Baron, or Snoopy, or Han Solo and it is forbidden to do Immelmann turns in a glider.
Harry strongly suspected he had used magic to make the glider do things it was not supposed to do, because he had seriously freaked out his instructors with pulling out of a dive into an Immelmann turn.
Oh well.
Dr. Masterston, who taught chemistry as well as teaching flying in the CCF had said that anyone as crazy as Harry would be a shoe-in for the Airforce. Harry was currently considering flying Harriers off carriers as a career.
Harry sighed, when his eleventh birthday brought a letter through the door written in green pen. He took it to Vernon.
"You were right, sir, and here it is," he said. "How am I supposed to send a return by owl? At least I know owls carry the post, but have they forgotten that I'm supposed to have been raised as a non-magical boy with no knowledge?"
"Well, let's not let it spoil your birthday," said Vernon. "We need to hurry if we want to take in the best of the air show."
"Thanks for giving me a treat like Dudley," said Harry.
"It's your last year to do totally normal things," said Vernon, who did not add that Harry's fascination for things military would stand him in good stead if he was being turned into a child soldier. Harry had recreated his school rifle from tin cans using something called 'transfiguration', and Vernon had been much impressed. There were going to be side shows where you could strip done other weapons, and Vernon reckoned that if Harry had stripped down a weapon, he could make it. His eye for detail was excellent, honed by playing Kim's game at cubs, and later at home as an exercise, and in the street, memorising details while Vernon took photographs to verify the details against. Vernon had got the idea when they saw 'Kim' on TV, and when Harry had excitedly said that they played this game at cubs.
It was all part of situational awareness.
Harry had a great time at the airshow, and Dudley ate a great many American-style hot-dogs. Harry had no trouble stripping guns, and chatted to soldiers. It was hot, and loud, and smelled of aviation spirit all day and Harry loved it. When they got home, there was treacle tart with ice cream, which Harry had requested instead of a cake, in case Hogwarts did not provide such a thing, and they sat and discussed the letter.
"Does Harry have to go to the freak school? I want him to help me with my homework at Smeltings," whined Dudley.
"My friend Smethwyk will look out for you, and also Pig, er, that's Porkins, and Fido, that's Tempest."
"Ok, I get Porkins but why Fido?" said Dudley, looking mystified.
"Oh, his name is Charles Abernethy Tempest, which spells CAT so of course we called him Fido because it's a dog's name," said Harry.
"Oh, I see," said Dudley, who was young enough to understand the logic of other small boys.
"I remember I went to school with a kid named Martin, so we thought of 'Doc' Martin shoes and called him Bunny, short for Bunny-slipper," said Vernon.
Petunia rolled her eyes.
"School nicknames apart, yes, Harry has to go to this school because he will be kidnapped and forced to go if he is anywhere else, and it is better to seem compliant," said Petunia. "I suggest you write a 'to whom it may concern' letter, Harry, and see if you can forget all the calligraphy you've been learning and make it a bit messy. Be disbelieving. Something along the lines of "To whom it may concern, I do not appreciate stupid jokes, and what on earth do you mean by owling an answer? Not that this will find your stupid made up address."
Harry giggled.
"I like that," he said. "I suppose I'd better put a stamp on it."
"Probably; they don't understand good English money to pay for it if it even gets sent," said Petunia.
"Albus, have you ever been to tell Harry Potter anything about his wizarding family?" demanded Minerva.
The old man twinkled at her.
"Now, that would only be counterproductive in introducing him to the wonders of the wizarding world, wouldn't it?" he said.
"I rather fancy he is too taken with his own wonder in his world," said Minerva, ironically. "Read this."
The smudged and grubby letter said,
" To whom it may concern,
You missed April Fool's day you idiot, and I don't appreciate silly jokes.
If you meant to insult my hawking training at school by talking about owls, you're a long way off course, the RAF use owls at night to keep runways clear of bats and other night birds. I have my falconer third class badge already.
Next year I get to fly aeroplanes because I'm nearly tall enough, why on earth would you, whoever you are [I bet you're that little creep Piers Polkiss who beats on Dudley and steals from the little kids] think I would consider something like magic, which is for babies, cooler than flying an aircraft, even if it's not a jet? You're just a jealous prat.
Harry Potter ."
