chapter 6

The days seemed to crawl as Gilderoy waited for the Deathday Party. It was quite an apt name for the day, actually, for Harry. While his friends looked forward to an exciting day of costumes, candy, and parties, the lad mourned the loss of his family.

Neither did Neville look forward to Halloween. The day itself wasn't an issue. Shortly thereafter, though, an attack on his parents had rendered them as good as dead, but without the closure that death brings. Instead, they were in the permanently disabled Spell Damaged ward at St. Mungos. He could see them, but they did not know him or his grandmother. It was a torment of a different sort than Harry knew, but it was a torment.

Halloween finally arrived, and for the first time he could remember, Harry/Gilderoy actually enjoyed himself! The food was good, he wasn't worried about his friends, he knew what was going to happen next. Everything was going according to plan. And having to share his soul with Gilderoy halved the pain centred on his lack of family. And while seeing future Harry's dead friends alive was still a shock, sometimes, Gilderoy remembered his family and his childhood, and how much fun he had had on Halloween. And by allowing Gilderoy a bit more control, Harry discovered that Halloween could be fun. And so was flirting.

And everything did happen, just as it had last time. He had even managed to take the micky out of Snape by insisting that Professor Snape didn't need to waste his valuable time and that he could whip up the Mandrake Restorative Draught instead. Snape had been ready to hex him by the time he relented and allowed as how Professor Snape probably could make the restorative as well as he could. Watching the git, robes billowing dramatically, as he stormed down the corridor later was quite gratifying. The only thing that could have added to his fun would be if he could dock the git House points.

His constant nattering in the background didn't endear him to the Headmaster or Mr. Filch, either. The Wizard Professors still considered him dodgy while the Witches still adored him and hung on his every word. Except Madams Pomfrey and Sprout — they still hadn't forgiven him for trying to tell them how to do their jobs.

(⊙_◎)

"Ten Points from Slytherin for such a derogatory comment, Mr. Malfoy." Lockhart appeared out of nowhere and stepped between the blond braggart and the redheaded idiot, smiling broadly. Ron was pointing his broken wand at the Slytherin. Malfoy, being Malfoy, just couldn't seem to avoid calling Hermione a mud-blood every time they met. This time, though, a Professor who didn't believe in bullying in any form had caught him. Neither did that Professor believe in respecting those who had better connections and more political power than he did. Gilderoy was working to change his circumstances, though.

"You cannot remove points from me like that," said Malfoy, shocked at the sudden appearance of the Professor and point loss.

Lockhart arched an eyebrow artfully, a disbelieving expression on his face, "Twenty for questioning a teacher's authority." He put his left hand on his hip, stylishly sweeping his robes back.

"But I didn't do anything!" Malfoy protested.

"Thirty more for suggesting a professor can't see properly, and a detention." Good god, this was fun! And explained why Snape seemed to enjoy it so much. His normally expansive smile grew slightly larger at seeing Malfoy's face turn red.

Seeing the hated Weasley suppressing his laughter enraged Malfoy. He couldn't afford to lose face in front of his Slytherin classmates — his bookends Crabbe and Goyle were beside him, with Nott, Zabini, and Parkinson behind him watching. He continued to argue, "But Professor, that blood-traitor pulled his wand on me!"

"Forty points, Mr. Malfoy, for using yet another offensive term. And make it a week's detention instead of a day." Harry/Gilderoy shook his head sadly, as if reluctant to penalize a student so much.

"What!?" The child-Wizard was turning an interesting colour of red, somewhat reminiscent of a certain Muggle relative of Harry's.

The Dursleys! How could he have forgotten the Dursleys!

"Sixty points, Mr. Malfoy." If his smile were any broader it would touch his ears, just as the Cheshire cat's did.

The small group of Slytherins and Gryffindors in the corridor were staring, stunned. Ron had transitioned for trying to suppress his laughter to standing with his mouth open in amazement.

