crossoverfic | FIC: A Godfather in Gotham, PG-13, Harry Potter/Batman, Chapter 4.

Author: serendu
Disclaimers: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing also DC comics and their subsidiaries. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Pairing: None
Notes: Batman/Hp xover. Harry Potter wasn’t the only person in Hogwarts with a godfather.

Apologies for the delay in this – the chapter took longer than anticipated. Please bear in mind that I am very busy and fic writing is so far down the list of priorities that it is on another page! Thanks to all the reviewers – I do appreciate each and every one.

Chapter 4. Baby You Can Drive My Car.

Previous parts can be found here at my journal: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

***

It took over a week for Hermione to manage to get hold of Harry and pluck up the courage to ask him about his family. Fortunately for her, whilst sitting and reading her new copy of Hogwarts, a History early one Sunday morning in the common room, Harry appeared and sat down opposite. He explained that Ron was still abed, and although he had tried to go back to sleep for a nice lie-in, he hadn’t managed to do so.

After a while, he pulled out some parchment and began doodling on the corners of his potions notes, his mind obviously elsewhere. Hermione screwed up her courage, put down her book and regarded him for a moment before finally asking; ‘Harry?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I was wondering – you live with your Aunt and Uncle – don’t you?’

‘Hmm.’ The tone indicated Harry’s happiness about that.

‘They aren’t magical are they?’

‘Nope.’

‘What do they do?’ Harry looked up, a vaguely suspicious expression on his face. ‘I mean – for work? Your uncle and aunt work – right?’ She paused then added hurriedly seeing his face hadn’t changed, ‘My parents are both dentists.’

‘Uncle Vernon works for a drill company.’ Harry grudgingly answered. ‘Aunt Petunia is a housewife.’ He ducked his head back down to view his doodles and scribbled the last one out forcefully.

‘Oh.’ Hermione paused, wondering how to get more information. ‘My mum took time off when I was little.’

‘Aunt Petunia doesn’t work.’ Harry said, abstractly, now focussed back on his drawings, ‘I don’t think Uncle Vernon would let her…’

‘Does he think a woman’s place in the kitchen?’

‘Unless there’s a freak there.’ Harry muttered.

Hermione blinked. ‘Pardon?’

Harry looked up and realised Hermione had heard what he had said. ‘Erm, its nothing.’ He looked back at his parchment, hiding his face. ‘I don’t think Uncle Vernon likes the idea of a woman working.’ He added a line to his now complex drawing. ‘It isn’t like they need the money anyway. Uncle Vernon buys a nice new car every year.’

‘A new car every year?’ Hermione said disbelievingly.

Harry looked up at his friend and nodded, obviously confused by her surprise.

‘Goodness.’ Hermione did some rapid calculations in her head. ‘The only person I know who does things like that is my uncle Bruce.’ She saw Harry looking intrigued. ‘Well, he isn’t really my uncle – he’s my godfather – but I call him my uncle.’ She explained. ‘He doesn’t have any children – at least – not yet – so he tends to spoil me a bit.’ She bit her lip before speaking hurriedly. ‘Don’t tell Ron? He seems a bit… well, sensitive about money…’ She trailed off.

‘No problem. I understand.’ Harry said.

They were both quiet for a while, Hermione returning to her book and Harry adding more detail to his picture.

‘What’s he like anyway?’ Harry asked. ‘Your godfather I mean.’ He explained when Hermione looked up.

‘Bruce?’ Hermione pondered her godfather. ‘Rich. Tall. Strong. Fabulous. Spends more cash in a day on something pointless than most people spend in a year on essentials. Has women falling over themselves to get to him.’ She paused, and then set down her book. ‘He is very wealthy – and because of that he’s quite well known.’ She looked over at Harry. ‘In some ways you’re kind of like him. His parents died when he was quite young too – and everyone gossips about him.’

‘Does he… like it? The attention?’

‘In some ways. He tends to think it’s hilarious if it is really wrong.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I think he makes some of the crazier stories up himself sometimes – because it makes him laugh.’ She smiled over at her friend. ‘I think you two would get along. Maybe I should introduce you.’

***
Hogwarts Library,
Hogwarts School
Unplottable Place
Scotland
United Kingdom

Dear Uncle Bruce,

School is back in session. The classes are going as well as can be expected – except of course for Professor Snape who insists on making sure the Slytherins get as many points as possible and bullying Harry and poor Neville Longbottom while he does it. Oh, and Draco Malfoy is still an obnoxious toad. One day he’s going to go too far – and then we’ll see how good my transfiguration skills are!

