Rated T
Harry Potter/Mary Poppins crossover
Bert/Marry Poppins
Prologue
Mary Poppins-Perkins looked up from her mending at the spin of her weather wheel. “The wind is changing,” she said softly.
She got up from the rocking chair she kept in her office at Wizarding Family Services to get a closer look at the central glass, and she tapped it. The glass resolved itself to show her a screaming green-eyed toddler with a blazing red lightning-shaped scar pulsating on his forehead. “Harry,” she breathed, a tear forming at the corner of one impossibly blue eye.
Strictly speaking, Mary was not to be concerned with the protection and placement of pureblood wizards. In her role as the Muggleborn Child Protection Officer, Mary had wide authority to investigate, intervene, and introduce muggleborn children to the wizarding world, and that included, if necessary, obliviating parents and placing such children with carefully vetted wizarding families. Rarely, a pureblood family needed placement services, but pureblood families were normally careful to spell out lines of succession, placement, and fosterage. Especially with peerage on the line, or wealth.
But the Potters …
Mary watched as Hogwarts groundskeeper Hagrid took the screaming child from a wild-eyed Sirius Black, presumably to take him to Hogwarts. Mary knew that Sirius was Harry’s godfather, and thus, his presumptive guardian. She’d had many conversations with Minerva about it. Why, then, was he surrendering Harry to Hagrid?
Mary’s glass followed Harry to Hogwarts, (“On a motorcycle? Honestly.”) and watched as Hagrid dismounted from Sirius’ bike to be met by Albus Dumbledore. Harry, exhausted from crying at this point, allowed himself to be taken by the bearded wizard without protest. Mary watched as Dumbledore brought him to Poppy Pomfrey, Hagrid following close behind.
Mary engaged the recorder as Poppy examined Harry, pointing out the magical residue in the slash on his forehead as she scanned him for other health problems. Finding none, Poppy called a house elf for milk while Dumbledore ran a scan of his own on Harry’s scar, and Mary watched as Dumbledore’s eyes lost their twinkle. He said nothing, though, as Poppy handed him the milk bottle and healed the skin of Harry’s forehead.
“Hmmm,” Mary said. “I think a specialist would be wise, Albus.”
But Dumbledore did not call for a specialist. He simply fed Harry, and told Hagrid that he would be needed to bring Harry to his aunt’s home the following evening.
Both of Mary’s eyebrows rose as high as they could go. Lily had been very specific in her wishes. Harry was not to go to her sister until or unless there was no other capable wizarding family to take him in. And Sirius Black was to have primary oversight in this case.
The glass glowed briefly red. “Guardianship interference? Dear me,” Mary murmured, watching more as Dumbledore settled Harry down into a conjured cot in the infirmary for the remainder of the night.
This situation would bear strict watching, Mary determined, and started a case file.
…
She went home briefly to sleep; her husband, Bert, was out as part of the investigating team dispatched to Godric’s Hollow with the news of the Potters’ deaths. Mary woke in the morning to a pair of letters on her table, their well-behaved messengers waiting patiently for a treat.
The first letter came from Wizarding Family Services, noting the death of the Potters and verifying the start of the case plan Mary had filed last night.
The second came from her old friend, Minerva McGonagall.
Dearest Mary,
I’m quite afraid that Albus has completely lost the plot, old friend.
You know by now, of course, that our poor Lily and James were killed last night by You-Know-Who. Harry survived, by what means we do not know. I cannot get Albus to stand still for one moment to tell me anything. One thing did become perfectly clear, however, in that Albus does not intend for Harry to stay in the wizarding world. He is adamant that Harry will be placed with his muggle Aunt Petunia Dursley.
I’m quite certain he has no authority to do such a thing, but Albus does tend to get his way. Our dear friend Euphemia would be quite apoplectic. And I know that things were strained, to say the least, between Lily and Petunia.
I plan to go and observe Petunia today. I’d hoped you would join me. The Dursleys live at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
Minerva
“We shall see about that,” Mary said emphatically, and she rose to dress. Carefully, and without hurry. A flick of her wand sent her patronus to Minerva, the parrot winging its way to Hogwarts with an “Of course” ready to speak.
