HP/Lemony Snicket's ASoUE: A story of orphans, escaped convicts, and a secret, for Wednesday's children are full of woe...
"..." - Sunny-speak
Klaus sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and leaned his head against the window as the man at the wheel chattered on. In the front seat, his sister Violet looked as though she wanted to do the same, but was far too polite, and Sunny simply chewed nervously on the plastic rattle Mr. Poe had given her when he picked them up from the hospital. It was already looking much the worse for wear, but then, most things did, once his baby sister got her teeth into them.
"-Really, children, you do need to stop being so hard on your guardians. It's getting rather difficult to find new ones. Mrs. Ackart seemed to be a perfectly nice woman-"
"If you excuse the fact that she was utterly obsessed with cleanliness," Violet interrupted as civilly as she could, and Klaus could tell it was taking genuine effort for her to keep her voice level. But then, she was probably as tired of dealing with Mr. Poe as he was. The man meant well, he really did, but the boy was beginning to wonder if there was anyone in the world more clueless than the banker. "Sunny isn't even two yet! You can't expect her to know she isn't supposed to play in the dirt."
"Maybe if I'd wiped my feet before I came inside she wouldn't have had that nervous breakdown..."
Klaus couldn't help a tired smile at the meaningless gabble that poured from his sister's mouth in the seat beside him. He couldn't wait until she learned to talk. He had the feeling what she had to say would be very interesting.
"Yes, well..." For once, Mr. Poe was at a loss for words.
"So where are we going this time?" The almost-thirteen-year-old boy asked, not bothering to lift his head from the window. Violet might have almost-unlimited reserves of patience and good manners to draw upon, but he was made of less stern stuff.
"Er, Surrey," the banker said, glancing at him in the review mirror. "There's a woman there that, well..." He cleared his throat embarrassedly. "You see, we've only just found your parents' will-"
That brought Klaus' head up. "/What/? I thought they didn't leave one!"
Mr. Poe winced. "Apparently it was misfiled, or... or perhaps it was deliberately misplaced. We are still investigating it."
Klaus leaned back in his seat, stunned. Sunny grasped his hand with her own, giving him a reassuring four-toothed smile.
Their parents hadn't abandoned them...
Mr. Poe continued. "Anyway, your parents' will stated that, in the event of their untimely deaths, you were to be given over to Sunny's godmother until you reached your legal majorities."
Violet glanced back at him, startled, and was met by his own confused face. "Sunny... has a godmother?" she asked slowly and almost incredulously.
The banker nodded his head, light glinting off his glasses. "Indeed. I understand she was appointed after Sunny's birth, while your parents were traveling. I'm not quite sure of the circumstances, but when I spoke to her over the telephone she was quite willing to take you in."
"And... this is where our parents wanted us to go?" Klaus asked, leaning forward.
Mr. Poe nodded again. "Yes. The will was quite clear on that. You three are now the wards of Mrs. Arabella Figg."
The dark-haired boy dug deeper into the dry soil, feeling a pang from the sunburn on the back of his neck as he leaned forward a bit over his work. He pushed the accumulated dirt away from the hole, and reached off to the side for the plastic carton of flowers Aunt Petunia had ordered him to plant.
He was fairly sure they were chrysanthemums, but all he knew was that his aunt wanted them to be healthy and blooming brightly when Uncle Vernon's sister Marge said she might be coming for a visit. Of course, it wasn't likely the foul woman would even notice, given that she seemed to only ever pay attention to something when it was imperfect, but even so, he still had to be out here slaving away under the hot sun.
...Okay, so that was a bit overly dramatic, but Harry blamed sunstroke. He had been out here for a couple of hours, after all.
He sat up on his heels and tried to rub away the sweat on his forehead with the back of one hand. When the hand came down, though he didn't know it, there was a streak of dirt left on his skin, one that nearly covered the strange, lightning-bolt-shaped scar in the center of his forehead; the scar that, for far too many people, defined who he was.
The Boy-Who-Lived, the childhood savior of the wizarding world, and the now three-time survivor of the Dark Lord Voldemort.
Not that anyone would have recognized him as such, sitting there in oversized hand-me-downs and covered with sweat and dirt. But then, here in the muggle world he wasn't a savior, famous and "beloved" by many- here, he was just Harry Potter, a twelve-year-old boy who, according to his family, attended a school for delinquent boys.
It was days like this when he truly missed Hogwarts, even though it seemed every time he attended the school he took his life into his own hands.
With a sigh Harry started to get back to work, when the sound of a car engine made him look up and back towards the street. To his surprise, given that there was almost never anyone around at this time of day, he saw a car headed up the street towards him.
A few moments later the car had passed by, a pale face looking out at him for a brief second, and then Harry was staring after it curiously as it turned onto Wisteria Walk, two streets down.