Dear reader,
I started this story in a slightly manic mood. The inspiration for chapter 2 never came. Sometimes I dreamed about finishing it, but that was about it. So unfortunately, for now this story is abandoned due to lack of creativity. I am terribly sorry for letting everyone down. If anyone else who also liked Luna Bass's idea wants to write a story with the same premise, feel free.
Love and blessings,
The author
I stumbled upon Luna Bass' story premise collection. I really liked them all, but the one that grabbed my attention the most was 'Letters from N.O Boddy', because the idea seemed very creative to me and I loved the title. I am just carrying out Luna's wonderful idea. I hope you will like it.
There were two things that eight-year old Harry Potter knew for sure.
One: his aunt and uncle had never wanted to adopt him. Two: Dudley Dursley, Harry's nephew and stepbrother in spite of himself, did not want his friends to know that aunt Petunia was calling him Dudleykins.
At first, Harry did not consider the two facts to be related. But one day, in one of his frequent moments of boredom, he saw everything in the grand scheme of things. His life was miserable as it was, but that didn't mean he could not try to make it more bearable.
Vernon, Petunia and Dudley were visiting some amusement park, and like always they had dropped Harry at the house of Arabella Figg, their old neighbour. Mrs. Figg had only four cats named Mr. Paws, Mr. Tibbles, Snowy and Tufty, but she never stopped reminding Harry about all their dead predecessors.
"Don't you think Stripey looks handsome on this picture?" Mrs Figg croacked, looking at a page in one of her ten photo albums.
"Who is Tiger?" Harry asked absent-mindedly. Too late, he realized his mistake.
"Stripey! The one who died in 1980, from the particularly gruesome car collision!" Mrs. Figg snapped. She stroked Stripeys motionless head. "Don't worry, sweetheart" she mumbled, "The Potter boy may have accidentally forgotten you, but I haven't..."
"I'm sorry" Harry said.
"Can you hand me my handkerchief?" Mrs. Figg said with a constricted voice.
Harry desperately searched for it and finally found it laying somewhere on the ground, under a layer of dust. "Here" he said and gave it to mrs. Figg.
"Thank you" she sobbed and blew her nose.
Suddenly, Harry got an idea. Not just an idea - it was the best idea he had ever had. "Mrs. Figg, do you have - paper and a pen?" he asked.
Mrs. Figg looked in the distance as if she was thinking.
"Yes... I think I have that somewhere... It's in one of the drawers in my wooden cupboard..." she replied.
Harry searched, and eventually found a few yellowing pages and a very old-looking pen. "May I use it?" he asked uncertainly.
"Go ahead" Mrs. Figg said and blew her nose again.
Harry sat down on one of the chairs surrounding the wooden table. The best way to insult Dudley without risking an endless set of chores from his aunt and uncle would be to send Dudley a letter. Maybe - maybe he could even make it sound like the letter came from Piers, Dudley's best friend!
No, better yet - he mustn't sign the letter at all. It would make Dudley crazy, speculating who on earth could have written him... Harry laughed at the idea. But that was also a problem. Of course Dudley would suspect Harry first. He needed to create a mysterious name to sign his letters with.
"Dear Dudley," he started his letter.
"I know you, Dudley Dursley. Aren't your friends called Piers, Dennis, Gordon and Malcolm? I overheard you when you told them how you were adopted by a couple of mafia bigshots. How do you think your friends will react when they discover that you weren't, and that your mum is calling you Dudleykins?
I give you one chance. Stop bullying the neighbourhood children. If you don't... Well, you know what will happen. I am watching you.
Sincerely,
N.O Boddy"
Harry grinned. This was perfect!
"What is so funny?" Mrs. Figg asked, distracted from her photo album.
"Nothing" Harry lied hastily.
For the first time in his life, Harry saw Dudley truly miserable.
"Dudleykins, what is wrong?" Aunt Petunia asked in a very concerned voice, oblivious to the murderous stare that Dudley threw her.
"I think Dudley just has a very hard time at school" uncle Vernon grunted. "Times aren't easy for kids nowadays. But our Dudley is talented, he doesn't have to worry..."
Harry got the urge to vomit.
"And you!" Uncle Vernon asked him loudly. "How are you doing at school?"
"Very bad" Harry lied, because he knew that that was the only answer uncle Vernon would be satisfied with.
"I already thought so. Nothing good can come out of you". Harry ignored it, for he did not want to make uncle Vernon's comments ruin his otherwise perfect day.
