A/N: Hi everybody! This is my new "What If?" story about if the Dursleys were nice to Harry and accepted magic. Very OOC Dursleys, AU. I will try and keep the Dumbledore bashing to a minimum. Please R/R!
DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling, therefore, I do not own Harry Potter.
Petunia Evans Dursley, a bony, horsey-faced, blonde-haired woman with large, blue cornflower eyes, woke up on November 1st, 1981, with a sense of ominous foreboding. She was barely able to get her much needed sleep last night as a mother of a needy toddler, and although she felt sore all over, she did not feel any sleepiness, only extreme dread. Petunia sat on the edge of her bed that she shared with Vernon, who had already gotten up a few minutes prior, and stared at the dull, gray, cloudy Tuesday weather outside. The neighborhood was extremely boring- all of the dreary suburban houses were identical, and there was nothing special in the neighborhood.
Shaking herself, Petunia forced herself to get up and dress- after all, Vernon would be leaving for work soon, and her precious son, Dudley, could wake up any minute and scream for his mummy.
Petunia dazedly walked downstairs, where Vernon, a beefy, ruddy man with hardly any neck, was picking out his most boring tie for work.
"Pet, dearest, good morning!" Vernon greeted his wife happily, unaware of the inner turmoil his wife was experiencing.
Petunia somehow managed a smile, albeit tight. Today's morning was anything but good, and she hadn't even done anything yet. "Thank you, Vernon, and a good morning to you as well."
Vernon nodded appreciatively and hummed happily as he adjusted his tie.
"I'll go check up on our Dudley upstairs," Petunia added, and without waiting for a response, hurried back upstairs.
Petunia entered the nursery quietly, to find a fretfully sleeping baby boy with shaggy blond hair and her cornflower blue eyes in his crib. When he heard Petunia enter the nursery, he started to wail.
"It's alright Duddy, Mummy's here," Petunia gushed, pecking Dudley's nose.
"H-haw, r-ry" Dudley cried.
"Hm? Sorry, Dud, Mummy didn't quite catch that," Petunia absentmindedly told her son.
"Pah, tee," Dudley screamed.
"Yes, yes, now let's go and eat breakfast," Petunia cooed, much too caught up in her apprehensive feelings than to pay much attention to Dudley's blabberings, settling a wriggling, sweaty Dudley on her hip.
Dudley continued to ramble on and on as they reached the dining room and kitchen. As Petunia half-heartedly stuffed a wriggling Dudley into the high chair, it was half past eight.
"See you, Tunia, Dudders," Vernon said as he pecked Petunia and missed Dudley's cheek- Dudley was throwing an enormous temper tantrum and throwing cereal at the walls. "I'm off to Grunnings."
"Love you, Vernon," Petunia spoke in a flat voice as she cleaned up the splattered cereal.
"Love you too, Petunia," Vernon replied, and then was gone.
After Vernon left, Petunia tried to feed an obviously distressed Dudley. She was quite surprised- Dudley had never been so out-of-hand before. Was it a coincidence that both she and her son were feeling strange, but not Vernon?
After Dudley's disastrous breakfast, Petunia tried to soothe Dudley by holding him in her arms and rocking him soothingly. Dudley whimpered, but fell into a restless sleep. Sighing, Petunia returned upside, inside Dudley's nursery, and placed the sleeping toddler in her arms into the fuzzy blankets of the crib.
Petunia sluggishly went about doing her usual chores- fixing lunch for herself and Dudley, trimming the rose bushes in the garden, cleaning the living room, and snipping the garden hedges.
Vernon came home at six o'clock sharp, the whirring of the Dursley family car distinctable as Vernon pulled into the driveway of number four, Privet Drive of Little Whinging, Surrey.
"Tunie, darling," Vernon called, his voice a little strained as he discarded his hat and coat.
Perhaps it had been a long day, Petunia thought, or maybe Vernon was also experiencing the discomforting feeling of growing apprehension, thick in the air. And perhaps Dudley had, as well, with his morning tantrum and babblings, but he was just a baby, and babies were unpredictable. It was also possible that Dudley contracted a cold.
"Yes, Vernon? It's so nice that you're home. Come and eat dinner with us, dear," Petunia said in a monotone voice.
Petunia ushered her husband into the dining room, where a sulky Dudley was already strapped into his high chair. The Dursley family ate their dinner silently, and only when Petunia had finished the meal that tasted like sawdust, did she stand up and talk.
"I'll put Dud to bed," she announced quietly, unbuckled Dudley from his chair, balanced him on her hip, entered the nursery, and tucked her son into the soft, fuzzy blankets of his crib.
Dudley was surprisingly agreeable- he did not thrash about in his mother's arms, and was out like a light when Petunia placed him into the crib. Perhaps it was that temper tantrums had taken a toll on him.
When Petunia came back downstairs, Vernon was sitting on a couch and watching the weather reports on the telly.
"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern."
The newscaster grinned as Vernon and Petunia shared a look.
"Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"
"Well, Ted," chuckled Jim, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."
Vernon seemed to reach his bursting point. "Pet, dear, there's been, w-wizards and w-w-witches running around all day. There's a tabby cat lingering by our house as well. And owls, didn't s-she say that they were used to deliver messages?"
Petunia was silent- Vernon's words triggered some painful memories that hurt something fierce. "What did the cat look like? Were there eye markings and a stern gaze?"
"Exactly the one!" Vernon exclaimed.
"L-Lily told me about it," Petunia's voice cracked. "The cat's something they call a- an Animagus. It's one of her Professors."
"Strange things have been happening all day," Vernon added after mulling it over. "Must be out-of-hand if they have a school professor stationing our house. I heard talk about the- P-Potters, as well."
Petunia froze. "What if something happened to Lily? What if she d-died? And her son, H-Harry, landed with us?"
"Then we take the lad in," Vernon said decisively. "Poor boy must be traumatized. We'll treat him like a son, of course, and Dudders will delight in having a playmate. We're not poor, either, so we'll handle him just fine. They can share the nursery for now, and then they can sleep in rooms of their own."
Petunia's wide, shining eyes looked at her husband hopefully. It was more than she could ever hope for. "R-really?"
" 'Course," Vernon grunted gruffly, a bit embarrassed. "After all, he's family. Dudley might be M-Magic as well, and I suppose it would be easier if the two lads learn together. We'll educate them on M-M-Magic, of course, and when they go to that- school, at least they won't be lonely."
Petunia was shocked silent. She threw her thin arms around her husband's large form as her world brightened a great deal. If Lily was dead, Petunia swore that she would make her proud by raising her son like Petunia's own.
A/N: So, how did you like it? Please leave a review!
