A/N: Hi I'm Bluepanda800 welcome to a fic that I can't promise to regularly update!
This is just a what-if fic focusing mainly on Petunia at the moment. Basically, this whole fic stemmed from the idea: what-if Dudley wasn't Vernon's son? I'm going to be uploading the first two chapters in quick succession because it was one chapter then it became ridiculously long...
Also, the Father of Dudley is more or less finalised because I've been sitting on this one for a while but I'm going to let you guy guess anyway.
Anyway, I hope you like my spin on things and please feel free to critique my writing!
O/O\O
Little Whinging is a typical rural community nestled in the southern British countryside; shops shut at six-thirty pm, front doors are locked by seven, and by nine there is a mass retreat upstairs to the bathrooms and bedrooms in preparation for the night's sleep.
Like most newly-urbanised dwellings, the town was a huddle of houses fitted over a once spacious green belt; in an attempt to house the growing middle class. And, like most newly-urbanised dwellings the old and the new stood in working discord; an intersperse of cobbled, paved and tarmacked streets running through the town; fenced saplings shaded by sprawling old oak trees with stubborn roots that pushed through the roads and cost a fortune in taxes to repair the damage. As well as a museum of buildings ranging from the round Romanesque Parish church on the northernmost hill to the recently built and overly square library.
The only exception to the hodgepodge of timelines were the residential areas; the houses built before the 70's remained in the oddly spaced manner of the original Victorian village- they were true country homes, with parks dotted between the buildings and a good view of the sea of flax fields that stood between Little Whinging and Guildford- any added to that flock adopted the historic village tone, as well as the general irritation towards the influx of city dwellers living on the estates.
The Estates (built on what was old farming land and marsh) were designed with the express purpose of squeezing as many upper middle-class families into one area as possible. In military like rows, the modern barely-detached houses held a hoard of people charmed by the idea of village life.
The vast majority of the home-owners here were from urban backgrounds; especially those on the Whitecliffe Estate, which was once a block of council-owned flats.
Privet Drive was a small close just off Brooker Crescent on the Greenfield Estate; it contained precisely fifteen identical red-brick and brown-tile houses, and fourteen outwardly average households (Number Seven seemed to be permanently for sale).
With such a quiet, orderly, and normal atmosphere, the events of eleven pm on Saturday the 23rd of June would be almost unheard of in this tidy corner of Surrey. What's more, the appalling display came from the prissy snobs on the Greenfield Estate!
O/O\O
The morning of the Incident dawned bright and sunny, not that the Dursleys could take the time to enjoy the unusually high temperature, coupled with the gentle breeze that lured so many of their neighbours out into the uniform gardens that lined the close.
Nor, could they appreciate the cloudless blue sky that promised a warmer and thus lazier afternoon; given that they were probably late.
Probably; a detail that had Vernon Dursley plum-red like a furious beetroot as he bellowed orders to Petunia, and hurled curses as well as other, heavier things at Harry. He even managed to snip at his precious son for taking slightly longer than (his version of) ten minutes to finish breakfast.
If there was one thing worse to Vernon than having his plans mucked up by his wife's sister's demon-offspring, it was not knowing if his plans had been mucked up by said offspring.
The mauve blush had yet to fade even as he beat the cleared breakfast table to emphasise the importance of his continuing rant.
"Just one day! Just once Petunia! I asked you to take care of your sister's spawn so that we could enjoy my son's birthday in peace!"
Ever the methodical wife Petunia didn't even pause from her dishwashing to attend to her husband's latest tantrum calmly reminding him that she had already called everyone in the phone book and confirmed not a (suitable) soul was able to childmind Harry that day.
She glanced to the spot where the wall clock should have been, forgetting that moments before it had been flung at her nephew due to its new-found ability to randomly jump time-zones.
Before Harry's smart quip, the clock had insisted it was quarter-past three; a fact that contradicted the TV clock's claim that it was 'definitely after eight'. 'Not sure of the exact time' the clock read in its classic digital print, 'but late morning, I'm sure it's late morning'
"He did it on purpose Pet, I saw that look he gave me!" The exclamation was followed by various death threats and harsh language, the latter becoming stronger after Vernon remembered that even the watches had been affected by his nephew-in-law's freakishness.
"I've packed you one tuna sandwich and three ham," She nodded in the direction of the picnic basket, as she slotted the final plate into the drying rack. Her unexpected interruption drew Vernon up short, finally providing a break in his redundant sermon.
"Did you want the egg sandwiches as well, or not?"
Her calm manner only served to further infuriate her husband, who had never taken well to having his own wants thought of as anything less than a biblical commandment. A fact illustrated beautifully by his deepening purple complexion.
