The Houses Competition (or THC) Round 4 (BONUS ROUND)

House: Slytherin

Class: Muggle Studies

Category: Standard (up to 3,000 words)

[Scenario] Good Dursley!AU. - The Dursleys aren't abusive or neglectful towards Harry. Suggested characters: Dursleys, Harry, Severus, maybe Evans grandparents

Prompt: [First Line] Sometimes, running away [isn't/wasn't] the cowardly option.

Word Count: 2,983

Disclaimers/triggers: This is an AU with not a positive view of Wizarding Britain and based on the assumption that muggleborns have to come from somewhere.

"Oh, they were proud of Lily! It was always Lily this or Lily that! They were so proud of having a witch in the family!": Paraphrased from Petunia Dursley, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Beta Love: EndofthePage, StoryPlease, PersnicketyFics - Thanks to my teammates for looking over my story!

…

A GRAVE DECISION

…

Sometimes, running away wasn't the cowardly option. Sometimes, it was actually the most logical option – even if such a conclusion sometimes required a second look to make sense.

Vernon Dursley stared at his wife, who was standing in their bedroom and piling clothes on their bed.

"Pet? Darling?"

His wife didn't even look up from her frantic packing. "Darling? What are you doing?"

"We," Petunia announced without looking up from the clothes she was sorting – her voice was pitched to accentuate the pronoun, "are leaving."

"Leaving?" Vernon frowned. "Leaving where?"

"Doesn't matter," Petunia answered and discarded some of the clothes onto the pile on the floor, before folding some others away in one of the bags she had pulled from one of the closets. "As long as we leave, I don't care where we go."

Then she frowned at the clothes. "Be a dear, Vernon, and go to the attic to retrieve the suitcases, will you?"

"Pet…" Vernon edged away from his crazy wife. "Can we… maybe… talk about it? I mean… this seems to be a bit sudden…"

"It's not sudden," Petunia immediately corrected him. "It's actually overdue!"

"Is it because of the letter? The boy?" Vernon asked, hesitatingly. "Or the craziness yesterday – with the owls, the shooting stars and those weirdos on the streets?"

At that, Petunia stopped mid-packing and turned towards Vernon, some clothes still in her hands.

"Lily is dead," Petunia said slowly. "My sister died, Vernon. And the only explanation I got was an insufficiently detailed letter."

Vernon frowned. "Insufficient?" he asked, fully aware that he hadn't had a chance yet to look at the letter himself. His wife had read it and then taken it upstairs with her and the babies before Vernon had just had the chance to ask her about it. When he finally caught up to his wife, she had already started packing.

"Insufficient," Petunia agreed with fury in her eyes and reached for a pile of scarves. She brushed them aside and unearthed the missing letter. Then she picked it up with the tips of two fingers – as if it was contagious just by touching it – and handed it to Vernon with a look of utter revulsion on her face.

Vernon suppressed an eyeroll and took the letter from his wife. He straightened it and skimmed it.

...

"Lily and James Potter were killed by the dark wizard Voldemort on Hallowe'en… … … the ritual Lily performed to save her son, Harry James Potter, blew up their house… … … Harry is the sole survivor… … … everyone will know his name… … … the magical protection that was placed upon 4 Privet Drive will activate the moment you take Harry in… … … the boy has to stay with you until he turns seventeen, or the wards will fall, leaving you unprotected from the magical world… … … Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore…"

...

Vernon turned the parchment around, in the hopes of finding a more thorough explanation than the one he just skimmed.

There was nothing else on the parchment – not that he expected it, considering that there was a signature at the end of the letter, but he couldn't help but search for a more thorough explanation of what he just read.

"That's…" he trailed off, unsure what he wanted to say in the first place.

