Vernon watched the giant of a man leading the freak out. The gun in his hand was bent, twisted upon itself. He stared at it in muted horror. He couldn't trust his reality against the freak's anymore. His family was no longer safe. He hoped they would keep the freak and leave his family alone. He didn't need any of that unnaturalness in his life. He didn't need freaks and murderers, poofers or foreigners. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
He packed up his family into the car and drove home. His wife was worrying over Dudley and his pig tail
"How will we get it removed?" she questioned, not bothering to turn around in her seat.
"Hospital. The government pays for these sort of things," he grunted. Vernon wasn't a very smart man, but he knew that those freaks could do worse. He'd hoped to beat it out of the boy, but apparently it hadn't worked.
That evening the freak returned. Dudley avoided him at all costs, yipping and running out sideways whenever the freak was in proximity. Vernon glowered. That poofy bearded old freak had assured Petunia long ago that taking in the boy would protect their family. It hadn't protected Dudley from the giant. He doubted it would protect his family from anything else. it was all a ruse cooked up to get them to take the freak in. He sighed. There was only a month left until the freak left.
On the morning that the boy left for good, Vernon drove him to the train station.
"Wouldn't have done it at all if we didn't need to get this blasted tail removed," he snarked at the freak, watching as he struggled to get his trunk and owl's cage balanced on a trolley. Truth was, he would have taken him no matter what. It ensured that he would be rid of the freak for a year more. Anything to have the source of their problems gone.
Dudley's tail was easily removed, though the surgeon gave him some funny looks. He glared right back. He wasn't a freak. His family were not freaks. Why couldn't everything be normal?
He felt normal when they drove Dudley to Smeltings only a week later. He was back in safe territory at his boarding school. They didn't allow riff-raff in here. He let out a deep sigh of relief that only his wife noticed.
"What's wrong, Vernon," she asked softly.
"Oh nothing dear," he responded, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "I'm just happy that the boy is gone for a while and that Dudley is safely tucked away and making new friends. He'll be grown up in no time."
Petunia smiled and picked up easily on the topic of her little man who was growing up so fast. They had been blessed in that regard.
Still, the feeling of unease wouldn't leave him. He muttered more and more often. He kept seeing /their/ kind of people on the street, dressed up in funny clothes and talking about nonsense in loud tones. He became convinced they were stalking his family. They must follow him home. They were everywhere.
It culminated with Halloween. They had driven back up to Smeltings to pick Dudley up for Halloween. Their boy had grown so much! He stiffly hugged his son, remembering how much he had hated affection when he was Dudley's age. He watched as Petunia rushed in to smother Dudley with hair tousling and kisses when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was unusual, but the woman across the street was wearing colorful robes. He froze, his heart racing. Even Smeltings wasn't safe anymore.
Vernon ushered his family into the car and drove back home.
It wasn't unusual that they had picked up Dudley. They always spent Halloween together, with the lights off and the door firmly latched. He wouldn't invite unnaturalness into his home at anytime, even on Halloween. The freak usually spent it locked in his cupboard.
They had just finished dessert when an owl flew through their firmly closed and latched window as if it wasn't there. It was like a bad parody of a glass commercial. Petunia gasped and Dudley spilled his water all over the table. With shaking hands, he untied the letter, only to watch as the bird repeated the surely impossible stunt. He rolled open the letter, dreading what it had to say.
He snapped it shut after a moment, balling it up and depositing it in the rubbish bin.
"Freak went and got himself nearly killed chasing after a troll," he announced gruffly.
"Was he hurt, Vernon?" Petunia asked.
"Not one bit. That old crack pot just wanted to inform us that the one who blew up your sister may be behind it all. They want him to come home for Christmas. I won't have it. He's better off keeping that magic away from us."
"Of course, dear," Petunia agreed. She didn't like the nonsense anymore that he did. She didn't know quite yet that the nonsense was already in their home.
Vernon awoke that night to owls swooping through the window. He didn't know if they were real or not. They left no shadows, didn't make a sound. The house was filled with creaking. He whole house smelled dank, like death and disuse. He could see robed figures on the inside of his eyelids. His eyes were wide in unrealized horror. This couldn't be happening. They were supposed to be safe! He looked at the clock; it was only 11:30. He was terrified - it had to stop. The freaks had probably sold their souls to the devil, corrupting his family in the process. He had to save Petunia and Dudley - he had to save his family, in the only way he knew how. He looked down at his sleeping wife, before tenderly kissing her goodbye.
Just before midnight, the cops were summoned to Privet Drive. A neighbor had reported three shots fired.
Harry had walked down the stairs the next morning, smiling at his new friend. The three went down for breakfast, only for Harry to be frantically pulled aside by Professor Dumbledore.
"Harry, my boy," the Headmaster said, shifting his weight nervously. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"No thank you, professor."
"Harry…" Dumbledore paused and licked his suddenly dry lips. He had no idea. He hadn't had an inkling. Minerva had been right all those years ago. "I'm afraid I have some terrible news."
"We aren't being expelled are we?" Harry piped up in horror.
"No! Absolutely not! I just talked to the Muggle policemen. Your relatives have been murdered."
Dumbledore watched as Harry opened his mouth in disbelief.
"Here, take this. it is a calming potion. You may have the day off of classes, with your friends of course. If you wish to talk at all, my office is open to you and anyone else who may need it. The password is lemon sherbet."
"Thank you, professor," Harry said quietly. "May I go back to my friends?"
"Of course, Harry."
Dumbledore watched sadly as Harry walked back into the Great Hall. He didn't have the heart to tell the child that all evidence pointed out that the boy's uncle had killed the cousin and the aunt, before shooting himself. No, the boy didn't need to know that. He felt guilty for ever having placed the child there.
Maybe Augusta Longbottom or the Weasley family would make better guardians for the boy now that the last blood relative was dead.
A/N: My first attempt at writing horror. Concrit welcome.