I’ve found a few empty rooms to practice my self defence too. I pretend I’m studying in the library – the boys think that I live there anyway – so they don’t really miss me.

As for what we discussed on the phone. Well. I’ve spoken to Harry. It turns out – his Uncle Vernon works for a drill company and his aunt is a housewife. So I thought that maybe they aren’t earning much money. Then, Harry said, and I quote, this:

“Uncle Vernon buys a nice new car every year.”

My parents are dentists. They do both NHS and Private care. They do not make enough money to buy a new car every year. Nor do they make enough to buy a new car every other year.

Harry’s shoes let in water. Harry got given fifty pence for Christmas. Harry’s trousers don’t fit him. Harry has never had a proper eye test – in spite of him wearing glasses. Harry has, on occasion referred to himself as a “freak” and once muttered something about sleeping in a cupboard – for years.

It seems to me like Uncle Vernon is buying things for himself – but nothing for his nephew - and maybe worse.

I do find it odd that it seems like I’m the only person who has noticed this. Surely the teachers check up on home situations? Although I will admit that I don’t think the Wizarding world understands muggle clothing – my roommates – Lavender and Parvati were appalled with the clothes I use for exercising. I had to pretend it was something I wear to bed – underneath my nightie! Honestly! So maybe they all think that what Harry is wearing is normal? Even though it really isn’t.

I’m also concerned that maybe someone has been interfering with Harry’s home situation – he has mentioned occasions when he did accidental magic as a child – yet anything he did seemed to be fixed really quickly. It seems really odd – especially considering how you had to suffer through a week of a shaved head after… well, the Kitchen Incident as Alfred calls it. So I think that maybe I need to do things a bit more… unethical than I would prefer.

So, this is what I would like – and please say no if you don’t want to do it.

I want to have Harry’s Uncle Vernon buy him some new clothes.

I want to see where all this money for new cars is coming from.

I want…

I want the drill company – located (I think) in Surrey, where “Uncle Vernon” works. I want it.

Buy it for me. Please.

All my love,

Hermione.

***

At Kings Cross Station, Hermione kept a sharp look out. As she hugged both her parents, she watched, surreptitiously as Harry was met by his family.

Her eyes narrowed.

She was glad she now knew what Vernon Dursley looked like.

She had plans for him.

***

He sniffed, and she guessed he was distinctly unimpressed with what 4.7 million pounds had bought in terms of drill factories. Grunnings was certainly less than impressive. She hoped Bruce had set aside some money for cleaning this place up – it was a dump.

She pulled a face as Bruce took her hand. He definitely was not impressed. She sighed, she was old enough to look after herself these days - so she shrugged off his hand and made her way to the entrance.

Vernon Dursley was hers.

***

She checked her appearance in the mirror. Patted down her impossible hair, smoothed down her dress and took a deep breath. It was time. Dursley’s time was up. She left the toilets without hesitation, and made her way, slowly but surely to where her unsuspecting victim was standing.

‘Mr Dursley is it?’ She held out her hand for the man to shake.

‘Yes indeed.’ Dursley shook her hand and puffed up his chest, obviously pleased to be speaking to the new boss’s goddaughter.

‘Oh, I am pleased.’ She said. ‘I’m determined to learn all the names as quickly as possible.’ She smiled sunnily up at him.

Dursley smarmily smiled back down at her, and seemed to be eying her up speculatively. ‘I have a son around your age.’ He said.

Hermione blinked. ‘Really?’ She queried politely, debating how to work this conversation to her advantage.

‘My boy Dudley.’ He said proudly. ‘Attends the finest school in the county – Smeltings.’

‘Smeltings…’ Hermione trailed off. ‘Now, I’m sure I’ve heard that in conversation recently.’ she frowned, as though deep in thought. ‘Oh – I remember – one of my classmates mentioned his cousin goes there…’ She paused. ‘Funnily enough – now I think of it – his cousin is called Dudley as well.’ She waited.

Dursley seemed oblivious. ‘What a coincidence!’

‘In fact… My classmate – well – he’s actually a very close friend…’ She amended, ‘lives with his aunt and uncle. And, curiously enough – his uncle is called Vernon too.’ She watched as the realisation began to dawn on the man.

