Guys, I looked over my first story, and realized that my humour was better then, but my description is better now. So I'll try to smash-mix the two, and get the ULTIMATE story. Ok?
Dudley Dursley looked out of the small gap between his mother's arms. Why was he not in his stroller? Usually when they went out, Dudley was safely ensconced in his pushchair and his mum was walking behind. When another woman walked past, she cheerily waved and greeted them, stopping to gossip about Mr. Number 2's horrid car. These women were normally the pursed-lipped, flower print dressed Mrs. Number 5, or the pink loving, dog hating Mrs. Number 9, or a woman known simply as Yvonne, and his mother's BFF for life and sole gossip buddy.
That was beside the point. The question that had started all this was: Why was he not in his stroller? This was a mystery that Dudley's abnormally small amount of brain cells were unable to comprehend. Another query sprung up. Why was his mother getting into a car other than his father's Vauxhall Vectra? He would've bawled at the top of his lungs, but he had little energy left to scream, so he kept quiet. The door slammed shut. The driver was a rather stubbled man with nicotine yellowed fingertips. A distasteful rumble filled the car as they set off.
Dudley peered out of the window. Grasslands rushed by. Gone were the familiar boxy dwellings of Privet Drive. Where were they going?
By the end of the ride, Dudley was no closer to the answer than he'd been at the start. However, he had found out that chocolate cupcakes were, in fact, smaller than cakes. Thus, the ride wasn't a complete failure.
They stopped in a dense tangle of forest. Dudley gazed at it. This was the kind of wood that he was sure Tiggers and Winnie Pooh Bears and big bad lions lived in. For he, being a mere infant, was unaware that tigers lived on the other side of Earth entirely, bears were scarce in Britain, and lions tended to roam the hot plains of Africa He began to cry, energy replenished by chocolate cupcake aplenty given to him in the car.
"Don't worry, Duddykins." His mother soothed as soon as the car drove off. "It's all going to be alright."
It's all going to be alright. Those were the words echoing forlornly in his ear as he was lulled to sleep by the rocking motions of his mother as she trekked through the wood to Godric's Hollow.
"Dudders, my little angel! Time to get up!"
This was how Dudley was roused from his nap. Blinking sleepily, he glanced around. They appeared to be in a neighbourhood similar to Little Whinging, though ages less boring.
Petunia smoothed down her own dress, a rigid grey pencil dress, as well as pat Dudley's newest and best bonnet indulgently.
She rang the doorbell. A peculiar ring was heard inside the house, much different from the default ding-dong of their house. A starry eyed, red-haired woman answered. She was in a floaty apple green dress that complimented her emerald green eyes.
"Tuney! Come in!" she exclaimed, giving the aforementioned woman a tight hug which she shirked away from.
"Hello, Lily."
They headed in, the door shutting behind them. Dudley stared around with pale blue eyes. The walls were alternated between tasteful cream and vivid red. A light brown wood made up the floorboards, and crammed bookshelves lined the walls.
A scarlet sofa stood in the living room, brick fireplace, though unlit, blackened with soot before it. a black haired man with large ebony-framed glasses knelt by it, holding a polished stick in the air. Rainbowy bubbles came out of it, glimmering in the air before being popped by a chubby finger, which was attached to a curious faced infant with bright green eyes and the same messy hair as his father.
"Hi. You must be Petunia." The man stood up, cradling the boy in one arm, and awkwardly shaking Petunia's hand. She looked horrified, but kept it together, though Dudley spotted her frantically shaking a huge glob of hand sanitizer onto her hand when they turned their backs.
"Yes. This here is Dudley. What's his name?"
"Harry. Harry Potter. After his grandfather."
"Oh." She answered politely.
"So, Tuney, should we start the birthday celebrations?" Lily winked at her sister as she sped off to the kitchen.
"I'd advise you to cover your ears right now." James said. Petunia did as told, placing a hand over one of her ears and shielding Dudley's ears with the other.
Soon they could see why. A platoon of colourful banners descended from the ceiling, all emblazoned with the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY. Confetti endlessly rained from above, spiraling everyhere in a frenzy. Balloons appeared from nowhere in all sorts of interesting shapes, sizes and colours. The HAPPY BIRTHDAY music played in the background. Lily walked in with an enormous smile and carrying a cake that was the last word in cakes. It was a seven tier thing, every layer a different shade of the rainbow. Cartoony animals danced across it, trumpeting and growling and meowing for all their worth. The words HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY were written in white frosting on the topmost tier. A single flaming candle stood on the top, flickering merrily to the music.
