Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Magister Potter

Ruined Reputations & Floating Spoons of Oatmeal

by Albeios 15 reviews

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: G - Genres: Humor,Parody - Characters: Dumbledore,Petunia Dursley,Poppy Pomfrey,Professor McGonagall,Vernon Dursley - Warnings: [!] [?] - Published: 2009-01-06 - Updated: 2009-01-07 - 2731 words

Magister Potter

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (and in turn own JK Rowling), nor do I own Negima (and in turn Ken Akamatsu).

- - - - -

The Dursleys went to bed happily that night, unknowing of the sensational news they had imparted within their kitchen. Dumbledore pleaded his case, but had found that all his allies, Minerva and Hagrid, had betrayed him and joined sides with the Magus and his Partner. They had adjourned back to Hogwarts, with a defeated Dumbledore in tow, leaving a ddetermined Fawkes behind to care for Harry. Giving him orders to file the necessary paperwork to have the Dursleys fined by the Ministry of Magic for 'Unfair Treatment of a Magical Child,' fined by the muggle department for 'Abuse of An Underaged Child,' the removal of their place within the Potter Will, and the removal of Harry James Potter from the household to be transferred to the custody of the Magus of Merdiana Magic Academy. The latter of the four was the hardest of all, but with some string pulling and general blackmailing, it could be done.

At Albus's expense of course.

All the while, with the two from the Academy, Miverva McGonagall, and, characteristically, Rubeus Hagrid glaring at him all the while, eating the occasional tea cookie, or taking a sip of tea.

Finally, after an hour. The paperwork was done. Albus gave another wretched sigh and pursed his old lips together as he signed the parchment containing the things needed to transfer young Harry to the Magistrate's guiding hand. He looked up, showing all his one hundred and fifty years of age in defeat and stonily handed the letters to the Magus. "I hope you will have a plan for young Harry?" He asked as the suddenly imposing Magus turned away from him.

"Plans? Why would I have plans for little Harry Potter," asked the Magus, suddenly crafty (from Dumbledore's point of view), "Do you mean you had a plan to shape the young boy?"

Minerva, who had been glaring at her employer constantly, renewed her assault with a freshly made pair as lightning fast and strong as Zeus's own strike. Dumbeldore had the grace to flinch and look away from his Transfiguration Professor and reply in a long-suffering voice, "He was to be the one to defeat Voldemort."

"Yes," agreed the Magus gravely, "He is."

Dumbledore flashed his eyes to the Magus, suddenly understanding, "They told you?"

"Yes," nodded the unbashful magister, "They did. The rest of it was guesswork, but I think I know what your plan is, Albus."

"Then you know why I had to place them with the Dursleys," said the headmaster urgently, "You know why he has to stay there!"

The Magus turned his head away, to eye the others in the room, each of them in the eyes, for a brief second.

"I know," sighed the Magus, "But I do not approve of your methods."

"It is for the greater good, Magus! He must stay," urged Dumbledore, his eyes pleading, "He musts stay there. Only then will he be-"

"Malleable? Mold-able? Shape-able like clay before you," muttered the Magus clearly, "Those muggles are fearful of magic. They hate it. I know that you believe them redeemable, but they see the boy as a means to become sate their greed. That is never a good sign. They are not an exception, like young Severus was, Albus."

"But the greater good," started Dumbledore.

"Sometimes, the greater good must wait," said the Magus tiredly, "Unlike you. I do wish a boy to grow in an unloved enviroment."

"Harry is Petunia's only living kin," shouted Dumbledore, suddenly losing his patience, "She must get over her past. She will learn to love Harry like her own son!"

"And the motivation for that is what, exactly?" Replied the Magus, still more softly, "Money? To sate their greed? They hate him, Albus. These people see us magic-users as freaks. The abnormals. How long before they blame him for every mishap? How long before they try to cure him of his 'abnormality'? His 'freakishness'? One day, perhaps they will see the boy fit to be part of the family, but how much before the boy is broken? Or defeated? How much until young Harry is desperate enough for the slightest bit of affection? Was that your plan? Albus? To have his only living relatives hate him until he finds you? A recipe for disaster! You live in such an idealistic world, Albus, but not all is just black, white, and the gray much in between! There are those who are redeemable, and there are those who are not. The details are not just in ideals, but in realism. Your plan for the boy, the beginning of his life as a child to that of a man mirrors that of his adversary. Do you wish for another to walk down that path, Albus? Do you wish for that boy to become as steeped in evil?

"And for one more thing, Albus Dumbledore! Get a reality check! Hargid stood and announced he was heading out for a drink.