‘Your nephew is Harry Potter isn’t he?’ She added, watching gleefully as the man in front of her slowly turned pale. ‘He goes to Hogwarts with me.’ She moved in for the kill. ‘In fact, Harry was the reason I got so interested in drills in the first place. He told me all about you, Mr Dursley.’ She took a breath, ‘In fact, you aren’t like I pictured you at all – Harry’s so small and skinny, and wears such... well… lets be honest – appalling clothes – but you’re so… robust and clearly wear nice enough suits.’ She paused. ‘I suppose it must be from his father’s side – genetics you know, and his clothes must be like that because he wants to wear that kind of stuff – right?’

Dursley’s face had gone from a pale pink, to a greenish hue and was now hovering somewhere around the red mark as Hermione spoke.

‘I did wonder whether he had some issues at home with his trainers held together with tape, and a piece of rope for a belt, and a whole fifty pence for Christmas – because its not like his family don’t love and cherish him is it?’ She hissed.

‘Now look here, girl…’

‘Boorsley right?’ An arm wrapped around her shoulders. Hermione leaned back and gloated over the now apoplectic Vernon Dursley. Her work here today was done.

***

‘Hermione!’ Her mother’s voice rang out, utterly appalled.

Hermione winced. Perhaps mentioning the whole - Uncle Bruce bought me a company because I asked him to – should not have been spoken about near her parents. ‘But… Mum…’

‘Not another word!’ Her mother said, towering over her, as she cringed next to Bruce on the sofa in her parents’ lounge. ‘I have never been so ashamed of you…’

‘Helen.’ Bruce interrupted. ‘Please – let me finish?’

Helen Granger turned and glared at Bruce. ‘Go on then – explain to me exactly why you spent over four million pounds on a whim of my daughter’s?’

Bruce winced as he slumped back on the sofa, next to a still cringing Hermione.

‘If I may… Mrs Granger?’ Alfred’s calm voice was a welcome distraction.

‘Fine.’ Her mother said, before matching back to her chair and sitting down with a distinct huff. ‘Explain.’

‘May I ask what you know of the Wizarding world?’

‘Very little.’ An angry looking Steve Granger muttered glaring at his daughter and her co-conspirator.

‘It seemed to be rather antiquated.’ Her mother added.

‘Very.’ Bruce said grimly.

Hermione frowned and turned to her godfather. ‘You’ve been to one of the enclaves?’

Bruce glanced at her. ‘Yes – but we’ll discuss that later. Go ahead Alfred.’

Alfred waited until they turned their attention back to him. ‘The Wizarding world is indeed very antiquated.’ Alfred said with a nod in Mrs Granger’s direction. ‘Their ways seem quaint to us – even ridiculous and outdated.’

‘I fail to see what this has to do with him spending so much money on her.’ Her mother said, using her hand to jab in the direction of the sofa.

Alfred paused, allowing her to regain her clam. ‘Your daughter has been introduced to a world that has little interaction with her own. As I understand it, they wouldn’t know anything about televisions, computers, the internet…’ He trailed off, waiting for Hermione to confirm what he had said.

‘That’s right.’ She agreed. ‘I think they have a radio network or something – but they call it wireless – like Granny used to. They do have a train – obviously – but that is a steam engine.’

‘Indeed.’ Alfred smiled at her. ‘It is safe to conclude that – for example – current non-magical clothing is something beyond their knowledge.’

Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘That’s an understatement. The girls I share a room with were outraged when they saw my gym stuff.’ She smirked at her mother. ‘As for my underwear…’

Hermione’s mother looked puzzled, thinking of the clothes she had sent her daughter off to school with. ‘What was wrong with what you’ve got?’

‘Nothing – for me and you – and most of the rest of the world.’ She paused. ‘But Lavender uses… well, bloomers I think they’re called.

‘Bloomers?’ Her mother looked bewildered. Then she appeared to understand what Hermione meant. ‘You mean the ones with…’ She gestured with her hands. Hermione nodded. Her mother looked stunned. ‘Well.’

‘I know Mum.’ Hermione snickered. ‘I think they think you’re some kind of scarlet woman after I said you’d picked them out for me.’

Hermione’s mother was in shock. ‘Really?’ She asked faintly.

Alfred cleared his throat. ‘I fear we have wandered off topic.’ He said delicately. ‘Perhaps if I may continue?’ At the rooms’ nods he began, ‘As I said – their knowledge of current trends are somewhat limited.’

