Month: December 2019

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Edward of Rothesay

This particular snippet was written during a time where I was a bit concerned about a fanfiction.net policy on real persons which resulted in some name changes for the Royal Family in order not to use them. I kept the events, just changed the names. In particular, the current Duke of Cambridge’s name change from William to Edward. Diana, Princess of Wales became Doreen. Prince Charles became Prince Arthur, and Queen Elizabeth II became Queen Victoria II. Andrew, the Duke of York became George.

A note regarding titles: The Prince of Wales has many titles, which depending on where he is have different precedents. The current incumbent’s full titles are: His Royal Highness Prince Charles Philip Arthur George, Prince of Wales, KG, KT, GCB, OM, AK, QSO, CC, PC, ADC, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles and Prince and Great Steward of Scotland. In Scotland he does not go by Prince of Wales but Duke of Rothesay.

It is common for a Royal to use one of their father’s titles as their last name when they go to school. In the case of William it was Wales. His children go by Cambridge. Prince Charles once signed his name as Charlie Chaplin when he was taking classes. Since Hogwarts is in Scotland, Rothesay is the title of choice.

“Your father is still a bit upset that you aren’t going to Eton,” Edward’s mother said, as they walked through the wall into Platform Nine and Three Quarters. “And the cover for you, having a tutor, is a step back.”

“Yes, but Dad’s also jealous,” Edward said. “I got the letter, and Grandmother let me go. He had to send his regrets.”

“Probably,” his mother said, as the scarlet steam engine came into view. “Wow. I haven’t seen a steam engine in ages.”

Edward looked at the steam engine, which bore the sign, “Hogwarts Castle.” It was not what he’d expected, but like many boys, he’d gone through a phase where he had been fascinated with trains. It was a fascination that his father shared with him. Some day he was going to be in that engine. There was something wrong with the engine. He wasn’t sure what though.

“Riding this to school is a lot better than going to Eton,” Edward said. “Dad was going to make me walk from Windsor.”

“Hogwarts is much better than Eton ever could be,” a dark haired boy a couple years older than Edward said. “I had my name down for there, before I got my letter.”

“Really?” Edward asked. “I hoped so, but its been decades since any of my family went.”

“Oh yes,” the boy said. “I’m Justin Finch-Fletchley, muggleborn third year Hufflepuff.”

“Edward Rothesay,” Edward introduced himself confidently as he could managed. He wasn’t quite used to using a last name, and previously he’d used another one when he had to. He felt that he might have hesitated just a bit. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “First Year. Grandmother thinks I’ll end up in Gryffindor.”

“Then some advice,” Finch-Fletchley said. “Don’t go fan boy on Potter. He doesn’t like his fame, and never, ever, believe some rumor about him being evil or wrong. Believe me, you’ll look like a fool later. The worse thing about it, he’ll never call you on it.”

“Who’s Potter?” Edward asked. He was a bit puzzled. He hadn’t heard about any Potter in his Grandmother’s briefings of who was important in the Wizarding World.

“Harry Potter – The-Boy-Who-Lived?” Finch-Fletchley said. “I figured that if your Grandmother was a witch you’d know something about him. He defeated You-Know-Who, the last Dark Lord.”

“Oh, I think Great Aunt Margaret said something about him,” Edward said.

There was a bright flash from some camera, but Edward didn’t flinch, unlike Finch-Fletchley. He was used to cameras. “Creevy! Watch where you point that flash!” a boy with a prefect’s badge yelled.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” Finch-Fletchley said, and then he appeared to realize exactly who Edward’s mother was, and began to bow.

“Please, we prefer that no special attention is given, not today, not at Hogwarts,” Edward’s mother said. “He is Edward Rothesay, and I am his mother Doreen Rothesay. Should you encounter his father, I believe he would prefer the address of Captain Rothesay.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Finch-Fletchley replied. “If you don’t mind, I can help Edward find a good compartment on the Express. We’re early enough that there are quite a bit of open compartments, and first years should really share a few compartments.”

“Go with Mr. Finch-Fletchley, Eddy,” his mother said. “I’ll stay out here, and wave as you leave.”

Edward couldn’t leave yet, not without hugging his mother. With the separation, he didn’t get as much time with her. He was actually quite surprised that she was the one to see him off to Hogwarts, especially given that it was not her side of the family that was magical.

She kissed him on his check, and whispered in his ear, “go on, my magical little prince.” He didn’t want to let go. He’d been lobbying to go to Hogwarts since June, upsetting all the plans the family had made, but now, with his mother’s arms around him, he didn’t want to go. Her hands dropped, and Edward found himself stepping back.