The birthday boy looked very happy at the state of proceedings. He clapped his pink hands with excitement and his cheeks turned rosy.
"You wanna cut the cake, Harry? You wanna cut the cake?" the boy answered with a infantile chuckle.
It was set on the table with great fanfare. Harry gazed at the cake, in all its glory of waltzing deer and rainbow layers, and gave a big, loud, gurgling laugh.
"Happy birthday to you…." everybody sang(well except Dudley, he was too young to elicite more than a childish 'momma') as Harry, his dimpled paws guided by his mother's slim hand, sliced right through the Layer of Supreme Redness. They kept singing as it was spooned into his mouth, the happy face pronouncing clearly that it was delicious.
"Does Dudley want cake?" Lily queried, spotting Dudley making big eyes towards the cake. Most would say that the cake he'd had for his birthday had been a splendid affair, with figures of Superman and Batman placed all over the thick chocolate icing, but to Dudley's eyes, this colourful thing, with moving, MOVING animals twirling all over, was much more wonderful than his commonplace little superhero cake.
"Ga-ga."
Lily cut a clean slice, unfortunately separating a waddling little penguin from his friends, and offered it to the boy. Crawling towards the plate, Dudley scooped the lime green icing right off with pudgy fingers and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.
After every bit of cake was demolished, helped stupendously by Dudley, Destroyer of Frosting, and James, Devourer of Desserts, both so named by a chuckling Lily Potter, the adults began conversation. Sorry, what I meant to say was Petunia sat stiffly at the side and answered any questions thrown her way, and Lily and James talked nineteen to the dozen about topics such as the possibility of inviting Bathilda Bagshot for tea and the fact that Rita Skeeter was happily upholding all newspaper worker stereotypes ever created. The babies stared curiously at each other. Harry was on one side of the plush red carpet, playing with a stuffed wolf absentmindedly, and Dudley was on the other, glancing enviously at the toy.
"Goo-ga-ga?" Dudley held out a dimpled hand towards the wolf, and Harry, being an astute infant, held it out towards him, gurgling a mix of gibberish that in baby talk meant 'Here, have it. I have other toys to play with.'
Indeed he did, for Sirius, Remus, as well as his own parents, doted on the boy, and gave him many toys. Harry took out, from a box under the table, a rather wonderful toy bear. It was brown, with black eyes. But it was given by wizards, which meant it was packed to the brim with spells. A flashing neon nose, paws that hugged you('a bear hug' Sirius had said, then chuckled over his own pun) and the ability to trod along on two legs, thus teaching its owner the ways of walking.
Now to most, this would seem like a standard magic toy, but to a Muggle child, especially a kid like Dudley, it was a plaything of absolute beauty. He stared at it, and reached out, hoping that Harry's generous nature would kick in. But, instead, Harry pulled away.
Dudley was raged that he wasn't getting his toy. Why, Mumma and Dadda always gave him all he wanted! Just last week, they'd bought him a wonderful huge 3-foot teddy!
He lifted up his voice and wailed.
"Dudders! Duddykins! What happened, darling Duddy?" Petunia rushed right over, patting and soothing him.
"H-h-e n-no g-give me t-t-toy!" Dudley bawled. Harry, not being of age to more than gurgle amiably, pointed to the stuffed wolf by his feet.
"Why, Dudley, he's already given you his wolf! That's his prize toy!' Lily exclaimed.
"B-but he n-no g-give me th-th-that t-toy!"
"Don't worry, Duddy angel. Mummy'll give you a big pretty cake and lots of toys when we get home." Petunia soothed.
"R-really?"
"Of course. You know Mummy never lies to you." Picking up her squalling son, she strode out. It was good she didn't hear James murmuring to his wife that Dudley was a bratty little baby.
"Tuney! Don't go! We didn't even open the presents!" Lily pleaded.
"Dudders here needs his bottle of lovely warm milk, I think. We have to go home."
"Oh." Lily reluctantly let go of her sisters dress, sadly waving goodbye as she walked out of Godric's Hollow. Little did they know, it was the last time they'd ever see each other.