The Surrey Comet
“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Boy! Who was that man you went off with? Was he another freak like you? I demand you return home immediately. You can bet you’ll be in for some severe punishment when you get back! Don’t expect me to come get you, either. I already went to the train station to get you. I’ve done my part!
“Get back here now!”
It wasn’t even a proper letter. It was more like an angry note, hastily shoved into an envelope. Harry contemplated replying to his uncle, but decided it would annoy the man much more if he didn’t.
“Fine! Don’t want to come home, do you? Then don’t! Don’t ever come back here again, you ungrateful brat. After all these years of feeding and clothing you, allowing you into our home despite your freakishness. If this is how you wish to repay us, then so be it!
“Good riddance.”
Harry laughed aloud when he read the second letter. It appeared Vernon had a very loose understanding of “feeding and clothing you.” Being starved and forced to wear ratty, oversized hand me downs didn’t quite qualify. It would have if it were done out of necessity. Hard times can befall anyone. But what the Dursleys put Harry through was out of pure hatred. There’s no excuse for that.
“Now you’ve done it, boy! That wretched old man who tries to call himself a headmaster has contacted me! Do you hear that? That freak was in our home! He won’t quit pestering us, sending all sorts of letters and the like. He wants us to take you in and keep you indefinitely. I’d much rather you stay away, but if it gets the man and his overgrown pigeons to leave us alone, then I’ll just have to choose the lesser of two evils.
“Don’t think you’ll be getting off scott free! There will be plenty of punishment waiting for you when you arrive. You should be ashamed of yourself for putting us through this trauma. The old buggerer had Dudley hiding in the bathroom! My son, afraid to be in his own house!
“The man gave us some stupid excuse as to why you can’t just stay amongst your own kind. Blood protections or whatever. Poppycock! All of it! I couldn’t care less! But if housing you a few months out of the year will keep the freak patrol out of my house and out of my hair, then I’ll do it. At least I know how to deal with you!
“So hurry up and get back here!”
Vernon’s third correspondence was much more like an actual letter, but still barely qualified.
Harry found it amusing that Dumbledore actually went to the trouble of contacting the Dursleys directly. He must have been very desperate to go to such lengths. Harry had barely even been out of school for a full fortnight. It was all for naught, though. Harry wasn’t going anywhere near Privet Drive and no amount of pestering from his uncle was going to change that.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I understand that you strongly disagree with your placement with you Aunt and Uncle, but I must implore you to reconsider. I admit, I did have you put under their care despite knowing that they might mistreat you. It certainly wasn’t the healthiest environment to leave you in. However, you must understand that it was the only place to put you, where you might grow to live some sort of normal life.
I fear you don’t fully realize the severity of the danger you are putting yourself in when you are deprived of the blood protection that your Aunt provides. When the war ended, numerous members of Voldemort’s faction were sent to Azkaban. Many more were not. His followers worshipped him as a king. A god. To them, he was their savior.
With so many of his devoted servants and their allies still remaining at large, there is no place for you that is safer. Had you been raised in the wizarding world, you would have spent your life in reverence. Every moment of your childhood would have been documented and publicized for the world to see. You would have grown up spoiled and demanding, entitled and self-absorbed. Much like your own cousin.
I couldn’t run that risk. With your entire life in the spotlight, the remaining Death Eaters would have been able to reach and dispatch you with ease. It would have been the same as handing you over to them on a platter. I could not do that.
Sending you to live in the muggle world was the next option. The purebloods who would have sought you out wouldn’t be able to navigate the muggle world, and they would be held off for some time. But eventually they would have tracked you down and killed you. Muggle protections can only go so far. Sending you to Privet Drive was the only sensible choice.
There, you were raised out of the spotlight. You grew up to be humble and grounded. You were safe from damaging wizard influence, but most of all, you were safe to live.
The House of Black has been known for their dealings in dark magic for centuries. The company they surround themselves with are the very same I've been trying to protect you from. I could think of no worse place for you, save directly in Voldemort’s hands.