"Insufficient," Petunia finished for him with fury in her eyes. "Not to mention cold-hearted. I mean… who does that? Just write a letter and then put it in the basket with an infant to leave them on the doorstep of someone? Lily was my sister! No matter if I hated her or not! I had the right to hear of her death in person! Not like this! And certainly not while also finding her son on my doorstep like a bottle of milk!"

"Then, would you have wanted them to come here?" Vernon asked her with a frown on his face. "Weirdness and all?"

Petunia hesitated, clearly pulled in both directions. "Yes… no… I don't know!" she finally exclaimed. "There are some of them who know how to fit in, I mean! They could have sent one of those! Not a letter!"

She glared at the offending piece of parchment in Vernon's hands. Then she turned around and started packing again.

Vernon sighed and skimmed the letter a second time. "You are aware that this letter speaks of protection as long as we stay here?" he finally pointed out.

Petunia scoffed. "'Don't trust them folks'," she said in a way that didn't sound like her at all. "That's what Mother always told us when we were little. Lily – perfect Lily – might have gone on and disregarded Mother's advice the moment she stepped into that world, but I never forgot!"

"I thought your parents–"

"Oh, they were proud of Lily! It was always Lily this or Lily that! They were so proud of having a witch in the family!" Petunia agreed and pressed some of the clothes with more force into the bag than what was necessary. "Lily was always their pride and joy! But that doesn't mean that perfect Lily didn't have her flaws!"

Petunia shook her head, a single tear spilling and running down her cheek. "No," she scoffed. "Lily… Lily never listened. When we were little, Mother would tell us the good parts. All those funny and child-friendly tales about a world full of elves and other magical beings. Fairy tales, you know?"

She looked up at her husband and Vernon nodded in understanding. Petunia looked away again. She reached for some blouses and folded them forcefully.

"Mother… she spared us the darkness, she spared us the evil of this place and… well, when she stopped sparing us, Lily had long since stopped listening," Petunia continued, her voice breaking. "Instead, Lily listened to that Snape boy. Nasty boy that he was, he turned Lily's head with all his fantastic tales about that world! After she met him, she didn't want to hear anything about the darkness that lingered in that world's shadows! No, that nasty boy had her enraptured – and he took her away from us! After she went to that school…"

Petunia drifted off and shook her head with a sigh.

"My sister never returned, you know?" she finally whispered. "She stepped on that train, but never returned. Instead, a witch stepped back out of that train after a year – a witch, still called Lily, still with red hair and green eyes – but not my sister, never my sister."

"Pet... that still doesn't explain why you think we have to leave," Vernon said slowly, stepping closer to his wife and taking the clothes in her hands from her. "Explain it to me, please, darling. Why do you think we have to leave?"

Petunia looked at Vernon with a lost look in her eyes. "Because if we stay, the same thing will happen to Harry," she said distraught. "If we stay, we will have to bring him to that train one day and he won't return. We might get back a boy looking just like him, but he will be a wizard, not my nephew anymore. I can't let that happen, Vernon!"

She shook her head. "No, we need to leave. That's the only way to save us all!"

"We could raise him without getting attached," Vernon hesitatingly offered. "We could keep him at arm's length and–"

"No," Petunia interrupted him. "No, Vernon. That world got three generations of my family. I won't give it a fourth!"

"Pet–" Vernon reached for his wife.

"NO!" Petunia slapped his hands away. "No! I'm no fool, Vernon! Mother told me stories – told us stories – oh what lovely stories! Of goblins and gold and magic! Of elves and unicorns and potions! Of justice and eternal friendship!"

She hugged herself. "Mother spoke of it. The temptation, the belief in magic and justice, but…" Petunia stopped speaking. She clenched her fists and shook with fury, her eyes searched Vernon's, looking for something that Vernon couldn't fathom.