He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up in a compartment, with two other boys, as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of King’s Cross. He waved at his mother, only to suddenly notice that she was not alone. His father was there, dressed not in the formal Captain’s naval dress uniform that was often his formal attire, but the simple white short sleeve shirt, apparently not just bought for the occasion, given its apparent age, with his rank on the shoulders.

His father smiled and saluted, as Edward waved and the train began to move. He hadn’t expected to see his father again today, not since his mother had taken him to the platform, but there he was, standing beside his mother, as if nothing had changed. His little brother was standing between them, despite the fact he hadn’t woken up in time to accompany him and his mother to King’s Cross. Harry was still tired, as he rubbed his eyes before waving back to his older brother.

“Your father is in the navy?” one of the boys asked, after Edward sat down.

“Retired,” Edward replied. “I didn’t even know he still had that uniform. Sorry, I forgot your name?”

“Rodney Fawley,” the boy replied. “I wish I could go into the navy. Wizards don’t have one, and only half-bloods and muggleborn seem to be able to meet the requirements to get into Dartmouth.”

“I’m not decided on which service to go in,” Edward said. “Dad was in the Navy, and so was Uncle George. Grandfather actually met my Grandmother at Dartmouth, so there is a lot of pressure to go that way.”

“You make it sound like you’ve got no choice but to go into the Armed Forces,” another boy, who Edward suddenly recalled was named Timon Napier.

Edward frowned. “In my family a lot of things have to be done just so,” he said. “There isn’t a lot of choice, really. It’s why I really wanted to go to Hogwarts. It’s not something anyone in the family expected me to take, even though we’ve all got the letters back at least to the 1830s. I suppose I would have been tutored in magic by someone. Grandmother’s tutor is still around, though I understand he’s retired and runs a bar some place now, Hog’s Head, I think it was.”

“Your grandmother was tutored by Aberforth Dumledore?” Fawley said.

“I think that was his name,” Edward said, shrugging. “Grandmother is very busy, so I didn’t get the whole tale, which apparently involves goats and Balmoral.”

“He was charged with using inappropriate charms on a goat, once,” Fawley said.

“Wonder what charm,” Napier said. “I can’t think of any charm that would be inappropriate for a goat.”

“You lack imagination, then, Timon,” Fawley replied. “Or don’t know enough charms.”

“I’ll have to ask Grandmother,” Edward said.

…

Edward didn’t know exactly how long the journey to Hogwarts was supposed to take, but he was really enjoying the ride with the boys he had just met. He hoped they’d be sorted into the same house and be his friends. He hadn’t even noticed that the weather had turned to a driving rain outside the train. It was so heavy that it might have been darkest night. He didn’t notice that until the train suddenly screeched to a stop.

He looked out the window, and noticed that the rain was turning to sleet, and it was frosting on the window. That wasn’t supposed to happen in September, though he’d heard that the weather was occasionally strange in Scotland. A deep chill came through the single pane glass of the compartment, and Edward found his thoughts turning dark. He felt as if all his happiness was being sucked from the compartment. His thoughts turned to the briefing he’d received before his departure on what would happen if his grandmother and father died while he was at Hogwarts and the many scenarios that had gone through his mind on how that could happen. He had watched King Ralph, and that particular case was mild, compared to the nightmares of death and destruction that went through Edward’s mind. The train went dark, and lightning struck as a dark robed shadow passed by the compartment.

“Expecto, Patronum!”

Edward heard the words from the next compartment, and there was a glow from that direction. A shadowy robed figure of death fled, and suddenly Edward could feel good again, if a bit short of breath. The lights came back on. He looked around his compartment, and saw that his fellow first years, Fawley and Napier were as pale-faced and trembling as Edward knew he felt.

He took a deep breath, and schooled himself into his royal face, one that he knew he could maintain a long time, not giving offense, nor giving favor. You could only smile or cry for so long, and it was best stay a fairly neutral expression most of the time during royal engagements. Not that Edward had actually done a solo engagement, just occasionally going with his mother on hers, or rarely with his father.

The door slid open, and a man that Edward assumed was a professor looked in. “Is everyone okay in here?”

“Yes, Professor,” Edward said. “What was that, and what was it doing on the train?”

“That was a Dementor from Azkaban,” the Professor said. “Someone seems to have decided that the train needed to be searched for Sirius Black.”

Edward knew about Sirius Black. He’d been briefed on that too. He’d never seen a Dementor, but he knew about those, and the danger they posed. “Where were their handlers?” he asked.

“Apparently outside the train,” the Professor said. “I think all three of you could use some chocolate.”

Edward consumed part of the broken bar of chocolate as the Professor headed up the train, looking in on other compartments. As the train started to move again, he decided that this was something he needed to make sure was in his very first letter from Hogwarts, before he even told about what Hogwarts was like. And that letter needed to go to his grandmother, the Queen.

