Disclaimer: I like to pretend I'm 'from across the pond' but I'm really not...oh and I don't own Harry Potter {duh (:}
Dudley Dursley woke in the early hours of the morning, his mother ransacking his bedroom. The blinking green display on his bedside clock read 5:00 am. He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his face. What is she doing? It's five o'clock in the bloody morning! He peeked out from under his pillow, watching his mum go through each of his drawers, pulling any remaining items out and packing them into his trunk. Is it that day already? He sat up and looked to the calendar on his wall. Yesterday was Friday, so today is...Saturday, July 27th. It's today...
After the constant packing and unpacking courtesy of his moustached father, Dudley had started to think they wouldn't go. Though he was bound to eventually, a forced exit was not what he had in mind. However, now that the day had finally come, surely his father would see to reason and agree to leave.
'Oh! Dudley...I didn't see I'd woken you' said his mum. Her voice was shaky, and her eyes were red and puffy. 'I...I just wanted to make sure you didn't leave anything...we may be gone a while.' She wiped her eyes and sat on his bed with a sigh, mumbling something that sounded vaguely like 'he's really going...'
'Mum, are you alright?'
'What? Oh, nothing Dudley. It's nothing' she said. But it sounded more like a question than a statement; as if she was still trying to convince herself. 'It's been sixteen years...' she said real quiet, staring off. She got up very suddenly and said 'Well, I should make sure we're fully packed now. Can't leave anything, can we?' in her usual, falsely cheerful voice. Then she practically skipped out of the room.
It had been sixteen years. Sixteen years since his cousin had dropped into his life. The cousin he'd used as a punching bag until they were eleven. The cousin he'd made sure had no friends. The cousin he'd tormented all those years. The cousin who'd saved his life...
Sixteen years, and what had he ever done for him? What did he have to show for their less-than-healthy relationship sixteen years in the making? Not so much as a kind word in his direction. And now it was too late. After they...aparated?...to a safe place, he'd head off with some of 'his lot' and he may never see him again. He'd never be able to thank him. He'd never be able to apologise. It seemed a bit late to do so anyway. After all, he and his parents had spent the last sixteen years treating him more like one of Aunt Marge's dogs than as family.
Pulling himself out of his head, he went down stairs and planted himself in front of the tele as he did each morning, expecting his mother to bring him his breakfast. Four commercial breaks later, Dudley was still empty handed and hungry. He was perfectly ready to complain when he came to the realisation that he was tired of being such a prick. He was going to get up and make his own dang breakfast.
Five minutes later, he was back in front of the tele with a rather overcooked and far too salty egg, and a bit of burnt toast. It was a bit rubbery and certainly could have tasted better, but he'd made it himself instead of sitting on his fat arse while his mum made it. Feeling quite good about this accomplishment and feeling that he should continue the trend, he made himself a cup of tea. Then, acting on a sudden whim, he made a cup for Harry and left it outside his bedroom door.
Dudley's conflicting emotions were beginning to be overwhelming. Shouldn't he be anxious for Harry's - no, the freak's -departure, and angry that he'd brought this upon them? That's how his father felt. That's how his mum said she felt.
What was with his mum these days anyway? Whenever he'd caught her alone, she'd seemed so sad. But as soon as his father came into view, she put on a nauseatingly fake smile and acted as if nothing was wrong. She was always so fake. Never spoke her mind. Never argued with anything Father said, even if she was right. She'd do anything as long as it made him happy. That had always been so. But lately it seemed as though she was biting her tongue more often. Something was obviously troubling her. Maybe she was simply worried about their departure today. Perhaps she was afraid that Lord What's-His-Name would find them anyways. It certainly was a possibility.
Whatever it was, it was really bothering her. In spite of his usual uncaring ways, he set out to find her. After all, he was on a roll, of doing things he normally wouldn't. He'd cooked for himself, and he'd given Harry a cup of tea. Might as well continue and see where this strange personality shift led him. He found her up in the attic, looking through some old photo albums. Her back was towards him, so she didn't see him come in. Dudley peered over her shoulder. Each of the pictures showed a young Petunia Evans and a red headed child. The plastic coverings on the pages were dotted with mascara filled tears. 'Mum? Are you sure you're alright?'
