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Little Whinging
–Albus Dumbledore–
His smile remained plastered on his face, even if a bit strained, as he withdrew his mental probe from Petunia's mind. He loathed the fact that he had to do it, but he was not getting any straight answers from her.
She kept talking in circles, deflecting any questions about the unquestionable change in both Harry's so-called hobbies, why they supported them as enthusiastically as they did, and just where they got the money to do so.
Even if he was a bit removed from the workings of the Muggle world, he knew that hiring private tutors for even a single subject was expensive, certainly not something that Vernon Dursley should have been able to afford, not with their current lifestyle.
Not to mention Harry was getting private education for not just his martial arts training, but also for his studies, he had his own nutritionist, personal doctor who determined what to eat and when to eat for Harry's best health.
He was of the opinion that wizards were much hardier than Muggles, hence they did not require such careful consideration, but that was not relevant here.
Studies. Sports. Piano. Martial Arts.
All of that combined must have cost the Dursleys a fortune.
"Is that all?" His mind was still stuck in those thoughts as Petunia spoke up. He looked up and nodded, the visit eliciting more questions than answers as he nodded, "Uh-yes. That will be all, for now. I will be back later on to talk to Harry. Thank you for your time and thank you, for taking care of Harry."
Her face gained a difficult look, as if the very compliment had been sour to digest. Which was understandable since Vernon was somehow getting ridiculous amounts of money from somewhere and explicitly ordering her to take care of Harry. No, taking care would be the wrong phrase for it.
They were lavishing Harry with everything he could ever need, and she had no idea what brought about this change in Vernon, only the fact that they would lose their house, Vernon's job, everything if they did not treat Harry with the utmost care, respect and in some cases, fear.
In theory, it was great for Harry. While muggles did not have the gift of magic, they had clearly and cleverly adapted to the lack of it, building a functioning society around it. They had more than ample insight into child-rearing, judging by their numbers and with the amount of money being thrown at making sure that Harry grew up to the best possible version of a Muggle Harry, he should have been assured.
He should have been relieved that Harry was indeed being taken care of, not just being tolerated by the Dursleys because of the implicit threat of a wizard coming to knock their whole lives down if they so much as touched Harry, and yet, all it did was fill him with a sense of unease.
He had placed Harry with the Dursleys because of the Blood Wards and also because it would have been unthinkable to anyone in Wizarding Britain for their hero to be placed with a family of Muggles, with little to no contact with anything involving magic.
It was his hope that anonymity, more than the Blood Wards, would be the best defense for Harry, and for the past decade, it had clearly worked, better than he had expected it to even.
And yet, from what he gathered from Petunia's mind, it was clear that things had changed. Harry was no longer anonymous here. Someone had clearly taken note of Harry, and had taken steps to ensure that he was being trained.
For what? By who? And how did they come to know of him? How did they bypass the Wards?
All questions that he had no answer for.
He sighed as Petunia slammed the door shut behind him, and the sound of it being latched multiple times was a clear message for him from the bigoted Muggle.
You are not welcome here.
And yet, he would have to wait. For Vernon to come back. He had some questions for Vernon as well but judging by his unwillingness to tell the secret to even his wife, he was sure that he would have to employ mind magic once more.
He did not like it, but from the circumstances, it would seem to be necessary.
Depending on what he saw, he might have to make some drastic decisions. He had come here to ascertain whether Harry was ready to receive magical training for him or not, but now he was thinking of moving Harry out of here altogether.
Only the happy expressions he saw on Harry's face whenever he got to train anything he wanted to, no questions asked, stopped him. From the very recent memories he got from Petunia, he could clearly see that Harry enjoyed it all.
The sports. The piano. The Martial Arts. The private tutoring.
He was excelling in school. He got every luxury he asked for and was clearly thriving. To uproot Harry from that, and thrust him into magical training would be cruel.
It would have been one thing for him to be admitted directly to Hogwarts. The sheer wonder of magic would have made him forget anything he could get in the Muggle world but just magical training, even if it was basic, would make him lose interest quickly, since all Harry would have for comparison would be his, frankly, luxurious daily schedule.
And just like that, he had an answer to, at least, one of his questions.
No, he could not just start training Harry privately. While the danger of Tom was ever present, it would be all for naught if Harry ended up hating magic because it upended his perfect life. No, Harry had to love Magic, to become proficient in it. Proficient enough to defend the likes of Tom, who must have clearly grown far stronger by now.
According to John, there was a little dilation between Earth and the Hell Dimension Tom was in, but the dilation itself was in flux, so Tom could have been experiencing at the same rate as them or faster, which just did not work out in their favour.
Having taken his decision, he exhaled and began walking to the house of Arabella Figgs. He had come choice words for her. He expected better reporting from her, especially since she knew the importance of Harry and his safety.
As he walked to the edge of the street and the house with the most unkept lawn became visible to him, he stopped abruptly as a blue lynx appeared by his side, a Patronus of Auror Kingsley, if he recalled correctly.