…

There was one advantage to going by the last name of Rothesay, Edward could say for sure. If he was going by Wales he’d be next to last, and there were a lot of first years to sort this year. Of course the two boys he’d sat with on the Express had already been sorted, both to Gryffindor. He hoped he’d go there too.

As the sorting hat was lowered on to his head, he heard it in his mind. “What, have we here? Welcome to Hogwarts, your Highness. It has been a while since a member of the Royal Family in the direct line of succession came to Hogwarts, not since 1830. Now, let’s see where to put you. Oh, smart, with a love for history, that I’m sure will serve you well, but plenty of bravery with a touch of cunning. That daring, nerve, and chivalry, now that’s clear. You belong in …”

Then out loud, he heard the Sorting Hat cry out, “Gryffindor!”

He quickly found himself at table between Napier and Fawley, and across from a girl, who quickly introduced herself, “I’m Kaitlin Reed, are you…”

Edward quickly interrupted, “Not to be pointed out in public, yes.”

“Oh, sorry,” Reed replied. “Sorry. Must be a bit annoying to have everyone looking at your every … well …”

“You have no idea,” Edward said. “I’m just Edward Rothesay here, no more, no less.”

“Well, just Edward Rothesay, welcome to Hogwarts,” an older boy with red hair said. “I know someone who goes by just Harry, I’ll have to introduce you. I’m Ron Weasley, by the way. Harry’s being checked over and Hermione had to talk to Professor McGonagall, so I ended up at the end of the second years, next to my sister, instead of with third year.”

“Is he okay?” Edward asked.

“I think so,” Ron said. “Madam Pomfrey will probably try to keep him overnight though. She’s really concerned about every student’s health. Once you get into her domain she won’t let you go until you’re perfectly health.”

“Good,” Edward said. “Grandmother will at least be happy to hear that. I’m not looking forward to tonight’s letter.”

“At least some boy is writing home tonight,” the red headed girl on the other side of Ron said. “I didn’t get my first letter from you your first year until after Halloween.”

“So I was afraid that you’d pester me about Harry, Ginny,” Ron said. “And don’t deny your crush. You still blush around him.”

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Summer Rituals 9B

The Magnitude of the Issue

Lavender and her uncle had arrived at Godric’s Hallow right behind the Grangers. They’d actually driven the same taxi as they had in Albania, with a quick paint job, having shrunken it right before they departed from the beach. It was a lot less flashy then many of the cars in Q’s motor pool for double oh agents. Lavender had been able to see it for the first time upon their return to Britain.

This was the last portion of the Summer’s mission, added on after the Vatican had provided the additional information. The Vatican hated horcruxes and had insisted beginning to track down them immediately. Unfortunately the information that they were able to obtain was not enough to get the locus of more than the one that resided in the scar of Lavender’s friend. Fortunately, with the right spell, more information could be given during the exorcism of that part. It would be just a snapshot though, and not the most accurate one.

Lavender had to watch closely the exorcism that drove the horcrux from Harry’s forehead. She couldn’t pay attention to what was said, instead she had to be ready to cast her spell as close as possible to when the horcrux separated from Harry. Fortunately the spell would have no influence on the exorcism.

Lavender locked her eyes on the scar, and suddenly it burst open as if it was a pimple that had been popped. Instead of puss, however, there was thick stream of black smoke streaming from it. The smoke dipped and tried to enter Harry’s mouth, but he kept it closed.

The smoke now shot up, and hit something a good three feet above him. The smoke said, “You have no power over Lord Voldemort! You are pitiful muggles who have no understanding of magic.”

Lavender cast the spell, “Quid est pars animae!” A circle of light appeared above the crystal with Voldemort’s wraith trapped in it, first glowing white, then deepening to red, the same shade of red as the gem that the wraith was compressed to. The circle started to become a polygon, settling on a heptagon. The top pointed towards Harry, and the others pointed in other directions.

Lavender held the spell tight, as her uncle sketched the directions of the points on piece of poster board below the circle. She couldn’t hold the spell long though. It was long enough. The spell dropped and the circle disappeared as the last whisp of the fragment of Voldemort disappeared in white wisps of smoke.

As the spell ended, Lavender found herself releasing her breath explosively. “Did you get the points, Uncle Charlie?” she asked.

“Yes,” her uncle replied. “The cone of error is not bad for the angle, though it gets worse at larger distances. The closest seems to be 81 miles to the south south west. Then there is 165 miles to the east south east … almost a direct bearing to the Tower of London.”

“Closer to Diagon Alley,” Lavender said. “But I think we should do our discussion later, uncle. This isn’t exactly a secure place.”

“Right,” Charlie said. “I believe we’ve got an episcopal ordination to attend as soon as this exorcism is over. I may have put up wards to prevent the Fat Friar from leaving early.”

