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Harry Potter And The Game of Death

Level 1

Chapter 13: The Dursleys

Through no fault of her own, Petunia Dursley was an unhappy woman.

She had been born a woman of class. Of sophistication. One who knew her place in the world, as well as those who were both lesser and better. And as a young woman, born into a family that was moving up the social ladder, Petunia had come to expect that such a life was merely her due.

But something in her life had gone terribly awry.

The elegant events and opulent splendour of her youth were long since gone. And rather than living in a posh mansion, or in a stylish apartment in an upscale neighbourhood, she lived in a bland, common neighbourhood built for bland, common people.

Vernon Dursley, her husband, was an arrogant pig of a man filled who's only saving grace was the manly charisma he radiated in dangerous situations. It was a miracle that their beautiful son had come out of the man's loins, but Petunia felt in this case that it was her distinguished breeding which had proven superior in the genetic lottery. Speaking of which, her son, Dudley, was an angelic and handsome boy whose brilliance almost guaranteed his future success, and Petunia had hopes of one day using her son to regain the life she so richly deserved.

But even then, a pall was almost certain to hang over her. For the worst part of Petunia's dreary life came in the form of her dead sister's damnable child.

Harry Potter, as his parents had called him, was everything her son Dudley was not. The disgusting boy was soft-spoken, deceitful, ugly, and rotten to the core. And worst of all, the boy had inherited his parent's ungodly ability to perform magic.

Were it not for a magical oath Petunia had been forced to swear – under duress, mind you – by that damnable Albus Dumbledore, the little maggot that was her nephew would never have entered her domicile. Petunia would have dumped the child in the nearest orphanage and never looked backwards, as the amount Dumbledore paid for the boy's annual upkeep was nowhere close to the emotional toll that raising the child had taken from her. All it was good for was funding the occasional excursion – kept secret from her husband – into London to soothe her need for culture and high society.

And how she had needed those trips after being forced to deal with her nephew's disgusting abilities, day in and day out, for years.

Unexplained fires inside her kitchen. Disappearing objects throughout the house. Freakishly dyed hair applied in an instant to anyone within eyesight of the child. The list of unnatural events forced upon Petunia by her sister's spawn went on for ages. It had nearly been enough that for Petunia to wish that Lily had never died.

But the world was a better place without Lily, and so Petunia had merely wished instead that some other magic user had been given responsibility for the child instead of herself.

Petunia had obeyed her oath to the letter; to feed, cloth, and never allow an adult to cause grievous physical harm to the child. If some days her sister's spawn had come back from school with a black eye or a bruised lip… well, that was only normal for little boys. Though not for her adorable Dudley, who never had so much as a scratch upon him aside from some occasional swelling of his knuckles.

Keeping the final part of the oath intact, though, had necessitated some drastic measures when it came to her husband.

Persuading Vernon out of beating the child had taken every method at Petunia's disposal. She had made sure to spike Vernon's evening drinks after hard days with medicine she got from a local pharmacist. She had serviced the man in degrading, sexual ways that none of her fellow housewives dared do for their own husbands. And Petunia had always made sure to stroke the man's ego whenever they hosted someone; the man's beady eyes would shine with glee when she burnished his reputation as a powerful and virile man.

Which, as it turned out, did come with some side benefits. Because as time had gone on and Vernon's… requests… in the bedroom had grown ever more disgusting, Petunia had found a way to extract some concessions which made her dreary life slightly more palatable.

After particularly saucy nights, Vernon always made sure to give Petunia something she desired. Jewelled bracelets? Check. Fancy necklaces and rings? Check check. A pretty new blouse with a lacy skirt that made her feel twenty year younger? Also check.

The only exception came was whenever Petunia asked that they move to a new house. On that subject alone did the man prove to be intractable, despite earning a large enough salary to afford it.

As she puttered around the house on a hot summer day, humming to herself, Petunia tried to take solace in two things.

The first was her upcoming 'tension relief trip' to London this coming weekend, during which she planned to visit one of the strapping young lads she sometimes used to fill her own sexual cravings. The second was the imminent arrival of her vile nephew. Which, while normally a terrible event, was generally pleasant this time of year. Her sister's disgusting spawn was always unable to hide his sadness over leaving his fellow freaks behind for the summer. And basking in his depression was a wonderful balm for her own pain.

