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The Ruins of House Potter

Chapter 2 – The Dursley Family

By Jamnaz79

Notice: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not claim to own it or wish to make any money off of it. I am merely using the characters to write some hopefully enjoyable stories. All rights belong to the sacred lady, may she grace us with future stories someday.

It was early morning in Surrey. A fine autumn morning, the day after Halloween in fact, and the day were filled with warmth from the early morning sun. The Dursley family, residents of number 4 Privet Drive had just sat down to an early morning breakfast. The table was filled with a large amount of eggs, bacon, toast, and of course tea. Little Dudley, the one year old child of Petunia and Vernon Dursley was lying in his crib on the side of the room. It was a fine, normal morning which was perfect for the couple. Of course that perfection was about to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Vernon dear, please go and see who that is." Petunia spoke up as she was mixing some batter for some pancakes to go with the morning breakfast.

"Very well Pet," Vernon replied before standing up. Vernon was a large man; he actually played rugby for Smeltings before in his youth and was pretty good too. He had considered the possibility of a pro career but instead chose the military to follow his family tradition. Over time sitting behind a desk had made the large man grow in girth around the waist. He might still swear he was in form but the truth was Mr. Dursley had grown fat. The bulky man stood up and walked to the door perhaps a little annoyed since breakfast was being interrupted. It was the most important meal of day after all. He got to the door to look through the eye hole but found nobody there. The large man started to turn around and head back towards his breakfast when the timid knock sounded again.

Vernon immediately stopped in his tracks and growled under his breath, "Bloody neighborhood kids!"

The large man walked forward to the door and pulled it open quickly with a glare still on his face. His eyes scanned around the neighborhood at first seeing nothing. It was only when he looked down at the ground that he found a very young boy standing there holding a blanket and a letter. Next to the boy were a cat carrier and a suitcase.

The boy had messy black hair, a small little nose and bright emerald eyes. His eyes were red from crying; tear streaks still on his cheeks. He was sniffling as he looked up at the large scary man.

For a few seconds Vernon just blinked. He had seen this boy before but he couldn't remember where. Then the eyes clicked for him. He remembered those eyes, those freaky eyes, "What do you want?"

The little boy sniffled and slowly lifted up his hand holding the letter to the large man. The man took hold of the letter and ripped it open. At first the face of the large man became pale then started to purple in rage before pale again. He looked down at the little boy that was fighting desperately to hold back tears. He studied the boy carefully, he knew what parents were. They were freaks to put it simple. They could do things that were unnatural and dangerous. Obviously from the letter that freakishness caught up with them. Part of his heart wanted to send this boy away, he wanted to cast off the child right now to an orphanage and get rid of him. The other part though saw a boy in danger, this was a boy that could be his own. He was alone, on the streets with nobody left in his family but them.

Vernon Dursley prided himself as a normal man, an honorable man and strong willed. He had married a military man's daughter, he himself had served in the services after Smelting. That service had paid for his college which is why he had gotten a good job not at Grunning's drills. He may be strict, stern, disciplined, but he wouldn't turn away a child. He knew there was only one choice, but if this was to be done it would be done his way.

The large man slowly folded up the letter and slit it away. He reached down and picked up the car carrier with a wrinkle of his nose and took the suitcase. "Follow me inside boy."

The little boy slowly walked inside clutching to his blanket. From the kitchen came the high pitched voice of Petunia, "What is going on Vernon dear?"

Vernon motioned to the right with a frown, "that is the washroom boy, Go and clean up your face and hands. Then you will sit at the table and not say a word understood?"

The boy looked palely at the large man but didn't say anything. Vernon frowned at the boy, "When I ask you a question you respond with yes Sir or no Sir. Understood?"

The little boy slowly nodded his head with concern in his too large emerald eyes. When he spoke it was softly but his voice varied, "Yes Sir."

"Good, get to it boy." He watched the little boy go into the washroom then turned towards the kitchen. While he knew his wife wasn't very close to her sister, it was never good news to lose a family member. This was the last of her family on her parent's side. Like a man marching to war, he turned and walked into the breakfast nook and kitchen. He saw his wife washing her hands having finished the pancakes, "Petunia dear, please stop that and come sit down."