'Dudley!' she said, quickly closing the book. 'Mummy's fine, darling. Nothing to worry about.'
Dudley sat down next to her. 'Mum, I know that's a lie. Dad's not around…you can tell me.' He opened the book back up and looked over the pictures. She seemed so happy in all of them. Much more than he'd ever seen her. 'That's her isn't it? Your sister…' She nodded, not meeting his eyes. She and Dad never mentioned her. They avoided it altogether. And when they did, all they ever said was how much of a freak she had been. He had always believed she really didn't care.
'It seems a bit silly, doesn't it? That after sixteen years I'd cry about it' she said. She flipped through the pages of the book and smiled. 'She was my best friend, you know. My Maid of Honour too. We used to do everything together. I remember this one time, our dad had just gotten a huge promotion, so our mum had made this big chocolate cake with strawberry frosting. That was always Lily's favourite' she smiled. 'He was running late, and Lily and I just couldn't wait any longer. So we got the brilliant idea that if we took a piece from the middle and frosted over the hole, they would never notice. Lily climbed up onto the counter to get plates, and just as Mum and Dad came in the room she slipped and fell straight into the cake. Mum was furious of course, but the rest of us were laughing too hard to care.
'But once she turned eleven, strange things started happening. It was frightening. I felt like I didn't know her anymore. Then that boy, Severus, came along and told her what she was. Soon after that she was off to that school of hers and I rarely saw her. Then she ran off with that bloke Potter…I felt as if she was choosing magic over me. I was angry and stupid and I just cut her off, and then…she died.' Mum paused, wiping away a few stray tears. 'He reminds me so much of her that…that it hurts.'
Dudley, not knowing what to say, just sat there nodding stupidly. Racking his brain for something more intelligent, he heard the sound of the front door slamming, followed by an 'Oi! You!' via his father, calling for Harry. Silently thanking his father for saving him from the awkward mess he'd gotten himself into, he turned to his mum and muttered 'Mum, it must be time to go.' Together they went downstairs and met Vernon in the living room.
'BOY!' his father bellowed. He tapped his foot impatiently until Harry appeared at the top of the stairs. 'You took your time! Get down here. I want a word!' Harry reluctantly came down stairs. He know what was coming. Dudley did as well. 'Sit down!' he ordered, adding a sharp 'please' when Harry didn't obey. 'I've changed my mind' he said firmly.
'What a surprise' Harry mumbled.
Mother rose to her feet. 'Don't you dare take that tone-' she started, but Dad stopped her.
'According to you we – Petunia, Dudley and I – are in danger. From – from -'
'Some of 'my lot', right' said Harry in annoyance.
'Well, I don't believe it' he said, as if it should come as a shock to all of us. 'I was awake half the night thinking it over, and I believe it's a plot to get the house.' Dudley rolled his eyes. Dad should have known better than anyone that Harry was not looking to come back here after this was done.
'The house? What house?'
'This house! Our house! House prices are sky-rocketing round here! You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus-pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your name and-'
'Are you out of your mind? A plot to get the house? Are you actually as stupid as you look? Just in case you've forgotten, I've already got a house, my godfather left me one. So why would I want this one? All the happy memories?' Harry yelled.
Dudley stifled a chuckle at this one. His father was being rather stupid. Harry had won, and he knew it. He just wanted to be stubborn.
His father started pacing again. 'You claim that this Lord Thing-'
'Voldemort,' Harry said impatiently, 'and we've been through this about a hundred times already. It isn't a claim, it's fact, Dumbledore told you last year, and Kingsley and Mr Weasly-'
Dad hunched his shoulders angrily. Dudley guessed he was remembering – or trying not to remember – all the past visits from Mr Weasly. He didn't like that man one bit, and he had his reasons. The man had destroyed most of their living room, not to mention made Dudley vomit his intestines out. He hadn't exactly made a good first impression.
'- Kingsley and Mr Weasly explained it all as well' Harry pressed on. 'Once I'm seventeen, the protective charm that keeps me safe will break, and that exposes you as well as me. The Order is sure Voldemort will target you, whether to torture you to try and find out where I am, or because he thinks by holding you hostage I'd come and try to rescue you.'
This silenced Dad for a while. He just stared out the window at the neighbour's lawnmower. Finally, he turned back to Harry and said 'I thought there was a Ministry of Magic?'
