Henny B-F-R - The reason why Vernon calls Petunia 'Pet' is more a term of endearment as I'm sure he calls her that in the books, but yeah, can see what you mean.


CHAPTER TWO

As he was a young child, Dudley didn't take in the interior design of the house, choosing to instead gaze into the living room in utter misery.

"Your TV's too small!"

"So sorry about that. I have more important things to worry about. Come on, I need to show you your room."

Huffing in indignation, Dudley followed Mrs Figg up the steps, stamping his feet on every step.

"Don't do that." She rolled her eyes upon seeing the boy's reflection in the mirror at the top of the staircase. He was poking his tongue out behind her back.

"This way, Dudley."

The five year old let his bag trail behind him, squealing whenever any cats made an appearance. Mrs Figg opened the door to the guest room, then looked down in bemusement.

"I thought cats wouldn't scare you, surely you've seen one before?"

"Yeah! Mummy won't let me have one, said they're messy and dirty." His eyes shone with glee. "Like Harry."

"Your cousin isn't dirty, and neither are my cats." She stepped into the guest room. "This is where you'll be sleeping. I hope it is up to your exceptionally high standards. Room fit for a king and all. More like a spoilt brat." She mumbled the last part to herself.

Having taken no notice of what the cat lady had said, Dudley entered the room, dumping his bag on the floor and launching himself onto the bed. The springs in the mattress groaned in protest as Dudley rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Well, now you've gotten yourself acquainted with the bed, I'll give you a little tour of the room." When she received no response, Mrs Figg clicked her fingers. "That means you have to get up and stand on your own two feet. Do you think you can do that?"

Pouting up at the ceiling, Dudley whined: "I'm not stupid, and no, I'm comfy here."

"Fine." Mrs Figg sincerely regretted taking on her young neighbour. He was an absolute nightmare in every waking moment. "I have a few rules I want to put into place, just so you can keep yourself safe and we won't have to end up worrying your parents. Rule number one: No going out of the house by yourself. I don't want you wandering off. Number two: The latest bedtime I'll allow you is nine. I don't want you losing sleep each night, you'll barely be able to stay awake when your parents pick you up. Number three-"

"Whatever." Dudley hollered. With a lot of effort, he sat up, sliding off of the bed. "Let's play hide and seek!"

"Dudley, no-"

Before she could utter another word, he had run out of the room, squawking with laughter. Aware that he could trip over any one of her cats and potentially hurt himself, Mrs Figg followed him, ears attuning to the sound of his giggles.

"Dudley? Where are you?"

A happy giggle was quickly cut off by the sound of a door closing. Realising that he must have shut himself in her own bedroom, Mrs Figg marched to the door, twisting the handle and preparing to give the little brat a lecture.

He was attempting to hide under the bed, but his ever growing mass prevented him from fully sliding under. Mrs Figg, struggling to contain her amusement at such a sight, folded her arms over her tatty cardigan.

"Dudley, come out please. I'm going to start making dinner soon."

"Can we have takeaway?" His voice, muffled under the bed, piped up.

"What did you say? I can't hear you under there."

Pulling himself free from under the bed, he stared at her. "I want to choose the takeaway!"

"We're not having takeaway." She huffed. "And I would think you're used to home cooked meals, what with your mother being a housewife and all."

"Mummy cooks all the time! It's boring! But I want chicken nuggets and chips! Now!"

"I don't have chicken nuggets and chips. We're going to have fish and-"

"Chips!"

"No, fish and-"

"Chips!"

Mrs Figg wished she had brandy in the house to down. "Dudley, how many times am I going to have to say this? We're not having chips-"

"Why not?!" He pouted, hands on hips. For a moment, he reminded her of his mother. Those moments were rare.

"We are having fish and salad. We can go food shopping in the week and if you've been good, I may allow you to get some fatty foods, but definitely no takeaway."

"But I want chips!" He flung his head back and let loose a loud bellow.

"YOU'RE AN EVIL WITCH!"

Mrs Figg stared at him in shock. Dudley was now looking back at her, his blue eyes glinting with anger and his hands, free from his hips, balled up into small fists.

'Well at least he didn't substitute the 'w' for a 'b'.'

"One last time. We are eating fish and salad. Will you help me prepare it?"

"NO!"

"Fine. You can stay up here then until dinner's ready."

He blinked once. Then, blinked again. Shock seemed to have settled into his system.

"B-But I want to w-watch telly…"

"You can't. You've just shouted at me and frankly, you're a very rude boy. I won't stand for it in my house. You stay here for now."

"But Mummy and Daddy-"

"Let you watch the television and would let you have takeaway. I know, I know."

Expecting him to fire back that he would tattle on her to his parents, she was surprised and slightly concerned to witness Dudley suddenly clutch his stomach, a grimace forming on his lips.

"I don't feel so good… my tummy feels weird…"

"Well I know it's not from sweets, as I haven't given you any… Oh, but I bet you had some before you came over. Did your Mum give you some?"

"Yeah," He let out a strangled groan. "Said something about you not feeding me enough…"

Mrs Figg snorted. "That sounds like your Mother alright. Probably thinks I'm inadequate when it comes to feeding young children, particularly the greedy kind."

"Ow! It really hurts!"

She sighed. "What did you have to eat before you came over?"

"C-Chocolate."

"What type of chocolate?"

"Five Cadburys… The Dairy Milk ones. They're really yummy!"

"That's far too much!"

"But I like them!"