Your parents gave their lives so that you could have yours. Leaving yourself open to such dangers is a waste of the sacrifice they made for you. The same sacrifice that saved your life just a few weeks ago.
I must beg of you to take this into consideration. Then, you will see that I made the right choice, and you will return to the safety of your Aunt’s Home. If you cannot do this, then I am afraid that I will have to take matters into my own hands and have you forcibly removed from the care of the Blacks. I truly hope you will see reason and that it won’t have to come to that. In the end, this is all for your own wellbeing.
Be safe,
Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore
Harry laughed at the letter in his hand. He found the whole thing to be rather insulting to his intelligence. He could see right through Dumbledore’s obvious manipulations by comparing him with his cousin, then saying he was wasting his parents’ sacrifice. If Harry hadn’t already been inclined to disagree with anything the man said on principle, he might have even fallen for it.
“Nice try,” Harry scoffed aloud, tossing the letter aside. He reached to grab blank parchment, ink, and his favorite ostrich feather quill.
It was deep red with gold sparkles and very frilly. Draco had gotten it for him as a joke, but the joke wound up on him because Harry actually loved it, even despite the Gryffindor colors. He dipped his quill in the inkpot and began a letter of his own.
To Dumbledore,
I’m not sure who gave you the impression that I have to answer to you, but they were wrong.
While I appreciate your interest in my upbringing, it is in fact none of your business. It never had anything to do with you, and my wellbeing was never your responsibility.
Did it ever occur to you that I wouldn’t have minded growing up in the spotlight? As much as I’d hate to have turned out like my cousin, the one thing I can say about Dudley is that he is happy! Maybe he is a bully and doesn’t deserve an ounce of the treatment he gets, but he is happy and always has been! Under no circumstances would I have ever traded that amount of happiness for your so called “safety.”
Speaking of which, the Dursley household is not something I would ever have considered safe or normal. 10 years of abuse and neglect, being starved, locked in a cupboard, made to work as a slave, and denied even the opportunity to make a friend is hardly what anyone would consider a normal childhood.
I spent the majority of my life absolutely miserable and with no one who cared for me, at the hands of those muggles you left me with. No amount of imploring, begging, or rationalizing is ever going to make that acceptable.
I will never return there, and no matter what you say, you don’t actually have the authority to make me. Any further attempts to interfere in my life will be met with legal action.
Please, enjoy your retirement and your own life and butt out of mine,
Harry J. Potter
Harry ended the letter with a smirk, imagining the look on Dumbledore’s face after reading it. Harry wasn't usually a malicious person, but there was some part of him that just enjoyed causing trouble for the former headmaster. He sent the letter off with Hedwig and not even a full week had passed before Dumbledore retaliated.
Because of the inordinate amount of protections placed on Number Twelve Grimmauld Place by Uncle Arty and Sirius’ father during the war, it was impossible to find—let alone get to—without express permission (which Dumbledore would never have). In fact, it was so heavily guarded that it wasn’t just unplottable, it technically didn't even exist! It wasn't under a Fidelius Charm like Harry's parents’ home had been in Godric’s Hollow. The Blacks were far too paranoid in those days to allow anyone to be a secretkeeper. But with their collective prowess over magic, the two men were able to pull together and create so many spells, charms, curses, and wards that the Fidelius paled in comparison.
Of course, the majority of it was blood magic that would fall with the death of the last Black. But there were three of them at the moment, so the magic stood strong and the townhouse maintained ever elusive.
However, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was not the only property that the Blacks owned, by far. It was just the most heavily protected, so it was where the tiny family cohabitated.
At lunch time three days after Harry sent his letter off, he was in the kitchen, eating a light salad while finishing some of his History of Magic summer homework. Across the table, Sirius was mopishly twirling a leaf on the end of his fork through the air as he slouched over the second letter that was returned to sender. Harry had no idea who Sirius had been trying to contact. He just knew that none of the Black owls could find them, and the older man was quite miserable about it. He had just been trying to decide whether he should ask, or continue his work quietly when Sirius suddenly flinched and sat bolt upright.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, shocked by the sudden movement.