'There is…'
'Well than why can't they protect us? It seems to me, as the innocent victims, guilty of nothing more than harbouring a marked man, we ought to qualify for government protection!'
Harry laughed. Once he'd stopped laughing, Harry replied, 'you heard what Kingsley and Mr Weasly said. We think the Ministry has been infiltrated.'
Dad paced back and forth some more, breathing heavily, his face turning more purple than before. 'All right. All right, let's say, for the sake of the argument, we accept protection. I still don't see why we can't have that Kingsley bloke' he said, for about the fourth time this week.
'As I've told you, Kingsley is protecting the Mug-I mean your Prime Minister.'
'Exactly – he's the best!' Dad exclaimed.
'Well, he's taken. But Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle are more than up for the job – '
'If we'd even seen the CVs…'
'These accidents aren't accidents – the crashes and explostions and derailments and whatever else has happened since we last watched the news. People are disappearing and dying and he's behind it – Voldemort. I've told you thisl over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs – they're caused by Dementors, and if you can't remember what they are, ask your son!' Harry yelled, pointed at Dudley.
Dudley remembered all to well what Dementors where. That feeling suddenly came back to him – that feeling of hopelessness and emptiness…the feeling that you'd never be happy again. 'There are … more of them?' he stammered.
'More?' laughed Harry, making Dudley feel rather stupid. 'More than the two that attacked us you mean? Of course there are, there are hundreds, maybe thousands by this time, seeing as they feed off fear and despair – '
'All right, all right! You've made your point – ' Dad yelled.
'I hope so, because once I'm seventeen, all of them – Death Eaters, Dementors, maybe even Inferni, which means dead bodies enchanted by a Dark Wizard – will be able to find you and will certainly attack you. And if you remember the last time you tried to outrun wizards, I think you'll agree you need help.'
It got dead quiet. Mum staring at Dad. Dudley staring at Harry, trying to decide if he was serious or not; trying not to think about when Harry's furry friend had given him a curly tail. Finally, Dad blurted out 'But what about my work? What about Dudley's school? I don't suppose those things matter to a bunch of layabout wizards – '
'Don't you understand?' Harry shouted. 'They will torture and kill you like they did my parents!'
Well they had to go now. But Dad was too stubborn to realise the danger of the situation, and Mum wouldn't leave if he didn't. He had to speak up…
'Dad…Dad I'm going with these Order people.'
Harry grinned. 'Dudley, for the first time in your life you're talking sense.' He turned to Dudley's parents and said 'they'll be here in about five minutes' and left the room.
The Dursleys just sat there in awkward silence until the door bell rang and Harry came back downstairs. Their escorts came inside and exchanged ecstatic greetings with Harry, then Dad, who seemed less pleased than Harry did. 'Well, this is goodbye then, boy' Dad said really loud. He made the motion as if he were to shake Harry's hand, but at the last second he changed his mind. But wait…wasn't he coming with them? Wasn't the whole point of hiding to keep everyone safe? What would happen to him? Where would he go?
'Ready, Diddy?' Mum asked, leading him out the door.
He pulled his hand out of hers and turned to Harry. 'I don't understand.'
Mum knelt down at his side, and in her falsely sweet voice said 'What don't you understand, Popkin?'
'Why isn't he coming too?' he asked, pointing at Harry.
'Well, he – he doesn't want to' said Dad in a booming voice. 'You don't want to, do you?' he asked Harry.
'Not in the slightest' said Harry.
'There you are Dudley. Now come on, we're off!' Dad told him.
But Dudley didn't move. He stood there for a long while, finally saying 'But where's he going to go?'
His parents were obviously frightened at the sudden interest in Harry he was showing. Hestia Jones, the woman who was to accompany them, broke the silence. 'But…surely you know where your nephew is going?'
'Certainly we know. He's off with some of your lot, isn't he? Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry.' Dad marched to the front door, but Dudley didn't move.
Hesia was outraged. 'Off with some out our lot?'
'It's fine…it doesn't matter, honestly' Harry mumbled.
'Doesn't matter? Don't these people realize what you've been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?' she screamed. Dudley knew it. He was in danger. What if he didn't come back? This very easily could be the last time he'd see him. He didn't even have the car ride to put his words together. It was now or never…
'Er – no, they don't. They think I'm a waste of space, actually, but I'm used to – ' said Harry
'I don't think you're a waste of space' he said very suddenly. All eyes in the room turned to him, as this had most certainly been out of character. He turned a bit red in the face and lowered his eyes to the floor.
