Mr. and Mrs. Dursley stared in horror as the baby began to stretch, his pudgy fists scrabbling at the floor beyond the blanket in which he was wrapped. He blinked several times, as if trying to gauge his surroundings, then moved his head slightly, searching. His bright green eyes found Petunia's, and he smiled a brilliant smile. Or it would have been a brilliant smile, to anyone other than the Dursleys. From their reaction, the toothy baby grin might have been a devil's sneer.

Petunia jumped back as if physically injured by the eye contact, bumping into Vernon in her haste to back away. The baby rolled again and struggled to get out of the blanket, finally managing to sit up. He gazed around the entryway, his eyes bright and inquisitive. Suddenly he looked up, hearing the wails coming from upstairs. Dudley was about to take the crib apart, it sounded like. Vernon cleared his throat and looked evasively at Petunia.

"Er, shall you get Dudders, then?" he asked carefully, stepping back even farther to avoid the baby's reach. Petunia shot him a rather scathing glance.

"And where shall I put him?" she replied in a brittle voice, jerking her head at the baby on the floor. "I can't bring Dudley here, where he might see him." Just as Vernon had before, she dropped her voice on the word him as if fearful she might be overheard. He looked sheepish.

"Ah, quite right, quite right. Well, what's to be done then? Shall we take him somewhere? Is there a home or something he can go to, for people like him?" Vernon asked, glaring down at the baby, who seemed to be enjoying the conversation. His little head turned back and forth as they spoke, not knowing they were discussing him, not knowing they didn't want him, not knowing there had never been a more unwelcome guest in their home. He grinned and drooled on the blanket. He was teething, apparently. Petunia glanced down, disgusted, and looked away quickly.

She seemed to be debating something. Vernon watched anxiously as she lifted the paper in her hands, smoothed the edges crumpled by her fist, and read it again. Whatever was that, anyway? She looked at the paper, then at the baby, as Vernon waited rather impatiently. Finally she spoke in a hard voice he did not recognize.

"No, I don't think so, Vernon. I think…." Her voice faded away, and then she squared her shoulders and spoke again, more clearly this time, "I think we're going to have to keep him." Her face was set in an odd expression he had never seen before. Mr. Dursley stared at her, aghast.

"Keep him? Whatever do you mean? Do you mean here, in this house? With Dudders?" Mr. Dursley's face was growing red again. His whole head seemed to light up like a lantern. She grimaced, but nodded.

"Yes, I think so," and she crumpled up the paper, which seemed to be the cause of all this trouble, turned on her heel, and took it into the kitchen. Mr. Dursley could hear her at the stove, and he quickly went in after her. He saw that she had lit the paper on fire from the gas stove and was holding it over the sink, watching it burn. He had never been more stupefied in his entire life.

"Well what are we to do with him then? He can't stay in Dudley's room," he said helplessly. Mr. Dursley had always been full of bluster, but when it came down to it, Mrs. Dursley often ended up with the final say.

"No, of course not. I suppose he can use Dudley's old crib, from when he was a baby. And we'll just put him in the cupboard there," she pointed out the kitchen door, into the hall, at a small door under the stairs. "It's clean, warm, and locks from the outside. So when we go to bed we'll know he won't be burning the house down." It appeared she thought this might be possible. Then she headed out the kitchen door, back into the hallway, saying, "I suppose I'll have to bring Dudley down. I can't leave him there forever. What will the neighbors think, with all this racket?"

Mr. Dursley was sent to the storage space at the side of the house to retrieve the old crib. Once he had brought it in, he saw that it was quite small. A quick, rather furtive glance at the baby on the floor, who was now playing with his toes, told Vernon that he was nearly Dudley's age. Why, he must have already passed his first birthday. When did Petunia say he had been born? Ah, but she never had said, had she? Until yesterday, they had rarely even mentioned the Potters, much less discussed their offspring. He could not believe his bad luck that one of them had actually managed to worm their way into his home! The nerve, honestly.

The cupboard under the stairs was quite small, but the crib fit nicely, and there wasn't really anything the baby could grab, so it would be fine. Mr. Dursley supposed it would be all right so long as the door was locked, so the baby couldn't get out. Mrs. Dursley came down after a time, holding a sniffling Dudley, who was quite put out at being left alone for so long. His nose was a bit pink and his tiny eyes were watery.

"There's my good chap!" Vernon boomed heartily, pinching Dudley's cheeks lightly to bring a smile to his face. Mrs. Dursley stepped right around the baby, who was still on the floor and watching the goings-on with interest, and walked into the kitchen with Dudley. She made a fuss over him as she placed him in his chair and started breakfast. Mr. Dursley stood there a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, finally deciding he lifted the baby with the smallest amount of contact possible, holding him away from his body and putting him into the crib in the cupboard. The baby gazed up at him, not smiling anymore, his face screwing up a bit as Vernon left the room. He left the cupboard door open and followed Petunia into the kitchen.

Dudley sat in his chair, banging his spoon on the tray as Mrs. Dursley put bits of fruit and cereal on a plate for him. As soon as she placed it in front of him, Dudley began eating heartily, dropping the spoon and grabbing at the food with both fists.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley, gazing at his boy fondly. He had never quite realized how lucky he had been to have a boy like Dudley. The comparison between Dudley and the baby in the next room made him feel quite proud. Just then, a noise came from the other room, a pitiful sort of sound, and Dudley gazed about. Mrs. Dursley had not introduced the two boys, so Dudley had no idea what the noise could be. Mrs. Dursley frowned slightly.

"I suppose he must be hungry," she said, frowning. She put some cereal on a plate and took it into the hallway. Mr. Dursley wisely did not comment. He ate his breakfast rather quickly, eager to leave the house.

"Er, goodbye then," he said when she came back into the kitchen, "you'll be all right, will you?" She frowned again, but nodded.

"Oh, Dudley and I will be great. Have a good day, dear." She kissed the air near his cheek as she took his dishes to the sink. She seemed determined to completely ignore the baby in the other room, unless she absolutely had to acknowledge him. Mr. Dursley put on his hat and coat, and headed out the door. He was halfway to his car when he saw one of his neighbors, the older woman who lived a few houses down, passing by the house. He never could remember her name. Some type of fruit, he thought. Mrs. Grape? Ridiculous name, in his opinion. He gazed at her, suspicious, but she merely waved and greeted him with an airy, "Good morning!"

He grunted a reply and got into his car, backed out of the driveway, and onto the street. So eager was he to put distance between himself and that horrible baby that he failed to notice the woman had not passed by his house at all. In fact, she had stopped and seemed to be trying to see in as inconspicuously as possible. Unable to get a good view, she walked right up to the door and, after hesitating a long moment, rang the doorbell.