“Someone just crossed onto the grounds of the Manor…” Sirius trailed off. His eyes were fixed on the table, but he was clearly focusing on something outside of the room.
“On Malfoy Manor?” Harry was confused at how he could tell.
“No, at Black Manor.”
Harry frowned. “I didn’t even know there was a Black Manor.”
Sirius came back to the room for a moment, smirking. “A family as old and rich as this one, you didn’t think this townhouse was their only property, did you?”
“I suppose not,” Harry mused. “No one’s ever mentioned it, so I guess I never really gave it any thought.” It did make sense though. Given the Family Tree Tapestry in the drawing room, the House of Black had once been quite a large family. He should have known that they couldn’t have all lived in this single home.
“Yes, we’ve got several different properties.” The way Sirius put such emphasis on the word several implied that there was far more than just a few.
“How come we never go to any?”
“Because-” Sirius cut himself off mid-sentence and stood from his chair with a scrape. Harry jumped in surprise. “It’s Dumbledore,” Sirius snarled. Instantly enraged, he pulled his wand from his sleeve and tore across the long kitchen to the fireplace at the far end. He reached into the jar of floo powder on the mantel with so much force that he knocked it over, spilling its glittery contents everywhere and shattering it on the floor. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stepped into the empty hearth and shouted “Biggened Arc Manor! ” before dropping the powder and vanishing in a loud whoosh of green flames.
Harry sat in confused silence for seven whole minutes. He was waiting patiently--not really sure what else to do--when a disgruntled Aunt Wally stalked into the kitchen. “What's happened here?” she asked with exasperation. She flicked her wand to clear the mess Sirius had left on the floor across the room.
Harry shrugged. “I'm not entirely sure to be honest. Sirius said Dumbledore is at the manor, then he left through the floo.”
“Hm,” Aunt Wally cocked a pensive brow. “I should fetch him before he destroys something.” She turned to the fireplace, but before she made it more than two steps, Sirius returned in a burst of the telltale green flames.
He appeared quite disheveled and covered in soot. His hair was complete chaos, the white shirt peeking out beneath the sleeves and collar of his robes was tinged purple, and he was also smoking in several places. “I may or may not have blown up the entire east wing,” he stated matter of factly with no preamble.
“ARE YOU MAD?!” Aunt Wally shrieked.
Sirius scoffed. “Relax, woman. Obviously, I fixed it.”
“You can't just go blowing people up!” she scolded anyways. “I just got you back from Azkaban! They're going to send you right back!”
“I couldn't help it. I saw Dumbledore there on our property and… It’s like a switch flipped in my head. Besides, he dodged it anyways.”
“Shame,” Uncle Arty interjected calmly. Harry hadn't noticed him sauntering in behind them.
Sirius shrugged then plopped back down in front of his salad.
“You need to hold yourself together better,” Aunt Wally continued, not shouting anymore. “That temper will be the end of you.”
Sirius rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored his mother. Not bothering to acknowledge the hypocrisy. He waved his wand above his head in a swirling motion, returning his clothes and hair to rights.
“I wonder what he wanted,” Uncle Arty mused.
“Me,” Harry answered without hesitation. “He must have gone to the manor because he couldn't get here.”
Uncle Arty nodded. “Makes sense. Everyone knows where the manor is.”
“Why?” Aunt Wally spoke over him. She walked back to Harry and hugged him to her side possessively. Harry hugged her back gratefully. It always left him so warm and happy whenever someone made him feel wanted. It was still such an unfamiliar experience, and he hoped the novelty never wore off.
“He wants to send me back to the Dursleys,” he explained.
“Over my dead body,” Sirius mumbled in a low growl, innocently dusting imaginary dirt from his cuff.
Harry smiled, then continued. “He says it's safest for me because of blood protections from my aunt. Thinks it'll protect me from Voldemort’s followers.”
“He's a moron,” Aunt Wally stated simply, squeezing him tighter for a moment. Harry noticed – as he always did – that none of the Blacks flinched when he said the name.
“There's nowhere in the world safer than here,” Uncle Arty added. “Not even Hogwarts is as heavily protected.”
