Categories > Books > Harry Potter
Just Desserts: Part Three of "Going Legal"
5 reviewsAfter he had dealt with Fudge, Dumbasadoor, and Riddle, a Junior Partner of Wolfram & Hart has one more very pleasant duty to perform.
5Original
Just Desserts: Part Three of “Going Legal”
(You know the drill.).
Barrister and Solicitor Linwood Murrow was truly enjoying himself. So far he had, symbolically, but effectively, broken the back of the Minister of Magic, Albus “W.T.F.” Dumbasadoor, and the pathetic Dark Lord–Wannabe Thomas Marvolo Riddle.
Not to mention depositing Rita Skeeter in the Lake of Eternal Fire ™.
Oh, yesterday had been a WONDERFUL day to be a lawyer, and one of the REAL Dark Lords of the Universe. Today had the prospect of being even better.
The three pigs, or maybe two pigs and a giraffe, who had made his client’s life Hell on Earth ™ were due for a visit from the man who had arranged Voldemort’s Last Meal, with Lucy Malfoy as one of the side dishes. Not the V. expected to be the main course, of course, but then he never was long on brains.
As it turned out the Senior Partner on duty yesterday had been “The Hart”, and he had reported that the dinner of Voldemort’s body and soul, garnished with two dozen Death Eaters, who had turned into Death Eatens, had been most satisfactory. Especially in light of V.’s feeble attempts at immortality.
Barrister Murrow had put a great deal of though into what should happen today. After all his firm had collected munificent retainers from House Black for over four centuries, and from House Potter for over two and a half centuries. And now Lord Potter-Black, Thane of Athol and Earl of Ross, desired them to take action.
Ohh, action they would take, but not in court. No, when you are a partner in Wolfram & Hart you have even eviler and nastier things in your toolbox than writs and subpoenas. Whistling as he strolled down the street, just as an affectation, Linwood allowed an Evil Smile ™ to curl his lips into a truly frightening visage.
He was walking so that everyone, every nosy gossip, on Privet Drive could ogle him through his or her curtains. His shoes had cost more than their houses were worth. His suit couldn’t be bought for any of their pensions, and his briefcase cost more than all of their cars, combined. Let them look. Let them look, and follow him as he turned into the walkway up to the door of #4.
As he ran the doorbell, he heard a mixed noise inside, as if several people were moving at once. Finally the door opened, and Petunia Dursley peeked out and gasped at the dapper, well-dressed man, looking so completely normal. They had been afraid of a Wizard checking up on them since Harry had suddenly disappeared.
Remembering her manners, what there were of them, she opened the door to a normal width and looked inquiringly at the visitor.
“Mrs. Dursley?” He inquired in a beautiful musical voice. She momentarily though that he should have been a singer, instead of whatever he was.
“Yes.”
“I have here your vacation package that your family won in the regional drawing yesterday.”
“Vacation package?”
“Yes, the grand prize as a matter of fact.”
“Why come right in sir, and sit down. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes that would be very nice thank you.”
Vernon Dursley emerged from where he had retreated to their bedroom; now wearing some respectable looking business attire, as Petunia returned with the fancy tea service.
“Mr. Dursley, as I was informing your lovely wife, your family are the winners of the grand prize in the regional drawing, and all expense paid vacation package for you all.”
Vernon could not remember entering any drawing, but he was never averse to taking something free. He had been squeezing free labor out of Harry for years, while skimming off the “support” payments into nice things for himself, his Pet, and their son.
Mr. Murrow went on to explain that the prize covered all arrangements for their exclusive vacation on the Continent. All they needed to do was sign the papers claiming their prize, but all of them must sign. About then, Dudley emerged from the kitchen, eager to get his part of this goodie bag.
Mr. Murrow laid out the documents, which Vernon read carefully, even though some of the legal verbiage meant nothing more to him that a scroll of ancient Greek would have, but he still made a point of seeming to read it all. Mr. Murrow then removed from his pocket a fountain pen that looked to have cost more pounds than Vernon’s regular pay, and presented it to him to sign. After Vernon signed, Petunia took the expensive pen and signed her name. Mr. Murrow motioned Dudley forward, and he scribbled something illegible under his parents’ signatures.
Looking around with a puzzled expression, Linwood inquired where the fourth member of the household was. Vernon explained that their nephew was no longer living with them, and Mr. Murrow appeared to accept that without further argument. At that moment the blood wards, weak though they had been before, fell and outside in bright daylight, a flickering rainbow appeared briefly around the home. Linwood smiled as he felt the last linkage fail.
He affected a jaunty air as he put away the signed contract and informed them they would receive further information on travel arrangements shortly. With that he took his leave and walked away, again giving the neighbors a good look at him.
The next day, when there was no sign of the Dursleys, they would describe him in great detail to the police. Strangely none of their descriptions tallied with each other, nor did any of them match the actual man.
For just an hour after the blood wards had fallen and Mr. Murrow had left, the Dursleys found out what a portkey felt like for the first and last time in their respective lives.
And in the top most fastness of Nurmengard, the other three cells on the top floor gained occupants, and old, toothless Grindelwald finally had him some company.
They were indeed on “vacation”, having vacated their dwelling, and they were on the Continent, and in a place where their room and board cost them nothing.
And if it wasn’t the five-star hotel, like they had been expecting, something from the Michelin Guide, it was most certainly the world’s only six-star prison, where they would remain for the rest of their un-natural lives, for it had been arranged for their years to extend as long aa Harry Potter-Back should live, so would they all, as prisoners.