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By Hephaestus Forged 5C

Younger Siblings

Draco had discovered that an idle little sister was a writing little sister. It seemed that Julie lacked any friends she wanted to visit anymore, and her homework wasn’t taking much time, so he and Victoria were getting letters from Julie every other day. Today was his day. He’d been warned by Victoria that her last letter had been rather gloomy on the subject of Fenton. He took his sister’s letter from what might as well be her personal owl, given how much she used the eagle owl she called “Liberty.”

Draco carefully broke the seal on the family arms, in lozenge with an ermine spot denoting that it was from the second daughter. It was extremely unusual that a girl her age would have her own wax stamp with appropriate arms, but Julie had quickly become a favored daughter. It only took his father’s sudden use of certain phrases from Julie’s favorite show on the telly to show that.

Opening it, a quick glance at the rather neat handwriting told Draco that this was a letter that Julie had put some thought into. He read it carefully, not skimming or skipping over anything. This was not a letter of complaint, or rejoicing, either of which he’d expected in the aftermath of Fenton, or as Julie called him in her letters, He-who-should-not-have’s sentencing. No, this was a letter written once the euphoria was over, when her thoughts and words had sunken in.

Draco was of the opinion that there was no punishment enough for the man who had despoiled his oldest sisters. Word that the muggle had received life in prison, and was going to be transferred to Azkaban had brought a feeling of satisfaction that he knew that was shared by Victoria.

Julie, however, didn’t find it satisfying. She wanted him suffering until death. Draco was sure that if someone actually could make her believe what the Dementors of Azkaban did, she might change her mind, but he didn’t think he could do that via a letter. Plus he had no real experience to lend validity with her on it. Judith would believe just about anything that Draco told her, a trust that as her big brother he was trying to live up to, but Julie wasn’t as trusting.

He really needed advice on this, and he didn’t want to put anything more on Victoria. In fact he suspected that Victoria wasn’t getting as open of letters as he was, because Julie didn’t want to put that stress on their pregnant older sister.

Draco hadn’t even noticed that Daphne Greengrass had taken a seat on the same small couch, being so engrossed in thought. “Another letter from your little sister?” Daphne asked.

“Yes.” Draco said, looking down at the letter again, before looking back at Daphne. “I’m not sure how to reply.”

“Well, I may have a little sister, Astoria will be in your sister’s year, but I think her are an entirely different level,” Daphne said. “My little sister’s last letter complained about having no one around.”

“Julie’s got that issue,” Draco replied with surprise. He was aware that his fellow first years in Slytherin knew some things about his changed family. Victoria was obvious, but Julie, he didn’t really know how much they knew about her. Of course there were some things that he didn’t intend to share. One of them was exactly what Fenton had done to Julie. It was nice, however, that at least one issue Julie had was one that other younger sisters had.

“They can’t live with us, they can’t live without us,” Daphne groused.

“I know,” Draco said. “I’ve lived in that wing alone since I was six. I guess it might be a bit different for Julie, as this is the first time she’s had her own room, let alone had a whole wing to herself. It was different when I was in the adjoining room and Victoria was across the hall, apparent.”

“Is she being smothered by your parents?” Daphne asked. “Astoria’s complaining about that. Apparently Mum won’t let her alone.”

“My parents have a little more distractions,” Draco replied. “Three more younger siblings, and I think my mother is trying for a second. Mother Erlene and Father apparently did a fertility rite before they took their NEWTs.”

“Fertility rite?” Daphne gasped. “Which one?”

“You think I really want to even think about my parents doing that?” Draco asked as he tried to get the image of his parents doing that out of his head. Just before his return to Hogwarts he’d come his father kissing his mother, pressing her up against the wall. He’d quickly retreated.

“Point,” Daphne said. “We’re all the result of immaculate conception, any other way is too troubling to think about.”

“Exactly,” Draco said. “Got any idea how I can reassure my oldest little sister that she hasn’t been abandoned?”

“Let me know when you figure that one out,” Daphne replied, her gaze going upwards. “She nearly made me late for going back to Hogwarts by locking me in my room and somehow putting a wardrobe in front of my bedroom door. I had to go out via the balcony.”

“Okay, I need to make sure that your sister doesn’t give my sister ideas before Easter,” Draco said.

“That should be easy unless your sister happens to be going to school in Houndslow,” Daphne said.

“She does,” Draco said.

“Is she in a class with a Winston-Henke?” Daphne asked.

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Summer Rituals 9A

Seamus: Incardinatization Again

Altar servers did not have to get permission to work in multiple dioceses unlike priests. As a boarding school student, he’d expected to work in multiple ones, having first been trained to work as one in his home parish of Saint Columcille’s in the Archdiocese of Armagh, and then having gone to Hogwarts which was in the Diocese of Aberdeen. Somewhat amusingly the Hufflepuff ghost had twice been an administrator of the Prefecture Apostolic of Scotland, as a ghost didn’t fear prosecution for conducting a papist Mass. He’d served at the altar of the Friary Parish in Crawley in the Diocese of Brentwood as well.

