They were sitting in the living room, his parents reading, when the sneak-o-scope lit up and started spinning.

'Oh, what now? What does that mean?' His father glared at him as if it was his fault. Dudley didn't bother getting angry, he was too busy panicking.

'It - it means Death Eaters are coming-' Both his parent leapt to their feet, but there was no time to run.

The front door exploded.

Dudley could hear shouts and his father swearing as smoke filled the room, but loudest of all was his mother. 'RUN, DUDLEY! Get upstairs!'

He obeyed instinctively, running for the door. He made it halfway up the stairs before his mother's screams stopped him in his tracks.

They were torturing her. Shit. Shit.

Run.

He ran into his bedroom and slipped behind the door. He could hear his parents shouting. His father sounded furious, his mother petrified. For the first time in his life, Dudley Dursley prayed.

Someone, a stranger, a male, shouted a spell. His father fell silent. Dudley heard a bump, as if someone had collapsed. Then his mother stared screaming again.

His dad was dead. Fuck no.

'Where is your filthy son,' shouted the man.'Where is he?' Petunia said something. Then a new voice, a woman's voice, cried: 'Draco! Upstairs! Get the son!'

'No! Not Dudley!'

Dudley could hear running on the stairs. Shaking, he found the backpack he kept ready just in case.

Then he heard the spell again, and this time he caught the words 'Avada Kedavra!'

His mother stopped screaming

No. Oh God, oh God no...

He dashed for the window. It was bolted. Swearing, he yanked at it, blinded by tears.

Just as the bolt slid free, something moved behind him. Dudley turned around slowly.

There was a boy in the doorway. He couldn't have been much younger than Dudley himself. Despite the terrified look on his face, his wand-hand was steady.

They stared at each other for an eternity. Then the boy slowly lowered his wand, shaking his head. He glanced over his shoulder, looking more scared than ever, and mouthed at Dudley: Go.

What?

Go! And then, in a whisper: 'I'll...' the boy turned his head away. 'Just - just go.' Dudley realised with a numb sense of relief that this was not the person who had killed his father.

Hardly daring to breathe, Dudley opened the window and grabbed the sill. He looked back at the boy.

Thanks.

He lowered himself so that he was hanging by his fingertips.

'Draco?'

He dropped. Empty air for a moment, then soft grass. He rolled on impact and scrambled to his feet. The boy was shouting to an imaginary Dudley: 'Hey! Hey, get away from the window!'

Dudley made it over the fence and out into the street. He could hear voices coming from the house.

Run, said a little voice in his head. Run and don't look back.