"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise." – John Clarke 'Paroemiologia Anglo-Latina', 1639
Vernon Dursley of 4 Privet Drive was an early riser. He has been for as long as he could remember. It came with growing up in a home with a drunk,
abusive mother and an absentee father. He had needed to be up, dressed, and fed before his mother could stumble home after a night of drinking. If she saw him before she had gotten at least 10 hours of sleep, he would be attending school with new bruises, cuts, and/or a broken bone or two. As an adult, he rose early out of habit. He had found fairly quickly though, since marrying Petunia Evans, he needed to ensure he was gone before she woke, so the habit was in fact very useful.
Much like his own mother, Petunia enjoyed drinking and hitting him. Like it was when he was a child, there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He was a large man and he knew that no one would believe him if he said anything about the abuse nor could he even think of fighting back. He was grateful that, since having Dudley nearly two years ago, she was a bit calmer on most days. All her focus was now on the boy. She spoiled him rotten, though he could never tell her that. He was going to grow up to become a bully. Vernon could already see it and it made him immensely sad. Dudley nearly always got his way and if he didn't, he wasn't opposed to kicking, biting, hitting, and screaming until he did. It rarely took long for Petunia to give in on those rare times that she did tell him no.
Vernon had always wanted to be a father. He wanted to give a child everything he didn't have growing up. But when the opportunity finally came about, he wasn't allowed to do anything. In Petunia's eyes, his job was done. He gave her a child and now she cared even less for him. It hurt his heart to have a small human, a small part of him, he couldn't place a loving hand on let alone hug. He felt like an outsider in his own family.
On a particularly cold day in early November, Vernon opened the front door of the quiet house. It was still quite dark out but he enjoyed the peace he would get on his drive to work. It was also early enough to have a nice breakfast at the small café near the office. He wouldn't admit it to anyone but the waitress who worked this early in the morning was a favorite of his. She always had a warm, shy smile for him. As he stepped out onto the porch, his foot hit something solid. Looking down, he gasped as he saw a sleeping child wrapped in a blanket laying in a wicker basket. A letter sat next to him. Vernon brought the basket inside, careful not to wake the baby, and set him on the kitchen table. He opened the letter and could feel himself getting angry. This was Petunia's nephew. Her sister and brother-in-law were murdered and someone just left this poor child on his porch, in the cold, with just the clothes on his back and a thin blanket. What kind of animal would do this?
Vernon knew that Petunia wouldn't want to take this boy in. He knew all too well how she felt about her family. He knew that she would probably treat this boy worse then she treated Vernon himself. Maybe this was the sign he had been waiting for.
Since Dudley's birth, Vernon had been saving up and planning on divorcing Petunia. He would give her the money she wanted and she could even have the house. He knew she wouldn't really care as long as she got what she felt she was due. His solicitor had already drafted everything up. This was the time. This was the moment. He would take this boy, formally become his legal guardian, and be the father he always wanted to be.