"Oh dear," said Albus. "What is an aircraft?"
Minerva rolled her eyes.
"Albus, muggles have been flying in heavier than air machines for a verra long time. You must have seen some of them go over the castle, leaving a trail of vapour behind them."
Albus looked surprised.
"Those are aircraft? I always thought they were particularly flatulent dragons."
"Some of them ar e bigger than dragons, Albus, and apparently the school he attends teaches children to fly them. Presumably small ones. I have never heard of a achool doing that, but then, I'm not that well in tune with the muggle world. He appears to have knowledge of falconry as well, which is not something I've heard of being taught in muggle schools either."
"Well, you will have to go and see him, and explain why he has to attend Hogwarts, Minerva," said Albus. "His relatives may be a little… difficult."
"What did you do to them?" asked Minerva, suspiciously.
"Why, nothing really," Albus looked shifty. "The wards make them accept him as kin, but they will not be mollycoddling him."
Minerva pursed her lips. That sounded to her suspiciously as though Albus had left some kind of an aversion charm on the wards.
She had no idea that Harry's accidental magic had taken down that aspect of it when Vernon had first been so furious about him being on the doorstep; the baby had instinctively wanted the loud man not to dislike him.
And he never knew how close Vernon had come to mollycoddling him and spoiling him rotten when that rage suddenly evaporated, and Vernon figured out he had been played.
"Mum, there's a strange old lady come to see Harry."
"Well tell her he's out," said Petunia.
"I did but she won't believe me," said Dudley.
"How rude!" said Petunia. She dried her hands and went out into the hall. "I remember you," she said. "Harry's out; Dudley did tell you."
"You'll understand if I find it hard to believe," said Minerva.
"No, not at all," said Petunia. "The boys have different interests. Harry's gone to a military tattoo with some of his school friends."
"Whit is a military tattoo?" asked Minerva, puzzled.
"It's a display by various units; parachuting, marching with bands, gymnastics, assault courses, and this one has falconry, so Harry was dead keen. He likes his birds. Oh, and now I understand, you are the one responsible for the letter he said some prankster had written to him. He didn't show it to me, so how could I be expected to tell him that your sort wanted to get your hooks into him? I had forgotten you would probably want to spoil the brat once he reached eleven, like you did with Lily."
"Your sister was the smartest witch of her age!" said Minerva, sharply.
"She was very clever, but she had no street-smarts," said Petunia. "She let herself be bamboozled into a supposed safe house where she was sacrificed for some whimsical experiment on the part of your precious Headmaster, who told her of a ritual to protect her son, by dying for him."
"Nonsense; Albus would never do that!" said Minerva, angrily.
"Oh? When I have the letter from Lily telling me about the ritual and offering to help me do it in case Dudley was attacked, do you think I believe you?" sneered Petunia.
The back door banged.
"I'm home, Aunt Petunia!" called Harry.
"Wipe your feet! And get presentable, that letter you had isn't a hoax!" called Petunia. "You'd better come into the parlour, Professor McWhisky."
"McGonagall," said Minerva.
Petunia shrugged.
"It's all the same to me," she said.
Harry came through presently, carrying a tea tray, with a coke for Dudley, who had trailed into the parlour with his best gormless face on. Dudley was not as stupid as he sometimes liked to pretend, and he was well aware of what was going on. He rather enjoyed the idea of pranking the wizards who had killed his aunt and uncle before he could ever know them.
Minerva stared at Harry. He was wearing Lily hair.
"But… but…" she spluttered.
"Goats but, Aunt Petunia says," said Harry. "Are you really responsible for that shameful letter? As a grown-up you ought to be ashamed of yourself for such a puerile prank."
Petunia laid a hand on Harry's arm.
"If you had showed it to me, I would have known," she said. "My sister had one, your mother, and she went off to a freak school to learn to be a freak."
"A witch," said McGonagall, disapprovingly.
"What, an actress?" asked Harry.
"No, a witch. You are a wizard," said McGonagall.
Harry laughed.
"Pull the other one, it has bells on, lady," he said. "Magic is for babies; and moreover it violates the second law of thermodynamics."
"What is that?" demanded Minerva.
"A system will not produce more energy than is placed into it," said Harry. "All the magic in books and films show energy being produced which isn't coming from anywhere."
