Harry Potter and the Mustardpot of Doom
by lantana2
Another Harry Potter parody taken from the Fantasy Archers topic of
Together, Harry and Dumbledore entered the pensieve. There was darkness, and then Harry, blinking, found himself in what appeared to be a sparsely furnished and old-fashioned Muggle office.
A much younger, red haired Dumbledore was sitting on the visitor's side of a desk talking to a middle aged woman. The woman wore some kind of navy uniform. Harry could see that she had once had a pretty face, but now this was lined and careworn.
"So, you're certain that he has a place at your school?", the woman was saying.
"Quite sure, Mrs Tucker", replied Dumbledore calmly. "His name has been down since birth".
"Well, that doesn't sound quite right to me", said the woman called Mrs Tucker. She had a strong Midlands accent. She frowned slightly at Dumbledore. "Hogwarts? Sherborne, now, I'm sure…"
"I think this will explain everything, Mrs Tucker," Dumbledore interrupted, handing Mrs Tucker a piece of paper. She read it and a rather glazed look came over her. "Well", she said rather blankly, "yes, that all does seem to be in order. Would you care for a drink, Professor er, Bumbledoom?"
Mrs Tucker reached for a bottle of Archers Peach Schnapps, which Harry was certain had not been on the desk a moment ago, and poured a glass for herself and for Dumbledore. She drank hers in a moment and poured another.
"A most charming place", said Dumbledore, politely. "Have you worked at The Laurels long, Mrs Tucker?"
"About five years", Mrs Tucker replied, "since it became a Children's Â鶹ԼÅÄ. It was a retirement home once, you know, we used to come here and visit, Roy and me…", she broke off, mopping her eyes with a tissue and pouring herself another glass of peach schnapps. "Turning it into a Children's Â鶹ԼÅÄ seemed to make sense, with everything that was happening. Not too many left to retire…." She suddenly looked at Dumbledore sharply. "How long can he stay, then?" she demanded, "how long can he stay at this school?"
"Until he is eighteen", Dumbledore replied. "If necessary, he will be able to remain at Hogwarts for the entire school year, but he will have to return to you for the summer holidays".
"Oh, well", said Mrs Tucker, taking another hefty swig, "that's better than a guided tour from Bert Fry, I suppose".
"You have had some difficulties with the boy?", Dumbledore enquired gently.
"I wouldn't say difficulties, exactly.... you can't put your finger on it, he always seems so charming, so polite, but…." She hesitated. Harry saw that another bottle of Archers had appeared on the desk. Mrs Tucker noticed it and brightened. She leaned confidentially towards Dumbledore. "Inshidents", she said.
"Incidents", repeated Dumbledore, "of what nature, exactly?".
"It started at Â鶹ԼÅÄ Farm you know", breathed Mrs Tucker, still leaning towards Dumbledore. "Mysterious deaths, never explained, and then well, it spread, there…". She seemed to be remembering something, broke off and reached for another tissue.
Dumbledore patted her hand. "Perhaps I should see the boy", he murmured. "It may help me to understand". Mrs Tucker stood up with surprising alertness, thought Harry, considering the amount of Archers which had been consumed. "I'll take you up to his room", she said briskly, "He's in the Marjorie Antrobus wing". They left the office, Harry and the older Dumbledore following invisibly. "Dear Marjorie", murmured the older Dumbledore to Harry. "A most invaluable member of the Order. She it was who alerted me… Ah, here we are".
Mrs Tucker and the younger Dumbledore had paused outside a white painted door. There was a name on it - R. Donovan. Suddenly, Harry understood what they were doing there.
"It's him, isn't it, sir?" he exclaimed to the older Dumbledore. "It's He Who Can Not Be Spelled". "R U A I R I", replied Dumbledore gravely. "Always call things by their proper names, Harry. Shall we go in?".
***
They entered the room behind Mrs Tucker and the younger Dumbledore. A boy, a tall, handsome, red haired boy of about eleven was standing by the window. At the sight of them, he smiled engagingly. "Hello", he said.