His latest diocese, metropolitan at that, he’d never expected to visit, much less end up arriving with his own Archbishop, Cahal Cardinal Daly, to it was Cardiff. He’d met Archbishop Ward, or as he’d been told to address him, Father John, shortly after their landing. It was a rarefied group that took the Vauxhall Astra Estate, only made rarer when another Cardinal with brilliant white hair joined them outside town. Somehow Seamus had ended up in the back seat with the Prefect of the Congregation for Doctrine of the Faith or as it used to be known, the Office of the Holy Inquisition. And it was an inquisition.

So far he’d been quizzed on the ten commandments, the seven sacraments, and now the five precepts. Somehow he’d stumbled through them. “Cahal, give my compliments to this boy’s pastor,” the Prefect said. “He is a fine example of a good Catholic.”

“I shall, Joseph,” his Archbishop replied. “Do we expect any other priests to join us at Saint Clementine’s?”

“Father Edward of the Friary Parish in the Diocese of Brentwood, who is bringing Mister Potter,” the Prefect said. “I’m not sure if Bishop McMahon will be with him. Father Clement of Saint Edward the Confessor’s Chapel at Hogwarts in the Diocese of Aberdeen will be there. I shall be greatly amused when he discovers that he’s finally in a church with three Bishops. I have a papal message for him. John, please try to stay on the road. We’re not running late.”

“Sorry, I almost missed that last turn,” the Archbishop of Newport said. “Welcome to Godric’s Hollow, brothers.”

Just a minute later the Astra came to stop in front of a parish church that looked a lot like Saint Columcille’s except for being a bit taller and being in the center of town. There was another car pulled up as well, with what looked like Hermione from the behind bent over into the car. Seamus recognized Father Edward from Crawley greeting another priest, probably the new pastor of the church. Harry stood over by what at first appeared to be a war memorial, but as Seamus stepped out of the car, changed into a statue of baby Harry being held by his mother in his father’s embrace.

He decided that greeting his classmate could wait. Instead he addressed the white haired Cardinal, “Your Eminence, how can I assist?”

The Prefect replied, “put on your alb, making sure nothing shows out from under it. Take off your shoes as soon as you get into the church. You’ll need to make as little as possible noise during the exorcism. Now, would that be Potter looking at the war memorial?”

“Yes, Eminence,” Seamus replied, as he reached in for the bag that contained his robes. They were long enough to cover his jeans, but he wasn’t quite sure if the collar was smaller than that of his t-shirt.

“Mister Potter, please come over here so I may explain the instances of the Exorcism of your scar,” the Prefect said. Harry turned around and took a few steps closer to the rear of the Astra. “I understand you were baptized in this parish, but have not taken further sacraments?”

“No sir,” Harry said. “I talked with Father Edward about it before my son’s baptism, and we agreed that there isn’t enough time in the summer, so I’m going to talk to the Hufflepuff ghost, I don’t know his name, about it.”

“Father Clement, also known as the Fat Friar, I believe,” the Prefect said. “After your exorcism, you may wish to attend his Consecration Mass, assuming he doesn’t escape again.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” Seamus said, noticing that the Fat Friar had just arrived.

“For this exorcism, Mister Potter, you will be first be washed in Holy Water, before being dressed in a white robe and placed before the altar, at which time we will begin the actual exorcism,” the Prefect said. “You may during the process experience greater possession by the partial spirit currently inside your scar. Fortunately with the protections that your mother has imbued in your body by her sacrifice, with the additional protections and process that you will be undergoing, such possessions should be relatively short and overcome with the exercise of your own will.

“Acolyte Seamus, please escort Mister Potter to the Baptismal Font and assist Father Edward in preparing him”

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Revelations Regarding Instructional Services A

Call this branch 1 of the series, immediately following “Institutional Missives Regarding Instructional Services” There will be another branch following for Petunia’s Instructional Services.

Neville Longbottom did not consider himself to be a great wizard, nor did he consider himself to be a great friend to Harry Potter. He was at most a poor player, playing an unimportant role upon the stage. He was a dorm mate to the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Hate-the-Hyphenated-Title, who he occasionally helped with Herblogy and helped him with Defense Against the Dark Arts. That’s all he was.

That was nothing compared to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger who where definitely Harry Potter’s best friends. Best Friends who had entirely different reactions to the fact that Potter hadn’t been on the Hogwarts Express, and wasn’t waiting for them in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione Granger’s much more untamable than Harry’s hair had reached a new level of frizziness as the girl looked up and down the table, trying to spot Harry. “He’s not here, Ron. You said he’d be here waiting for us, all smug that he’d got here before the Expess.”

