A/N: "Pensieve" is a little place I'm setting up to publish little drabble-esque pieces, or pieces that I don't think are good enough to deserve their own stories. A place to filter off excess thought, like a pensieve. This first drabble is set in late June 1998, when the Dursleys have just received the news that Harry's been killed in a duel with Voldemort. (He did rid the wizarding world of Voldemort, he just died in the process.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or his world.
Dudley picks up the forgotten photo lying on the floor, and jumps as he sees the figures in it. Holding it gingerly, he carries it to the bed, dropping it quickly, and staring at it from a safe distance. There's his cousin in the center, flanked by his two freak friends. Dudley recognizes the red-haired one from four years ago, and involuntarily shudders at the memory. The girl on the freak's other side has impossibly bushy hair that would make Dudley snort if he weren't so unnerved by the moving image.
He hears the creak of floorboards, and jumps; his parents would not be happy to find him looking around in Potter's room. Satisfied that the coast is clear, he allows his gaze to drop to the freakish kid himself.
He looks — well — happy, standing there and laughing with his friends. Bizzarely, Dudley realizes that he can't remember ever seeing his cousin look so happy before. But as he continues to stare in horrified fascination at the freak's laughing face, he notices the underlying shadows in his countenance, the weariness and dread lurking behind his eyes. Could he have known of his impending death, even then? Could he have known that in a year's time, he would be killed in a — what had the man's words been? — a "duel with the Dark Lord"? Dudley forces these thoughts from his head. There is no way he could have known; fortune-telling isn't real.
And photographs don't move.
"Duddykins?"
Dudley grimaces as his mother calls up the stairs for him. He hates her pet names, although he's never said so. Still, it seems like she should have realized that he's nearly eighteen. He doesn't exactly need to be coddled anymore.
"Duddy! Lunch!"
Dudley glances from the door to the photograph. Potter is dead, and he's gone from the Dursleys' lives — good riddance.
Still, Dudley can't help but slip the photo into his pocket before he leaves the room and shuts the door on his cousin's past.
Please review? -Gets down on knees and begs.-