"Grandfather died when Mother was six years old," she said emotionlessly. "Mother had already lost her own mother by then. And instead of them looking after Mother, they sent her away!" Petunia's voice raised into a crescendo. "Can you imagine it? Being sent away from everything you know by those people? They should have looked after her! She was the child of one of them!" Angry tears spilled, flowing down Petunia's cheeks while her voice dropped into a whisper. "Can you imagine begging them to look for your father? Begging them to find a trace of your father who was lost in the line of duty? He ended up in danger because of those people! He died because of those people! And they didn't even care enough to search for him! Didn't even care enough to look after his six-year-old, orphaned daughter after he lost his life for them!"

Petunia balled her fists. "They left Mother's father to rot, left him to die somewhere because a dark wizard thought that he could wear his face and nobody – not even Grandfather's closest friends – cared enough to look for him!"

Vernon winced. "That was more than fifty years ago," he tried to sooth his wife. "You said it yourself, your mother was a child back then."

Petunia scoffed. "Those people also left Mother and Father for death when one of their terrorist raids targeted the place they were in – not caring that my parents could have lived if they'd just called the police or an ambulance!" she told Vernon coldly, her voice rising with every word she was spitting out.

"And now? Now they killed my sister with their negligence and yet, you want us to stay here so that they can claim my nephew as well?!"

Petunia uncurled her fists and took some deep breaths to calm herself somewhat. "No," she whispered. "No. They got three generations of my family. They won't get a fourth! We're leaving! And if you refuse, then I will take my children and I will leave without you, Vernon."

"So, you want us to run away in the hopes that they won't find us?" Vernon asked with a frown. "What about my job? Our lives here? Do you really want to give that all up on a whim?"

"Your boss asked you to take over the New York office last week." Petunia dismissed his concerns. "You just have to say yes and your job will be safe. As for our lives… Well, I don't have any close friends here and you just have acquaintances. There's nothing we can't regain somewhere else."

Vernon agreed with an inclination of his head, before he said with a frown: "Even if those people don't come for us for the next ten years – what will happen when the boy gets old enough to be school age?"

Petunia raised an eyebrow at Vernon, so her husband forced himself to elaborate, "You told me that they found your sister because of her magic. The boy was born in their world – chances are that he's already registered. They don't need to find him. They already know that he exists."

"They won't find him," Petunia declared, calmly.

"You can't guarantee it!" Vernon countered immediately. "They have magic! They know his name!"

"That's easily changed," Petunia intercepted him calmly.

"They know our names!" Vernon added forcefully.

For a moment, Petunia was silent. Then she pressed her lips together determinedly. "Those are also easily changed."

Vernon gawked.

"Pet? Darling?" he asked, totally thrown by his wife's comment.

"They might know my maiden name and my married name," Petunia said coolly. "But they don't know Mother's maiden name."

Vernon stared at his wife. "How can you be sure?" he finally asked.

"Because Lily was a muggleborn," Petunia spat the word with venom in her voice. "And I am a muggle."

Vernon frowned. "I think I don't get what you're hinting at, Darling."

"Mother was the daughter of a wizard," Petunia said. "Lily is his granddaughter. No matter what else she was, she should have never been listed as a muggleborn if they knew."

"So… you want us to… to take a… a magical name?" Vernon actually looked as if he was tasting something foul by just saying the word 'magical'.

Petunia hummed contemplatively, her hands packing the bag thoughtlessly. "That might be the one way we could run away without them ever finding us again," she agreed pensively. "Not to mention, it would give us a place to run to."

She stared into nothing for a while. Then she nodded to herself. When she looked up, her face was filled with determination. "Mother told me stories about rituals," she said. "Just like she told me about the importance of names. If we use a magical name – a name we have a right to use – then we make it true."

Vernon swallowed harshly.

"You want me to give up my name," he said slowly. "You want us to take in the boy, change his name, change our names and flee?"

"That's what I will do – with or without you," Petunia countered. "Harry is my sister's child, my nephew, my family. I refuse to give him up. If you don't want to come with me, then so be it. I will take my sons and leave."

Vernon knew that his wife meant it. She would take Dudley and Harry and leave him, if he refused.