And what became of them would be a new urban legend in Surrey, where a whole family vanished into thin air one day. And only the story of the well-dressed visitor gave it a real hook. For their was no forensic evidence of their deaths. They were just … gone with the wind.
(You know the drill.).
Barrister and Solicitor Linwood Murrow was truly enjoying himself. So far he had, symbolically, but effectively, broken the back of the Minister of Magic, Albus “W.T.F.” Dumbasadoor, and the pathetic Dark Lord–Wannabe Thomas Marvolo Riddle.
Not to mention depositing Rita Skeeter in the Lake of Eternal Fire ™.
Oh, yesterday had been a WONDERFUL day to be a lawyer, and one of the REAL Dark Lords of the Universe. Today had the prospect of being even better.
The three pigs, or maybe two pigs and a giraffe, who had made his client’s life Hell on Earth ™ were due for a visit from the man who had arranged Voldemort’s Last Meal, with Lucy Malfoy as one of the side dishes. Not the V. expected to be the main course, of course, but then he never was long on brains.
As it turned out the Senior Partner on duty yesterday had been “The Hart”, and he had reported that the dinner of Voldemort’s body and soul, garnished with two dozen Death Eaters, who had turned into Death Eatens, had been most satisfactory. Especially in light of V.’s feeble attempts at immortality.
Barrister Murrow had put a great deal of though into what should happen today. After all his firm had collected munificent retainers from House Black for over four centuries, and from House Potter for over two and a half centuries. And now Lord Potter-Black, Thane of Athol and Earl of Ross, desired them to take action.
Ohh, action they would take, but not in court. No, when you are a partner in Wolfram & Hart you have even eviler and nastier things in your toolbox than writs and subpoenas. Whistling as he strolled down the street, just as an affectation, Linwood allowed an Evil Smile ™ to curl his lips into a truly frightening visage.
He was walking so that everyone, every nosy gossip, on Privet Drive could ogle him through his or her curtains. His shoes had cost more than their houses were worth. His suit couldn’t be bought for any of their pensions, and his briefcase cost more than all of their cars, combined. Let them look. Let them look, and follow him as he turned into the walkway up to the door of #4.
As he ran the doorbell, he heard a mixed noise inside, as if several people were moving at once. Finally the door opened, and Petunia Dursley peeked out and gasped at the dapper, well-dressed man, looking so completely normal. They had been afraid of a Wizard checking up on them since Harry had suddenly disappeared.
Remembering her manners, what there were of them, she opened the door to a normal width and looked inquiringly at the visitor.
“Mrs. Dursley?” He inquired in a beautiful musical voice. She momentarily though that he should have been a singer, instead of whatever he was.
“Yes.”
“I have here your vacation package that your family won in the regional drawing yesterday.”
“Vacation package?”
“Yes, the grand prize as a matter of fact.”
“Why come right in sir, and sit down. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes that would be very nice thank you.”
Vernon Dursley emerged from where he had retreated to their bedroom; now wearing some respectable looking business attire, as Petunia returned with the fancy tea service.
“Mr. Dursley, as I was informing your lovely wife, your family are the winners of the grand prize in the regional drawing, and all expense paid vacation package for you all.”
Vernon could not remember entering any drawing, but he was never averse to taking something free. He had been squeezing free labor out of Harry for years, while skimming off the “support” payments into nice things for himself, his Pet, and their son.
Mr. Murrow went on to explain that the prize covered all arrangements for their exclusive vacation on the Continent. All they needed to do was sign the papers claiming their prize, but all of them must sign. About then, Dudley emerged from the kitchen, eager to get his part of this goodie bag.
Mr. Murrow laid out the documents, which Vernon read carefully, even though some of the legal verbiage meant nothing more to him that a scroll of ancient Greek would have, but he still made a point of seeming to read it all. Mr. Murrow then removed from his pocket a fountain pen that looked to have cost more pounds than Vernon’s regular pay, and presented it to him to sign. After Vernon signed, Petunia took the expensive pen and signed her name. Mr. Murrow motioned Dudley forward, and he scribbled something illegible under his parents’ signatures.
Looking around with a puzzled expression, Linwood inquired where the fourth member of the household was. Vernon explained that their nephew was no longer living with them, and Mr. Murrow appeared to accept that without further argument. At that moment the blood wards, weak though they had been before, fell and outside in bright daylight, a flickering rainbow appeared briefly around the home. Linwood smiled as he felt the last linkage fail.
He affected a jaunty air as he put away the signed contract and informed them they would receive further information on travel arrangements shortly. With that he took his leave and walked away, again giving the neighbors a good look at him.
The next day, when there was no sign of the Dursleys, they would describe him in great detail to the police. Strangely none of their descriptions tallied with each other, nor did any of them match the actual man.
For just an hour after the blood wards had fallen and Mr. Murrow had left, the Dursleys found out what a portkey felt like for the first and last time in their respective lives.
And in the top most fastness of Nurmengard, the other three cells on the top floor gained occupants, and old, toothless Grindelwald finally had him some company.
They were indeed on “vacation”, having vacated their dwelling, and they were on the Continent, and in a place where their room and board cost them nothing.
And if it wasn’t the five-star hotel, like they had been expecting, something from the Michelin Guide, it was most certainly the world’s only six-star prison, where they would remain for the rest of their un-natural lives, for it had been arranged for their years to extend as long aa Harry Potter-Back should live, so would they all, as prisoners.
And what became of them would be a new urban legend in Surrey, where a whole family vanished into thin air one day. And only the story of the well-dressed visitor gave it a real hook. For their was no forensic evidence of their deaths. They were just … gone with the wind.
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