"You can't do this! When my father hears about this . . . !" Draco was almost yelling.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Mr. Malfoy! Eighty points, Mr. Malfoy. And two weeks detention. Do you want a month's?" Gilderoy said harshly, now frowning prettily — it had taken him weeks to get that particular expression correct, Witches tended to swoon when they saw it.

The Slytherins stopped further debate by Nott's expedient action of slapping his hand across the boy's mouth from behind. He whispered furiously at Crabbe and Goyle until they grabbed Draco's arms and the three started dragging him away. Pansy trailed in their wake casting confused glances between a struggling Draco and Professor Lockhart.

Blaise Zabini turned to the blond-haired professor, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what's wrong with Mr. Malfoy, but we'll get him straight to Madam Pomfrey." He was sweating.

The Professor, now with both hands on his hips, his hair swaying slightly as if in a breeze, and looking like a hero staring off into the sunset, stared as the other five disappeared into an alcove. "Yes, perhaps you should. And ten points each from you other five for failing to stop a fellow Slytherin from losing his mind like that.

"It is really quite unseemly," he continued smiling as if he were discussing his latest book, "that the supposedly cunning Slytherins are accosting other students like common Muggle street thugs." His lazy smile disappeared and suddenly he looked much scarier as he scowled. "Lord Slytherin would be so disappointed at the current crop of Slytherins being unable to build alliances outside their House, and antagonizing potential allies in such a crude fashion.

"If Pure-bloods truly are superior to Muggle-borns, then why is Miss Granger here at the top of her entire Second Year?" He waved his right hand elegantly at the stunned girl. "And by a rather wide margin, as well. And, of course, that doesn't explain why Misters Crabbe, Goyle, and Weasley, all Pure-bloods, are nearly at the bottom of the same Year's ranking. Based on that evidence, it would seem that it is the Pure-bloods that are inferior, wouldn't you say?" The remaining Slytherin was red-faced in embarrassment. "Please remind Mr. Malfoy of those pertinent facts when you next see him, as well as his total point loss. I think he might not have been paying attention." He pointed down the corridor with his chin while staring at the boy, obviously dismissing him.

Theodore nodded his head in respect at the Professor, smartly turned on his heel, and then followed his compatriots.

"Two hundred and ninety points," Hermione half whispered, her voice revealing her awed surprise. Harry, Ron, and Neville glanced at her, astonished, and then turned to their Professor.

The Gryffindor Wizards were staring at Lockhart as if they were about to fall to their knees and worship him — as they well should, Gilderoy's voice echoed in the back of Lockhart's mind. Gilderoy preened slightly at the looks of admiration they all had.

"'Cor," said Ron softly, "I never thought I'd see the day when Draco lost that many points. Fred or George have never managed to lose that many points all at once." He hadn't noticed Lockhart lumping him with the two Slytherins as the worst in their Year, too dumbfounded at seeing Draco so chastened.

The professor smiled at them genially, "Well, now that that's sorted, perhaps you should be on with what you were doing before Mr. Malfoy accosted you?"

He watched the four Gryffindors hurry on to tea, knowing that Draco's point loss would spread like a wild fire at supper tonight. The loss of prestige in his House would sting something fierce.

Gilderoy was quite content that the afternoon's project had worked so well. None had noticed the small hex he had cast on the Slytherin braggart when Gilderoy had first appeared and amplifying the boy's anger. Nor that he had cancelled it when Nott had acted. Madam Pomfrey, nor anyone else, would find no evidence of his meddling. And the infuriated boy would predictably send off an owl missive to his parents after tea tonight. He expected to see Mr. Malfoy senior tomorrow afternoon. If things went to plan, he would be much richer by the weekend.

(⊙_⊙)

That Thursday, the next morning, Harry/Gilderoy decided to teach the Second Year students critical thinking.