Fortunately, Petunia knew her husband well enough to pack two egg sandwiches; the task she attended to first as the only show of the building irritation towards her gaping husband.
Calmed by the petty action, she pulled up a chair to give him her undivided attention until his complexion returned to the blush pink of a ripening tomato- one of her now numerous signs that her husband had returned to reason.
-First, to distract him with something he's less angry about.
"I know that you don't want Harry with us, and definitely not on Dudley's big day!" She simpered running her hands over her husband's shoulders in a soothing motion; her blue eyes trained on his face watching his lips pucker as his rage gave way to a sulk.
-Then, comfort him on the smaller problem.
"I should have made arrangements earlier," He nodded at this. Yet the further protrusion of his lower lip meant he needed the 's'-word.
"Truly, I am sorry for all the stress-"
Nothing.
Which meant he needed a promise?
"I promise to make this up to you." Her blue eyes held his gaze, convincing him of her earnest pledge.
The thinning of his frown line spurred her next move.
"Vernon, it's far more important that Dudley has a big day, than to have all of us sitting here miserable, because Harry has to-"
"The Freak." Vernon interjected, temper flaring briefly at the mention. There was little bite in his words, his tone a rasp of frustration like dying wind after a hurricane.
Her husband slumped on the table, the string of magical episodes were beginning to take their toll.
A selfish part of her was glad they were nearing the end of the last year. Soon Harry would be out of their daily lives and the fighting would stop. Maybe with some space, Vernon would come around to having a magical nephew.
"The freak." She agreed sensing she did not need to continue.
With a stifled sigh she watched as the cogs in her spouses' brain slowly turned, 'For Dudley,' he mouthed, a note of acquiescence in his tone.
-Lastly, to sit back and let him 'figure' it out for himself.
"For Dudley." He wouldn't like it but he'd comply.
The break in her husband's ire produced a small smile on Petunia's own face, and she rose to finish packing for the day out.
What happened next was a foolish mistake.
It may have been exhaustion from the many nights of late cooking or maybe she hadn't recovered from the shock and sense of unease that followed when she realised all the clocks had stopped obeying the normal passage of time.
Whatever the excuse; for the first time in a long time her practised control slipped.
She not only drew his attention to the abnormality.
She minimised it.
"Come on, we're already late because the clocks failed, and there is still a good hour's drive ahead..."
His face fell.
She cursed her thoughtlessness.
"Failed?" He growled -that was all Petunia let him.
Catching Vernon's face in her slim grasp, she turned it towards hers. The mention of the clocks had brought stiffness to his posture, and the accusatory glare for daring not to be on his side cut deep; she'd have to work hard to smooth the cracks this time.
Still the anger was a drop, in comparison to the ocean of fury in reaction to the actual event. Only a rouge tint pinned to his cheekbones hinted at his current mental state.
Although the unwillingness would fade; (it was evident his loyalty to his son tempered his reaction to the magic in his house, and worse only he cared about how dangerous it was), ever his wife Petunia kissed the remaining tension away.
Each kiss was peppered with a promise: to closely watch her nephew, to keep her family from falling apart in public, and to be on his side -even if she didn't see the problem like he did.
Her final promise, of her love for him was pressed softly to his lips, the motion met with his own firm kiss. Then she pulled away with a true smile, sensing Vernon's return to a good mood despite his outward expression.
"You're right, magic is dangerous." It's how Lilly died, how Harry came into their lives in the first place, bringing with it the danger that still seems to follow even ten years later.
"We are simply cutting our losses so that Dudley can have a great day." Planting another butterfly peck on his forehead Petunia walked off to find her remaining boys, an egg sandwich slyly stuffed in her apron for the one denied breakfast.
O/O\O
Unsurprisingly the two were found lying on Dudley's bed. Since Vernon disliked punishing Harry in front of Dudley's 'sensitive and impressionable' eyes, this had become their safe zone in spite of the harsher beatings Harry would get when caught alone. And judging by the crisps packets on the floor the boys had managed an approximation of breakfast in the fifteen minutes between Vernon's blow-up (followed by his subsequent attempt to lock Harry in the broom closet), and Petunia's attempt to calm him down.
"I'm sorry Auntie." Harry muttered as Petunia joined the boys on Dudley's bed, although his expression was closer to anger than regret. Sensing Petunia's raised eyebrow he elaborated.
"For supposedly 'messing with the clocks'."
The apology was wholly unnecessary; she'd forgiven the boy for worse things he'd done on purpose. Involuntarily she wrinkled her nose at the undeserving attitude her nephew bore. Even though she'd finally gotten around to thinking of Harry as another son there was still an uncertainty between them.
It was probably there to stay.