Dumbledore hesitated, then grabbed his hat and cloak, preparing to get a stiff drink or two and pour out his heart to his brother and ask for some advice.

- - - - -

It was Sunday, and what a morning it was. As the Dursleys, they were waking up, blinking in the bright morning sun. Petunia was clambering down the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen to fry up some eggs and bacon. The excitement of riches had taken them a long time to sleep, but they had managed. Vernon was upstairs showering. Dudley was sleeping in his crib. As Petunia pulled out a bottle of milk for Dudley, she was struck with a sense of foreboding. Tucking the feeling away, she picked the bottle up and put it in a pot of hot water to warm it up for her son. The bacon sizzled as she paused, feeling as though she had forgotten something. Like the sense of foreboding, she tucked it away in the corners of her mind as she prepared for breakfast.

Walking out to pick the bottles of milk the milkman had left she saw a car pull up the street, the expensive black kind used by government people. She smirked as she thought about the possible drama of one of the neighbors being told about about their not paying taxes or some such thing or the other. Her smirk faded as a middle-aged woman with long silver hair in a blue business suit got out of the car and began walking towards Number Four.

"Miss Petunia Dursley?"

The woman's voice was carefully neutral and rather bland, but it matched the sense of foreboding she had thrown into the far corners of her mind earlier.

She nodded with a slightly raspy, "Yes?"

"I am Donet McGuiness of the Department of Wills and Heirlooms," said the woman crisply, "I was given the task of clearing up several matters with your family concerning the Will of Lily and James Potter."

Petunia immediately ushered the woman in, as Vernon clambered down the stairs. "What going Pet? Ah, hello-"

"Vernon Dursley, ma'am," he said upon noticing Petunia's mouthing of 'Government Official', "We were just about to start breakfast, would you like some tea?"

The three of them entered the kitchen, where Petunia hastily put a pot of tea on and brought a warm bottle to Dudley, who was contently crushing crackers into crumbs.

"Right then," said Donet as she nodded in thanks to a cup of earl grey Petunia put down in front of her, "Reports say that Lily and James Potter died last night at approximately at midnight. A serial killer murdered them, though left no trace of any weapon or poison that caused that death. Their child was brought to you last night by...a servant of some sort. I assume you have the child?"

Both adult Dursleys went completely white as they btoh remembered where the said baby was.

The government worker was nodding sympathetically, "I'm sorry Mrs Dursley, for your loss."

"Erm," coughed Vernon as he hastily swallowed the bit of bacon and hash he was chewing on, "Sorry, went down the wrong throat. Er, yes. The boy was brought here..."

"I would like to see the child," continued Donet, "Basic procedure, as the child is considered an heirloom."

Petnua exchanged glances with her husband as their brains fought furiously to give an explanation as to why Donet could not see the baby.

"Mrs and Mr Dursley?"

"Eh, well that's not...possible," spluttered Petunia as she sipped her tea with forced calm, "We brought the boy over to the Orphanage as soon as we found him. Thought he was a vagrant's kid..."

"I see," nodded Donet as she reached for the folder labeled as a 'Will', "So to the Will..."

They discussed the finer points of the Will, including them becoming fairly wealthy. As Vernon and Petunia Dursley signed the papers, they waited for Donet to legalize them.

A noise from the cupboard under the stairs, however, stayed her hand as the cries of a frightened baby permeated the house.

The pale husband and wife went pasty white and looked positively frightened now.

"I thought you didn't have the child," said Donet slowly.

They didn't say anything, as the cries grew louder and louder.

Dudley looked at his parents, then at Donet, before resuming to sucking on his bottle.

Donet stood up, walked crisply to the hall way, following the sounds of a crying babe. She reached the cupboard before Vernon Dursley threw himself in front of her, shielding her hand from the handle that would open the cupboard.

"What in the name of God are you doing?" Donet shouted, "There is a year old child in there!"

Vernon's face purpled darkly and made a gurgling sound, seemingly unable to reply to her. Petunia stood by the kitchen, her face white with fear and a mixture of horror and surprise as she watched Donet pick up Vernon by the collar of his blue pajamas and throw him bodily into the air towards her. She took a step back, shocked as her husband landed onto, and slid spectacularly across, the floor, winded and similarly pale. Behind them, Dudley seemed to have taken notice of what was going on and was giggling as he sucked the last of the milk from his baby bottle.

As Petunia struggled to help her bulky husband back up, Donet opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs and saw a wailing baby dressed in a fitting light green single-cloth pajama with a blanket partially wrapped around him. Beside him, Fawkes looked apologetically at her and made an inaudible croon to the baby, whose cries turned to whimpers and finally to silence. Donet stood up to look at the two Dursleys at the doors of the kitchen.