‘I’ll say! Bloomers!’ Her mother muttered.

‘Consequently, something that would be obvious to us – would be missed by them.’

‘Such as?’ Her father asked.

‘Harry.’ Hermione said, bluntly.

‘Your friend?’ Her mother said, looking puzzled.

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. She looked at Bruce, and then at Alfred, who nodded encouragingly. ‘I noticed his clothes first – they were dreadful.’ She began. ‘I knew from reading about the-boy-who-lived that his family were meant to be wealthy – so I wondered why he wore those rags.’ She took a breath. ‘Then I spoke to Uncle Bruce who pointed out that maybe the family he lives with aren’t wealthy.’ She paused and looked over at her parents, eyes glimmering with a hint of tears. ‘Only when I spoke to him – he said his aunt doesn’t need to work and his uncle buys a new car every year. That his cousin is spoiled and has everything – but he has trainers that are falling apart and jeans that don’t fit and t-shirts with holes and… and… and…’

‘We took a closer look at the accounts of the company.’ Bruce said, watching Hermione carefully as she tried to stop herself from crying. He leant over and wrapped an arm around her, and then he looked over to her parents. ‘Dursley’s been skimming a bit here and a bit there – enough to be noticeable. And yet…’ He trailed off, ‘It’s been audited – four times – and not once did anyone pick up on the discrepancies.’

‘Only they did.’ Hermione interjected with a sniff, having calmed herself down.

‘Yes they did.’ Bruce let go of her, and then leant forward, looking at her parents meaningfully. ‘Only those records vanished and the company carried on exactly as it had been for years.’

‘Vanished…’ Her father said. ‘Like… Magic?’

Bruce nodded once.

‘And… Harry?’ Her mother said her hand close to her mouth.

‘Abused. Probably.’ Bruce stated. ‘But it looks like the custody laws – what there is of them in the Wizarding world – are vastly outdated. Harry is virtually a prisoner thanks to them – until he comes of age.’

‘They can do anything.’ Hermione hissed. ‘Anything.’

‘Any intervention needed to be kept off the radar.’ Bruce added. ‘We needed something which could be kept under wraps.’

‘We believe that a number of calls to the authorities – social services and the like have also… vanished.’ Alfred stated.

There was a long pause as the adults digested this.

‘So you bought the company.’ Her father stated. ‘I’m not saying I’m happy – but…’ He considered the arguments. ‘Accounts move out of the building?’ Bruce nodded. ‘No more skimming for Dursley?’

‘He has to shape up.’ Bruce said. ‘It might be easy to hide – magically – in a small company like Grunnings…’

‘But a global conglomerate doesn’t keep a tiny piece of the company going if it isn’t profitable.’

‘And you get leverage over Dursley.’

‘Precisely.’ Bruce smiled a smile that was very unpleasant.

‘I’m not happy either.’ Her mother interjected. ‘I still can’t see why something else – less extreme perhaps…’

‘He saved my life mum!’ Hermione had finally had enough of her mother’s criticism. ‘I was going to die!’

‘Exaggeration is not going to help…’ Her mother began.

‘It was a troll – correct?’ Bruce said. ‘Alfred – do you have the book with the pictures and descriptions of trolls?’

Alfred pulled out one of the books he had brought, flicked to a page and handed the book to her father.

Mr Granger took it. He audibly gulped then passed the book to his wife in the chair next to him. She visibly blanched.

Her father closed his eyes for a long moment and then spoke. ‘I don’t want you going back there.’ He said, looking over to his daughter.

‘Ahem.’ Alfred interrupted before Hermione could speak. ‘I regret to inform you Sir, that removing your daughter from Hogwarts is not possible.’

‘Excuse me?’ Her father said disbelievingly. ‘She’s twelve years old – she does what I tell her!’

‘I’m afraid the rules that apply to Mr Potter also apply to your daughter sir.’ Alfred said delicately. ‘As we have noted – Mr Potter’s circumstances have been somewhat manipulated by some magical means.’

Her father nodded impatiently. ‘So?’ He demanded.

‘All children – in the Wizarding world have parents or guardians who are magical.’ Bruce said. ‘As you and Helen are not…’

‘The school automatically appoints a guardian who supersedes you as parents.’ Alfred finished.

Both Hermione and her parents were stunned.

‘Supersedes?’ Hermione said, turning to Bruce. ‘How? Why?’