Yet as Petunia bustled about her kitchen, chortling to herself as she waited for Vernon's car to arrive, it never occurred to her that this year either could be any different than the ones which had come before.

Vernon Dursley was not a patient man. Nor was he one to abide by the will or desires of anyone other than himself. So when his disgusting freak of a nephew had greeted him with a beaming smile instead of the usual morose glare, a powerful urge to wring the boy's scrawny neck had begun to rise within Vernon's chest. He had been one second away from smacking the child across the head and dragging the boy to the car when his instincts had screamed out in warning.

Startled, Vernon had let his raised arm drop to his side in wary puzzlement. His instincts had never failed him before, whether it was in business or in his personal life. And when Vernon paired the feeling of danger his instincts were shouting at him along with the freak's abnormal attitude, a cold feeling of dread had washed over his neck. One which had cooled his temper and stayed his tongue long enough to guide the repugnant child to the car and drive them both back to the house in Surrey.

Whereupon the boy had possessed the utter gall to drop his stuff in the entranceway the moment they walked inside. "Thank you for the ride, uncle. Though I'm quite tired from the journey and wouldn't mind taking a nap soon."

Those arrogant, blithely stated words caused Vernon to seethe with anger.

Is that how a decent person properly thanked someone who took time out of their day to care for the needs of a filthy mongrel like him? No! They were the words of an arrogant cur with no respect for the ones to whom they were directed.

When combined with his earlier attitude, it was though the little miscreant was trying to pick a fight with Vernon.

The boy had never been confident enough to do so in the past, what with his scrawny build and being forbidden to use magic away from his freakish school. Which meant that there was something more to the situation. Something that the boy knew but Vernon did not. And whatever it was, Vernon would figure it out before the rotten little bastard could spring his poorly hidden trap.

Vernon's eyes narrowed in thought as he went over different possibilities. Meanwhile, Petunia wandered into sight.

As he gruffly greeted her, an idea popped into his head.

To figure out what trap the little snot was planning, more information was required. To that end, Vernon would allow his wife, the gossip queen of Privet Drive, to engage her freakish nephew in conversation. Thereby allowing Vernon to observe and wait for the boy to make some sort of verbal slip-up which would reveal the source of his newfound confidence. At which point Vernon would be perfectly placed to either smack the boy down or retreat with his own skin fully intact.

"Hello, Aunt Petunia," the boy said arrogantly as he greeted Vernon's wife with a cheeky wave. "Have you had a pleasant year without me around?"

Though she was visibly surprised at his tone, Petunia still replied with all the grace and dignity expected of the woman Vernon had chosen to be his wife.

"I've been well, boy," she answered tartly. "Why, Dudley returned from Smelting just the other day. My darling angel mentioned that he has become friends with the heirs of several prominent families, which was delightful news! Though the poor boy was nearly starved by those terrible school cooks, whom I fully intend to level charges against, and is currently out recuperating with some of his old friends from the area."

"That sounds… good? A little delusional, but good for you, I guess."

"Delusional?" Petunia's voice and face seemed to be caught somewhere between anger and confusion at the boy's reply. Not that Vernon could blame her since their darling angel, Dudley, was his cousin's better in every way imaginable. "How dare you insinuate –"

"In any case, my year went very as well." The boy cut Vernon's wife off before her budding rant could gather steam. Her face turned beet red at the insult, but the boy continued as if it was of no matter. "You see, I made several new friends and had quite an exciting finish to the year."

"What? You mean there wasn't some sort of insane, life-threatening event to end your school year as there was in every previous one?"

The little bastard laughed at Petunia's confused response. "Oh no, there certainly was one. This year my best friend and I nearly had our souls devoured by the worst creatures you could possibly imagine. While my other close friend got his leg broken and my favourite teacher nearly got sacked. All on the same night, mind you."

"And that was… fun?" Petunia stated puzzledly. She and Vernon glanced warily at one another and he could tell that they shared the same thought. Which was that if the boy found nearly dying and getting his soul sucked out to be enjoyable, then that was just one more reason as to why both magic and those who used it were unnatural.

The idiotic child shook his head. "No, not really. The whole thing was downright terrifying if I were to be honest. But the nice thing about it is that the whole episode turned out to be a blessing in disguise."

