So this is the first ever fic-story-thing I have written in English. So beware, it is quite likely that you will come across a few mistakes.
I always appreciate constructive criticism and will of course correct Mistakes, if pointed out.
enjoy.
School days were always the same for one Dudley Dursley. Perfectly normal, his old man would say and give him a proud pat on the back, while his mum would agree and look proud of her little 'Duddykinns'.
In the morning, he would always be woken by his mother. Way too early if you asked Dudley.
After he had wrangled himself from his mother's embrace, he would stomp down the stairs, as hard and loud as he could, to wake the green-eyed freak under the stairs.
When the freak opened the door, he would slam it close, right back into the freak's face.
His father approved.
After Breakfast was done, (He had eaten the largest portion, of course) the Freak would get to scraps and was sent off to walk five miles to elementary school.
Dudley, though, lounged onto the sofa and watched one of his favorite cartoons, until his mother brought his school bag and his father had started the car.
'need'nt waste any gas on the freak' his father always said.
In the first class of the day, the rotund boy would usually spend his time watching the door, grinning mockingly, when Freak came in late again.
Freaks never came on time, his mother had told him once; they were not decent enough to do so.
The Freak never failed to arrive late, the teacher did not even look up when he entered the classroom anymore.
When lunchtime arrived, Dudley met up with his friends.
There were six of them.
Piers
Dennis
Marcus
Some loser they all called Stick
The names of the other idiots, he couldn't even remember anyway.
When they all had met up by the bench under the big oak, his second favorite part of the day started.
Finding the freak.
His friends liked to call it Harry hunting. Dudley didn't get why.
He didn't care much either.
After the Freak had been found, his most favorite part of the day finally came around.
He got to punch the Freak!
Father always praised him for his boxing skills and opted to sign him up to a club.
Dudley didn't want to miss The Captain Super Show at four.
But today Dudley did not manage to find the freak and punched someone other nerd instead.
It was different this time around.
He didn't get to go home, but rather found himself sitting in a way-too-small chair in the principals' office, for the first time in his young life.
"Mr. Dursley, you know why you are here today?"
No, Dudley did not know why he was sitting in Mrs. Baumer's office today, and made that known.
Mrs. Baumer's cold, gray eyes fixed the stocky boy through her oval glasses, before they softened and she sighed.
"Mr. Dursley, Dudley. Can I call you that?"
Dudley nodded stiffly, growing more frustrated with every passing minute.
He was going to miss 'Space Stars'.
Piers was going to laugh at him, if he missed it.
"I know that Mr. Potter has been jibing you a lot over the last year. Your Parents told me, that he is quite … troublesome. But that does not justify you, venting your frustrations on the other children. We had to get the ambulance for young Ms. Warren. They suspect you might have broken her arm."
Dudley was confused. It was not like breaking an arm was something unusual or something like that.
Dad had kicked the Freak down the stairs once, maybe a little harder than intended.
The Freak had broken its arm.
Father said that the Freak deserved it, if it could not keep its arm from breaking.
Dudley figured, that the same was true for Warren and continued to stare at the Headmistress.
"Dudley, do you understand, what a broken arm means? It is a very serious injury. Your parents are lucky if the Warrens don't try to sue for retribution."
"Sue?" Dad always said, that he did that to competition for work. Dudley figured, that was something bad. Had he done something bad to Warren? Had Dad done something bad to Freak?
"Yes Dudley, Sue. I am afraid, I will have to suspend you for the next two weeks. Think well about what you have done, I will be expecting a written text about what you have done and an apology to Ms. Warren."
Something told Dudley that he was getting punished. He never got punished. His eyes began to water and a question slipped over his lips, "What does s-suspension mean?"
Mrs. Baumer scrunched her face, obviously thinking, how to explain the concept of suspension to the large boy who seemed strangely small right now.
