A/N: Two chapters this week to make up for last- unfortunately, this particular chapter just didn't come cleanly to me. If it wasn't semi-important to the vague idea of a plot we're working with, I'd have washed my hands of it all together.
January 7, 1982
4 Privet Drive, Surrey
Melania and Arcturus Black popped into existence half a block from the Durlsey's home, gracefully continuing down the sidewalk without stumbling or breaking step.
Melania, arm tucked gracefully into her husband's, glanced around at the tidy matching houses and manicured flower beds. "They've at least better taste in their flowers than they do fashion. I thought Cassiopeia's elf was kidding when it brought these… outfits…. over."
"I couldn't agree more, my love." Arcturus glanced down at his powder blue linen suit, which was horrifically both button and embroidery free, and winced. "Though I must say Mel, you look quite ravishing in full heathen get-up."
Melania smirked, the caped shoulders of her dress rising in a brief shrug. "Is there anything I don't look ravishing in, husband?"
Pausing to open the gate and gesture her through, Arcturus raised one serious eyebrow. "Certainly not."
It was just past six in the morning, and the sun had yet to show any inclination of rising. Neither did the Dursley family- the lights remained off, and all was silent inside.
"Do you feel any wards?"
"Nothing worth noting around the property itself, I think- certainly nothing that would blast anyone without the worst possible intent. But the house, I do believe, is specifically warded against the dark lord's followers and fire."
Melania scrunched her nose. "Pardon?"
"I know- nearly pointless."
"But why on earth would someone go to the trouble of creating blood wards and not bother with the full list of basics: flood, robbery, poisonous gases, and the like?"
"Lack of knowledge, I would think. Cassiopeia was told it was the child's mother whose magic protected him here, and she was a mu-muggleborn."
The pair exchanged a long, dubious look. Then, the gentlest touch of Arcturus' wand against the door sent it silently opening, and the pair stepped into the tidy house on Privet Drive.
Petunia Dursley was well aware that something was incredibly wrong when she woke up. She would be hard pressed to determine what, exactly, had first alerted her- how does one choose between the metallic bite of wrist restraints, nearly suffocating atmospheric pressure, and the sound of completely unknown voices?
Regardless, when Petunia was brought back to consciousness at half past nine in the morning, she immediately panicked. "Dudley! Dudders! What have you done with my sweet angel baby?"
(Petunia could not know it, but in that moment- with her blonde hair undone and her pale green eyes flashing fire- she looked more like an Evans than she had since she first met Vernon Dursley.)
It took a long moment for Petunia to recognize that she had been tied up in her own parlor, as the space was hardly in the same condition she had left it the night prior. The Ostara sand wallpaper had been meticulously peeled back from the walls and left in tidy piles, and the thick shag carpet that Vernon had convinced her would match three years prior was rolled up against one wall. Photos were out of their frames, their knicknacks had been reorganized and- most concerningly- Petunia's prize floral print furniture set was hovering in the air as if to be kept out of the way.
There was only one possible explanation for the madness of all.
"Freaks! How dare you enter my home! Bring me my baby you horrible creatures! You terrible freaks! You ugly-,"
"That's a bit far, don't you think?" Petunia gaped as a khaki clad woman stepped around from behind her, tapping her wand on her palm like some sort of disapproving school matron. "'Freak' is an unoriginal and uncultured insult on its own. But I simply won't tolerate being called ugly."
"I want to see my son at once!"
"Yes, yes, I heard you. If I didn't have silencing spells up, the whole neighborhood would have heard you. Your baby is perfectly fine, so I would highly appreciate you behaving more like your husband."
Petunia glanced around, realizing for the first time that she was not trapped alone- Vernon was also tightly restrained in one of the chairs from their dinette set. Unfortunately, his normal bluster seemed to have abandoned him, and he was sitting in silent wide eyed shock with his mouth working hard under his thick mustache.
"We were told that none of your kind would be able to enter this house without our permission- that we'd be left out of the mess you freaks made of your own little world." Petunia insisted. "You shouldn't even be able to be here!"
The woman smiled. "Oh? And was that offer… totally free? Perfectly unconditional?"
Petunia's neck turned quite white, and her face quite red, but her shrill voice did not fail her. "Of course it was!"
A deep sigh, and then: "Naughty, naughty. Mrs. Dursley- we've been looking around your house for a few hours now, so I'm quite aware that you are lying. I wonder- were you going to try and tell me that your dearly beloved little sister promised to keep magic away from you?"
The older woman moved closer to hold Petunia's chin as she stared defiantly into her eyes. "Oh, thats delicious. You were."
The gripping fingers retreated, and one of the Dursley's heavily patterned recliners was floated over before settling firmly back on the ground. The woman settled into it gracefully, ankles crossed, and looked at the Dursleys thoughtfully, the way one might stare at a lobster right before dropping it into a stove pot.