Bruce took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘They think non magical people aren’t intelligent enough to make decision for their magical children.’ He looked over to Alfred.

‘Indeed sir. In the 1860’s a precedent was set – a non magical couple tried to remove their son from Hogwarts…’

‘And?’ Her father asked warily.

‘Their memories of their child were wiped.’ Bruce said. ‘Their child was made to forget his parents. It was decided that they were too big a risk to leave alone with the knowledge of the world that had stolen their child - as the parents saw it.’ He saw the horror on the three faces looking at him. ‘If you take her out of school – you might be lucky enough to remember that you two are married to each other.’ He looked down at Hermione and then back over to her parents. ‘It depends on the guardian appointed and how much risk you are thought to represent.’ He paused. ‘You two are educated professionals – I imagine they would consider you to be quite… high risk.’

‘But that’s awful’ Hermione broke out. ‘That isn’t in any of the books I read…’

‘It isn’t something they care to advertise – not to those joining their world.’ Bruce pointed out. ‘I only noticed and investigated when I was looking into your friend’s circumstances.’

‘So – if my parents are considered a threat – they’ll take me away?’ Hermione asked brokenly.

‘You have been allowed to remain with your parents – as per your guardian’s decision.’ Alfred said.

The ramifications of this sank in around the room.

‘Wait.’ Her mother held up a hand. ‘Surely if Hermione has a guardian – then her friend Harry has too – can’t they do something about his situation?’

Bruce and Alfred exchanged glances.

‘They already did, Mrs Granger.’ Bruce said quietly. ‘They left him there in the first place.’

***

It was a new day. Hermione now knew what she could and couldn’t do. She was ready. She glanced at her watch. Bruce and Alfred would be there in a few minutes.

She made her way downstairs pondering last night’s revelations. It had been shocking. Fortunately it had led to a very frank discussion between the five of them, and Hermione felt that she and her parents were much closer than they were before. She slipped into the kitchen and gave her mother and then her father a hug before making her way to the front door and going outside in the sunshine.

Minutes later a sleek and gleaming Rolls Royce pulled up outside her front garden.

‘I’ll see you later!’ She called back to her parents and closed the front door, before skipping down to the car where Alfred was already holding the door open for her.

‘Are you ready?’ A relaxed Bruce Wayne asked sunglasses on.

‘Very.’ Hermione said, as Alfred closed the door behind her. ‘Get Harry. Go shopping.’

Alfred got into the front seat and started off on the journey across to Surrey.

‘Any other plans?’ Bruce queried.

‘Other than kicking the vile Dursleys while I’m there?’

‘Nothing like subtlety…’ Bruce trailed off.

‘I’m done with subtle.’ Hermione said. ‘They can’t touch me.’ She fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Not when I’m the adored goddaughter of Brainless Bruce Wayne.’

Bruce grinned. ‘I like your style.’ He took off his sunglasses and placed then on her face. ‘Much better. Never let them see your eyes – it makes them wonder who you intend to strike first.’

‘Not “strike where” sir?’ Alfred said.

‘Definitely not “where”.’ Bruce said, leaning back on the seat. ‘It’s always "who".’

***

‘It’s so… same-y.’ Hermione said, wrinkling her nose as she looked out at the streets of Little Whinging.

‘Pretentious.’ Alfred sniffed from the front seat. ‘No class except the grasping classes.’

‘Thank you Alfred.’ Bruce said, seemingly amused by the sudden snobbishness of his very correct butler. He leaned over to Hermione, ‘If I had said that…’

‘You would be told off by Alfred.’ Hermione said laughingly.

The two of them cackled, before straightening up and presenting a very proper pose for the people of Little Whinging.

‘I feel like I should do a regal wave.’ Hermione said as she noticed the people paying attention to the car. ‘Are we close?’

‘I believe we are Miss.’ Alfred said, turning into a cul-de-sac. 'Number four… appears to be the one with the immaculate garden.’

‘Harry’s work.’ Hermione said. ‘He has to look after the house and the garden.’

‘I shall have to consult with him about some of our gardens then.’ Alfred said. ‘He appears to have quite the green finger.’

Alfred stopped the car, got out and then opened the door for Hermione. They all sensed the twitching net curtains as the neighbours observed the car in their street. ‘Good luck.’ Whispered Alfred with a wink.

Hermione walked slowly up to the immaculate front door. She could see the net curtain in the front room move, and knew they had seen her arrive. She pressed the doorbell firmly.