"Oh, come now, children. Haven't you figured this out yet? It's been five whole days! I figured out what the monster was that night. It's simple!" He beamed at the class. They were looking more than a bit uncertain.

"Let's look at the facts, shall we? First, it's supposed to be Slytherin's Monster, so we ask ourselves, 'what would Lord Slytherin have as a monster?'"

For the first time in a long time, almost the entire class raised their hands.

"Mr. Zabini."

"A snake," he said with a smirk.

"Correct, Mr. Zabini. It should be from the snake family! Next, what snakes, if any, petrify?"

Nobody raised a hand.

"Okay, rephrase the question. What snakes kill without biting?"

Hermione leaned over and whispered to Neville, who raised his hand. At Gilderoy's nod, he said, "Constrictor's like the Boa or Python."

"Correct, but Mrs. Norris wasn't squeezed to death. Anyone else? No? Okay, what creatures do we know petrify?"

Hermione leaned over to Harry and whispered. He raised his hand. "The cockatrice."

"A good example, I've run across one or two in my travels. But not a snake. Anyone else? No?"

"Excellent! Class homework assignment, Slytherin vs Gryffindor, find me a snake that petrifies!"

The class groaned.

"Open your books to page . . . ."

(◎_⊙)

The Second Year D.A.D.A. was almost over, less than ten minutes left, when a phoenix patronus flew into the room. The moment Gilderoy saw the silvery-blue creature he cast a muffling spell around himself and the phoenix. No one else heard it say, "Excuse me, Professor Lockhart, but Mr. Malfoy would like to speak with you. Please come to my office."

Earlier that morning, before breakfast, Gilderoy had taken a 'morning constitutional,' and walked to the front gates and left an alert charm on the gates. If Mr. Malfoy came through the gates, he would know it. Similarly, he had placed one on the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.

Unfortunately, they hadn't worked. Just his luck, instead of sending a student or Mr. Malfoy to his class, after allowing the Wizard to enter the school through his floo connection, the Headmaster had sent his bloody patronus instead.

He cast his own patronus, a hyena, and said, "Please tell Mr. Malfoy I would be delighted to meet him in my office as soon as my class is out in ten minutes," and sent it with that message. Then dismissed the muffling spell.

"All right," he said with his brilliant smile, "that should be enough for today. Next class we'll work on falling! Class dismissed!

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger, one moment please!" He really didn't want to include Ron in what was coming next, but felt it might be an opportunity to take points and add a detention or two, and farther separate him from Harry and Hermione.

"Follow me, please." He took them to his office. "Sit," he said, pointing at a couch against one wall.

"Tell me," he said, sitting behind his desk, "What do you think of the class so far? You four cover the entire range of the class, from top to bottom."

The four students looked at each other, they clearly didn't understand why he would ask them that question.

It took him a minute to get them to understand he really did want to know what they thought of his class compared to their previous Professor, and the other professors in the castle. They spent a few minutes telling him how much better he was than Quirrell. Truthfully, he didn't really care. He was just killing time. So, for the next five minutes they talked about what they thought were the strengths and weaknesses of his class. Ron, naturally, complained about the copious amounts of homework.

When Malfoy appeared, announced by Lockhart's warning chime — and the children clearly saw him walking up to the door in the mirror — Gilderoy acted with precision. With a simple swish and flick of his wand, Lockhart silenced, bound, and disillusioned the children. A second flick and a glamour made the couch appear to be a bookcase. And gave the four a front-row seat for the action.

They were about to get a lesson in manipulation: How to use an opponent's belief in their own superiority and firm belief that they were far smarter to ruin an enemy just as easily as combat.

"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy! What a surprise that you have come to see my humble self," he said as he opened the door and waved the pompous Pure-blood inside with a sweeping gesture.

"I am here on behalf of my son, Professor. It is extremely unreasonable to remove so many house points, two hundred and ninety, for a simple mistake. I, as Head of the Board of Governors for this school, cannot allow this," Lucius Malfoy said in an authoritative voice as he entered.