Not wanting to hear any more of his whining, Mrs Figg stood with her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing. "Dudley, you are eating a healthy meal now. No takeaway at all. I will do you a smaller portion because of the little snack you ate before coming here, but if you refuse me-"

She stared pointedly at him as his mouth opened. "You can go straight to bed. Right now."

His mouth closed in horror.

"That's better." She turned away from him and headed towards the kitchen. "Come on, you can set the table."


After a tantrum at having to set the table for the first time in his life, as well as mashing his fists into his food, Arabella was dragging Dudley up to the guest room by his arm. His feet stamped on every step, evidence of his unhappiness, as Mrs Figg pulled him into the second bedroom.

"Change into your pyjamas, then meet me in the bathroom. Yes?"

"Yes… evil witch."

"What did you say?"

He aimed a huge fake grin at her as she let go of his arm. "Nothing!"

She furrowed her brow at him, but dismissed his probable lie to move into the bathroom. Dudley watched her go, sticking his tongue out at her retreating figure. He changed out of his clothes into his spotted pyjamas, grabbed his toothbrush from his bag and dashed into the bathroom, baring his teeth to the old woman before him.

Mrs Figg arched an eyebrow. "Dudley, what are you doing?"

"Waiting." He replied, his teeth gritted.

"For what?"

"For you to brush my teeth." His simple statement blew her away. Aghast, she began to chastise him.

"Dudley, you're five. You should be brushing by yourself now. Look, I'll put the toothpaste onto the brush, then I want you to brush for two minutes. Got it?"

Relaxing his teeth, Dudley wailed: "But that's long!"

"No arguments. Now," She plucked the toothbrush from his fingers, applied the paste onto the brush and gave it back to him. "Brush."

"I don't want to go to sleep! I'm not tired!" He complained, accompanying his words with a yawn he desperately tried to keep contained. Mrs Figg sighed in frustration. They had moved on from brushing teeth to bedtime, but her young neighbour wouldn't get into bed and was now hassling her to let him stay up late.

"Mummy lets me stay up late!" The usual deviousness in his eyes intensified. "She won't be happy when she hears that you didn't let me stay up until midnight! That's my bedtime!"

"Dudley, don't lie to me. I am looking after you and you should listen to me. You are going to bed right now and you are not to get up in the night."

Another bout of whinging started up and Mrs Figg resisted the urge to cover her ears with her hands.

"Stop that silly noise and get into bed!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "No getting up in the night for any midnight snacks either. If I catch you snacking, you'll be in big trouble."

Unperturbed by such a threat, Dudley's eyes swelled, attempting to portray the innocence that constantly escaped him. He battered his eyelids, whispering:

"Please, Mrs Figg? Please?"

"No. Go to sleep."

As soon as he heard her answer, Dudley lost his innocent look and reverted into his normal brattish attitude. Stomping his feet, he scrunched up his nose and wailed:

"I want to stay up! It's not fair! Mummy and Daddy would let me! You're stupid!"

"Ah," Mrs Figg dropped down to her neighbour's level and grabbed hold of both of his arms, shaking him slightly. She growled:

"You do not call me stupid. Don't ever insult me! Your parents need to raise you more effectively and you will go to sleep. Now."

"No! I hate you!"

Arabella shook him harder. "Well, I don't like you at all, but I'm taking care of you for your parents, which shows I care." She neglected to tell him why she cared about his family, solely down to one member, but he was only a little boy. Nightmare he may be, she did not want to see him die.

"Mummy and Daddy think you're weird! Stupid cat freak!"

"Right." Mrs Figg growled, slipping out a threat before she could think logically. "You don't get to bed right now, then I'll put you in a cat basket!"

That got Dudley to shut up, tensing on the spot. His bottom lip wobbled and his hands clenched, then unclenched as he quickly climbed into bed, snuggling down under the covers. His teddy bear had been packed into his bag by his mother, but he was a big boy now and didn't need a wimpy toy to cuddle up too! But he couldn't deny that a small part of him wanted the toy by his side, especially in this crazy lady's haunted house.

Mrs Figg, a tense figure in the doorway, stared the boy down. Five years of parents spoiling him had warped her neighbour and she doubted that he had learned decent morals yet. She could attempt to teach him, but what would be the point? The boy wouldn't amount to much anyway.

She continued drilling her eyes into his, until his eyelids drooped downwards and light snoring commenced. She shook her head and quietly shut the door, relishing the company of her cats.


Three hours had passed since Dudley had gone to sleep and Arabella was cosy in bed when she heard sudden whimpering. It was faint albeit close. An intruder wouldn't whimper, her cats could stand up to a burglar but they were not as fierce as guard dogs. Unless, someone with magical abilities had entered her home…

Quickly, she shifted one of her cats off of the bed and clambered out. She pulled on her dressing gown, shoving her feet into her slippers and darted down the stairs. Logical reasoning evaded her as she went to confront the intruder. Dudley had to be protected, no matter what. Harry Potter's cousin was valuable, his personality aside. Mrs Figg peered into the living room, eyeing up any potential weapons to use on the intruder. As she crept over to her armchair, the scene that she encountered sent her into a short state of shock.

Dudley was curled up on the floor, trembling in fear. His back was to the television, volume low and screen far too bright for her adjusting eyes. The figure on the screen seemed to be from a horror film, judging by the badly scarred face and clawed hands. Mrs Figg grimaced, before looking disapprovingly down at Dudley, who slowly raised his head, tears leaking down his face.

A small voice wavered up to her, making her fold her arms crossly.

"Freddy's going to get me… I-I don't want to go to sleep anymore."