A second Patronus went to Bert. “Be ready for anything, my dear.”
A horse galloped back to her. “Always with my Mary.”
Bless Bert.
Mary set her flowered cap on her head, gathered her umbrella, secured her wand to her wrist, and turned a heel.
She popped into the secured Wizarding arrivals area in the Surrey train station, then turned into a robin and flew toward the map in the central terminal. She found Number 4, and flew there to join a cat perched on the walk outside Number 4.
…
They’d agreed, on a bit of a lunch break, to allow Albus an opportunity to explain himself and change his mind. But it really became clear quickly that he intended to leave the young Potter heir on the step in a basket, for goodness’ sake, with only a letter and nary a warming charm.
At Albus’ last admonition that they should go and join the parties, Minerva dropped her chin in Mary’s direction. Mary tipped her beak down, and she watched them go. As the lights from Albus’ little device returned and the wizards disappeared, the robin became a woman again. One who’d seen quite enough. A note would make its way to the case file to keep an eye on the Dursleys and intervene if necessary on behalf of their son. She hoped, however, that noninterference from the magical world would make it unnecessary to intervene in the Muggle world, too.
Mary grasped the handle of Harry’s basket. Apparating with a toddler was not a good idea, so she unfurled her umbrella, and caught the east wind, the basket in tow.
…
Bert, predictably, rolled with it.
“Ah, my Mary,” he said gently, peeking in the basket as she set it down in their bedroom. “I take it we have a guest?”
“And one that might be here for some time,” Mary admitted, taking her hat off her head and setting it on its stand in the corner. “There’s something dodgy about the entire thing, Bert. My office was notified of the orphaning, of course, but the will didn’t pop into place as expected, the presumed guardian left his ward with someone unauthorized only to run off and get himself arrested, and Albus Dumbledore still thinks he can subsume the authority of Wizarding Family Services and place children wherever he sees fit.” She huffed. “I’d have thought he’d learned his lesson after the Riddle fiasco!”
“To be fair, poppet, the war made placement of magical orphans terribly difficult at the time,” Bert reasoned, even as he gently picked up Harry, who was sleeping quite deeply, and brought him over to the emergency cot they kept on hand, freshly made up with a snap of his fingers on the way. He tucked Harry in with a conjured plushy dog, and set up the child-monitoring ward with the ease of long practice.
“And we’d have found some place for him eventually, had Albus not interfered with my counterpart,” Mary grumped. “Children need kindness to grow, Bert. I really doubt that Tom Riddle got any. And here he was about to just leave Harry with his Aunt Petunia. The weather glass changed, Bert! It actually changed to show me just how bad that idea was! I haven’t seen the like since the Banks!”
Bert grinned. He loved seeing his Mary worked up. “Well that worked out in the end, too, didn’t it?”
“It wouldn’t have without my intervention,” Mary said, pulling off her gloves and setting them aside. “There wasn’t any way Mr. Banks would have accepted a magical child without a little bit of help.”
“And he did, didn’t he?” Bert soothed. “Proud as punch when Jane graduated Hogwarts and got a top placement at Gringotts!”
“Yes, alright, that’s true,” Mary allowed. “Michael, too. I do miss him, still.”
Both stayed silent for a moment, remembering young Michael Banks as he was, before he was killed in the course of his duties as the Ministry liaison to Scotland Yard.
Bert sighed deeply. “Well, that’s that, then.” He took his wife’s hand. “What shall we do with Harry?”
“He’s supposed to go to Sirius Black. Whatever possessed the man to give Harry to Hagrid, I don’t know, but I suspect compulsion charms. I don’t know what game Albus is playing here, but he can’t go round my office. Minerva alerted me straightaway, though the glass, too, let me see what was happening,” Mary said. “If Sirius cannot be guardian, and he can’t go to Petunia, then I’ll have to see who’s the next living wizarding relative and go from there. And frankly, I need to see the will. I know there is one; last time I had tea with Lily she said she’d filed it at the Ministry and at Gringotts.”
“I know you promised Euphemia you’d stand as Harry’s grandmother in her place,” Bert said. “I promised Fleamont that I’d be his grandfather. We have as much claim as anyone else, Mary.”