“And the Deatheaters won't dare to come anywhere near you,” Sirius assured him.
“They don't have a reason to anymore. Not with the Trinkets.” Aunt Wally nodded in agreement.
Sirius scoffed. “No,” he corrected. “They won't come anywhere near you because they know that I'm here, and they don’t have their master to protect them. I wasn't here before, but I am now. You won't need any blood protections with me around.”
Harry's initial instinct was to brush him off as having the typical Gryffindor’s inflated ego. But when considering that he just blew up the entire east wing of Black Manor, then repaired it within minutes, perhaps he had a point. Of course, that didn't even touch on what it spoke of that he'd been accused of killing thirteen people with a single spell and not one person even questioned it. He also had the absolute highest percentage of magic that a trueblood could have before they were no longer human. The more Harry thought about it, the more it seemed like he might not actually be exaggerating.
“You'll be perfectly safe here,” Sirius finished. “You're never going back there, no matter what Dumbledore says.”
“Absolutely right,” Aunt Wally agreed. She patted him on the head and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
No matter how many times he'd told Dumbledore and himself the very same thing, Harry could never fully defeat the lingering sense of doubt that this family he'd become a part of would be stripped away from him. But with their strength behind his back, he had the confidence to do whatever it took to quell that fear.
He'd already warned Dumbledore to stay away from him, but the old man refused to heed his warning. So, with that final nail in the coffin, he decided that pursuing legal action was exactly what he was going to do.
Making it public news that the so-called “Chosen One” put a restraining order on Dumbledore would do wonders to further sully his reputation after having already been sacked.
Harry really didn’t like pulling the “Chosen One” card, but he was feeling particularly spiteful. It would certainly do the trick of getting Dumbledore to leave him alone, and whatever works, right? It was the Slytherin way.
Besides, Hermione would be so proud.
Thus, exactly one week after receiving Dumbledore’s letter found Harry and Sirius being led through the Ministry of Magic by Lucius and Aunt Wally.
Sirius was obviously uncomfortable around the crowd of people milling about the Ministry. He was very tense and jittery. The fingers he held on Harry’s shoulder alternated from gripping him almost painfully too tight to tapping out a nervous beat, then back. The noise of the crowd was overwhelming him and any spike in volume caused him to flinch or cringe.
Ordinarily, Harry would have relished being held in the warmth under the man’s arm (and in the back of his mind, he still was). But he was too concerned for his well being to enjoy the contact very much.
“Are you alright?” Harry asked quietly as they followed Lucius and Aunt Wally into a crowded elevator.
Sirius squeezed Harry into him, tucking his arms and legs close to his body. It was as if he were trying to take up as little space as possible. He looked pale and clammy, but he forced a tight smile and nodded jerkily at Harry anyways.
Harry felt so bad. He should have never agreed to Sirius’ offer to come. Harry didn’t know what the Ministry would be like, but he had an idea that it would be crowded. He should have known Sirius wouldn’t take it too well. Especially after the man admitted the reason he met Harry on the muggle side of King’s Cross was because he was wary of the tightly packed crowd on Platform 9 ¾.
But, Sirius was a brave Gryffindor, making decisions without thinking through the consequences. Cunning Slytherin Harry was supposed to do the thinking for him, but he failed this time.
After dropping a few floors, Harry was shocked by the sensation of the elevator moving sideways, then backwards. It stopped to let people off twice before they arrived in their intended area.
The floor they entered was far less crowded than the lobby and much more open than the elevator. So, Sirius let out a relieved sigh as they headed down the corridor. They stopped at a desk where Lucius asked the secretary for a Mr. Nordstrom. They only had to wait a moment before the secretary led them down a hallway to a door with a bronze placard labeled “Barrister Thomas C. Nordstrom.”
Inside, the office was large and spacious, with a wall sized window that was charmed to show the New York City skyline. It gave the room the impression of being on a high level of a skyscraper, as opposed to being stories underground where they really were.