A horse-faced woman answered the door. ‘Yes?’

‘Good afternoon Mrs Dursley.’ Hermione said brightly. ‘I’m Hermione Granger.’

Mrs Dursley looked confused.

‘I thought I would be expected.’ Hermione added. ‘I met your husband yesterday – although I might not have mentioned that I would be here today… But never mind! Is he ready?’

‘Who?’

‘Harry.’ Hermione said. ‘I don’t have all day you know.’ And with that she pushed open the door, and stepped past a shocked Mrs Dursley. ‘Harry!’ She shouted. ‘Are you here?’ She pushed the door so it was nearly closed.

A muffled voice answered.

‘Now see here…’ Mrs Dursley had finally recovered from her shock.

‘No you see here.’ Hermione turned and prodded her. ‘I own your husband’s company – you can ask him if you don’t believe me. Harry is my friend – and today he is coming with me.’ With that she marched up the stairs and yelled again, ‘Harry!’

‘Hermione?’ A muffled and bewildered voice said from behind a bolted and locked door.

‘You locked him in?’ Hermione hissed at Mrs Dursley. ‘Open it. Now.’

‘I most certainly will not.’ Mrs Dursley sniffed and folded her arms.

‘You have one minute to open this door – or I march back out of this house and tell my godfather sitting in the car – yes – the Rolls – outside to fire your husband because you were mean to me.’

Mrs Dursley scoffed.

‘What?’ Hermione said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘You think the beloved goddaughter of Bruce Wayne doesn’t get anything she wants?’ Mrs Dursley paled. ‘Oh his name means something to you does it?’ Hermione said, gleefully. ‘Then I suggest you open the door – NOW.’

Mrs Dursley opened the door with shaking hands. ‘There.’ She said unsteadily.

‘Hermione?’ A stunned looking Harry stood in the middle of a miserable looking room. ‘What on earth…?’

‘No time to talk.’ Hermione said, holding up her hand. She looked at him. ‘Well, you’ve got your shoes on – so you’ll do – come here.’

Harry slowly walked over to her.

‘I don’t have time for this.’ Hermione said, and grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the room and down the stairs behind her.

‘Woah – what are you doing?’ Harry said, trying not to fall down the stairs.

‘Muuuuuum!’ A voice whined. ‘There’s a Rolls outside – is it Dad’s new car?’

Hermione suddenly stopped. She turned to Harry. ‘Your cousin?’

Harry nodded, apparently giving up on trying to understand his crazy friend and was now resigned to being amused by situation. She realised with bemusement that he had learned to let her have her way when she was in moods like this.

‘Right.’ She dragged Harry into the living room and stopped short of the blonde boy waddling toward her.

‘Mum! The freak’s here – with a girl!’

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. ‘Dudley Dursley?’

‘Yeah?’ He eyed her up and down. ‘What you doing with the freak? Are you a freak too?’

She lashed out a vicious kick that her godfather had taught her.

Dudley howled in agony.

‘Oh shut up you pathetic moron.’ Hermione said. Then she leant closer. ‘And no – the car outside is not your father’s – it’s my godfather’s.’ She straightened up and smirked. ‘He’s your dad’s new boss.’ She saw that slowly sink in. ‘And Harry,’ she emphasised his name, ‘is my friend. So you’d better be nice…’ She turned and started to drag Harry out of the room.

‘Bye Dudley.’ Harry said, giving him a cheeky wave.

Hermione saw Mrs Dursley eying her from where she stood on the middle of the stairs. ‘I’m taking Harry shopping.’ She said. ‘He will be getting all new clothes – not the kind of rags you dress him in.’ She spat, and Mrs Dursley cringed. ‘When I bring him back – you will feed him a decent meal. You will let him do his homework. You will not treat him as a slave…’ She saw Mrs Dursley was about to interrupt and held up a hand, ‘I know you like to consider them chores – but they are only appropriate – if your son does the same work as your nephew.’

She waited and finally Mrs Dursley nodded. ‘Good. I hope things will improve – I will be watching – understand?’ She kept hold of Harry’s hand as she made for the door. ‘Oh – and one last thing – I spoke to my parents about what’s going on here and they said one thing that I’ll repeat. You should be ashamed of yourself Mrs Dursley.’

She swung open the door and marched out to the car, triumphantly dragging Harry along behind her.

***

Thoughts, comments, queries?