It was one of those overheated, sticky summer afternoons that leaves people gasping for breath. The street was empty, and the blinds of all the houses were shut against the sunlight. The day was tranquil; it was far too hot to do anything much. The quiet of the day was suddenly disturbed by shouting, and the front door of the second house from the corner being slammed. The neighbors paid no mind, as the residents of No. 4, Privet Drive were known to be a bit... odd. There was Vernon, who jumped at the mention of certain words, and there was Petunia, who palpably worshipped her son, a great bullying monster of a boy called Dudley. And then there was Harry. The skinny boy, with the brilliant green eyes and messy dark hair. The quiet boy, who wore broken spectacles and what were obviously the obese Dudley's hand-me-downs. The boy everybody rather suspected was being abused or at least neglected. They never dared voice that opinion, of course; it wasn't their place to make accusations against their neighbors. Or, at least, they never dared voice it until Harry vanished one hot summer afternoon...
"Filthy freak, having your unnatural friends threaten me... You'll pay for that, boy!"
"No, Uncle Vernon, I swear I didn't ask them to do that! I swear!"
"Why the hell should I believe a freak of nature like you? You set those demon things on Dudley!"
"No, I didn't! I was saving him! You have to believe me! Please, Uncle Vernon!"
"Filthy... lying... abnormality!"
THUMP
"Should... have... been... drowned... at birth!"
THUMP
"Doing.. freakish... things!"
CRACK
"Please stop hitting me... I'll do anything you want..."
"All I want you to do is DIE!"
CRACKCRACKCRACK
SNAP
Silence.
It was only by sheer chance that anything amiss was noticed. The police had brought Dudley home after catching him and his gang drinking in the park, and the policeman came in to have a word with Vernon. The sight of blood seeping from under a cupboard door horrified him, and when he opened the door to find the source he was nearly sick. The space reeked of blood, far more blood than could have come from the owl lying dead on the floor. But it was the little bed in one corner, and the bureau in the other, that nearly made him weep. Somebody had been living in there, a space no bigger than a king sized bed. There were broken toys on the dresser, and crayon drawings hung carefully on the walls. A damn child had been locked up like an animal!
"Vernon Dursley, you are under arrest for animal abuse and suspicion of child abuse. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will..."
The Polkisses testified, and Arabella Figg from down the way. Vernon's lawyer, an oily looking man in an expensive suit, told his client it would be best to plead to a lesser charge. He refused, saying he had done nothing wrong. His lawyer looked at him disbelievingly, but complied. Teachers from the local primary school testified. Petunia Dursley testified in exchange for immunity. The arresting officer testified. Dudley testified on his father's behalf, but he was the only one. The verdict was rendered in less than two hours.
"Vernon Dursley, the court finds you guilty of the murder of your minor ward, Harry James Potter. You will serve a sentence of no less than fifty years, and no longer than life, at a prison to be determined later. Court is adjourned."
In a Surrey mental institute, a green eyed teenager in a wheelchair laughed hysterically when the verdict in the much publicized Dursley murder case was announced. When he calmed down, he smile beatifically at the nurse.
"They can't find me anymore! I don't have to do their dirty work!"
"No, sweetie, they can't."
And she made a note on Harry Evans' chart, indicating paranoia, and passed to the next patient.