"Oh, now that's where you are wrong, Mr. Potter," said Minerva. "And it's the basis of Gamp's law which says you cannot summon food, because all summoned articles will return from whence they came, the surrounding ambient heat of where you summon them, and of course that would do terrible things inside your body once the digestive process was underway."
"Ewww, yes," said Harry. "So you're saying it comes from ambient heat?"
"And within the power of the witch or wizard themselves," said Minerva. "The food a magical child is expected to eat in order to produce that energy is between two and three times what is needed for a muggle child, as they burn off those calories in learning to use magic"
"Huh, interesting," said Harry. "Assuming that I go along with this farce for a while, and let you come up with logical self-consistency. Of course, a bit of proof would be even better"
Minerva got out her wand, and turned an occasional table into a pig. Petunia yelped. Harry put out his hand automatically and turned it back.
"You didn't ought to do that to people's furnishings without warning, it's very rude," he said "Are you okay, Aunt Petunia?"
"It's better than a cloud raining tadpoles, which that Snape boy did to me once," sighed Petunia. "Harry, did you put that back?"
Harry looked at his hand, and shrugged.
"I guess I did," he said. "Maybe it's not a fraud after all. I don't like their manners though. Seem to think they can walk all over us, and that letter was pretty peremptory as well. And telling me to 'owl a reply' whatever that means."
He glared at Minerva.
"I'm sorry, Harry, you must have got the standard letter for those of wizarding parents who know what it all means," said Minerva. "The muggleborn receive a letter which explains that a member of the faculty will visit them."
"What a derogatory term," said Harry. "I think first generation would be nicer; muggle sounds very nasty. Mundane would be politer."
"Er, yes, but it is the way things are," said Minerva. "And you may hear worse terms for mu… first generation people."
"Mudblood," spat Petunia. "Yes, the pure bloods have such pretty ways, exquisite bows, beautiful courtesies to each other and potty mouths."
"I'm afraid that's so in some cases," said Minerva, sadly.
"What does your school teach?" asked Harry.
"Transfiguration, Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts, Potions, Astronomy, Herbology and History of Magic," said Minerva "In the third year there are electives of Care of Magical Beasts, Arithmancy, Runes, Muggle studies and Divination."
"And the rest of the time on the curriculum for the first and second years is taken up with things like English, Mathematics, Sciences, History, Geography, Civics, and a couple of sports?" asked Harry.
"Oh, no, you aren't expected to continue to learn muggle subjects," said Minerva. "Quiddich, our sport, is an extracurricular activity."
"Nothing doing then," said Harry. "Sounds boring. My extracurricular activities include hawking, shooting, flying an aeroplane, kayacking and sailing. We do sports as part of the curriculum and I really enjoy my lessons. You don't have anything to offer me."
Minerva gaped.
"Don't you want to learn about magic?"
"Not really. If I can fix an assault on our table by some weirdo, I know all I need to know," he shrugged.
"Mr. Potter, you do not know all you need to know," said Minerva, sharply. "By learning to focus your magic in classes, you avoid having bouts of accidental magic, which can be deadly. Only when you have learned control can you say you have learned all you need to know."
Harry regarded her thoughtfully.
"I want you to swear an oath that this is true," he said.
Minerva gaped, but got out her wand.
"I swear on my magic that it is true that magic needs formal training not to be dangerous," she said. A gold glow enfolded her and her wand. She then said "Lumos!" and a light glowed at the end of her wand. "A magical oath binds the caster, and if I had lied, it would have taken my magic and I would not have been able to cast the lumos spell."
"You could just be saying that, but I suppose I have to believe you," said Harry. "What other school options do I have? Could I have a tutor in the holidays to keep my magic in check? Or what about other schools?"
"Tutors would be possible in theory, and there are other schools, but your place in Hogwarts is already paid for, by your parents, and they would have wanted you to be there," said Minerva.
"That's easy for you to say when your lot got them killed," said Harry.
"Oh Albus, what have you done?" moaned Minerva. "I told him he should have you raised by a wizarding family so you knew about the society, I said he shouldn't leave you here!"
"So you are complicit with leaving a toddler on the doorstep in the middle of the night on one of the coldest days of the year, without ascertaining whether the family was even at home to take him in?" demanded Harry. "And you want me to go to school with a ruddy child abuser like you? I'm thinking of calling the police and having you arrested." His rage caused the ornaments to rattle.