"Good morning, Ruairi", said the younger Dumbledore. "I am Albus Brian Patrick Wulfric Dumbledore, Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School". The handsome boy frowned and looked away. "Does something bother you, Ruairi?", Dumbledore asked. "I don't like the name Brian", Donovan replied sulkily.
"Ruairi, that's really rude", Mrs Tucker said crossly. "Apologise to Professor er Dundlebum at once". "I'm so sorry, Professor", she said hastily turning to Dumbledore, "it's just that Mr Aldridge, you see…"
"Please don't trouble yourself, Mrs Tucker", Dumbledore replied. "I see I have inadvertently picked up this bottle of peach schnapps - perhaps you could return it to the office?" "Bloomin' Archers", said Mrs Tucker, "I'm going to have to give it up". She went out, closing the door behind her, murmuring "I met another professor once, when was that now?" Harry noticed that she was keeping a tight hold on the bottle.
As the door closed, Donovan turned to face Dumbledore, giving him a long, searching stare. "Are you a shrink?" he demanded. "She said that's what I needed". "Mrs Tucker?" enquired Dumbledore. Ruairi sneered. "No, not her, the old witch, Piggy I called her, I fixed her…" He broke off noticing the expression on Dumbledore's face.
"No, Ruairi, I am not a psychiatrist, I am a teacher", said Dumbledore. "And you may wish to modify your references to witches. You see I have come to offer you a place at the school where I teach, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You yourself, Ruairi, are a wizard".
Harry remembered how he had learned that he had magic powers, how surprised and disbelieving he had been. But Donovan did not seemed startled. An expression of elation appeared on his face. Harry moved back. In the Chamber, he had seen that expression himself on the face of He Who Cannot…..of Ruairi, he corrected himself.
"I knew it" Donovan exclaimed, "Mammy said I was just magic. Even he said it at first, I was his own special boy. He bought me ice creams and toys and I could play in the maze for as long as I liked. She tried to stop it, though". Donovan frowned again. He mimicked in a twittery voice, 'It's not good for the boy, Brian. He has to have a routine, and eat proper meals. I'm too old to chase about finding him so late at night'. He took no notice of course, until after…." He broke off and looked again at Dumbledore. "It was an accident", Donovan continued more quietly and defensively, "alright? It was a heavy casserole, she reached up to the shelf and it just fell, ok? After that, he just went to pieces, 'forgive me, darling, what have I done?' He didn't want me anymore, I went to the Hall".
"And there were more accidents?" asked Dumbledore, although Harry could hear it was not really a question. "Some", said Donovan. "They weren't my fault", he said loudly, "whatever anyone said. The twins were ok afterwards, and that stupid statue, that wasn't my fault either… he always said he wanted to meet his Great Uncle Rupert and then there was such a fuss.. I said I was sorry. Mammy told me to always say sorry afterwards."
"Ruairi", said Dumbledore quietly, "I believe that one day you will be a powerful wizard. Magic is a strong force which can destroy. At my school you will learn to control it, to use it wisely and well. Are you prepared for that?"
Donovan gave Dumbledore a long appraising stare. "Alright", he said. His expression was unreadable.
"Alright, sir," said Dumbledore. "You will treat the Professors at Hogwarts with respect, Ruairi".
"Alright….sir", replied Donovan. He hesitated and then said, "Why I am a wizard... sir? Were my parents magical? Not him, surely, but my mammy died, so she can't have been magic". Donovan's face clouded. Harry remembered Lily and to his surprise felt a twinge of compassion for He Who Cannot Be Spelled.
"Some students at Hogwarts have no magical parentage", Dumbledore explained kindly, "They are what we call Muggle-borns. Non-magical people are Muggles"
Donovan glared, "Not me", he said hotly, "I'm not a Muggle like that lot in Ambridge. It must have been my mammy, she must have been a witch"
"Let us see", Dumbledore replied, "pass me that box, Ruairi".