Ron Weasley, on the other hand, just sat down across from Granger, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “So, he’s not yet in the hall,” Ron said. “I trust Harry when he said he would see us at Hogwarts.”

That’s when Neville caught the movement off the corner of his eye. There was someone standing on the threshold of the door to the chamber where the Champions had gathered back in his fourth year. He couldn’t see the person’s head at first, only a set of gray tweed robes with scarlet lapels. A slight movement showed that they were wearing last year’s Gryffindor tie, with it’s broader stripes of gold. The candles shifted, seeming to respond to Neville’s desire to see whoever it was.

The new gold rimmed glasses did not aid in identifying him, but there was no mistaking the messy hair and scar of his most famous dorm mate. Neville looked back at Ron and Hermione. They hadn’t spotted Harry, yet. He wondered why Harry was at the head of the hall instead of finding a seat at the Gryffindor table.

Then his gaze moved across the head table with the professors in their eclectic robes waiting for all the students to arrive sit down. It looked like Professor McGonagall had gone for a deeper green this year, and there was no pink dressed toad, so Professor Umbridge wasn’t back for a second year, breaking the curse. Professor Snape wasn’t up their, in fact his usual seat was occupied by a man in rich silk orangish-brown robes and a bow tie, who seemed somewhat familiar to him. Neville racked his brain for a moment, before realizing that he’d often seen the man at various gatherings that his gran had made him attend. Horace Slughorn! That was the name, Professor Snape’s predecessor as Head of Slytherin and Potions’ Master. Neville wondered if that meant that Snape was gone.

Then it hit him, with all the different color robes at the head table, there was only one reason why Harry would be here and not be wearing the black robes of a student. He spotted Professor McGonagall gesturing towards Harry, and shifted his gaze back to him. Harry shook his head, then cocked it to the right a bit and slumped his shoulders, before taking a deep breath, straitening up again, and heading towards the head table. Neville watched as Harry walked around back, taking the same seat that Neville had once seen Professors Quirell, Lockhart, Lupin, Moody, and Umbridge take, between where Slughorn sat and Trelawney sat. That had to be awkward. This was the second time he’d seen the Divination Professor attend.

Neville looked back at the table, and noticed that Hermione and Ron were still looking at the trickle of students still arriving. That trickle ended, and Professor McGonagall tapped her glass which rang out throughout the hall. Neville saw Ron and Hermione turn towards the head table, and watched their expressions change as they spotted Harry there. Ron took in a deep breath and moved back slightly. Hermione’s eyes seemed to open wider.

Neither said anything, as Dumbledore had already stood and was beginning to speak. “In a moment, the First Years will be entering to begin the Sorting Ceremony. I ask that during the ceremony, you maintain a respectful silence during the Sorting Hat’s deliberations. You may cheer or clap upon the announcement of a student’s sorting, but there should be no booing or degrading a particular student’s sorting. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, retrieve the First Years.”

Professor McGonagall stood, and walked out the Great Hall, down the outside on the Gryffindor side. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the hall, the doors started to swing shut. It was only when the crack of the doors closure was finished echoing in the hall that anyone started to say anything.

“Harry is a Professor,” Hermione said. “He didn’t tell us that?”

“To be honest, Hermione, we didn’t exactly write him much this summer, or at least I didn’t,” Ron said, shrugging his shoulders. “More than last year, but still.”

“You’d think he would have written us about it,” Hermione said. “He did tell us about the dinner and winning the OWL and NEWT bonuses because he taught us Defense better than Professor Umbridge.”

“My letter was three pages of that note book paper that you and Harry sometimes use,” Ron noted. “Did he tell you that he’d taught enough that Hogwarts and the Wizarding Examniation Authority considered him a Professor? Isn’t that a laugh?”

“Not really, I mean Harry did really teach us Defense last year.” Hermione said, her expression changing to one of contemplation. “That toad certain didn’t teach us anything.”

“Tell us what you really thought of Umbridge, Hermione,” Ron shot back.

Hermione briefly put her hand over her mouth as if she was taking an extra measure not to respond to Ron’s request. “Really, Ron.” She looked back up at the head table, and Neville could tell from long experience that she’d just put together some facts. “I think Hogwarts made Harry the new Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts.”

“Now that is just plain mad. Not even Dumbledore is mad enough to put a sixth year as a Professor of a required course,” Ron replied, shaking his head. “He’s probably just an assistant, continuing whatever he said he was listed as last year, assisting maybe that guy sitting next to him.”