"I… see." Petunia said hesitantly. She seemed to be at a loss as to what to say and began to back away from the boy. "Well then, if that is the case, it is time for you to go up to your room. Vernon and I are expecting company later this evening and I will not allow your freakish school stuff to litter about my home, boy. Am I understood?"

"Yeah. But before that, there's something we need to take care of first." The boy smiled even wider as he clapped his hands together in excitement. "I have some wonderful news to share with you. With both of you, actually."

Vernon snorted. Unless the boy was planning on committing suicide and leaving them a fortune, then there was nothing the boy could tell him which Vernon would find exciting. At best the little snot would announce his imminent and permanent departure from Vernon's house, thereby removing the burden of his unnatural presence from their perfectly normal lives. Though the likelihood of that coming to be was depressingly low in Vernon's estimation.

"But before we get to that I have something to ask of you, Aunt Petunia." The freak's eyes glinted with amusement as he looked at Vernon's wife. "Do you happen to remember the news last summer when a man by the name of Sirius Black was said to have escaped from prison?"

Petunia nodded her head emphatically. This topic was safe ground for her, and she visibly recovered at its mention. "Of course I do! He was still on the nation's most wanted list when I checked last week. It's absolutely criminal that the Bobbies haven't caught the man." Her eyes narrowed as a glint of suspicion entered her tone. "But what has any of that got to do with your news, boy?"

"Huh," the boy said to himself absent-mindedly. "Looks like the information hasn't quite reached the Muggle side of things yet. I'll need to write to the Headmaster and Remus about that; Hedwig should be able to find them pretty fast if I do it right away."

Then, as if remembering that he had an audience, the freak looked back at Vernon's wife. "Oh right. In any case, my good bit of news has to do with him. Because as it turns out, Sirius Black is a wizard. One who escaped from the British prison for wizards and witches, a place called Azkaban, in order to find me."

Petunia's face went pale at the freak's words. Which in turn caused Vernon's instincts to begin ringing in alarm yet again.

"I se-see," Petunia finally stuttered out after a few seconds of hesitation. "But th-th-that… how could that possibly be categorized as good news?"

"Er, well, it's complicated," the boy replied airily. "But to summarize, it turns out that Sirius Black was a good friend of my parents. A very good friend. He met them during my parent's years at Hogwarts, and my parents even went so far as to make him my godfather. When he escaped from prison it was because all he wanted to do was to meet me and make sure that I was okay."

At the mention of her sister's wedding Petunia's white face lost every remaining bit of colour it still possessed. Her hands started to tremble, and she lowered her eyes to avoid the boy's gaze.

Meanwhile, Vernon snorted derisively. It did not surprise him in the least that the boy's parents, freaks that they were, had chosen a convicted felon to be the boy's godfather. The only good thing about them had been Lily's smoking hot looks.

Ah, what a pity Lily Potter had been born with such unnatural abilities. Petunia might have been a delightful freak beneath the sheets, but her appearance was far inferior to that of her deceased sister.

"A-a-ah, y-y-yes. I, um, I do remember something along those lines being in one or two of Lily's letters to home now that you mention it." Petunia gulped and nervously whetted her lips as she spoke. "Bu-but what does that have to do with your news? Even if he is your godfather, the man is a convicted criminal that is being chased after by the police! S-surely you don't expect us to harbour him or something. Do you?"

There it was. If that was what the boy wanted, it would explain his newfound confidence. And if it were true, then Vernon would be on the next flight out of the country. Because there was no way in hell he would ever live under the same roof as a felon with magical abilities.

"Not at all, Aunt Petunia," the boy said with a shake of his head. "You see, Sirius was never convicted of a crime; not by any court of law, at least. And it just so happens that a few days ago, Professor Dumbledore and the magical equivalent of the police launched an investigation which cleared my godfather of all charges. This means that Sirius is free with his rights and powers restored. Oh! And that his offer to have me live with him, which he gave me a few weeks ago, is valid and will be pushed through the legal system in short order."

A short "Oh" was the only thing that came out of Petunia's mouth for a good long while after Harry spoke. The woman's eyes were wide, and she looked as though she might faint at any moment.

Which was just fine with Vernon. Because by this point he could tell that the boy was intentionally dragging things out to torment them. Every bit of information he gave them seemed to come attached with a bomb, leaving Petunia shellshocked and Vernon worried over what else still lay in store.

