Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Hello again! Back so soon? Yes. Yes, I am. I'm hooked on challenges now. Whoopsies. This here is the beginning of what'll probably be five separate oneshots. Written for myrrhmonkey96's writer's block prompts, here's my take on "a chest of childhood". Enjoy! I like reviews... ;)
"Daddy, is this all you had?" Dudley laughed and shook his head, dumping out the quite large chest that held all his childhood toys. Once they all sat on the sitting room rug in a pile, both a rotund, blonde-haired boy and his younger sister, a girl of darker hair and a lower body mass index, began to sift through them looking for anything of worth.
"These are the most memorable," Dudley replied, sitting on the couch beside his wife to watch them. Olivia, now holding a remote control crane her father had gotten on his eleventh birthday, scowled and tossed it aside. Her brother stared at it for a moment, trying to decide if he longed for the old toy, but kept on digging. Something so old was not worth his attention.
"Daddy, why do you have this in here?" Olivia asked, holding out a very small orange sweater covered in brown pom-poms. After a moment of silence, she added, "Can I have it for my poppets? Miranda needs a new outfit."
Dudley gave her permission to take it- not that she needed it, for as soon as she asked she had tried in vain to stuff it in the back pocket of her jeans- and looked at his wife. Emily wouldn't understand what that sweater meant. She didn't even know about his cousin. Then again, he had never found it important to mention. Harry wasn't important. Mummy and Daddy had taught him that.
Suddenly, the fat lump of a boy that had been exploring his father's toys eagerly shrieked in pain. Emily jumped up immediately to rush to his side, although Dudley didn't see the point. Jonathan always made a great deal of nothing. He had probably only frightened himself, for he didn't have the heart of a lion...
"Dudders," his wife shrieked, "he's bleeding!" And that he was. Now that Dudley looked upon his wife and son, he could see that Jon's hand was cut rather badly, and all of his once-prized possessions were beginning to be coated in blood.
"Hold on!" he demanded, teetering quickly to the kitchen where he grabbed a towel. Bringing it back to the flustered two, Dudley helped Emily wrap it around bawling Jonathan's palm. Once the bleeding had been stopped, he stood back up and took in the scene.
Emily cooed softly, petting her son's fair hair. "Johnny," she murmured, "what hurt you, lovely?" The boy merely whimpered and pointed to the pile. Upon digging, his mother found shards of porcelain and hissed. "Why was this in here, Dudley! This is a trunk of danger, that's what it is! Let's throw it out now..."
With a sigh, Dudley agreed. Of course, it was his job to shovel all of the contents back into the toy box, which he then had to carry out to the curb to be picked up for trash. As he placed it down on the grass, looking around the little suburban dream, the trunk seemed to open on its own accord. Within, amongst the old toys he had shoved back into it, were the remains of a pretty porcelain teacup. That must have been what cut Jonathan. It took a moment, but suddenly its importance sprung forward in Dudley's mind.
He put the tea down at Harry's door- it was a small truce. There were few things that his cousin would have enjoyed at Privet Drive, but tea was universal- or perhaps at least national.
That's right... He had been grateful that Harry had saved his life that night so long ago. There was no way to repay him, really. Dudley didn't know his cousin at all. He was so different from the rest of them; they had never found common ground. It was as if he hadn't lived in their house for seventeen years, but instead used it as a gateway to and from the wizarding world and his bedroom. That had definitely been their fault, the Dursleys.
"I don't think you're a waste of space."
With a sigh, Dudley secured the lid of the trunk into place. He had regrets... And that that chest of his childhood held most of them. But making things right between him and Harry... That wasn't one of them.
As he walked back inside, a car pulled up to the house. "Dudley!" He turned at the sound of his name shouted, as it echoed in the cul-de-sac. There, in the driver's seat, was Harry. In the back were his three small children. "Is now a bad time?"
With a small smile, the fatter man shook his head. "No... Not at all."