As the blond-haired suspected-ponce had expected, Draco had duly owled his senior about the insult the Half-blooded professor gave to the Malfoy House. And the subsequent loss of prestige for Draco. That Draco knew his father considered the peacock-dressing Wizard to be rather dim-witted only added farther insult to the matter.

"That was never my intention, Mr Malfoy," Lockhart said in unctuously. "Kindly take a seat here. Please forgive my lack of furnishings to properly honour such an important Pure-blooded and Head of an Ancient and Noble house as yourself," he continued, playing the part of someone desperately trying to placate a powerful superior. "Would you like some tea?" he said, a silver tea set appearing on his desk. "Fresh from India this morning," he added subserviently.

"Thank you," Mr. Malfoy said graciously, sitting and accepting the offered cup.

"Young Draco was lacking quite more than a little finesse in his words and I was forced to do what I did," Gilderoy said, projecting regret at what he had done. "For being a child of such an important House as Malfoy, I was surprised at his failure to employ the cunning and tact that the House of Slytherin is renowned to possess. Not to mention the insult to manners in using such a vile term in front of Miss Parkinson, a young Lady from an important House looking to affiliate itself with yours." Gilderoy had to let the Wizard know his son had transgressed Wizardly etiquette. "One simply doesn't say such things in front of Ladies."

Harry/Gilderoy didn't need legilimency to know what the Pure-blood was thinking. Just watching his expression and listening to his projected emotions gave Lockhart all he needed to know to guide the Wizard down the primrose path to wrack and ruin.

'This fraud wants nothing more than attention and whatever money he can get with it. To have me in this position must puff up his self-importance,' Malfoy thought. "I must accept that my son's behaviour was not up to your expectations, Professor," he said, condescendingly, "but losing so many house points is simply outrageous for such a minor offense."

"I can see that," Lockhart answered consolingly. "He must be very dejected at making such an unlettered fool of himself before his fellow House members." He paused as it thinking. "I suppose I could consider this as an isolated incident of childhood tendencies and reverse the punishment. As you perhaps may have heard, Mr Malfoy, things are quite negotiable with me."

'And there it is,' Lucius thought and smiled inwardly. 'He applies the touch for a bribe almost like a Pure-blood.' "What is your proposition, Mr. Lockhart? I warn you, though, I am quite good at negotiating."

"Your reputation as a negotiator precedes you, Lucius." Gilderoy said. "You don't mind if I call you Lucius, do you Mr. Malfoy?"

The Pure-blood, secure in his knowledge that he was going to soon own the idiot, nodded easily. He planned to put the berk in his place, later, after his usefulness was complete — after his son had achieved high scores and finished the class. Once the dandy was out of Hogwarts, Malfoy intended to show the twit just how dangerous it was to try to use his son in an amateurish attempt to seek favour.

"Oh, thank you." Lockhart paused again, giving the image of one who is thinking deeply. "I say you donate a knut for the first ten points taken, double that to two knuts for the second ten points on to the two hundred points, with the final sum donated to my 'Dark Arts Defence Fund.' I will happily restore the points taken and give only a single detention to your son on proper wizarding conduct. Is that agreeable to you, Lucius?"

"Knuts! I can pay you in Galleons for what you have offered, Gilderoy," Lucius said with a smile.

"Oh, that's all right. In all good conscience, I cannot charge more for such a simple mistake from a child of such a preeminent parent as yourself, Lucius. Besides, I value your friendship much more than galleons," Lockhart said with a smile and charming wink.

"Consider it done." Lucius said with a victorious smile and thinking, 'As if I would ever consider such an obvious suck-up a friend. He probably engineered that whole scene yesterday just for this chance to meet with me and pretend to do me a favour!'

"Excellent! Let's shake hands on the deal, Lucius." Gilderoy waved his wand and a parchment appeared on his desk. He quickly jotted down the terms of their agreement.