The voice from the Patronus was of Kingsley, but the tense tone made him straighten up, "Headmaster! We have confirmed intel of the Giant Killer appearing in Knockturn Alley today. I know it is last-minute, but I really hope that you can lend us a hand. He has been able to escape custody because of his strange magic, and I think you can counter that. If you have accepted, please report to the Ministry as soon as possible, because the raid begins within two hours. Auror Kingsley, out!"
Sighing, he looked at the house ahead, and then back at the Dursley house. Sighing in frustration, he called out softly, "Fawkes!"
His friend, his partner, manifested on top of him in a brilliant blaze of fire, trailing softly as his talons took hold of him, as they vanished in a column of fire that left behind nothing but a little warm breeze.
The fire dissipated, revealing his office. Fawkes flew back to his nest as he walked to the Floo.
Arriving in a flash of green fire, he once again marvelled at the fact that the creators of the Floo system, who were tragically murdered because of their invention, based the fire on Phoenix fire, despite the method of travel having nothing to do with the Phoenix Fire.
Dismissing the stray thought that came to him, he began walking to the elevators.
Jabbing his wand, he waited for a minute as he reached the floor of DMLE. As soon as the doors opened, he could see a whirlwind of activity on the floor, far more than usual, as a credible source for the Giant Killer's appearance had sent the entire DMLE up in a tizzy.
It was expected, obviously.
The Giant Killer was one enigma, even if one ignored his criminal actions.
He was strong, magically, it was clear. His first recorded appearance was in Knockturn Alley when the wares he had purchased were defective, a common occurrence in the underbelly of Magical Britain.
As usual, the merchant refused to compensate his customer, as was the case with all the stores in that Alley. Normally, that would be the end of it since all the merchants in Knockturn Alley banded together to make sure that no outsider took any actions that could hurt business.
Apparently, the Giant Killer was cut out of a different cloth.
In a fit of rage, he set the entire store of the merchant aflame, burning the store and its contents, save for the merchant himself. A fascinating use of fire, capable of burning all things save for humans. The merchant even lost his clothing, as the fire burned it all up.
When he first read the report, his interest had been purely clinical, in the magic used to burn the store instead of the wizard who used it. As sad as it was, Knockturn Alley was a useful piece of the order that the Ministry of Magic maintained over Wizarding Britain.
Keeping a lid on the most heinous of magic and keeping them corralled into a single spot gave the Ministry an incredible amount of leverage if they wished to hunt someone down.
Then, the Aurors, having been alerted, arrived. Some of them were clearly corrupt, called in to save the merchants from the anomaly of a wizard since no spell managed to get past the flames he put up.
That was where his charge sheet emerged.
A wizard capable of defeating an entire squad of Aurors, seniors and juniors included, had lit a fire under the Auror department, resulting in them arriving whenever the Giant Killer appeared in Knockturn Alley.
Alas, every time it resulted in the same outcome.
The flames burning through the Auror clothing, leaving them in embarrassing situations, with only their wands intact.
It would have been amusing if not for the incident that shook the Ministry as well as most of the nobility, resulting in the Ministry taking a serious interest in the Giant Killer.
The event that gave him that infamous label.
An ambush, consisting of werewolves, Giants, Vampires, Dark Wizards, and more. Basically, any one that money could buy, were bought and aimed at the Giant Killer.
He had seen the memories of the battle and calling it a battle would be generous. The Giant Killer effortlessly deflected any physical attacks from the Giants as well as any spells from the wizards, using a single shield that rippled blue upon contact but remained intact against all that onslaught.
It was only when a foolish wizard cast one of the Unforgivables, the Killing Curse, against the shield, that the Giant Killer moved.
It was a clear escalation that set the lone wizard on a path of no return.
The casualties of that day were few, only two wizards and a Giant dead amongst the dozens gathered but the way they had died. It sent a message.
To match a Giant in physical combat, to manifest shields to stop the Killing Curses, and then sending in invisible shards of magic that left behind holes in the head of wizards.
And then beat a Giant to death, with a single blow.
It had silenced the Alley, resulting in a fearsome reputation that persisted to this day.
It had been months since the Ministry had heard of him. The fact that his arrival was leaked meant someone had decided to test their luck with the Giant Killer once more, and he just hoped that no one was stupid enough to anger him, because he had a hunch that that wizard was armed with magics from the Ancient Ruins.
And in that case, normal wizards stood no chance against him.
"Headmaster!" He looked up as Kingsley, disheveled, ran to him, "Come! We only have a scant few hours. I would like your input on trapping him." It would seem that it was personal for the Auror, being one of the people knocked out without even firing a single spell, a blemish on his otherwise perfect record, no doubt.
He nodded at the Auror, following him as they proceeded to Knockturn Alley.
On the way, he nodded at the Unspeakable as they followed him.
They were right to be interested in the Giant Killer, since he was one of the few who flaunted magic from the Ancient Ruins, outside of the ICW, and continued to live.
Most that got anything valuable flaunted it to the rest of the world and died for their hubris. Very few managed to keep quiet, especially if they received something truly useful.
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