'Well…er…thanks, Dudley' said Harry, obviously quite shocked.
'You saved my life…' he said quietly.
'Not really. It was your soul the Dementor would have taken…'
Dudley found himself in the sobbing embrace of his mother. 'S – So sweet, Dudders…s – such a loving b – boy…s – saying thank you…' He just sat there, red faced and mentally exhausted, while she hugged him, sobbing about how proud she was, as if he'd done something heroic.
Dad obviously wasn't getting the touching moment. 'Are we going or not? I thought we were on a tight schedule!'
Dedalus and Hestia exchanged goodbyes with Harry and wished him luck. Dudley squirmed out of his mother's arms and approached Harry a bit awkwardly. He held out his hand to shake Harry's, who was still gawking at him. 'Blimey Dudley, did the Dementors blow a different personality into you?'
Feeling quite stupid with his hand still stretched out, he muttered 'dunno…see you, Harry'
'Yeah…maybe.' Harry grabbed his hand and shook it. 'Take care, Big D.'
Dudley grinned, then ran out to the car with his dad, having exhausted himself emotionally, and quite anxious to get out of the awkwardness of the situation. His mum came out shortly after, and got in the car. Dudley stared at the back window watching the house fade from view.
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number seven, Duke Drive, were perfectly normal. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because everyone knew Mr Dursley's parents just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr Dursley was the director for a company that made aeroplanes. In years past, Mr Dursely had been quite a whale. His childhood was marked by hundreds of doughnuts and trousers that consistently grew too tight, but in adulthood he had evened out quite nicely. He was lean and fit and was, as his wife proudly told her friends, quite a catch. His wife Sally was tall, thin, and blonde just like her husband. When she wasn't jogging around the neighbourhood, you could find her at any of the nice resturaunts in town sipping tea and chatting away in her tiny heels. Their lives were perfect. Perfect job. Perfect house. Perfect child. So perfect in fact, that it was rather boring. Long gone were the days of screaming parents and disappearing glass. The in-laws never floated away, invisible creatures never attacked, and there was nothing scary living in the next room. It had been that way for nineteen years, and he was used to it.
Yes, when Dudley Dursley woke that morning, he was expecting it to be another normal, dull day signing paperwork and yelling at employees. His dream had been quite peculiar though. Hardly a dream at all. A replay of the night he and his parents had gone into hiding. He hadn't given that night a thought in years. Did it mean something?
Dudley pushed the thought aside. He hadn't seen his cousin in years. How could anything like that happen? Besides, his life was too normal to allow for such things.
He climbed out of bed and started his mundane routine. Shirt buttoned. Trousers on. Teeth brushed. Bladder emptied. Face shaved. Shoes on. Tie tied. Then he slipped around the bed, kissed his wife gently on the cheek and headed downstairs.
He started a pot of water and made himself some breakfast while it heated. Once it was done he made himself a cup of tea as he had been doing for nineteen years now. To think the basis of his routine started all those years ago, when he'd suddenly grown a brain.
6:00. Time to go. He passed his daughter's room on his way out. Paisley was her name. She would be eleven in a weeks' time. Eleven! He couldn't believe it.
Dudley grabbed his breifcase and started for the front door. He was halfway through the living room when he heard it. A light rapping on the window. Then he saw the large tawny owl pecking at the window.
And it had a letter.
Okay, I apologise the middle part was all straight from Deathly Hallows. I needed a place to start from to show a bit of Dudley and Petunia's character, which really is how I interpreted them after that chapter, but exaggerated a bit. Petunia and Dudley may seem a bit out of character, but seeing as their personalities are less-than-desirable, I'm sure all is forgiven. ;) And really I don't think they're quite as horrible as they're made out to be.
Thanks for reading!
Review! Or I'm sending Dementors!
Criticism is welcome, even invited. As long as it's constructive criticism! This is only my third story, and only the second one I don't completely hate. That being said, it is still a work in progress - as are my writing skills - so be kind, but don't be afraid to point out mistakes. Ideas/suggestions? Should I continue?