In which case it was high time for Vernon to step in and change the pace of things so that they could regain some semblance of control over the situation.

"Alright, boy," Vernon cut in gruffly. He lifted a hand to his bushy moustache and began to stroke its mighty length, an intimidation tactic he had found to be effective in many a negotiation. "You've had enough fun at my wife's expense with your little revelations. But I get the feeling that you've got a few more little surprises which we aren't going to like nearly so much as the news of your imminent departure, and I'm tired of this piecemeal approach of yours. Just spit 'em out and stop pansy-footing around already. Got it?"

The freak shot Vernon an annoyed glance. "Fine by me, uncle. In that case, let's move somewhere we can sit as we talk. This could take some time."

"Heh. That's the first smart thing you've said since coming back here, boy. Go on into the family room and grab a seat. Petunia and I will be along in a minute or two."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to walk towards the living room. "Then I'll see you shortly."

"Yeah, yeah. Beat it, boy, while I talk to your aunt."

After the freak was out of sight and hearing, Vernon made his way over to his wife. Her eyes, wide with fright, turned to Vernon as he approached.

"Vernon!" She hissed. "What should we do? Do you think that little freak is telling us the truth about Black? The news reports all agree the man's a psychopath who'd kill us just for looking at him the wrong way!"

Vernon winced. Normal criminals were one thing; Vernon knew how to handle them and was confident that the gun he kept upstairs would protect his home from any mugger. But as a powerful man and breadwinner for his home, the idea that some nerd with a stick of wood could threaten him was utterly infuriating.

Yet they could. And as that giant of a wizard had proven three years ago, not even a gun guaranteed protection against their kind.

So Vernon did what he always did in situations where he was in the weaker position and could not change the situation. Which was to focus on the positive side of things, pretend that the negative side did not exist, and convince his vapid wife to follow his lead.

"I don't know, my little tulip, but don't you fret." As he placed his hands on his wife's trembling shoulders, Vernon spoke in a calm, comforting rumble. "Because I doubt we're in any imminent danger."

"How could you possibly think –"

"Because that child lacks the stomach to sign off on anything like murder. He's as weak livered as his parents and the old man who dropped him on our doorstep over a decade ago, so anyone willing to take care of him will probably be cut from the same cloth." Vernon gave a deep harrumph as he gave his moustache another stroke. "Besides, think of it this way. If everything is as the boy said, then there really might be a chance for us to rid ourselves of that little freak once and for all!"

Petunia's eyes brightened at his words. "Oh. Yes. Yes! You're right! The freak just said that Black wanted to take him in!"

"That he did, my little tulip."

"And if Black really did take him away, then the magic the old coot placed on our house would be nullified. We wouldn't have anything to do with those abnormal freaks any longer, and we could finally leave this house!"

Uh oh. That was not part of Vernon's plan. "Well, you see, tulip, I –"

"It's perfect!" Petunia's voice lifted in glee, a rapturous look in her eyes as she seized on the unfortunate notion. "They'd never be able to find us if we moved somewhere else! And we could move somewhere with a better art scene, where Dudley could connect with kids who are his peers rather than the dunderheads we have in this neighbourhood, and… and… oh, but I'm getting excited just thinking about it!"

Ah, bloody hell. Vernon hid a grimace as his wife continued to ramble. While getting rid of the boy would be nice, if the price to be paid was the purchase of a new home then Vernon was not certain he wanted it to come about.

After all, it took a large amount of money to keep young women happy nowadays. And though his wife was a freak in the sheets, a strong and virile man like himself deserved to have his own harem of beauties willing to fulfil his every desire. Buying a newer, larger house for his wife would put a serious strain on the finances Vernon siphoned from his salary to pay for the 'business trips' he used to visit the dozen or so young ladies he helped to support. The thought of returning to the days of two-bit whores he had used back when he and Petunia had first been married made Vernon shudder in agony.

To that end Vernon pulled out his weapon of last resort on the subject while he gently steered his wife towards the kitchen. "Possibly Petunia, but we'll need to wait and see first. The housing market is volatile right now and could enter a downturn at any moment."

"But don't you make enough to –"

"I do make a lot of money, Petunia. But if we bought a new house at the wrong time, then we could lose everything. It's just basic economic sense."

It was not basic economic sense, not quite, nor was the housing market volatile at the moment. But Petunia had no head when it came to such matters and Vernon's lies went undetected.