“That’s Horace Slughorn,” Neville said, finding the courage to interrupt the two. “He taught Potions from back in the forties to when Snape took over. I don’t think he’s there to take over Defense.”

“Professor Snape,” Hermione automatically corrected. “And Harry was Adjutant Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts last year, at least that’s what he wrote was on his invitation for the dinner. According to Hogwarts, a History, an Adjutant Professor automatically becomes the Professor of a subject when the prior Professor resigns, unless the Headmaster appoints another during the first two weeks.”

“Looks like we’re going to have to get used to calling Harry, Professor, then,” Ron said. “Going to be weird that.” Ron shrugged. “No weirder than anything else at Hogwarts that has happened to Harry, though.”

Neville reflected on what he’d known to have happened to Harry since they’d come to Hogwarts; Seeker as a First year, the Mirror of Erised, the gauntlet that he’d nearly stopped them from running to save the Philosopher’s Stone, being a parselmouth, finding the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in a girl’s bathroom, a prisoner escaping Azkaban to save him from the worm that had betrayed his parents, being an underage Triwizard Champion. No, this was par for the course for Harry Potter.

The door to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall entered, leading the First Years. The hall went silent as the Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.

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Very Big Dursley Family 4D

Lily’s first night in charge.

Dudley had warned Lily that her siblings would challenge her on her first night in charge. Harry had figured that it would be spread over several nights, and bet that Brad would be first. Lily had hoped that she wouldn’t have that at all, especially since her mum had informed the whole family that she didn’t want to hear any problems today. Mum’s pregnancy was not making her feel good at the moment, so she’d retired to the parent’s room with a glass of ginger water and a good book.

It appeared, however, that some of her siblings had not learnt the lesson of keeping everything calm and following orders when mum wasn’t feeling well. It hadn’t been hard to get Primrose and Noel to take their bath. She’d called them right at seven fifteen, just like usual, and sat on the toilet seat while the two undressed and took their bath, just like she’d done a couple times when Harry was sick. There was no playing in the bathtub. Baths were for getting cleaned. A brief inspection had occurred to make sure they’d washed correctly, before she let them put on their underpants and go down for their snack, which Violet was handling.

Iris, at six, was trusted a bit more, and no longer shared the bath with her brother Brad. If she shared at all now, it would be with She was actually waiting for the bathroom to be free. There was a bit of dirt on Iris’s cheek that hadn’t been there when Lily had gone up with Primrose and Noel. There was also a streak of dirt down one side of her outfit. “They’re done?” Iris stated. “Good. You might want to see to Badley.”

Lily knew that the removal of the R in Bradley’s name was not a good sign. “What did he do?”

“Dad has him cleaning up what he tracked in,” Iris said. “He’s blaming Dennis. Something about Gnasher, a leash, and a squirt gun filled with cranberry juice, I think. Whatever it is, Violet is not looking forward to cleaning his shirt.”

“This, I got to see,” Lily said. “Bathroom is yours for the next fifteen minutes … maybe a bit longer if I end up having Bradley shower.” Iris nodded, as Lily passed her.

The moment she got down stairs, she found Bradley barefoot, only wearing his boxers, which appeared to have been dyed red and were soaked to his body. His hair was covered with a white powderBy the door was his jeans, which appeared to be ripped on one leg and had mud on them. He had a mop that which he was using to clean up a trail of mud.”Don’t ask, I’m not going to repeat it,” Bradley said. “Just .. you know … I don’t know what, but Dennis is going to regret what he did.”

“I see … and are there any others that were involved, like perhaps Godwin and Crispin?” Lily asked. Bradley tried not to show any reaction, but he was her little brother. “Brad, would you be talking to Harry?” Bradley looked up briefly with an expression of surprise. “Okay, Dudley was right. They thought the lid was off with Piers, Dudley, and Harry gone. That dog is worse than our aunt’s ever were, and if I’m not mistaken you got hit by the mudballs too. Violet!”

“Yes Lily?” Violet said, leaning out of the kitchen.

“Make sure Brad takes a shower at least, and is really clean for a change,” Lily said. “I’m going to make sure Colin is ready for his little brother … but first, I think I need to talk to Porta. Someone forgot about their Kipling.”

“Kipling?” Bradley said, as Porta went to the phone and dialed Number Nine. “What is Kipling?”

“Porta?” Lily said, the moment she heard an answer. “Please remind Godwin about his Kipling, as we discussed last Wednesday. Oh, has he come in?”

She could hear Porta over the phone state. “You just got a call from the Dursley’s, little Win.” She knew that expression would happen when Dudley made similar calls. She’d been at the Creevey’s when Dudley had called about Dennis before. Harry, Dudley, and Piers called it giving fair warning. It never was done older sibling to younger sibling, and Lily was a good girl, so she’d never gotten a call from Piers. She’d seen both sides though. Lily hadn’t expected to have to do this so soon.