.

"In exchange for reversing ten points, one knut shall be removed from the House of Malfoy Vault to Gilderoy Lockhart's Vault for The Dark Arts Defence Fund, with the second ten points doubling that to two knuts, and so forth, on up to two hundred ninety points being reversed."

.

He signed it and spun the parchment around for Malfoy's signature. Both allowed three blood drops to hit their respective signatures. Lockhart offered his hand to the pompous arse, knowing that when they shook hands, the spell on the parchment would be completed and a copy appear on a certain Goblin's desk at Gringotts. The Goblins would immediately begin transferring 544,493 Galleons fourteen sickles, and two knuts out of the Malfoy Vaults. If Lockhart had calculated properly, that should be almost sixty percent of the entire Malfoy family's net worth.

Like most rich people, his money was in real estate, so this would easily wipe out his cash reserves. Plus, if there weren't sufficient funds in the Malfoy vault to pay the debt in galleons, and in absence of previous orders to the contrary, the Goblins would begin selling Malfoy properties until the sum was paid in full. Gilderoy expected to get several valuable moneymaking properties. And that would cripple the Malfoys' ability to make a quick recovery.

They promptly shook hands and drank the finest Champagne Lockhart had to offer. Gilderoy made a show of handing the parchment to Malfoy without bothering to make a copy for himself. "I trust you implicitly," said Lockhart, "I don't need a copy for myself." He didn't explain that a day after the transfer completed both parchments would disintegrate into dust to remove any possibility of a parchment trail for an investigator to find.

The best part was that Malfoy could not complain about the transfer, the gold simply disappeared from his vault. There would be no evidence to explain what happened. As far as anyone ever would be able to determine later, money disappeared from Mr. Malfoy's vault, for due cause according to the Goblins and approved by Mr. Malfoy — that was all the Goblins would say on the matter. That a large amount of gold appeared in Lockhart's vault at the same time was a coincidence. That several former Malfoy properties became Lockhart's was interesting, but Lockhart had clear bills of sale to show that Lockhart purchased those properties with funds from his vault. That those funds had been moved to his Vault as part of a previous transaction executed only moments before was not disclosed.

The same laws that allowed Malfoy to get away with bribing Wizengamot officials would hide and protect Gilderoy's transactions.

Both were immensely pleased with themselves.

Mr. Malfoy mistakenly believed he had the right measure of the popinjay and had managed to change his son's sticky situation with his classmates for a ridiculously small bribe. He had never purchased such influence for so little, and he had assured his son of excellent scores for the rest of the year.

Gilderoy was doing a little happy dance in his head, and suppressing the urge to do it in real life. He had just increased his vault's contents by a factor of at least a fifty. In one fell swoop, he had propelled himself into the rarefied atmosphere of the top one-tenth of a percent wealthiest Wizards in Britain — numbering less than ten Houses total. Lord Black was at the top with a net worth of two million galleons, and, until today, the Malfoys had been in the top three of that pack at about 800,000 galleons.

Oh, how he had decreased House Malfoy's wealth!

He had even reduced the Malfoy's ability to make money. Normally, when someone transfers an amount that exceeds the galleons in their vault, the Goblins begin selling off properties stating with the lowest-valued ones first. He had arranged with the Goblins that anytime anyone transferred him gold and their vault had insufficient gold to complete the transfer, the Goblins would start selling the smallest income-producing properties first and selling them to him. In essence, he was using his victim's gold to buy their properties, and then they gave him his gold back! All he did was pay a special purchase price fee of twenty-percent to the Goblins, again using the victim's gold. It was just as if the victim were giving the property to Gilderoy at no charge. And Gilderoy would get all the future income from that property, more than making up for the current loss of additional galleons in his vault.

After finishing their toasts to each other's health, Mr. Malfoy said, "I must be off, there is business I need to attend to this afternoon."