“Perhaps more so,” she said quietly, thinking. “I think we need to see the will, Bert. If we’re named as guardians or alternate guardians, then I can take stronger measures to protect Harry’s placement with us. Right now, I’m well within my mandate to have him placed here temporarily.”
“That’s settled, then,” Bert said, laying a kiss on her palm. “He’s safe for now. I’ll raise the emergency wards, and we’ll all get as good a night’s sleep as possible with a traumatized toddler. I’ll mind him in the morning while you go off to see Jane at the bank about the will. If the Ministry copy didn’t pop into your office correctly, that’s a problem, as I see it.”
Mary nodded sharply. “Interference in the reading of the will of a Peer is a high crime, Bert, as you know. I have cause to get the Gringotts copy and have it read.”
“There you are, then,” he soothed. “Let’s to bed.”
“Yes, fine.”
…
Jane Banks-Marshfield welcomed her old Nanny with a smile. “Mary Poppins-Perkins! How delightful to see you!”
“Always good to see you, too, Jane,” Mary said, drawing off her gloves with a smile. “I do have some rather pressing business today.”
“Of course,” Jane said. “How can I help you?”
“I need the Potter will,” Mary said firmly. “I’m invoking my right to see it as a representative for Wizarding Family Services responsible for placement of Harry James Potter.”
A glow settled over her as she said the key phrase, and Jane nodded solemnly. “I’ll find it for you. One moment.” Jane left for the filing area and tapped her wand on the desk there. “Wills, James and Lily Potter.” Two piece of parchment, rolled and sealed with the Potter crest, appeared on the desk. “Will you invoke right of execution on behalf of the orphaned child?”
“I do so invoke the right of execution on behalf of the orphan Harry James Potter.”
Both parchments glowed, and the seals broke. “One moment, Mary, while I call in the required witnesses.”
“Of course.”
Within five minutes, the room held Mary, Jane, the Potter account manager whom Mary did not know, and the bank president, Ragnok. Mary started a recording orb, and Jane took her place behind the desk. Jane cleared her throat, opened the first parchment, and skimmed the will, skipping to the section on guardianship. “As expected, this is the will of James Potter, who died first, leaving everything to his wife. In order, he lists his wife, Bert and Mary Poppins-Perkins, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Sirius Black, and Minerva McGonagall as Harry’s potential guardians. An official reading will need to be held within five business days.”
Jane picked up the next parchment. “This is the will of Lily Evans Potter.” She skimmed it, too. “Everything is left to Harry James Potter. She lists the same guardians, in the same order, with her husband first should she die before him, and notes that her sister Petunia is to be considered a last resort because of her stance against magic.”
“Right,” Mary said. “That’s me in a conflict of interest at this point.” She drew a deep breath. “With your permission, Ragnok, I will call for my colleague to witness these proceedings.”
“You have it, Dame Poppins-Perkins.”
She nodded her thanks, and sent her Patronus to Mafalda Hopkirk. They waited, quietly, for ten minutes as Mafalda made her way to the bank and was escorted inside to the waiting filing room.
“Ms. Hopkirk,” Jane said in greeting. “You are here to be a witness in the reading of the Potter wills as your colleague, Mary Poppins-Perkins, has been named as a potential guardian to Harry James Potter. Will you stand ready to record?”
“Of course,” Mafalda said, and pulled out her wand and a recording orb. She tapped it, and it lit up. “Please proceed.”
Jane formally read the will of James Potter, followed by the will of Lily Evans Potter. Mafalda and the rest of the participants listened quietly, and when Jane was finished, Mafalda stood. “With the power vested in me by Wizarding Family Services, I hereby place the orphan Harry James Potter with the guardians chosen for him by his parents, Bertram Perkins and Mary Poppins-Perkins. So mote it be.” The orb flashed and a heavy silver ring appeared on the table in front of Jane.
Within the Ministry, the case file updated with Harry’s placement and sealed itself.
At the Poppins-Perkins home, Bert stumbled as a heavy silver ring appeared on his right ring finger.
And Petunia and Vernon Dursley went on with their days, unaware of events in the Wizarding world.
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