Title: A very Dudley story

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I do not have any profit from writing this story.

Note from writer: I am getting used to runing late i am afraid but colledge tends ti keep me occupied. Well at least Chapter 4 is ready and 5 is on the making. thank you for the follow, you like the story i take it? Mr. Guest i am still waiting for an answer.

Chapter 4 – The Dursley's Wrath.

'What is going on here?' Her shrill voice echoed through the hallway and broke the spell that had befallen all in the living room while listening to the whispered story. Even Sara herself, seemed to be brought back from a reverie, wondering, jaws clenched, if it was really on her own accord that she had revealed so much to a bunch of strangers.

'Who are these girls? Vernon?' Petunia demanded turning to her husband and even though he was taller than her, she suddenly seemed to tower above him. She seemed to tower above everybody in the room really.

'Sh-She…' Vernon Dursley stammered, cleared his throat and attempted to collect his thoughts. Dudley was sure that whatever his father's notions and beliefs about the magical world, he had been entranced by Sara's story as everyone else had. 'The girl was hurt my dear and…' He begun again with a steadier voice but a look from his wife made him drop the sentence altogether.

His mothers face was becoming flashed and blotchy. Dudley, having seen that expression on her face seconds before she exploded on her nephew, had an inkling on what was coming and, to his utter amazement, he found that he very much wished the upcoming storm would not scare the sleeping child or the trembling girl with the guarded demeanor and the clenched jaw.

'Oh, so she was hurt, wasn't she?' Petunias voice dripped sarcasm. 'And you didn't think that it could be a ploy? They could be spies or even worse! I am sure your lot can make yourselves look all innocent! You could get us all killed!' She was downright shouting by the end and her eyes shot daggers at the two full grown wizards. Dudley supposed that his mother, having known a witch, her sister, although he could not think of her as his aunt, she could appreciate the dangers that magic could pose much better than he or his father could but he was sure the two girls were not a threat. At least not directly. Besides, Hestia would not have acted rashly if she believed the girls to be imposters and Dudley was inclined to believe her rather than his mother in such matters.

Petunia was opening her mouth once more, apparently with the intent to keep hissing and Dudley saw the signs in Hestia's straitening form and frowned face, that the older woman was bracing herself to make a retort while the men were looking to and fro, awaiting the storm to hit home, wisely not daring to interfere.

Dudley, being bored of their almost daily rows, ordinarily would have taken this as the queue and disappeared in his room closing his door behind him in an attempt to drown the hissing and shrieking of the two women. This time however, for the first and, he hoped, the last time, he had something to say on the subject. It was the look in Sara's face that propelled him really. She was looking at him, no maybe staring would be more accurate, and it was a look he was not accustomed to receiving. It was unlike the looks of fear or malicious expectation that he knew from his peers' eyes or the smoldering adoration, reserved for him by his family. Not even the cautious defiance that sometimes sparked in his cousin's face. Sara's glance was furtive and cautious, yes. But a clear expectation, a plea for a help, nonetheless.

And what was more, he realized that she was expecting help from him because he had helped her once a few minutes before. As surprising as this fact was, he was trully flabbergasted when he examined the response of his own feelings to her gaze. He did not want to disappoint her. And that is why, a few seconds later he had opened his mouth, cutting across his mother, and making the hole room stare with expressions varying from perplexed interest to utter horror.

'Mom, we cannot simply tell them to leave even if it does get us in danger.' Silence had swallowed the room and Dudley, resolved to speak his mind, continued. He wanted to make sure that his mother was thoroughly aware of his point of view. If she did, he knew she would never object to what he wanted. 'There is that ''dementors'' thing out there, mom, I felt them. If we make them leave they will suffer what I did that time and it's terrible.'

He could practically see his mother's brain work, trying to compromise the dread she felt for the two girls and the world they represented and impulse to give him whatever it is that he wanted. The need to keep him happy overcame her fear, as he knew it would, and she came pale and with pursed lips, to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

It was his father's turn to become a bright red color. 'Those dementoid things again? I thought you were supposed to protect us.' He spat at the nervous Dedalus. 'I thought that we would be safe here. Didn't we abandon our house and comfort, my job and Dudley's school so that we would not be in danger from your lot?' He would have said more, towering over Dedalus having almost pinned him on the wall, flecks of spit landing on the stammering wizard's face, if Hestia hadn't intervened. She always showed more backbone in dealing with his parents than the man ever did.

'It's not that simple Mr. Dursley.' Her voice was calm and steady, nothing like his father's shouts, but she had no trouble making herself heard. 'The wizarding world is in the midst of a raging war. The ministry has fallen.' Gasps of surprise came from around the room and a wail from a dismayed Dedalus as he slipped to the ground. 'I am sorry, Dedalus, I did not have the heart to tell you. It's been a while now. Scrimgeour is dead and the city of London is a true battlefield.' She moved to the man's side from where she was crouched beside Emily and helped him to his feet. 'Our side is still fighting Dedalus, don't lose hope.'

Turning once again to face his father she persisted to acquaint them with their grim reality, everyone listening intently. Dudley thought that his parent's not arguing for once, was a testimony to the gravity of the situation. 'We are protected enough here thanks to the fidelity charm and sufficiently out of the way, many miles from London and as long as the small number of people from the order that knew details of the plan are not caught, or if caught, they don't brake under torture, we will not suffer a planned and therefore a full on attack by death eaters.' Dedalus took a shuddering breath, closely reminding a sob. 'That does not mean however that random attacks may not come our way. Dedalus and me, we will do anything in our power to protect you because we promised Harry we would and we won't fail him but we are but two wizards and I cannot promise certainty now that things are getting bad.'

Everyone in the room seemed to have deflated a bit and silence followed Hestia's words. Then, his father, rousing from a state of deep thought was suddenly very red in the face once more. He did not shout at her though, as Dudley expected, watching the color fill his face. On the contrary his voice was calm and collected, clearly a sign of demur. 'Then why, in the name of god, did you allow those two inside if things are as dangerous as you say, woman?'

Hestia's voice was ice cold and precise as she answered. 'Because I will not allow a child to die in front of me even if I have to forfeit my life in exchange for his'…

To be continued…