After Malfoy left, Lockhart removed the silencing, binding, and glamour charms from Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville.

"You utter bastard! You sold yourself for bloody peanuts," Ron cursed. "You are so cheap, selling yourself for bloody knuts," Ron raged. Harry Potter was looking at Gilderoy with daggers in his eyes. Neville and Hermione looked disappointed and confused.

"Remember the Legend of the Chessboard, Miss Granger?"

She frowned for a moment, then her eyes popped wide open and her mouth formed an "o" of astonished recognition. Poor Neville still looked puzzled. Harry frowned, having heard of the legend in primary math classes, but not remembering the details. As far as Harry/Gilderoy could remember, that particular cautionary math tale wasn't taught to Wizard children.

"Is the punishment sufficient, Miss Granger?" He beamed at them happily, confident in his solution. "It is not enough, don't you agree, that the younger generation learns some manners, but also the old. That should teach both Malfoys a very valuable lesson, is that not right, Miss Granger?" Lockhart smiled, showing his dazzling smile to the shocked and blushing brunette.

"And, ten points and another detention for cursing at a Professor, Mr. Weasley."

"I, I don't understand," Harry Potter said in wonder.

"Harry, can't you see, it?" Hermione said excitedly, "Mr Malfoy mistakenly believes he paid a small bribe when he actually spent a huge amount of his money!" She turned back to the adult Wizard, "Professor Lockhart that was truly sneaky."

"Huge amount of knuts? So what! Bloody hell, Hermione, you are mad." Ron admonished.

"Two detentions, now, Mr. Weasley. For your detention, Mr Weasley, calculate the exact amount of knuts Mr. Malfoy lost today and convert that to galleons. Then I want two-feet on why you should never accept a contract on finances unless you understand completely what you are signing and the particulars are described in excruciating detail."

To the others, he said, "I am sorry I had to put you under body bind, but I didn't want you to interrupt our little business deal."

"Two hundred ninety points, so he was punished twenty-nine times." Harry Potter replied.

"So Malfoy loses twice of twenty-nine, fifty-eight knuts for his behaviour, that's just two sickles! Peanuts! If that is so, he will bung it again and again, using his money to avoid punishments. This is duff!" Ron cried.

"Ron, shut up. It's not fifty-eight knuts, but . . . ," Hermione started to lecture her friends.

"Allow them to do their work, Miss Granger." Lockhart interrupted. "They should learn the value of keeping cool and working with a calm mind rather than letting their emotions dictate their actions." He stopped and sighed.

"Word spreads quickly in the Pure-blood circles and now they will remember to hold their tongues." Lockhart said. "One last thing, do not tell anyone what transpired in here today." He stared at them, blank-faced. Neville and Harry gulped at the obvious threat. "If too many people hear of this too fast, you could undo what I have done and strengthen Draco Malfoy's position in Hogwarts. It is to your benefit that we allow others to do our work for us. Miss Granger will be able to explain it to you, if you're smart enough to listen, that is." He turned his gaze on Ron for a moment before smiling broadly and tossing his hair with a slight movement. "If I hear anyone talking about this, I'll know where to find the culprits responsible for the tale, and you three will spend the rest of the year in detentions." Hermione nodded frantically at Gilderoy and gave a harsh look at Ron.

"Now that that's sorted, I thank you for your kind comments about my class and I will do my best to bestow upon all of you as much of my vast experience as I can cram into the school year.

"If I see enough improvement in the next month, I might even start a Duelling Club where you can hone your practical skills! Wouldn't that just be delicious?" He chuckled happily, rubbing his hands together. "Duelling, where you can legitimately hex your worst enemy with your Professors' approval!"

Hermione and Harry stared at him a moment, wide-eyed. Then Harry smiled. Neville looked worried. And Ron? Well, Ron merely looked constipated.

The kids left his office quietly, but no sooner did they leave than Harry/Gilderoy heard Hermione start to explain just how badly Gilderoy had shafted Malfoy.

