Entry for the Quidditch Fanfiction League Competition, Season 6, Round 6 – Wigtown Wanderers vs Puddlemere United
Position: Chaser 3
Prompt: Choose one of these characters to write about. June: Draco Malfoy, Dudley Dursley, Dobby.
Extra prompts:
(word) estranged
(object) soccer ball (football)
(dialogue) "Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!"
Word Count: 1,425
Betas: DinoDina, Inlibris, Aya Diefair
Influential Powers
Memories were one of the most powerful thing in the universe.
Though his mind was deep in chaos, Dudley's consciousness became aware of this realisation, the coherent thought standing out like a high rock in the stormy sea, a lighthouse built on top of it, its light breaking through the night. The morning seemed far away, if the dawn would be seen was uncertain, but no matter how much the ship was being thrown around by the waves, a victim of nature's forces, the light was visible.
It was a thought that stood out in the raging mess of dark memories that sucked Dudley deeper into the chasms of his mind. They held him captive as they bubbled out his most hidden depths, and he wasn't strong enough to escape them, to will them back to where they'd come from.
The real world around him faded into the background, all that seemed to exist was his mind, and the memories… Voices penetrated through the fog from time to time, but they were barely able to drown out the noises from the pictures that terrorised him.
Dudley had never been this aware of the sheer number of terrible things that were stored away in his head, but it was almost the more impacting horror to realise that he was the perpetrator, the vicious, merciless villain in most of these scenarios.
It was him who was towering over the boy who was two heads smaller than him, kicking, pushing, insulting, until the child surrendered his lunch money, dessert or whatever new, valuable item he'd proudly brought to school to show to his friends.
It was him who punched a boy behind the school's gym building for saying something minorly insulting, feeling satisfaction at the pained groans and stunned stumbling.
It was him who taunted his cousin about his dead parents, about being an orphan with nobody who cared about him.
The supply of pictures, situations, victims, it was seemingly infinite, reminding him again and again and again of the things he'd done.
How had he never realised what a horrible person he was?
Dudley was still imprisoned by the memory of his own crime when the horror and pain inside him mingled with hot guilt and shame, burning like acid in the physical body he was barely aware of, numbing it.
What had he done? What had brought him to the point where he attacked those weaker than him, less fortunate in life?
And if this storm of darkness would ever end, how was he supposed to live with what he'd done?
These questions only threw him deeper into the chaos of memories and feelings, and it was as if he was drifting further away from sanity. It was all too much to stomach at once, just too much…
If he'd tried to resist the current pulling him away, he didn't anymore now, and he was swept away into the fog surrounding his mind, the outcome of this journey dubious.
It was the worst thing that had ever happened to him in his whole life, the most humiliating and painful experience, triggered by one invisible force of despair.
But no matter how much influence he'd felt from the thing that had attacked Harry and him – another picture, constantly flashing between the others and making him wonder why Harry had saved him, the guy who'd made his life hell since the day he came to Privet Drive – it was the memories that held power over him now.
There was no escape from their sentence for him.
There was a second realisation, one that came a lot later, when the fog lifted and left him alone with all the feelings about what it had confronted him with.
The influence parents had on their children was another strong force in the universe, one that could shape a person to the best or the worst, and a child often wouldn't be able to tell just what kind of influence its own parents were.
If his parents had taught him that the universe wasn't revolving around him, that he wasn't entitled to everything he desired, that every person was to be treated with consideration… He wouldn't have stolen, kicked, punched, shoved, insulted.
If they had shown respect towards Harry, he would have learned to respect him, too. He wouldn't have been rewarded for being a horrible terror.
They had deliberately influenced him to become what he was, and it hurt to become aware of that.
His eyes had been opened at last, and though the thought of family was one far away and uncertain for his sixteen year old mind, somewhere deep inside him he made the promise of never letting history repeat itself.
OoO
"Dad?"
Dudley blinked a few times, slowly coming back to reality, and focused his gaze on his daughter, who was looking at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry, sweetie, I was…"
"Caught in your head. I know," Penny mumbled under her breath, a reminder of how many times she'd heard him excuse his absent-mindedness this way. Dudley felt his stomach sink at the slight disappointment in her voice; how much he wished he could stop the little flashbacks that haunted him since that day in his teens. They came out of the blue, like right now, in the garden, playing football with Penny while his wife Jane was nursing their baby girl Lea inside. His daughter deserved his whole attention, but he couldn't help the times when his mind acted on its own, a constant reminder of his past.
"You know I didn't mean to. I'm back now."
Penny's weak smile caused a pull in his chest, but Dudley tried to be cheerful, just as much for his own sake as for his daughter's. She'd wanted to have fun with him this afternoon, train for her upcoming match with her football team, and he didn't want to ruin that for either of them. Time spent with his family was precious in many ways, he knew that, so he couldn't waste it.
"Okay, goalie, are you ready?" Dudley asked, bending over and making a show out of placing the football on the grass in just the right way while smirking up at Penny.
"Don't act like you can beat me, Dad. You're kicking like a boy."
Dudley inwardly winced at the mention of kicking, still sensitive in the aftermath of the flashbacks, but pushed these thoughts aside. He would deal with them later, in a quiet moment when he was all by himself, or with Jane.
"Okay, three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!" he exclaimed and shot at the makeshift goal Penny was standing in, pride surging through him and making him beam when his daughter dived for the ball and stopped it.
"That's the wrong game, Dad!"
Her laughter echoed between the hedges of the garden and she had a big grin on her face when she looked up at him, shaking her head. These were his favourite moments, the ones in which they just joked around. Being silly was something he'd never done with his parents, just like his father had never had much time to play with him. Work had been more important, and still was – though they'd become estranged shortly after they'd been able to leave hiding and he'd moved out from home, he knew that Vernon Dursley was still pulling the strings at Grunnings, firmly holding on to his CEO post. If he'd spent time with Dudley, he'd subtly fed him his world view.
Dudley had never wanted to become a father like that, and he hoped that he'd achieved this goal, that he'd been able to learn from his past and become a worthy role model for his girls.
He hoped that he'd taught Penny everything that he had to teach himself after his big realisation: to be kind while standing up for yourself too, to be humble and only take what you truly deserve, to be tolerant and accepting.
His girls should never have to learn through hard memories that their parents hadn't given them the right lessons to become good people. They should never have to experience such a hard fall like him.
The power memories should have for them were supposed to be positive, always reminding them of weekends full with football games and ice cream, vacations with many family activities. And instead of unpleasant flashbacks, they would smile when they recalled some moment in particular.
That was all he wanted for them.