"Oh. Of course. Of course, you're right. You're always right, my darling dearest." The woman seemed to calm down at last, her simple mind finding it easier to focus on the mundane content of Vernon's argument rather than her more existential fears of wizards and witches.

Vernon patted the stupid woman on the elbow and gave her a kiss. "Indeed I am. Now go make us all something to drink. I think that some of your famous lemonade might take the edge off the coming discussion rather nicely. Especially if a dollop or two of brandy made its way into both of our glasses."

After giving him a vapid smile and nodding, Petunia heeded Vernon's words and took off towards the kitchen.

And with both his domestic issues and personal priorities secured for the time being, Vernon turned his mind to an important matter which had occurred to him during his talk with Petunia about finances. Which was how he might bill this Black character for money owed. Raising the freak for all these years had not been cheap, after all, and it's not like Dumbledore had ever paid them so much as a shilling for it.

Petunia moved around the kitchen in a frenzy. One of the glasses she usually used to serve lemonade had a speck of dust on it; finding it had forced her to clean all of them just in case.

When she finally brought out a tray laden with glasses, Petunia saw that Vernon was still lurking around the kitchen's entrance. The large man gave her a smile that hardly touched his dark, beady eyes, but that was okay. She might feel disgusted by the stupid man on a daily basis, but they were both united in their dislike of the freak.

Petunia took a deep breath and followed him into the family room.

What she saw made her mouth pucker in anger. Her sister's son had sat himself on one of her seats and seemed to be plucking lint from the smart looking hand-me downs which had once belonged to her precious Duddykins. She could feel her lips press together tight enough to break a tree branch as she watched the freak place a batch of lint onto the couch.

Well, while magical matters were well beyond her, this was behaviour she knew how to correct.

Petunia set the tray down on the table next to the boy with enough force to make him jump. He looked up, startled, with a flash of fear in his eyes, causing a vindictive surge of pleasure to wash through her body.

She cleared her throat with a gentle cough as Vernon sat down on a nearby chair. "Well then… boy. Let's continue the conversation we were having earlier. I believe that you were about to mention something else to your uncle and me. Am I correct?"

"You are." The disgusting freak seemed to have recovered his earlier brazenness with incredible quickness; he had the gall to take a sip of his drink in between speaking to her. "But since I'd imagine none of us really wants to be here talking about this – and seeing how I'd much rather get started on writing to Remus and Professor Dumbledore about that police issue with my godfather – let me bottom line it for you so we can finish up quickly."

Vernon snorted. "Those're some fancy words right there, boy. Are you sure that you know what they mean?"

The freak rolled his eyes in response. Petunia felt her fists tighten at the disrespectful gesture and gave the boy her best venomous glare.

"The current situation, uncle, is rather simple. I'll be leaving this house to go live with Sirius in a few weeks. Hopefully in as few as three, but maybe in as long as five thanks to some bureaucratic red tape. Once that day comes, I fully expect we will part ways for good, never to see the other again. Which should please the both of you, right?"

Husband and wife shared a quick look. Petunia smelled a trap in the boy's honeyed words and knew that her husband did as well.

"Well, well, well. Now that would be some happy news for everyone," Vernon said as he stroked his handsome moustache. "But something smells fishy. There's got to be a catch."

The freak spread his filthy, lint laden hands apart and smiled. "There's a catch alright. But rather than telling you myself and making a muck of things, I have a letter on me which should explain everything."

The boy shifted in his chair and reached into his back pocket, from which he withdrew an envelope. He handed the crumpled piece of paper over to Vernon, whose large and powerful hand ripped it out of the boy's feeble grasp as though it were a dangerous weapon that had been pointed in his direction.

Vernon peeled the envelope open and began reading the document.

At first her husband had his normal, reddish complexion. Then his eyes began to grow wide. His hands began to shake.

And when he had finished reading the letter, Vernon did not say a single word. The large man merely handed the letter to Petunia before leaning back into his chair, his expression a mix of worry and dread.

Petunia felt her chest tighten at the sight. She gulped and, with fear beginning to twist and writhe within her gut, began to read the letter.

Dear Petunia and Vernon Dursley,

My name is Sirius Black, and I have the great honour of being Harry's godfather. I am writing to inform you of my intention to see the boy taken from your deficient custody as soon as possible. But before that happens, I have been persuaded by a friend to give you a chance to save your miserable little lives from the vengeance you so rightly deserve.

