Long story short, it's another time when I've been bored, I've written something, and I've decided to let other people read and suffer from it. Hope you enjoy, at least this is a little (notice: a little) less ridiculous than some of the others… (especially the song with Lara and the Gorilla…) I can put up more chapters if people actually like this. Now, go read!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'm sure there would have been more random exclamations of things like: "Professor SNAAAAPE!" So, no, I don't. I can if you want though. I'm sure the world would be a much better place if my friend and I ruled it. School for instance, well, who really needs it? :p

The Dursley's Troubled Life

Chapter One:

Mr Dursley had never been very fond of cabbage.

Which was why he stared rather stonily down at the bowl placed promptly in front of him by his somewhat scrawny wife, Petunia. The pale green lumps swimming in a murky liquid didn't look very appealing to the eye, even when Mr Dursley had an empty stomach.

"Why are you scowling Vernon?" His wife said haughtily. Mr Dursley knew not to retaliate to such a comment with the truth. Informing his wife of not liking cabbage was a crime he dared not think about when she was in such close proximity to cooking implements. Vaguely, his mind wandered back to the time when he'd stated that Petunia's string beans were too stringy (ironic though the situation was). The following conversation on Petunia's part had been mainly physical (and painful to Mr Dursley seeing as Petunia had been armed with a spatula).

In light of this memory, Mr Dursley decided to use his most common excuse for being disgruntled, instead of the explicit truth.

"It's that boy." He grumbled disgust lacing his tone, as he slowly dipped his spoon into the sloppy green liquid. It wasn't entirely a lie. Harry was always a thorn in his conscience. The irritating child had been acting rather oddly of late and once again Mr Dursley found himself muttering about the sheer incompetence of the child, not the mention the burden he was. Petunia seemed to have accepted the child without full knowledge of how plain inconvenient it was.

His own son - the strongly built, well fed, and highly popular Dudley Dursley - also shared the same dislike for the scraggy, dark-haired boy. Not to mention the fact that with two children in the household, it was unlikely that Petunia would be willing to have a Bernard Dursley, or Patricia Dursley - either of which, would have been far more welcomed than Harry.

Or, as Mr Dursley commonly referred to him: that boy.

"What about him?" Petunia muttered, clearly in an irritated mood.

"He makes too much noise, and I have a headache." He replied, trying (unsuccessfully) to hide his dislike of the meal from his expression. This was not however, strictly speaking, true. The boy made considerably less noise then his own son, Dudley. Though naturally, being Dudley had it's privileges.

"Has he been fed yet?" Asked his wife with a nonchalant air, now referring to the boy as little less than dirt, which, incidentally - thought Mr Dursley - was exactly what he was.

"I'll do it," He said gruffly, pulling back his chair so he could find the boy and grabbing his own bowl of soup (he didn't feel like finishing it. He could always rifle through the fridge later if his hunger had not abated.) Petunia didn't say anything as he left the dining room; instead she picked up the remote for Dudley's brand new TV, now situated in the kitchen.

Mr Dursley had just got to the cupboard under the stairs when he heard Harry. A series of mutters was coming through the cupboard door. Instead of shouting at him, this time, Mr Dursley decided to listen.

"I don't really know what you're talking about. I don't think you've got the right person."

Mr Dursley frowned. The boy sounded as if he was talking to someone. Though he knew very well the only other inhabitant in the cramped space was a colony of small spiders. Perhaps the boy was going mad, he'd suspected as much. Mr Dursley was just about to leave the soup on the floor and walk back to the dining room, when he heard the boy speak again, his voice faster now.

"I can't explain really sir-" The use of the word 'sir' made Mr Dursley feel uneasy; who an earth was the boy talking to? "It just happens sometimes. Like the other day, Dudley and his gang tried to tie me-"

The mention of his son had Mr Dursley suddenly irate, how dare the boy speak to someone about his son in such secrecy. In one (surprisingly agile movement for such a broad man) Mr Dursley swung open the door to find… Harry. Sitting there, and staring wide eyes up at him. He pushed him to the side, squinting into the tiny space, and meticulously checking (by means of waving his arms around) if anyone beside Harry was in there.

"Who were you talking to, boy?" Barked Mr Dursley, after he'd made sure no one else was around. Harry looked slightly frightened; he'd shrunk into the corner to avoid Mr Dursley's wild swings.

Harry didn't reply at first. His eyes darted wildly from Mr Dursley's florid face, to the ceiling, and then out the open cupboard door. Finally, he let out:

"I-I wasn't speaking to anyone!" This, (the whole stuttering and speaking with too high a pitch) instantly made Mr Dursley suspicious.

"Don't lie to me boy!" Roared Mr Dursley, grabbing Harry roughly by his hair and wrenching him out of the cupboard to inspect whether an impostor was still lurking in the shadows.

A dull slopping sound quickly followed by a sharp clatter informed him that the cabbage soup was now only edible to the carpet.

"I heard you talking," He whispered menacingly. "Who was it and where are they?"

Harry didn't even have a chance to reply, he was cut short by his Aunt Petunia.

Who had just let out a scream of horror.

***

Ohhh, the suspense... *snort*

I still love that first line. Vernon and I both share a mutual dislike of a certain green vegetable. Oh, and Bernard Dursley? Ha. Don't ask. It involves the other Sneverus (yeah - there are two of us. Oh, and maybe another if you count siblings) and I playing on Sims2 and having MY darling sister (nicknamed: the pig) ask where Bernard was. This resulted in confusion, as far as we knew about Harry Potter (which… well, is rather a lot) there was no 'Bernard' …

It turns out that the pig was merely asking where Vernon was (he was eating) but she forgot his name. For some reason, I have absolutely no idea why, we found this hilarious. And thus, if Aunt Petunia ever had a baby, it would have been called Bernard. (Sorry for the random babbling…that probably didn't make sense :p)

Please review! ;)

Sincerely,

~Sneverus