The wizard they met had dark, leathery skin and long straight black hair. Even longer than Lucius’. He was dressed in fine robes and his desk was laden in curios and baubles. There was a small stack of color-coded folders to his left and beside that was a picture of his family.
Harry was shocked to realize that one of his daughters was a Slytherin girl that he recognized from the dorm. She was a few years older than him, but Harry remembered that she had a green Trinket, and Draco was convinced she was part mermaid because of her attitude toward the Giant Squid.
Mr. Nordstrom had a red Trinket, so her Creature-blood status must have been due to her mother. In fact, in the picture, she looked nearly identical to her mother. Their age difference was the only way to tell them apart. That was a little abnormal.
Even Harry wasn’t identical to his father, despite how many times he’d been told he looks just like him. He still had his mother’s eyes, and a few other tiny differences that set him apart. That was not the case between the mother and daughter pair. That made Harry even more curious than ever about what she was mixed with.
Behind Mr. Nordstrom, the wall was covered in various degrees and certificates from both British and American institutes. Hanging in the left and right corners of the room were American and English flags respectively. In the middle, and more directly behind Mr. Nordstrom was a flag that Harry didn’t recognize.
It bore an image that looked like a dream catcher with an arrow through it. Inside, the circle of the dreamcatcher was split into 4 segments with different colors and a symbol set across them, resembling a coat of arms.
Harry had never seen anything like it and couldn’t begin to fathom what it could represent. His best guess was that it had something to do with Mr. Nordstrom’s family’s Creature-Blood, but even that was a stretch.
Aunt Wally and Harry sat right in front of the desk, while Lucius stood behind Harry’s chair on the left side. Sirius found a lone chair in the far corner and sequestered himself as far from the door as possible.
“Hello Lucius,” Mr. Nordstrom greeted him with a handshake. His voice was deep and slow with an American accent that was distinctly different than the ones he usually heard on the telly. “It’s always a pleasure to see you. You bring me the most interesting of cases.”
“And have I got quite the case for you, today,” Lucius smirked in response. “This is my wife’s aunt, Walburga Black.” He gestured to the woman grandly and she offered the man a tight smile.
“It is my pleasure to meet you, M’ Lady,” Mr. Nordstrom bowed his head in deference to Aunt Wally. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’m sure,” she agreed distractedly.
“And this,” Lucius gestured to Harry next, “is her charge, Harry Potter.”
“ The Harry Potter?” Mr. Nordstrom gasped, eyes lighting up with excitement. He reached across his desk to shake Harry’s hand vigorously, smiling widely even as his eyes darted up to try and spot the scar through the boy's messy fringe. “Oh, this is going to be magnificent!” he cheered.
“Just you wait,” Lucius warned. “You haven’t heard what we’re here to do, yet.”
“Go on, then. Spit it out.”
“Aunt Walburga would like to file a restraining order against Albus Dumbledore, on behalf of young Harry here.”
Mr. Nordstrom’s mouth spread into a greedy and malicious grin. “The Savior of the Wizarding World, filing a restraining order against the Leader of the Light?” He sighed dreamily in a way most unbefitting of a man of his age and stature. “Oh, Lucius,” he simpered. “What on earth have I done to deserve you?”
Both men dissolved into diabolical cackles, and Harry couldn’t contain a smirk as well. Dumbledore was finished.
By the end of the day, Harry spent nearly 5 hours in Mr. Nordstrom’s office. He brought up every bit of damning evidence of Dumbledore’s meddling that he could. Sirius even helped by bringing up his interference with the Potter’s Vault and his sabotage of Sirius’ original case. The whole thing interspersed with Aunt Wally’s snide comments and insults about the man.
It was definitely an interesting day. As if that weren’t enough, Harry had a letter waiting for him when he made it back home.
Sirius immediately disappeared upstairs somewhere for the sweet relief of solitude after having to navigate the lobby again, and Lucius went to gather some more paperwork to pad their case. Aunt Wally retired to the parlor, but not until after sharing a few nice words with her portrait in the hall.
Harry followed Aunt Wally into the parlor where he spotted a very smug looking Uncle Arty with a tobacco pipe in his hand.