Petunia Dursley was not a beautiful woman. She was what many would call long faced, she always was pleased with her brunette hair, and light build. She was always a slender woman and took pride in herself and home. Now even after becoming a new mother a year ago she still attacked the chores of the household as would any woman with pride in her family. When she heard the tone of her husband's voice she knew something was wrong. When she turned around to see the look of concern on his face her suspicions were confirmed. Slowly she did as requested and sat down at the table, "what is it dear?"

Her husband didn't speak he merely grimaced then slowly handed over the letter to the woman. She carefully looked over the outside of the letter. The front was addressed to the Dursley family, Petunia and Vernon Dursley Number 4 Private Drive Surrey England. The hand writing was crisp and clear and looked to have been done with something other than a pen. A frown crossed her face and creased her brown as she realized where she had seen writing like this before. A feeling of dread started to fill her body as she slowly pulled open the letter.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

Mrs. Petunia Dursley, I do not know if you remember but we have met before when you were a child. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is with sad tidings that I write you this letter. It has come to pass that your sister and her husband have been attacked by terrorists of our society. During this assault your sister and her husband tried to bravely fight off the terrorists. Sadly they were overcome and are no longer with us in this world.

By a final act of sacrifice your sister, Lily, was able to protect her son Harry from harm. AS you are the last relatives that young Harry has left it became prudent to delivery him to your residence to be raised. I understand that this may be a burden on your household and I apologize for that. The Potters have left a trust fund in the name of young Harry. That fund will provide a monthly stipend for his food, clothing and living expenses. A note should be made that individuals may check on the boy to assure these finances are spent on him and his well-being.

I understand that you may not like our society, perhaps even more with the loss of your sibling. I will make certain that our interference is discrete in your lives. We will not bother you over the boy till he s thirteen and ready for our required schooling. Please remember you are the last of his kin and last hope for a happy childhood.

Sincerely,

Albus Percival Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot

Order of the Merlin First Class

Supreme Mugwump of the ICW

The letter fell from her hands onto the sparkling clean kitchen floor. The woman who dropped it gasped as she shivered all over in shock. Her eyes were wide open still reading the letter that was no longer there. Her breathing was slow and shallow almost as if it wasn't there. Petunia didn't feel when her husband's hand gently landed onto her shoulder. Nor did she notice when he pulled her into the tight embrace. She never felt the tears as they started to spill over her cheeks despite her wish that they wouldn't. The woman had lost her sister. The woman that was once her best friend before she went off to that freakish school and those people, she had lost her last family.

Strangely it was the one piece of her sister that broke her out of the spell. The little boy of three slowly walked into the room. His eyes still wide as he looked about the super clean residence. He followed the orders of the large man and took a seat at the table. He tried to be as quiet as possible but he could feel the eyes of his Aunt and Uncle on him as he sat down. Politely the sad little boy kept his head down respectfully.

"Vernon… That is…" Petunia whispered softly as her eyes latched onto the boy. She could see the face of her sister's husband. She had only met the man once, at their wedding but she knew the look of the man and this little child could be a mirror image for him.

The voice of the woman dragged Harry's attention upwards. His emerald gaze looked up and met the gaze of the woman. When that happened Petunia let out a gasp. "Her eyes… Vernon, he has her eyes…"

Vernon looked from the little boy to his wife. He could see the loss and pain on her face but the eyes of the woman were filled with something else. He might dare to call it love, love for the lost sister and friend she once had. He knew for certain that moment that the boy would be staying. He let out a sigh before looking back at the boy. He studied the little thing and figured if this was to be done it would be done properly. Discipline, hard work and determination would be what they would need to keep the freakishness away. He would teach the boy to value hard work and discipline. The boy would be raised in a military lifestyle. The decision made in his mind he spoke firmly to the boy, "Alright boy, you will be living here for now on. Here are the ground rules…"

Author note: The Dursley family is pretty much always stern and demanding of the boy but it is never covered why. This story Harry is not the boy who lived so he doesn't have the horcrux in his head. So I am proposing here that the horcrux influences the family to make them far worse. The hard work and discipline of chores is not taken into the extreme here. Instead he gets a military bearing and mindset from Vernon. He is the older cousin to Dudley so no getting picked on. Any thoughts?