This time when Dudley heard that the Potters had died in a car crash, it was true. He got word of it through a bird, a letter with an official seal on it. There was also something about Blood Magic, it sounded familiar, but he didn't understand what it meant.
He was thirty four and had never met his second cousin before; all he could think about was getting his room ready. He would do things right this time.
"What colour do you want to paint your room?" he asked the sombre child, James, awkwardly.
James actually smiled. "Gryffindor colours!"