For a moment, Vernon's thoughts turned to his sister. Then he steeled himself. Marge didn't need him – and they wouldn't have to lose contact. He doubted that anybody from the magical world knew about Marge.

"I want to keep in contact with my sister," he said nevertheless.

Petunia nodded thoughtfully. "It should be doable, somehow," she agreed. "At least by letter, maybe by phone."

Vernon nodded. "I will get the suitcases."

For a while, they packed up everything they needed in silence. They didn't take much. The pile of disregarded items on the floor grew more than the things they took. Just the necessities and some mementos they didn't want to live without were stowed away.

"What about the boy's wound?" Vernon finally said while stowing away some children's toys. "It will scar over. People might…"

"If we don't find a magical solution, then plastic surgery is always an option," Petunia countered. "As for how it happened? Well, we'll just say it was an accident."

Vernon nodded and agreed saying, "We can still tell Harry and Dudley the truth when they're older."

"We will," Petunia said, forcefully. "Harry should know about his mother." She didn't really care about keeping the memory of James Potter alive. She had never liked that arrogant toerag and she wasn't interested in her son trying to emulate his bully of a father. Not to mention that Harry would never be a Potter if she had a say in it!

"Dudley… Dudley is an unusual name," Vernon said at that moment slowly. "Not to mention that alarming tidbit from the letter. The one that said that everyone will know the other boy's name…"

Petunia hummed in agreement.

"I thought… What do you think about Gawain for Dudley?" she asked. "It was our second choice, after all."

Vernon nodded contemplatively. "Nobody should know about that, so calling him Gawain should be a good choice."

Petunia nodded briskly.

"Then Harry will be Percival," she decided. "It fits, if they're going to be twins – not to mention that it's a family name."

"What about that school?" Vernon asked, still a bit uneasy about that thought. "They will come for the boy, known name or not. They came for your sister, after all."

Petunia frowned. "It won't be Hogwarts," she spat the name. "Grandfather went to another school. Mother said they had more mundane classes than that school. He will go there, but that's fine. If mother's stories are true, then Dudley – magic or no magic – can go there as well. They have special classes for children like him with inactive magic."

Vernon frowned. "So… more like a normal school, then?" he inquired.

Petunia shrugged. "Those people over there keep even more to themselves than the British do," she said. "At least, they always did in Mother's stories. We will count as part of them, because our name will tell them that, so don't worry about it. They will accept us."

"And you don't think anybody will ask about the boy being ours?" Vernon inquired, concerned. "I mean, his dark hair–"

"He's all his great-grandfather," Petunia said with a shrug. "Nobody will ask. Even now, there will be too many people who remember Grandfather. They will all look at Harry and tell him he looks just like his great-grandfather."

Vernon nodded assertively. "That's good then," he said and closed the suitcase. Within minutes, they had the suitcases in the boot of the car. Then, Petunia took Harry and Vernon took Dudley. They went on a last round through the house to ensure that nothing was left behind that could spoil and that the energy and the water were cut off.

That was the last time the Dursleys were ever seen on Privet Drive.

And while the wizards of Britain started to panic after they found their young saviour missing, on the other side of the world, in the US, two young boys grew up happily.

"Gawain Arthur Graves! Percival Merlin Graves! Get back here! I know it was you two who turned your father's hair purple!"

"Hurry up, Gawain! Mother is after us!"

"Not so fast, Percival! Look there! Let us hide there!"

And not one of their friends – magical or not – treated them differently than any other child. There was no scar, no prophecy, no adventures that ended in death. They were children – just as they should be.

Yes, sometimes, running away wasn't a cowardly action at all.

The End.

Guess I changed the Evans' origin a bit. But then, I've always thought that magic doesn't come from nowhere. And no, the Grandfather isn't an OC (hint: the dark wizard who wore his face is Grindelwald). ;-)

Over and out.

Ebenbild