"Harry!" Petunia said sharply "Breathe!"
Harry took deep breathes and the magic flying off him subsided.
"Albus Dumbledore did not want to wake you in the middle of the night," said Minerva.
"Then he should have come at a reasonable time of day and spoken to me directly," said Petunia. "Suppose Harry had frozen to death? Or got up to go look for Lily, and wandered into the road and was run over by a truck? Or wandered off and got lost and died of exposure? Supposing we had been away for a night or two? Your Albus Dumbledore might be mighty and powerful in magic, but he's decidedly wanting when it comes to intellect"
"And I get to go to a school where this child abuser is a headmaster? What sort of laws do you have protecting children?" demanded Harry. "First thing I'm going to do if you make me go to this school is to get me a wizard lawyer and have you and this Dumb character up on charges."
"Harry, please," said Minerva "Albus Dumbledore always has his very good reasons for doing things. He wouldn't leave you without charms to keep you warm and prevent you from wandering off."
"A lot of good that would have done if my uncle and aunt had been in Brighton for a week on holiday," said Harry, cynically.
"He checked they were at home," said Minerva, hoping that he had. "It was a time of great confusion and putting you somewhere safe, where the followers of You-Know-Who couldn't find you was of paramount importance."
"No," said Harry.
"I beg your pardon?" Minerva stared.
"No, I don't know who," said Harry. "Are all witches and wizards this childish?"
Minerva flushed.
"Names can have power," she said. "His name is Lord Voldermort."
"Lord Flees-death? What a stupid name," said Harry. "Better than 'You-know-who' though, which makes him win by having people scared to say his… his nom de guerre, 'cos I bet it ain't his real name. You imply he could hear if someone said his name?"
"It… it might have been so," said Minerva.
"Huh, well, if everyone in Wizarding Britain chanted 'Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort' for two minutes at eight o'clock in the morning every day, I wager that if he could hear it, he'd have too much of a headache for the rest of the day to do any terroristing," said Harry. "Anyway, he's supposed to be dead; at least, Aunt Petunia said the terrorist who killed my parents is dead. How cowardly do you have to be to fail to say the name of a dead man?" he sneered.
"I am not cowardly!" snapped McGonagall.
Harry smirked inwardly. Score one for team Dursley. She'd lost her rag.
"Harry, whatever you do, Dumbledore is going to insist on you going to Hogwarts," said Minerva, tiredly. "He sees the big picture, and he wants you in the castle as the safest place in Britain"
"Now I recall you just saying that he felt me safe here," said Harry. "So which is it? Here, or Hogwarts? Does that mean I'm not allowed to come back to Privet Drive ever again if I go off to your freak school?"
"No, of course not, in fact Albus says you have to return each summer to renew the wards," said Minerva.
"Well, he can't have it both ways, can he?" said Harry. "Either I'm safe here because of these wards, or I'm not. Why should I leave them for the dubious safety of a school run by someone who sounds like a nutter, and who has no idea when it comes to childcare? Why can't I have a tutor?"
"I'm going to kill Albus when I see him," muttered Minerva, who was quickly coming unravelled. "Because Albus Dumbledore is also the chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and he can have a court order placed to have you ordered to Hogwarts. And he will do it if you are recalcitrant, I fear."
"And I take it you support such a heavy handed tyranny?" asked Harry, coldly.
Minerva could not meet the searing green eyes so like Lily's.
"I… I think Albus has been less than good in his judgement in his later years," she said. "But I am afraid to cross him."
"There, now, honesty is the best policy, Uncle Vernon always says so," said Harry kindly, patting her on the arm and pouring her another cup of tea. "It's a little cold," he said, with a frown, absently warming it.
"Did you just perform a warming charm?" whispered Minerva.
"Is that what it's called? I thought it was a parlour trick," said Harry.
"No, it is a warming charm, perfectly performed with magic," said McGonagall, tight lipped.
"That's such a disappointment," mourned Harry. "I thought my little parlour tricks were instances of using the force and I so hoped I might turn out to be a Jedi. Or a Vulcan," he added.
"Listen, Albus will make you come to the school, so you might as well make it easy not hard," said Minerva.