"Well.. Dudley… Suspension is a punishment we assign, when a student has done something bad, mostly to another student. It means that you are not allowed to come to school and meet your friends for a certain period of time … It gives the offender space to think about what they have done. The injured student in turn does have some time, without being confronted with the face of someone who harmed them. It usually helps to reduce a grudge, any of the students might hold, so that there is no further escalation."
Dudley did not understand entirely what Mrs. Baumer tried to tell him, but what he understood was that he was not allowed to come to school for the next two weeks. Just this morning, he would have been overjoyed.
Now, though, Dudley burst into tears, as soon as he had left the office and was stumbling down the empty corridors of Little Whinging Elementary.
The walls that were usually plastered in projects of the resident students seemed cold and colorless to him today. The rare, left behind jackets on the wardrobes, that framed the corridors seemed like relics of a lost time, when the world was happy.
Dudley sure was not happy right now. It had been years since he had genuinely cried for the last time and the tears were spilling down his face with such intensity now, that he even forgot to be embarrassed of it.
Maybe he had indeed done something bad.
The entrance hall stumbled past him, the huge, silent room opening into a door to the parking spot in front of the School.
There he was, his Dad. The large man leaned against his polished car, neatly parked in the designated spot.
"What took you so long, son? Got caught up messing around with the guys again?" Vernon Dursley, manager for the drill company Grunning, chuckled into his long, well groomed mustache.
When Dudley came closer, Vernons eyes took in the slumped form of his son and he saw the streaks of the tears, that had been running down his son's face, just moments before.
Vernon heaved his weight back onto his feet, leaving the comfortable leaning position, he had been in, and started waddling towards his son.
"Dudders, my boy."
Vernon took his son in one of his bone-crushing hugs. Or at least he tried. (His short arms were unable to reach around his son's massive stomach.)
"What's got you so riled up. What did the Freak do?" The word Freak dripped with malice.
"Did that filthy, little runt hurt you? I always told 'tunia, that we should have kicked him out, when we were still able to. Just wait, you little freak, you are going to pay for what you did to my son!"
As Vernon Dursley was talking himself into a fit of rage, his son shook his head.
"I got suspended."
Vernon Dursley froze.
"Suspended, you say?" Vernon hugged his son even harder.
"What did ya do, son? Wanted to have some alone time with your dad, eh?"
"Broke someone's arm." Dudley had squeezed himself out of his father's grip and entered the car.
"If your bones are too weak, it's your fault. That's what I always say, eh? Want to go to the cinema with your old man, tomorrow? We can watch that new Captain Super movie, together."
"Mhm."
"Angry, that the freak got you in trouble, because someone couldn't take a punch, mhhh? Don't worry, son. I will see to that."
The car-door slammed shut and they were off.
The ride felt like a solemn, uncomfortable procedure to Dudley. Way too long for his liking, and his father's comments about the F-freak somehow felt wrong.
As houses and the odd person flew about outside the car, turning into a nauseating streak of colors, Dudley pressed his Head against the window and closed his eyes.
Something was wrong today. The world was not, as it was supposed to be. It didn't seem, like a perfectly normal day to Dudley. Or, at least it wasn't, what his parents would have called perfectly normal. No, something was very wrong today.
Was it?
What if he and his parents weren't norm-
Dudley shook his head and stared out of the neatly clean window. His Parents said, it was perfectly normal. So it had to be. They would know.
When the cleaned gardens and modern 'normal' houses of privet-drive came into view, Dudley felt dread settle in his stomach, dread he had never felt before. Dread not directed to him.
It felt weird.
After his father had parked the car, which felt like an eternity, Dudley left the car and started marching towards the house.
When his mother opened the door, he brushed through her embrace and mumbled something about going to his room.
Slumping up the stairs, he only heard his dad grumble something about the freak to his mum.
The following night felt like hell for Dudley.
He was up, thinking for a long time.
He could swear he had heard sounds from downstairs, some when in the middle of the night.
He didn't bother investigating.
The next morning, he woke up, determined to write an apology.
For the first time in years, he did not stomp down the stairs , to hurt one Harry Potter.
He did not slam the door either.
Something was different.