-III-
From the diary of Petunia Dursley:
December 21, 1981 (Monday)
Vern's sister, Ms. Marge Dursley, is coming for Christmas. Vern is ecstatic. He's always been in awe of his big sister and now he won't stop yapping about how, as a guard dog breeder he is sure she'll have oh so many pointers on 'how to put the freak in his place'. And it's not just her that's coming. I could have tolerated her but no, she's bringing her dogs. All twelve of them! What will become of the house with them running wild? The mess will be intolerable. Intolerable! Vern won't budge. He was even talking with his sister on the phone about giving Diddykins a pup as a birthday present. Luckily I overheard them. At least I managed to stop that from happening, thank you very much.
Filthy animals. How could anyone allow such things into their homes? They shed hair on everything. They slobber. A pup would do his unmentionables on our carpets for Christ's sake. The only thing worse than having a dog would be having a cat. What they don't pee on they scratch to ruin. It just goes to show what kind of people Lilly's kind are. Filthy. Deviant. I told Vern that if he is set on getting Diddykins a pet we could get a fish. Now there's a well-behaved creature. Vern pouted and didn't return until late last night. Whatever.
Still, there's so much to do. Visitors are visitors and relatives are particularly bothersome. I made Vern mow the lawn and spent the morning shining the kitchen. There will be no hint of filth by the time Marge arrives. (I'm trying to get used to calling her that. I'll be calling her that here from now on. It's been a while since I last saw her, sigh.)
What I'm really worried about is the brat. Will he do something while Marge is here? Will he draw attention? He hasn't done much so far and I told Vern it took years for Lilly to start with the strangeness. In any case we both agreed that we can't let the brat spoil our daily lives. We'll just tell her his parents were good for nothing hippies (that got themselves killed in a car accident.) Any strangeness will be explained away that way.
I asked Vern what her favorite dish was. He mentioned how she always loved Cheddar and Pine Nut Muffins when they were kids. Blach, but one must make allowances for some relatives at least. I'll go to the market for the pine nuts and I'll try them at dinner tonight with the chicken.
December 22, 1981 (Tuesday)
I told Vern that we're going for a last-minute Christmas shopping trip. We need to find something for Marge before she arrives tomorrow. And Diddy is going to get a big stuffed animal. Much better than a puppy, so there. Vern is still a bit sullen about the whole puppy thing but he'll just have to get over himself. Men.
We still haven't got anything for Lilly's little freak either. Vern said that having a roof over his head not to mention all the clothing and food he leeches off our Dudsy are enough gifts to last him for eighteen years and more but I think we should give him some token gifts on formal occasions so he'll remember. He's got nobody. Nobody but us. Vern and I almost had a quarrel over this but we finally came to agreement. I'm keeping this piece of coal aside especially for Harry's first Christmas with us.
xxx
The shame! Oh, my hand is shaking just writing this down. We got robbed! Oh, the nerve of that fellow. The nerve! It happened behind the toy store. I found the most adorable stuffed bunny for Diddykins and Vern got him a toy truck (Really, Vern? Diddy is not yet 2.) and just when we exited it, this dirty fellow bumps into Vern. He was a pickpocket. A pickpocket, I just know it. In our neighborhood. I was so embarrassed when Vern couldn't find his purse in the next store. There we stood at the counter with that pricy scarf I chose for Marge and we couldn't pay for it. I had to ask the saleslady to write it on her tab. I'll never live this down.
Vern is on the phone talking to the bank right now trying to cancel his credit card. It sounds bad.
January 13, 1982 (Wednesday)
The doctor says we have 'pine mouths'. We waited all these days for him to see us and he just tells us to bear this awful taste until 'the condition' goes away by itself?! We'll have it for days, weeks, maybe even months for all he cares. No consideration. If it was just me I wouldn't care so much. Food is just food but Vern is inconsolable. He's become finicky at mealtimes. There's no more gusto to him anymore. I hate Marge Dursley. It's all her fault I bought those pine nuts. The bitch. My only consolation is that she gorged herself on those horrid pine muffins throughout her stay here so she must have it even worse.
Vern tried to accuse the little gremlin for doing it but I told him it was impossible. I told Vern it couldn't be anything freaky. They wouldn't be that subtle. They can't. They don't even know the meaning of the word subtle, the miserly freaks. Now, the food vanishing from the plates, that was their kind of lowly trick. He's not even a year and a half and he already started doing it, the horrid little gremlin. I had to stop Vern from having at him too badly. (Marge now believes her brother is a dab hand at magic tricks. It was the only excuse I could come up with. Vern became red as a beet but went along with it after I gave him a few stomps with my heel but dumb Marge wouldn't stop clapping her hands in delight and gushing all over Vernon every single time it happened. She never got tired of it. Not even when all the dog food disappeared from the dogs' bowls and they made such a ruckus!)
