Paradigm Shift

Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything Harry Potter related. This is a fic mirror to Han (another fic I write) from Dudley's and Pétunia's point of view. Enjoy!

Chapter one: decisions

And he knew how to deal with freaks.

Grapping his son's arm hard, he throw the terrified child in the cupboard under the stairs and left the house without a word. One minute later, Petunia heard his car leaving.

She knew she had to act quickly, before he returned. The look on her husband's eyes when he stared at their son had been unmistakable. That was the look he usually reserved for Potter. A look of utterly disgust and loathing. A hating glare.

She had nothing against the way Vernon dealt with Harry. The boy was nothing but a nuisance and he got what he deserved. But her son? Her unique child? She couldn't let Vernon hurt her Duddyckins.

So she left. It was an impulsive decision, but she knew it to be a good one. As soon as the car's sound faded away, she stood, made hurriedly her way to her bedroom and began to pack as much as possible, leaving a lost Harry in the kitchen. Then, she packed a few things for Dudley as well, took him, and left without a word.

A few minutes later, changing her mind, she went back to the house and wrote a note for her husband to find. Then, she turned to Harry and said:

"I know I said I would take care of you but I can't. Dudley and I are leaving because I can't stand Vernon hurting him. If you have any brain at all you won't wait for your uncle to come back and put it all on you. Bye."

Meanwhile, Dudley Dursley sat confused into his mother's car. Thus far, his home-life had been very simple: when his father or mother were pleased, it was because of him. When they were angry, it was because of the freak Potter.

Furthermore, everything Potter did was bad. Everything Dudley did was good. For example, if Potter were to sit on the couch and watch the telly (something he never did of course), he was a lazy-good-for-nothing boy. When Dudley himself did, he was a being a good and well-behaving boy.

But not this morning. This morning, his father had been angry with him. He had been as angry as the times when Potter did weird things, magic things. He had done magic too, he knew it.

He had wished very hard for a computer and it had appeared right in front of him. He thought his father would be proud of him. But his father had yelled at him. On his birthday!

And then he left, and his mother had took him and an awful lot of things (but not his beautiful computer, witch was still on the kitchen's floor) and told him to stay on the car.

She returned five minutes later and without a word, she boot up the car and drove faster than ever. And when he asked her where they were going and if they could go back because he didn't want to go anywhere without his new wonderful computer, she told him to 'shut the hell up!'.

That was the weirdest thing of all. His mother never ever swore, at least in front of him, and certainly not to tell him not to speak. He was confused. But he didn't dare open his mouth again.

He awoke the next morning as the sunlight filled the little bedroom they were in. Opening his eyes, it took him a while to remember why he was in this unfamiliar room and not at home.

Everything was so clean and impersonal that even if Dudley had never been particularly bright, he immediately understood that they were in a mansion.

Of course he had already been in some, every time the Dursley family went in holidays, but it wasn't anything like then. Holidays with his dad were always planned months in advance, in a warm and sunny place, and they stayed at the nicer and most expensive hotel there was.

Here… It was different. It was a little room with just two small beds, a blue desk and a large window. A door in the opposite wall probably led to the bathroom, and another door was the exit.

His mother was filling some paperwork at the desk, unaware that he wasn't asleep anymore. He moved the covers to get up and his mum turned her head to greet him.

"Good morning Duddyckins! Did you sleep well?

Yes mummy. Where are we?

In a small hotel in London. We'll stay here for a while. The owner is an old friend of mine. She offered me a job.

A job? But mum, you don't work. Dad works and you spend his money with me.

Not anymore. I'm sorry Duddy, but you won't see your dad anymore. I'll explain when you're older okay?

Mum are you crying?

No, I'm not. Everything's fine. Now please be a good boy. Have a shower, get dressed and then we'll have breakfast. Then we'll go find you a new school."

He did, and when he returned, the paperwork wasn't anywhere in sight. Instead, there was food, brought from the kitchen from his mother. Apparently, as his mother was a maid there, they couldn't go eat at the restaurant like the other guests. They had to eat up there in their small room instead.

Confused by his mother's explanations but not wanted to ask more as it seemed to upset her, he ate in silence.

Then, his mother took his hand and brought him to his new school. It was a bigger school than the one in Surrey. And the children here looked at him with loathe in their eyes.

To them, he was the new one, a big fat blond-haired boy who wasn't very bright at school. In this school, he wasn't a popular and frightening bully. Day after day here, he took a taste of his own medicine…

A new routine began to settle in. When he woke up, his mum was already working. His cold breakfast was awaiting on the table, alongside with his pocket lunch.

He showered and dressed alone, then went by foot to school. There, he tried his best to appear insensitive and unhurt by his schoolmates' behaviour towards him (or tried anyway, but sometimes the bullies were found with strange coloured hair or big unnatural pimples on the nose).

And for once, he tried his best at school and by the end of the year he was ready to pass in CP, and knew how to spell and write his name, something he had never managed or cared to do before.

When he returned home, he had tea with his mother and they chatted a lot about his day's school or her day's work. She seemed happy with her new job because it gave her an opportunity to spy the hotel's customers.

One day, not long after they arrived, the policemen came to interrogate them about the day they left their house. Dudley learned that apparently Potter was dead, killed by his dad, and that he would be put in jail for twenty years. When he asked his mum if he could go and see him, she got upset and refused at once. He didn't dare ask her again.

The school year ended a few days later and the routine changed. Dudley was bored. His mum worked an awful lot of time (or so it seemed to him) and couldn't be always there for him when he wanted. And he didn't have any friends to go out with.

And his dad was… no. He didn't want to think about his daddy. His mum didn't want to talk about it, so he still didn't know why on earth his father would have killed Potter. He sure didn't like the other boy, but he kind of missed him.

He had never been so alone before. When his father worked, his mum was always home to take care of him. He had lots of friends, and the telly (they couldn't have one here, not yet anyway), and Harry to bully (that was fun), and his computer… here he had nothing.

He hated having nothing to do, because it made him think too much. About why could his dad possibly wanted to kill his cousin. About why his mother didn't want him to go visit his dad. Sure, he was a murderer now, but come on, he had only killed Potter, the most worthless brat in the entire world, so it shouldn't matter that much, should it?

And it surely shouldn't matter so much to his mum that she didn't even want him to go visit! He was still his father! And he wanted to see him. And if his mum wouldn't take him, he would have to go alone.

Yes. That was it! He just had to go and visit him!