(⊙_◎)

Gilderoy was wearing a lilac Wizarding outfit as if to a formal occasion. He stood out from the surroundings as only a true peacock can do. He knew that the neighbours were watching as he strolled down the street. Every time he saw a curtain waver he nodded, smiled broadly, and waved at the person peeping out, causing them to quickly drop the curtain and step back a moment before spying once more on the strangely dressed man.

Naturally, the Dursleys were too busy watching their favourite telly program to notice his approach until he knocked vigorously on the door.

"Little" Dudley opened the door. For an odd moment, Harry felt sad. His Dursleys had perished, along with most of the citizens of Little Whinging when a nuke had landed not more than a kilometre away from this very spot. And now, here was the little turd, all fat and obnoxious. He almost wished he could drop another nuke here.

"Mom," the gormless bully called, "There's some weirdo here." There was an inarticulate squawk from inside and the sound of hurrying feet.

The horse-faced woman that appeared next surprised Harry. He didn't remember her being this different from his mother. It was difficult to square the horse-like face and beanpole shape of this woman with the pictures of his smiling kind-faced and very curvy mother. Did they even have the same father? Or the same mother? Could one or the other be adopted? He shook his head slightly. If he found out one or the other was adopted he would draw and quarter the Headmaster, slowly — very slowly. Blood protection, indeed!

Meanwhile, his aunt was staring at him in abject horror.

He gave her his best smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Dursley, may I come in?" He pushed on the door and stepped forward, preventing any other action from her.

She was about to try to slam it in his face anyway when he added, pleasantly, "We wouldn't want to cause a scene out here for all the neighbours to see, now would we?"

Her eyes flickered to the lighted windows of the houses across the street, where she could see nosey neighbours watching closely. She stepped back, hissing, "Well, hurry then."

He walked into the sitting room.

Mr. Dursley was already struggling to his feet, "Get out, you fre. . . ."

Gilderoy's wand was at the man's throat, "Finish that word and you'll spend the last moments of your life as a pig in a slaughter house that makes bangers."

The walrus sized man collapsed back into his favourite chair. Dudley was watching with wide eyes.

Aunt 'Tunia said, "Dudley, upstairs now!"

The little turd was fast, Harry had to give him that. He was partway up the stairs by the time Harry yelled, "No, everybody in here! Right now! Sit!" Years of shouting orders in combat gave him the voice of command that garnered instant obedience. Petunia and Dudley were on the couch almost before they realized they had moved.

"I'll make this short and sweet," said the Wizard. "Did it not occur to you that those 'freaks' you are afraid of might take offense at your treatment of one of their own? That, maybe, one of them might decide to return to you exactly what you did to the boy?"

"See here, now," blustered Vernon. Petunia, on the other hand, turned white as a sheet. Dudley, of course, looked confused.

"Shut it, walrus," said Harry. He twitched his wand and the man's mouth disappeared. Such a small and targeted spell would trip no alarms looking for splashy accidental magic or the messy efforts of a child's wand.

"So, this is what you're going to do. Starting immediately, you will treat the boy as your long lost love-child or Dudley here gets to reprise every single blow he gave to Harry. And you get to explain to Child Protective Services why your 'duddykins' looks like you beat him half to death with a golf club." He added snidely, "I'm sure that saying 'it's the freak's fault' will convince a judge you're innocent." He glared at them.

"And shan't your neighbours just love the scandal." Petunia turned even paler.

"You can start with Christmas presents. Drop them off with Mrs. Figg, she'll make sure they get delivered. She's not one of us, but she has a relative who is."

He smiled, much like a shark smiles at his next meal. Petunia shrank back.

"Well, now that that's sorted, I'll say goodbye." The smile disappeared. "And you had better hope you never have reason to see me again." He walked to the door. "I'll see myself out, thank you." He flicked his wand and Vernon's mouth came back.