In all honesty Petunia was glad they were delayed. She wasn't prepared to spend seven hours wasting time in a zoo in the first place- as per her husband's original plan.
Dudley clearly shared her sentiments because he rolled over to face his cousin, irritation aimed at the younger boy.
"It's called accidental for a reason Four-eyes. Dad overreacted; we're not even late." He'd decided it was around eleven making them only 3 hours behind Vernon's plan.
"It's latest in the adventures of Super-Swine." Harry muttered in reference to the crudely drawn comics the boys had a habit of creating when Vernon really ticked them off.
Recently (if the boys still drew them) said comics had been given better hiding places.
"This episode: A Cow over Clocks." Dudley's smile was almost genuine.
The boys shared a dark look that passed so quickly Petunia may have imagined it and then began to brainstorm derogatory comments about the main pig in their lives.
A defence for Vernon rose to her lips, but Petunia let it pass unsaid knowing it would incite both of the boys.
It was for that same reason she chose to ignore the aura of resentment between them, especially as they would work it out by themselves eventually.
Instead, she handed the sandwich to Harry and told him to eat it quickly as they would be ready to leave in precisely five minutes, the statement drawing groans from her charges. Job done, she disappeared downstairs to tidy the hallway before they left.
The hall was eerie without the rhythmic tick of the clocks; usually unnoticeable, their absence left an odd gap in the background noise that completed Number Four.
Petunia's eyes wandered to the grandfather clock by the door, it was currently amusing itself by spinning its hands anticlockwise at the pace of a jet plane even with its cogs missing.
Though she hadn't let it show, the antics of the clocks unnerved her more than anyone else in this household; it wasn't just the family friction the unnatural events caused or even the startling display of power. She couldn't explain it.
Just...the last time she'd felt this uneasy she'd found Harry in a basket next to the milk bottles.
Trying her best to ignore it she picked up the post that lay strewn across the rug, for a brief second she thought to scan the letters- a compulsion that may have prevented the blow up later in the day.
Unnecessary, her mind dismissed; she hadn't needed to explain any letter in years- the deaths of her loved ones had severed connections with any 'undesirable' companions (if they hadn't done that by themselves), and Yvonne and the others knew to give Dudley's presents in person on a weekday when Vernon wasn't around.
Needless to say, she ignored the strange impulse.
O/O\O
The ride to the Zoo was largely uneventful; if one wasn't counting Vernon's threats to every driver he met on the way. Yet it was with a relieved sigh that Petunia exited the car when they finally arrived, glad to be free of the confines of the car.
The warm June breeze greeted her as she stepped out into the car park, but it was tainted with the distinct animal smell that is always stronger in the summer heat. Only Vernon appeared ignorant of the unpleasant odour as he bounded toward the ticket stall with a grin that stretched his moustache from ear to ear.
His enthusiasm for the trip brought a smile to her lips despite her own mood.
"The animals won't be doing much in this heat." Dudley stated matter of fact-like; appearing by her side now his father was out of sight.
Slightly behind her in case of Vernon's re-emergence, Harry frowned at his cousin. "You're the one who wanted to come."
Dudley scowled puffing up in a manner that endeared him to his father. "It wasn't supposed to be this hot." He bit out.
"Boys!" Petunia interjected, cutting off the brewing argument with her sharp tone.
In turn the boys shared a look that promise to shelve the disagreement until a better time. 'Better' in this case acting as a synonym for adult-less.
"If you have the energy to bicker in this heat you can help me carry the parasols." At this the boys groaned neither one of them wanted to be caught dead holding any one of Petunia's collection of lacy sun-brellas.
Today she had brought two; a ruffle trimmed white option that belonged to her mother and a fabric flower studded pink number that had been a gift from Lilly.
The birthday boy claimed the white one without hesitation leaving the pink to Harry and suitably humbled by the ridiculous accessories neither one complained about the heat or location as they walked to meet Vernon at the ticket booth.
Once they arrived Petunia was pleased to find that without further prompt Vernon had indeed bought a ticket for Harry, even if he was clearly reluctant to hand it over. His mumbled complaints about wasting his hard earned cash on the good-for-nothing freeloader were ignored.
Despite everything, the afternoon was agreeable as the animals turned out to do more than just laze in the summer heat, and the family was able to make it up to an hour before closing time without another argument- this alone should have alerted Petunia to the impending problem.
But the pleasant weather and close to amicable attitude of the rest of the family brought out an optimistic streak; surely there was a limit to disasters per day?
At four boys ditched the pink parasol with Petunia, (despite protest they were unable to lose the white one) and made their way to the final enclosure of the day- the reptile house.
Petunia and Vernon chose to return to the car and discuss the surprise party planed for the end of the day as well as take a break from entertaining Dudley.