She heard Godwin glup as Godwin, you and I are going to talk tomorrow on the way to school, but first, a single verse to haunt your dreams, because I’m not the Big Boys. My reign as part of the Triumvirate is going to be different. Why?

“When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

“If you though because Piers left you and your friends would be getting away with things, think again. We’re prepared to prove Kipling’s poem. Have a wonderful night.”

Lily hung up the phone, having not let Godwin sign off “Now, Brad, I need to know exactly what Dennis the Menace and his pals did, and I need to know it now, before I go handle him via window. I can threaten Godwin without knowledge, but Dennis requires it.”

Brad gulped. “He thought I was the one that snitched on him with Mister Stone. So he sicced Gnasher on me. I ran but ended up having to go through the Watt’s front garden, which they’ve dug up but haven’t put the new plants in. Then I ran into Crispin and Godwin who dumped a bucket of this awful juice, soaking my clothes. That let Gnasher catch up with me, and he ripped my jeans. Dennis then pulled out his sling shot and shot me with a ball that burst into white powder when it hit my forehead.”

“Good. Now do you want a shower or bath tonight?” Lily asked, already knowing the answer. So she looked around the hall and determined that Brad had done a passable job cleaning up after himself.

“Shower,” Bradley replied.

“Okay, it looks like you’ve done here, so shower, and when you’re done, report to my room for inspection,” Lily ordered.

“Do I have to?” Bradley whined.

“What is your current streak of passed inspections with Harry?” Lily asked.

“Two,” Bradley said quietly, looking down at his feet.

“And how many did Harry say you had to pass in a row?” Lily continued, her hand going out to raise Bradley’s gaze so she could look him right in the eyes.

“Fifteen,” Bradley replied, before turning around and heading for the kitchen door to the garage.

Lily smiled as her little brother headed to the showers in the back of the garage. Then she headed up to the room she shared with Violet. As it was a rather warm night, but already cooling from the hot end of Summer day, the window was already open, letting a cool breeze in. She could see that Colin was already in his bedroom, carefully placing his latest pictures in the portfolio file.

Colin had the photo bug, having received a camera from his Uncle J.W. for his last birthday, and had the use of the dark room that Mister Gallegher had created for his son Todd back in the 60s. He had one of the three drawers under his bed in the room he shared with his brother Dennis filled with his portfolio. His window was also open, and it appeared that he was actually expecting contact. “Lily! Ready to shakedown Dennis the Menace?” Colin said.

“Yes,” Lily said, as she slid Dudley’s black bathrobe over her shoulders. “Is the tape ready for tonight?”

“Yes,” Colin replied, “Shall I get him?”

“Most certainly,” Lily said, picking up an envelope and the letter opener that she’d prepared. It didn’t take long for Colin to bring the other occupant of his bedroom to the window. She nodded to Colin, who pounded a mallet twice on the wooden window frame, actually causing Dennis to flinch at the sudden sound and the closeness of the impact.

“Here ye, here ye, the Court of the Youth of Privet Drive is now in session, Judge Lily April Dursley presiding in succession. The case of Dennis the Menace et.al. vs the Crown thirty-five now sits before the bench.” Colin announced.

“Dennis the Menace, you stand before this court to be arraigned on counts of bullying, destruction of attire, and conspiracy,” Lily said, casually slitting open the envelope, making sure that it would glint in the light of the setting sun. “How do you plea?”

“Not guilty!” Dennis replied. Lily knew that if Dudley were presiding their wouldn’t be such a plea. Same with Piers or Harry.

“You’ve entered a plea of not guilty to this court,” Lily replied. “This is your right, though it may show some lack of remorse, that may be accounted for later. This court, however is a court of fact, and you shall be allowed to present your facts and defend yourself. However, it is late, so before we adjourn I must remind you:

“When the Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometime wiggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trial
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

“The defendant is remanded into the custody of his older brother, and this court is adjourned until thirty minutes after the dismissal of school tomorrow, at which time we shall reconvene in normal session in the Stone Playhouse. Court adjourned.”

Colin slammed the window shut, loudly, and his brother jumped back into his brother’s arms. Lily watched as Colin managed to hold his next youngest sibling, saying something in his ears. There wasn’t much difference between the nine-and-three-quarters-year-old and the eight-and-a-half year old. It looked like Dennis was surprised that his older brother was taking a hard line against him. Colin was sometimes a bit of a menace himself, but Colin was more of an annoyance as opposed to Dennis’s more bullying nature. Lily would take Colin over Dennis any day.

There was a knock on Lily’s door. “Enter,” she said. She turned around as the door opened revealing Bradley, not dried completely, and with a head of hair that hadn’t got wet.. “Brad, did you even duck you head under the water?”