"Please- my son. What have you done with my son?"
"It amazes me how genuine your concern for your child is. After all, a child disappeared from your home weeks ago and I can't find a single indication that you bothered looking for him."
Petunia paled.
"Ah, so you haven't forgotten. I did wonder."
"We never asked for that brat, nor for the trouble that he brought with him!" Vernon had, it seemed, recovered both his senses and his voice.
"The trouble he brought with him?"
"Your freakish magic always brings trouble," Petunia whispered, head falling towards her chest. "My parents, our home, my sister…. Magic destroyed it all. And that horrible little creature's freakish magic took away our future too."
"Pet- don't strain yourself, I'll take care of things-,"
"I just want to see my son! I can't lose another child Vernon!"
A bit of silence followed this particular shriek, and then the Dursley's captor frowned slightly. "Arcturus? Bring me the baby, please."
Petunia craned her neck to see a tall man in an immaculately pressed blue linen suit striding in from the hall, Dudley's bassinet floating along behind him like a trailing puppy. "Dudders!"
"He's sleeping- a charm I used on my own children quite a long time ago." The woman hesitated, eyes on her disapproving partner's face, and then waved her wand briefly through the air. Petunia's restraints melted. Softly: "I've lost a child of my own recently. Hold your son, Mrs. Dursley. I'll wake him when we're done with this conversation."
Petunia gathered the chubby toddler close to her- he was getting heavier every day, but that wouldn't stop her from holding him close, checking every hair on his head for some sign of abuse by the freakish intruders.
"Release my husband, too," Petunia finally demanded, voice thick and eyes glued on Dudley's own closed pair. "If you just want to have a conversation, you could at least pretend to be civilized."
The man- Arcturus- snorted. "One of you free is more than enough." He shot a censuring look at the thoroughly unperturbed woman in Petunia's parlor chair. "Melania-,"
His partner nodded. "Yes, yes. But darling, I have a funny feeling that we'd be better off looking at things from their perspective."
"You mean-,"
"Yes."
"On a muggle?"
"Yes, Arcturus."
A deep sigh. "Fine."
"Thank you. Mrs Dursley, do try to stay still. And I wouldn't struggle if I were you- you wouldn't like the resulting effect on your mind."
January 7, 1982
4 Privet Drive, Surrey
Petunia Dursley was well aware something was terribly wrong when she woke up. She would be hard pressed to determine what, exactly, had first alerted her- how does one choose between the scent of burnt coffee, the sun streaming through the window (just how late was it?), and the sound of a fussy baby?
Regardless, when Petunia was brought back to consciousness at half past noon, she immediately panicked. "Dudley! Dudders! What's wrong with my sweet angel baby?"
"Deep breaths now, Pet- little tyke is just exercising his lungs. He's healthy as can be, just listen to him!"
Vernon came into the bedroom smiling, Dudley balanced on one beefy arm. "Feeling better, Pet? Fever down, at least?"
"Fever?"
Vernon's smile faltered. "Well, yes, Pet- you were absolutely miserable when you first woke up this morning. I called in work to take care of Dudley so you could sleep."
Petunia frowned. She certainly didn't remember having a fever. Nor did she remember Vernon offering to stay home- and surely she would have, because Vernon had never offered to stay home. Not even when-
A sudden sharp pain ran directly behind Petunia's eyes and she groaned, thought abandoned. "Right," she murmured, "Well, I suppose I'm still a bit under the weather- but I think Dudley needs fed, love."
"Right away," Vernon said, watching her tuck herself tidily back under the covers before curling up into a small ball. "Little tyke and I will just go have tea now."
"Yes, yes," Petunia murmured, and watched Vernon leave for the kitchen through half closed eyes. A fever, she thought as she began to drift back towards sleep, I was sure there was something else. It must have all been a bad dream.
January 7, 1982
Black Manor, Somerset
"That was more than those horrid muggles deserved, my love." Silver eyes bright over the rim of his tea cup, Arcturus watched his wife consideringly. Melania quirked her lips in the delicate semblance of a smile.
"I know."
"Why, then?
Melania rose and walked to the window, staring away from him into the night. In her nearly sheer silk robe, wet hair cascading down her back, Arcturus thought she looked every bit as beautiful as she had on their wedding night. (It was only the grief in her eyes when she turned back to him that spoke of the decades they had weathered together since then.) "Muggles aren't meant to be enchanted so heavily."
"You pity the creatures for what was done to them?"
"How could you not? I would pity a chimpanzee in such a situation, Arcturus."
"Fine, fine. Let them have their peace while it lasts." Arcturus brushed his wife's fiery irritation aside with one hand. "After all, the family council will condemn them soon enough."