O/O\O
Thanks to the heat the entire enclosure was found to be in a state of hibernation, but the boys quickly found they didn't care; as now they chose now to settle their differences.
"Having a good birthday?" asked Harry sweetly; his body stance clearly looking for a fight in spite of the benignly curious air he exuded as he inspected the boa constrictor from Brazil.
"The greatest." Dudley returned tapping softly on the glass of the iguana enclosure his eyes trained on the lazing reptiles furiously trying to keep his temper.
"It's nice to know my parents care about me."
Harry glared. "I'd rather not be fawned over like some piglet in a wig."
Dudley coloured at the memory.
"At least I'll still have a home when I'm seventeen."
Harry bit his lip to counteract the stab of heat in his chest as the meaning behind the words sunk in. On some level he knew his cousin didn't really mean it but that didn't stop him from taking a stab at Dudley's weak point.
"Yeah, still waiting for the Hogwarts letter that will never come!" As usual Dudley showed no other signs of hearing the jab other than his cheeks darkening, and even that was replaced by practised calm in a matter of seconds.
"You know? I hope Hogwarts rejects you and you do end up in Stonewall."
Harry rolled his eyes; obviously that wouldn't happen- he'd caused too many magical mishaps to be anything other than a wizard. And besides; there were ten other magic schools.
"Actually, No. I can't wait for you to disappear." Dudley amended going on to list all the things he'd be able to do without his cousin ruining everything. As his list continued his voice grew louder and angrier until he was near shouting about how much better his life would be without his cousin in it.
"Already counting the days until I never have to see your obese face again!" Harry snapped cutting off the elder boy's tirade, bright green eyes flashing in anger.
Calling on all the powers of acting he'd learnt from his mother Dudley schooled his face into one of perfect contentment, even the angry flush of his cheeks faded.
"Glad we're agreed." He smiled calmly, hazel gaze moving on to the sunbathing tortoises.
Harry's temper had less control.
"You're a Fat miserable pig that will spend the rest of your sad piggy life angry about something no-one can change. I bet-"
But the rest of Harry's sentence was cut off abruptly by Dudley's right hook which sent him stumbling back into a glass case containing a large cobra.
The impact with the glass panel had his already crooked second-hand glasses flying off his face before landing on the floor with an odd snapping sound.
A sound echoed by the glass of the snake exhibit behind Harry as it disappeared.
Considering the panel was the only thing keeping Harry upright its sudden departure sent the boy toppling into the snake enclosure.
For one moment, everything was still- both boys breathing heavily as their heavy words sank in, the sudden change of pace allowing them to recognise the hurt that fuelled their anger.
The sense of unfairness had been their constant companion; it wasn't fair that Voldemort killed Harry's parents, it wasn't fair that Dudley had to share his parents and now his family was breaking, it wasn't fair that Dudley couldn't be a Wizard as well- and Harry would make a miserable squib.
The boys knew they were to be separated from day one, and finally their time in each other's worlds had come to an end.
In a few weeks Harry was to step on that train and leave for a world far beyond anything Dudley could hope to be part of- and they would become strangers at best; more likely they would end up enemies.
Just like their mothers.
A hiss from behind the younger child drew both of their attentions.
Misplaced anger postponed; both boys watched wide-eyed as the cobra approached Harry with a calm air that preached its deadly potential. It peered curiously at the boy but ignored him going instead for his larger cousin.
Panicked Harry reached for something to attract the snake's attention his hand falling onto a large stick that he aimed in the direction of the green blur.
It made its mark.
The creature began hissing furiously and advanced on Harry who was struggling to pull himself up, and without his glasses he was vulnerable. The realisation shook Dudley out of his shock and using the hated sun-brella he swung the cobra out of the way.
Wasting no time he pulled his cousin to his feet, stopping briefly to pick up the discarded glasses. In their haste to get out of the exhibit neither boy noticed the second cobra until it struck.
A/N: I'm hoping I didn't go too far with the boy's fight and make either of them sound ridiculously mean I just wanted to introduce the boys' conflict and the way I imagine they fight (Dudley usually tries to tear down the person he's fighting whilst Harry kinda distances himself/ point out what they don't have).
Also I'm trying to avoid painting Petunia as a good mother figure she's still Petunia but if I made her seem to passive in all the conflicts I'm aiming to write her as a person that choses her battles to make her life easier so she won't throw a fit over Vernon using bad language towards Harry but she will try to stand up to Vernon if she deems the punishment too hard.
Lastly I'm hoping my painting of a typical british village town isn't too weird I tried to base it off a town I live near but it's in the north not the south so please try not to laugh too hard at my description of a fictional village in Surrey XD.