You see, I have recently been released from the wizard prison of Azkaban. It is a place of death, misery, and horror the likes of which your imaginations cannot even begin to comprehend. And while I was innocent of any crime, I still spent nearly twelve years within that godforsaken place. A place which happened to be populated by the most vicious of magical villains outside (and including) my own rather notorious family. All while being guarded by creatures which possessed the ability to devour the human soul.

So, when I write about how I am quite serious that I could threaten you with a fate far worse than death, please trust that I am not making a joke regarding my name.

From what I have heard, neither one of you have been kind to Harry. You have not raised him with the love and care that a child – that any child – deserves. And you have failed to provide him with a level of support beyond that needed for him to barely survive.

You have mocked him. Denigrated him. Treated him as a subhuman creature to be yelled at and neglected. You have failed to act as responsible guardians, instead giving in to the inner monster which dwells inside each of us.

This will end. IMMEDIATELY! And I expect to have the following list of actions followed to the letter prior to my arrival lest you wish to test the limited patience of myself and my associates.

First: You will provide Harry with at least three full meals a day. They will be composed to his liking, be healthy, and contain nothing which could even remotely resemble poison.

Second: You will take care of his basic needs. This includes ensuring that he has clean clothes to wear, that his bed is nicely kept, that he has access to a clean bathroom at all hours, and that he is able to freely move around your house at any time.

Third: You will do your utmost best to see that he has any items or materials he might wish to purchase. During his time at your place, it will be you who are responsible for any purchase that he might request. He is not to spend so much as a Knut of his own savings.

And if I hear that you refused him for any reason – any reason at all – other than financial ruin, then you will find my limited patience sorely tested.

Fourth: You must see to it that he does not want for anything. If he wishes to go somewhere, then you will drive him. If he wants to eat in bed, then you will serve him as he has requested. Heck, if he wants to go to a whorehouse… er, I mean cinema, on a weeknight, then you will take him there even if you feel that doing so might damage your personal reputation.

I trust that I have made myself clear. Because if I find out that you have disregarded what I have written, or that you have gone against the spirit of what I have written, then you will be wiped from the face of this planet with a speed that only magic can accomplish.

Faithfully Yours,

Sirius Orion Black, Heir to House Black, Godfather of Harry James Potter, and the Sexiest Bachelor Alive According to This Week's Edition of Witches Weekly

Additional Signatories: Remus Lupin, R. Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, and Alastor Moody.

P.S.

This letter has been layered with several spells. One of which will cause the letter to burst into flame ten minutes after either Vernon or Petunia Dursley first touch it.

Enjoy!

Thin tendrils of smoke began to writhe from the thin sheet of paper shortly after Petunia reached the final line.

In her shock, she held onto it for too long. And when the flames burst forth, Petunia was forced to fling the letter away with an ear-piercing shriek. A shriek which only intensified when the burning letter fell onto her previously spotless carpet.

Petunia's bony breast heaved as she drew in air. She looked from her trembling hands to Vernon. His eyes looked no better than her own felt and she returned her gaze to her hands.

She felt as though one of her worst nightmares had come to life. The freak that was her nephew had found another, older freak who wanted to take him in. And said freak happened to be an ex-convict who had cheerfully stated he could murder her entire family if they failed to abide by his torturous demands until he came to take in her sister's revolting child.

It was terrible. Horrendous. And evil beyond belief.

Yet without foul magic of their own, there was nothing they could do to resist the man.

Petunia folded her hands neatly within her lap. And hated herself for what she was about to say.

"S-s-s-so, H-h-harry, i-i-i-if you would be s-s-s-so kind, then p-p-please let us know what we can d-d-d-do to make y-y-y-your summer enjoyable."

A/N: The first draft of this chapter went down a far darker road. While that clearly did not make it into the final version, I do have plans to someday post it as a stand-alone one-shot. Modified to make it even darker, of course.

That said, this will probably be the biggest appearance of the Dursley's in the Game of Death. Because while their raising of Harry will have an enduring effect (and affect multiple plotlines), and I reserve the right to bring them back in a surprise twist at any time, none of the Dursley's are, or ever will be, a major focal point for the overall narrative of the Game of Death.

Until Next Time,

Elsil