An inconvenient truth
Petunia Dursley was having a very good day.
Mrs No.9's car had broken down, and a great yellow rescue vehicle was now shaming her to the whole street.
Mr No.12 had just been laid off, and was having to sell the house because he couldn't pay the mortgage.
Mrs Next Door's flowers were wilting, while hers were in full bloom.
Smeltings had realised what a fine boy her Dudders was, and had informed her that he would be competing in an inter-school boxing tournament. This was excellent news, her baby was finally getting the recognition he deserved. And, of course, now the school nurses could stop going on about his diet; it was clear that she, his mother, obviously knew what was best. Dudley was the school champion; they couldn't say he was anything pure muscle: after all, whoever heard of an overweight sports champ?
Yes, Dudley would make her proud, and her family would be absolved from their association with him.
When she had opened the door on that cold November morning, she had been shocked, then scared, before outraged and mortified.
How dare they! She had spent her whole life making sure she had nothing to do with them! Now her careful subtraction from her sister, her parents were all for nothing! To be forced to raise a child like that! To force her baby to watch in envy as that boy flew, summoned toys and… and! Well, she vowed she would not have it! The boy could stay, and be grateful she hadn't gone and dumped him on someone else's doorstep!
Ooh, it made her mad! The Freaks hadn't even consulted her! They must have known that she couldn't give the boy to an orphanage, not with the neighbours watching!
But oh, what did it say about pure, perfect Lily if none of her friends stepped forward to care for her darling son? Not one of their lot cared about the brat and she certainly didn't want him!
Added to that, she had utterly failed at stamping the magic out of the freak. She'd tried everything short of exorcism, but she knew all her work had been useless the moment the boy got his letter; the same letter that had turned her sister against her.
Did they even care about all the effort she'd put in? She'd spent every day since his fifth birthday training him to do the cleaning, gardening, cooking… He was such an obedient little thing, she had almost found herself thinking highly of his efforts, until she remembered just what he was, and made sure he knew that he had to pull his weight, as he was an ungrateful burden on her honest, hard-working family. She'd punished him for every little display of freakishness, until the neighbours started questioning why he wasn't at school.
She'd told them he was a troublemaker, a delinquent and on top of that, a sickly child. She spun a tale of woe at the boy's ill health, the cost of the various treatments, and his determination to punish his poor doting relatives by acting up at every possible opportunity. She took great pleasure in denouncing Lily's son as the freak that he was. Every complaint that was levelled unjustly at Dudley was heaped on the brat. It was just hearsay anyway; her Dudders would never hurt a fly.
It wasn't a hard sell. He was a weedy, runty little maggot. His freakishness provided the perfect alibi, loathe was she to admit it. That incident about the school roof, well that was just a case in point. The brat was out of control.
He never dressed properly either. It wasn't her fault that he was so skinny. If he'd been a proper size, like Dudley, those clothes would fit fine. They were second-hand, but were all top quality (nothing less for her baby), and long wearing; she wasn't going to spend her hard earned money buying new clothes for the ungrateful brat; and since he'd made holes in almost every article, it was just proof that he didn't take good care of his things, and any money spent would be a waste.
Petunia was on the way to the shops, and saw Mrs Rees of No.7 Wisteria Walk having a heated conversation with her much younger cousin in lowered voices. (The Rees parents had had the two siblings several years apart, and the younger sister had the nerve to wait before marrying and having a child!)
Petunia quickened her step, just relishing the thought of spreading the latest gossip.
"…really worried about him,"
"… so concerned, he's…"
"Whenever did you see the poor dear be anything but polite and respectful? Now that cousin of his…"
Petunia swelled with pride; obviously the Rees cousins knew good breeding when they saw it. She resented bitterly the Potter labelled smear on their reputations.
"Don't get me started on that lout! Threw stones at my car last week, he did!"
Petunia froze. Last week Dudley had been home for the Easter break, and Potter was only around during the summer. She must have heard wrong.
"Petunia goes on and on about her precious son, completely blind about the drugs, gangs, and other nasty business the boy dabbles with. She'd insist the sun set in the east if darling Dudley said it! But her nephew at St Brutus's ? A crueller fate was never had. You heard about the scandal? A member of staff was caught sexually abusing a small boy, and Petunia sends her own blood to a place like that!"
"It's true that I always wondered why Petunia insisted that the boy was no good, with all the evidence of her own son being a spoilt little brat as well, surely she realised that she was practically admitting to failing as a mother?"
Petunia gasped.
"I know, and if I could, I'd have the entire family up for abuse and neglect…"
"Never left a scrap of evidence…"
"Bars on the window! The poor boy's an orphan, and wears rags, why didn't they pay for new clothes?"
"Well, the money for his medication…"
"Oh please, they spend a fortune on holidays, while dumping the poor thing on Mrs Figg. Everyone knows she's only a few eggs short of an omelette, so he can't have been too ill, could he? Besides, why did he never go to a doctor? I was the secretary at the local clinic, and I only saw him come in once, about his eyes."
"A specialist perhaps?"
"When did you ever see that boy leave the house, if not for school and shopping errands? So where was he, if not sick eh? Why didn't we see a peep from him for days at a time?"
"I'm not sure I want to know…"
"And I'll tell you another thing: He doesn't go to St Brutus's."
"What?"
"My friend's daughter, Joan, well, she goes to a school for gifted children, up in Scotland; I'm sure I told you…"
"Yes, yes, I remember. What of it?"
"The Potter boy goes there too."
"Never? The same lad?"
"The very same, now why would perfect Petunia hide something like that? God knows she loves rubbing lord and sundry in our faces, why would she say that her nephew, whom she brought up, was a delinquent and a liar, if he was really a genius kid going to a private school for gifted children. I reckon she doesn't want Potter to be seen to out-shine her son for one moment. The entire affair is fishy."
"Those chores though! Backbreaking, and utterly useless. What's the point of mowing the lawn two days straight? Or weeding the shrubs before digging the entire row up for replanting? My husband couldn't get through a quarter of that load without collapsing from exhaustion. You know I even saw the boy cooking! Cooking, at the stove, when he was only seven years old, it's an utter disgrace."
"And the boy is so painfully thin, if I didn't know better, I'd say they didn't let him eat…"
"Now, I'm sure it's not as bad as that…"
"Well, something's not right!"
"Perhaps it's genetic, Petunia is as bony as a…" "Horse" "… rake, so maybe…"
"You don't believe that! I thought he was joking the first time he told me his age: ten years old, and no taller than when my Joshua was six!"
"Humpf. Well, at least he's not like those Dursley men, they'll be dead before they hit fifty, you mark my words; no man can be that size without consequences."
"I know, didn't I tell you about…
The two women continued, unaware that Petunia Dursley's perfect world was crumbling beneath her feet.