Dudley stared at him with the same murderous glare he had sent Petunia, but Harry knew that he did not dare to accuse him in the case it hadn't been Harry who had sent the letter. Having power over Dudley was possibly the greatest feeling ever. And it wasn't really a coincidence that Dudley's first miserable day was Harry's first happy one.
But the happiness did not last forever. Two days later, Harry saw Dudley and Petunia talk - and from Dudley's fake tear-stained yet genuinely sorrowful face and Petunia's expression (a mix of unpleasant surprise and pity) Harry guessed that Dudley had showed her the letter. He cursed under his breath, for he had hoped that Dudley would have been too ashamed to tell Petunia the lies he had told to his friends.
They went inside Dudley's room. Harry quickly walked towards the door and listened.
"...That is a very good way to blackmail someone..." he heard Petunia say. Or at least, that was what he thought he had heard Petunia say. Sure she couldn't really have said that? He must have misheard it.
But then Petunia went on: "I wish I had thought about this when the Oh So Great Lily Potter became my parents' favorite..."
Harry was astonished. Lily Potter? Normally, Petunia never talked about his mum. Apparently, Petunia's parents had favored his mum in the same way Petunia favored Dudley. It was too crazy for words...
"MUM, YOU ARE DEFENDING THAT MEAN BULLY!" Dudley screamed and started fake-crying again.
"Dudley, SHUT UP!" Petunia shrieked.
It was the first time Harry had ever heard Petunia lash out at Dudley. His life was turned upside down. Instead of feeling as happy as he had always imagined himself to be in a situation like this, he wasn't quite sure what to feel. This did not seem like his life anymore. He almost wished things would turn back to normal. This was all too unbelievable, too strange. This was a situation he was not used to, and he hadn't prepared himself for.
When he heard footsteps, Harry ducked away and feigned checking the carpet for dust, something Petunia often made him do. But it turned out that he didn't need any excuse: nor Petunia nor Dudley had even noticed him. Dudley's face was still tear-stained, and Petunia stared blankly in the distance in a very un-Petunia like way.
"YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE!" Dudley suddenly screamed. This seemed to bring Petunia back to life.
"No, sweetiepie, you know that isn't true.." She tried to hug Dudley, but Dudley punched her in the face instead.
"LIAR! YOU THOUGHT THAT...THAT..N.O BODDY PERSON WAS CLEVER! MORE CLEVERER THAN ME!" Harry had never seen Dudley lose his marbles quite like this before, and instead of amusing, he found it rather frightening. Harry never expected ever feeling sad for Dudley, but there he was, desperately wishing Dudley would stop crying or screaming..
Dudley ran down the stairs, and Petunia tried to grab his arm, but it was of no use. Instead of going after Dudley, what the normal Petunia would have done, this Petunia just stood there, her face emotionless again... Then, she suddenly noticed Harry.
"Did you write that letter?" she snapped at him.
Harry knew it was of no use to lie. "Yes" he admitted, sounding defeaten.
To his utmost surprise, a smile brightened Petunia's usually uptight-looking face. "I hoped so" she replied.
"Why?" Harry did not understand a thing of it.
"Because.." Petunia sighed. "I always thought I had an useless hobby. Vernon often mocked me with it. 'Spying on the neighbors is below us' he always said."
Harry did not understand what that had to do with anything, but he was glad that Petunia talked to him in a calm voice for once, so he answered:
"That isn't true. Spying on the neighbors can be...handy."
He did not know in which situation it could possibly come in handy, because despite what Dudley liked to believe, Little Whinging was the most boring town in the whole country. But something told him that this wasn't the right moment to question one of Petunia's pastimes.
"I can't believe it!" Petunia shook her head. "Of all people, Lily's son would show me how to put all my knowledge about the neighbors into use!" At first she seemed lost in thought, but then she looked at Harry again.
"This does not mean I like you." she said coldly.
"Of..of course not" Harry stuttered.
As if she wanted to pretend that their odd conversation had never happened, Petunia abruptly turned around and walked down the stairs.
It had taken place on the twelfth of June, 1980.
Mum just put the last hand on Lily's updo, sticking a freshly picked white lily in it. Dad wiped the tears from his eyes with his handkerchief. And Lily herself turned around, facing Petunia.
"How do I look, Tuney?" she asked enthousiastically.