"Does he force all first generation witches and wizards to go?" asked Harry.
"No, those who do not want anything to do with it have their magic bound, and their memories of the magical world removed," said Minerva.
"High handed," said Harry. "And you won't bind my magic and let me forget your shenanigans?"
"No, you are too important to be lost to the wizarding world," said Minerva. "But I will help you to avoid too much contact alone with him; I am head of House Gryffindor, where you are likely to be sorted. Both your parents were in Gryffindor."
"Is it compulsory that I follow them?" asked Harry.
Minerva looked startled.
"Well, no, but I had assumed…"
"To assume makes an Ass out of U and Me," said Harry, gravely. "I will see what happens."
"Well! If by some strange chance you are not sorted into Gryffindor, you must insist that your head of house accompanies you at all times to see the headmaster. And don't meet his eyes; he is a legilimens," she added, flushing.
"He reads minds? Isn't that assault?" asked Harry.
"He… it means he knows if people are lying, which helps him do his job."
"Most headmasters do that by reading body language and by knowledge of the student; so he cheats and assaults his students as well as bending the law to his purpose. Does he fuck little girls as well?" asked Harry.
"Harry Potter!" Minerva was shocked.
"Well, does he?" asked Harry.
"No, of course not," said Minerva. Harry shrugged.
"Oh, well, an abuser of one kind is not always an abuser of another," he said.
Petunia was glad she had turned on the tape recorder she had prepared for this meeting. Vernon would be so proud of the boy.
"Well, as you appear to have accepted that you are going to Hogwarts…"
"Accepted, no. Resigned to the abuses and tyrannies of the headmaster, yes. And be aware, when I am old enough to do so, I will bring him down, Professor, and the question then will be if you support him, or me," said Harry.
"He does not mean you ill," Minerva tried.
"He goes a bloody funny way about it," said Harry.
"Language," said Petunia.
"My apologies, Aunt Petunia, and for using a crude descriptive earlier."
"Under the circumstances, I forgave that one," said Petunia. "I fear you are going to Hogwarts, though."
"Yes, he is," said Minerva. "And we need a good date for me to show him around Diagon Alley to get the kit on his kit list."
"I can go on my own, thank you," said Harry. "Uncle Vernon will drop me off if you tell me where to find it, and you'll have to send me another kit list as well as sending me directions; I burned the first one."
"Of course," said Minerva. "And as you have been reared by mu… mundanes, I will send you the kit list for, er, first generation witches and wizards, which includes a few orientation books and booklets."
"Thank you," said Harry, who figured he already had more than she would put on her list. "I am very sorry. I am very sorry that I have ever met you or heard of your world. However, I will not cause unnecessary trouble in the school in which I am to be incarcerated, since it would be unfair to the other pupils."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," said Minerva, reflecting that a child whose magical core rolled magic out the way Harry's did could cause more trouble, if he put his mind to it, than all the Marauders and the Weasley twins added together. "I will send your vault key for Gringotts with it"
That magic rolled forth again and the window shook as well as the ornaments. Petunia thumped him on the back, and Harry fought himself back under control.
"And why do YOU have my vault key for… I assume… my parents' account?" he asked, coldly. "My aunt and uncle have gone without occasionally to see both of us had what we needed to go to the Montessori school and for me to go to Smeltings. If I had known there was a legacy I could have helped out."
"It is your school vault for school supplies," said Minerva. "I believe Albus found the key in the debris of your parents' house. You will not be eligible to touch their full legacy until you are seventeen."
"Dumbthedork again; why am I not surprised?" said Harry. "I'd be obliged if you also mail me anything else he 'just happened to find' in the debris or anything that belonged to my parents. I am sure my lawyer is going to be very interested in all this. And if it was my school vault, then paying for Montessori and Smeltings would have been eligible. I so am going to have a big civil case against the headmaster when I am grown up."
"If you live to grow up and they don't sacrifice you to Mouldyshorts," said Dudley. Harry grinned at him out of sight of Minerva as she looked horrified.
"Such a thing would not happen!" she cried.
"Fine. But first time I'm put in danger, I'm outa there," said Harry.
"Hogwarts is the safest place in the world," said Minerva.
"Sure," said Harry. "Of course it is"
Minerva found herself swept out, feeling rather as though she was being humoured.