"You are the most disgusting people I have ever met," snarled Donet, looking positively frightening as she marched past them to grab her files and papers. She shoved her way past them and picked up the now slumbering baby. "A child! In a cupboard under the stairs! With all the dirty boots and shoes! You had better have a bloody explanation for all this!"

"You don't...understand! Hes," blubbered Vernon, whose pasty white complexion had turned slightly red as he noticed Mr. Prentice through the now open door, who had stopped walking his dog to see what the commotion was all about.

"Then explain why the nephew of yours, whose parents died just last night is in a cupboard?" Screeched Donet, loudly enough to alert the neighbors around, but quiet enough as to not wake the boy in her arms, "They even left you a house, a pile of money so this boy wouldn't be a burden on your back! Yet you throw this boy into a cupboard? What is the matter with you people?!"

The entire street was full of people now, many still holding newspapers, drinking coffee, a woman was opening whispering to another housewife.

With a huff, the 'government worker' left Number Four Privet Drive, into her car, and drove off.

Leaving the Dursley's reputation as a perfectly normal law abiding british family utterly torn into tatters.

- - - - -

Hogwarts, Hospital Wing

"Aww, you poor thing," tutted and cooed the maternal nurse Madam Promfrey as she did a quick check-up on the young child, before summoning a house-elf to bring some food to feed Harry. Muttering darkly under her breath about hateful muggles, she reluctantly handed the baby to Minerva with a muttered 'Fine! Your turn!' only to be given the comedic picture of one of the sternest professors in the school break down and start cooing at he delighted babe in her arms.

"Tibby brought food for young master," squeaked the tiny elf as it appeared with a snap, holding a tray with a bowl of warm sweetened porridge and applesauce. It placed the tray on the table and bowed, disappearing with the same soft snap. Minerva now had the chance to realize just how hard it was to feed a baby. She was cooing at Harry as she tried to levitate a spoon of porridge to his mouth when a snide voice of the new potions master entered the room.

"Reduced to using the choo-choo train method," sneered Severus Snape as he entered the infirmary with a number of jars in tow floating behind him, "I believe you required more of these blood-replenishing and skin-graft potions?"

"Yes, yes, thank you Severus," nodded the nurse with a bright smile, "Why don't you help Minerva? She seems to be having quite a bit of trouble feeding the boy, even after she insisted she be the one to do it."

Giving both witches his trademark sneer, Snape opened his mouth to say something, only to stop in mid-opening his mouth as his eyes met Harry's emerald one. His sallow face paling slightly, the potions master took a step back, his face going white when the boy said, "Sewrus?"

He promptly fled the infirmary, much to the confusion to the three he had left in the Hospital Wing.

"Now what was that all about?" Asked McGonagall in confusion as she managed to get the spoon into the baby's mouth. Poppy shrugged and headed back into her office to place the potions in her store cupboard. As the Transfiguration Professor looked down at the Potter boy, the baby looking back up with curiosity. Minerva simply shook her head and made the spoon fly around before landing it safely into Harry's mouth, much to the boy's delight.

- - - - -

The Headmaster of Hogwarts sighed as he handed the adoption papers to the Magus, who signed them, finalizing the process. It was done. Until the seventeeth year of Harry James Potter, the day he comes of age, the Boy-Who-Lived was to be the mage's responsibility. Dumbledore placed his hands on the table and gave another sigh, much to the annoyance of the Magus and his partner, McGuiness.

"Oh do stop your sulking Albus," reprimanded the Magus sharply as he followed Dumbledore down the spiraling staircase and past the Gargoyle Guardian, "Everyone makes mistakes. It is only natural. Even I, as your counterpart equal, am not infallible."

"Did you have to endure a severe talking to by your own younger brother?" Grumbled Dumbledore resentfully, "Then suffer an equally severe hangover on a day that has conviently the time all the hangover potions in stock were impotent?"

"Doesn't Professor Snape brew those along his regular batches to replace them as soon as they expire?" Donet asked.

The headmaster shook his head irritably, "They weren't ready. They needed half a day to mature."

Speak of the Devil! Lo and behold a stark white Snape hurried past them, completely missing them as he raced down the hall and around the corner with his robes billowing dramatically.

"I have really got to ask the man how he manages to get his robes to do that," chuckled Donet appreciatively, "Lets see to Harry. I believe the Academy will be glad to have another student."

- - - - -

There! One more chapter done!

- Al
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