The doctor did burst that pimple Vern developed on his butt during Christmas so at least there's that.
January 16, 1982 (Saturday)
This is getting out of hand. I've got to stop the little gremlin from vanishing the food off our plates every meal, and Vern's retaliations, I suppose. What will become of us if I just let things go on as they would? I'm starting to think I let Marge take things too far. Did denying him food as she suggested push him into the unnaturalness? Sister was almost at middle school before she started doing things. But he's only a baby, not even Diddykins' age and he's already started doing it and he won't stop no matter how he's punished. Something's got to be done.
Maybe if I review my daily dealings the gremlin I would see how I can fix this. His schedule before Marge interfered was simple enough:
In the mornings, before I started making breakfast, I would take him out of the cupboard, strip the rags off him (they go to the special washing basket) and wash him in the sink and put him in fresh ones. Then I make breakfast, bring Dudley (Vern would be there by then, hovering by the stove licking his chops, or at least he used to, sigh), put my baby on my lap and spoon-feed my little darling his Gerber. When he starts to fuss, I wipe him clean, kiss him a few times just because and tuck him back in his crib, then scoop up all the goo he spilled and threw or drooled and make the gremlin swallow it until he can't swallow no more. Aiming for efficiency I have tried to encourage him to gobble up the spills Diddykins makes on the floor by himself so he'll not be such a bother. When I'm done with him I put him in the sink for another wash if necessary and back into the cupboard he goes.
I bring him along two or even three other times during the day (if I'm not too busy) when Diddykins get hungry for more food.
Clothes and blankets come from Dudley's shabbier outgrown things. Air freshener used liberally on cupboard to keep a clean smell in there. Bedding put in washer every week or two.
Bring to the living room to act as an object lesson for Duddykins when I tell him moral stories or when he's feeling down. He's actually become quite useful in this regard. I feel like Dudley is already a better person, one who appreciates the benefits life gave him thanks to this daily pastime.
That sums it up nicely. It worked so well until Christmas. It was Marge's notion that he was stealing leftovers from her precious dogs that let the unnaturalness into our house. Ever since it's just been getting worse.
I'm at my wits' end. I tried keeping him locked in the cupboard during mealtimes but it didn't. The food kept on vanishing. Vern's shouting and shaking and even spanking made no difference either though he made enough noise I started to fear the neighbors would become curious. He's a hardened miscreant. He's got this new look in his eyes. It's like his mother is looking through his eyes at me promising she'll get me. Ugh, enough with this superstitious crap. I'm probably just imagining things. I thought it could be the din from the kitchen or even smell the food that clued him in on when to time his attacks but even after I insulated the cupboard and plugged his nose with cotton-balls and muffled his ears tight as I could he still managed to know somehow. Any more and he'll probably suffocate.
I finally suggested yesterday feeding him again like before but Vern would have none of that. We had another fight. I understand how he feels but how can he stand having us eat like the lower classes? We're respectable people. It's intolerable.
I think I found a solution. We'll see how it works tonight.
xxx
It worked! Vernon swallowed my idea hook line and sinker. It was so simple. As soon as I suggested mixing those bad pine nuts in his feed he couldn't stop grinning. He'll have that awful taste any time he swallows a bite.
I brought the good plates out for tonight's dinner.
Poor Vern was still under the delusion that our Pine Mouths were the freak's fault. He tried to claim the bad taste was gone but I managed to convince him he was imagining things.
Poor fool.
Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews, Katzztar and sh777
Katzztar - You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink as the saying goes. The Dursleys are not very fast learners, sorry to disappoint you Katzztar. Maybe eventually they'll mend their ways somewhat but even in the best of possible worlds some things are hopeless. But at least Harry won't be starved half to death this time around, right?
'Pine Mouth' or 'Pine Nut Syndrome' is a real affliction though it wasn't yet known in the eighties. I took a bit of artistic license there. The taste it causes is metallic, bitter in case you're too lazy to find out for yourself.
This and the following chapter or two are transitioning chapters covering Harry's early years. There will be Harry POV chapters after that. Hope you enjoyed it and tell me what you thought of it.