Petunia gulped. Lily looked stunning - more beautiful than she would ever manage to look on her own wedding with Vernon. Still, Lily's wedding dress looked absolutely outrageous - something that Petunia had wished would have been reserved for medieval noblewomen or gypsy's only instead. She still looked -
"Weir-" Petunia began, but then she saw the look in Lily's eyes pleading not for hearing the truth, but for reassurance only.
"Good. Normal." she eventually stated. That was everything that was needed to remove the worried look from her younger sister's face and make her beam again. Petunia wondered where on earth that vagabond James Potter was - probably not in a fancy car, but waiting somewhere for Lily on a broomstick... How unromantic! Petunia laughed secretly.
How great was her surprise - and her disappointment - when James Potter did arrive in a fancy car. She wondered how on earth he had gotten the money for it. Probably stole it.
"James! We have to hurry!" Lily exclaimed. Everyone rushed downstairs, and Petunia felt a pang of an incredible sadness mixed with an incredible rage.
Nobody looked behind to see whether she followed. Tuney. The pathetic, sad, Muggle witness.
Petunia trashed the decorated mirror and the vanity cupboard, and thrashing things was a very un-Petunialike thing to do. To both her astonishment and wry expectation they had automatically repaired themselves. Trust that freak to have freaky furniture, she thought.
When she had finally forced herself to go downstairs as well, and saw the grin of James Potter - that arrogant prat - something happened to her, something she still wasn't able to explain.
"I - I can't do it" she heard herself whisper. Nobody heard it. "I can't do it" she repeated, more loudly now. Then they heard.
"What do you mean, you can't do it?" Dad asked, still looking disgustingly dazed from happiness. "Don't worry, Petunia! All you have to do is sign!"
"I -don't want - to sign." she heard herself announce and everyone looked at her with squinted eyes, or as if she were a mental case.
"Petunia's a little confused. It's the stress!" she heard mum say, who grabbed her by the arm and whispered furiously: "Petunia! What do you mean by that?"
"Are you happy that Lily is marrying that vagrant?" she tried, for the last time.
"As long as our Lily is happy, I am happy" mum just replied, with that saintly look in her eyes. "And you should too."
Hearing these words, Petunia burst into tears; she pushed her mother away, and pushed away even Lily, who cried out: "PETUNIA! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"
She turned around once. "To Vernon, the only person who loves me" she stated.
Petunia desperately tried to block out the memory of her sister sobbing hearing these words...
Later, Petunia had heard that some twisted witch friend of Lily's - wasn't she called Mary McKinnon? - had just replaced her like being a witness hadn't meant anything anyway. Since Lily's wedding, the relationship with Lily and with her parents had turned colder somehow. And she had never been able to make up for it before -
Petunia buried her head in her hands. She refused to cry - hadn't they betrayed her like no other? - but she couldn't stop the tears from forming.
Vernon had been the only one who hadn't asked any questions, and had accepted the fact that she had ran away at her sister's wedding as a very logical decision to make. To be sure, Petunia had asked him: "You don't want to have anything to do with witchcraft, do you?"
Vernon had looked at her with that look she loved: "Why would I want to have anything to do with witchcraft?!" he had replied very indignantly. "Leave that to those blasted fortunetellers, who fork up innocent citizens. Not me! I would hit them over the head with their broomsticks if I've got the chance!"
And from that moment, Petunia had forgotten all her misery and she had known that Vernon and she belonged together. But now, there was a completely different problem...
Even though Vernon was in all ways the perfect husband - just like Dudders was in all ways the perfect son - he also had some minor mistakes. Like for example when Petunia watched the neighbours. They could have secretly robbed a bank, for all they knew! And in the meantime, she had something to talk about - that ugly sweater looked really bad on mrs. Thompson. But somehow, Vernon failed to understand the importance of it.
"You could be a bit less nosey, sweets" he sometimes even said. Lovingly, while ruffling her hair, but he shouldn't have said it in any other way - then she would definitely have rounded up on him! Like he didn't have any useless hobbies himself! Trying out drills to come up with better ones to sell at Grunnings! Petunia had told him countless times that selling drills that were too good was only in his disadvantage, since then people didn't need a new one. He had eventually agreed, but he had never agreed that watching the neighbours was an useful activity, and that still bothered Petunia.
And then there was this miscreant, this son of Lily and James Potter, her nephew and stepson in spite of herself, who told her that her favorite hobby could come in handy?!
Petunia was not sure what to think or do anymore.