Harry greeted the man, then opened the letter. It was a muggle envelope with no return address. He unfolded the letter and immediately recognized the messy scrawl.
“Really? This is what it has come to? You would go this far? I don’t care what any freakish old man says! You stay away from my family! I should have never allowed you into my home all those years ago! We should have left you on that doorstep to freeze and die! If I ever hear from you again, I WILL KILL YOU! I hope you rot in hell like your worthless parents!”
Harry stared at the letter blankly. “What?” he asked aloud, utterly confused. Not that he’d intended on seeing the Dursleys again anyways, but he had no idea what it was he had supposedly done. Had Dumbledore contacted them again?
Harry didn’t think so. Vernon’s letter was far more aggressive than the last. He was more than just disgruntled, he was livid .
“I’m assuming that’s from your muggle relatives.” Uncle Arty chuckled across the room, lips wrapped around his pipe. “I think I may know what that is about.”
Harry approached the man, more lost than ever. How on earth could Uncle Arty have fit into all this?
The elderly man reached over to the coffee table and handed Harry the newspaper he picked up from there. It was the Surrey Comet, a muggle newspaper. Harry still didn’t understand until he caught notice of the headline: Massive Fire Burns Down 3 Homes on Privet Drive.
Harry continued reading the article, face frozen in an expression of absolute bewilderment. It stated that the fire began as a result of faulty wiring in Number 4, then spread to the homes on either side before firemen could put it out. There were no deaths and only minor injuries from smoke inhalation.
Harry put the paper down, turning his gaze to Uncle Arty, bewildered look still painted across his face. Somehow, the pieces finally clicked in place and he gasped loudly.
“You’re responsible for this?” he asked.
Uncle Arty took a puff on his pipe. “Of course, I am. No deaths, though. Bit of a shame.”
“You burned down the Dursley’s house? With them inside it?”
“Not me personally, no. I had it arranged. Though, they did escape, so I’ll be demanding some of my money back.”
Harry was having trouble wrapping his head around it. Uncle Arty tried to have the Dursleys killed? Harry absolutely hated the three of them, but he’d never considered killing them. But there was something that made even less sense.
“Why?” Harry questioned.
Uncle Arty took another puff on his pipe, letting the smoke drift out of his nostrils slowly before he answered.
“Because I’ve grown rather fond of you, Harry,” he replied. “We were once a large and great family, but now, we are down to a few. That includes you. We must take care of each other. After the years of your suffering at their hands, it was time for some retribution. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is a force to be reckoned with. A force that you will always have at your side to protect and support you.”
“That’s absolutely right, Harry,” Aunt Wally chimed in. “For as long as you’re willing to protect and support us.”
Harry was absolutely flattered. He felt so loved and warm in that moment that his mixed feelings about the fate of the Dursleys was the last thing on his mind.
The next time Harry went to see Mr. Nordstrom, he’d convinced Sirius to stay behind. It wasn’t particularly difficult, given his last experience.
The barrister decided to add on a Petition for Obliviation for the Dursleys. He collected as much evidence of Harry’s mistreatment as possible to build the strongest case. He even took a thorough health examination to prove stunted growth from the years of malnutrition. The Petition didn’t affect Dumbledore directly, but being able to present to the Wizengamot that he knowingly placed Harry into a situation that warranted obliviation would further damage his credibility.
Harry was more than happy to sign the Petition. If that went through, then there would be no more chances that Harry would be sent back to the Dursleys. It wasn’t quite as much like revenge as burning them to death, the way Uncle Arty had attempted. But Harry didn’t mind. Revenge wasn’t important as long as he could make sure he’d never have to return.
By the end of the week, Mr. Nordstrom had everything he needed and was nearly bubbling with devious glee at the opportunity to personally serve Dumbledore the papers. He tried to convince Harry to join in for the sure to be embarrassing moment, but Harry declined. He didn’t want to have any more contact with the man whatsoever. He was even willing to give up the chance to see the look on his face in person when he received his subpoena.
Narcissa had a much better idea for his time anyways.