A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

I have much sympathy for the 1981 Dursleys, although that doesn't take away from their continued ill treatment of Harry well into his teen years. Overall, it appears the Wizarding World has no concept of emotional or verbal abuse ... anything other than curses, Dark Magic, or physical violence is accepted without question. DUJ - I hadn't noticed Dudley's birthday is the only outing for the whole family; I thought it was more that it was Harry's only chance for an outing. Harry and Dudley have been going to school, and he goes shopping with his aunt (which is where he meets Dedalus). But Petunia is certainly an isolated and self-isolating character! Even her own husband doesn't know how much she learned about the WW.

We'll get back to 2020 Dudley soon, but I've wanted to focus on the past for a few chapters to see him become more proactive. If he's not hitting someone, he's a very passive character, which makes him a difficult protagonist to write. The Dursleys have been forced to learn more about magic than they ever wanted to, and they are going to start doing more than just complain all the time.

Thanks for reading!

31 August 1997

Both Hestia and Dedalus were buying it, Dudley thought. He couldn't believe how gullible they were. He'd thought wizards would all be like Harry. Or that old guy who had kept hitting them about the head with alcohol.

Dedalus and Hestia wanted the Dursleys to like them, and to like Harry, and to be proud of their war effort. Their desire to be liked was a marked difference compared to the other wizards Dudley had met — judgmental, aggressive, and disapproving of everything Dursley.

"Once we're back at the house, we can't break character," Vernon had said on their walk. "Even amongst ourselves. Even when we think we're alone. We all must play our part, from here on out. You can never tell when they might be listening."

Every night at the changing of the guard, the witch and wizard held a quiet conversation in the sitting room, while the Dursleys avoided them. Petunia – physically, the smallest Dursley - had made a habit of sneaking around to the side window to have a listen. The wizard insisted on keeping it open all day, as the weather was fine.

After she'd listened in for a few minutes, she sneaked back to the kitchen – Dudley helped her climb through the window to avoid opening the creaky door – and gave them a tight smile. They'd busied themselves with washing up, sniffling, talking in low voices, and giving sympathetic looks. Dudley set the kettle on again, as they'd need tea all round in a moment.

As hoped for, Hestia had been all sympathy. She even offered to let Vernon out of his cupboard. He insisted he found it too comfortable to leave, but then Petunia said she missed him. Hestia patted Petunia's arm and nodded.

"Well," Vernon said, "if it means so much to you, I suppose I could move back upstairs."

1 September 1997

Dedalus brought back every magazine, tabloid, newspaper, and book that had Vernon's dearly departed cousin's face or name on it. Petunia and Vernon pored over them, and Dudley thumbed through one as well.

Petunia sighed. "I remember when we went shopping for that swimsuit." She scrunched her face up, and a couple of tears trailed down her cheeks. Dudley was impressed. He drooped his head a bit to look sadder.

Dedalus made some there-there sort of noises and unfolded his open paper. He dropped it with an angry squeak, leaped up, and paced the room.

"I – I can't BELIEVE it! I mean – I can! I mean – well, it's to be expected, but still!" Dedalus kicked at the chair. "Oh, Minerva must be beside herself! And Filius…" He wrung his hands together.

Dudley felt he ought to say something. Early in their stay, Vernon had sketched out a plan for handling their captors. Good Cop – Dudley. "Everyone likes you, son. Keep up the charm, and we'll have these weirdos eating out of your hands." Vernon didn't want to use the term bad to describe his wife or himself. Their captors were the bad ones, not the Dursleys. Forthright Cop – Petunia. "You can put these freaks in their place, if anyone can." EVEN MORE FORTHRIGHT COP – himself. "They'll be sorry they ever thought to mess with this Buggle!"

Dudley was the Good Cop. He should say something. He could feel his face turning red as he spun through possible things to say. He wanted to stave off another round of sobbing, and every word counted.

"Another attack?" he finally asked and glanced over at the paper. Some dodgy looking bloke was being made headmaster of Harry's school. Wait. He'd heard that name before. Harry had said it often, in his sleep.

"Is … that the Snape who …?" he stammered. Petunia stopped midway through turning the page of her magazine.

Dedalus gave a shuddering nod and dropped back into his chair.

"Snape who what?" Vernon asked.

"He killed Dumbledore," Dudley explained.

Everyone stared at him. "Harry said," Dudley offered. "He said Snape killed him."

Dedalus jumped up again. "I can't stand it! First, they're trying to pin the blame on Harry Potter! Now, Snape will be taking over the school. It – it is unbearable! Unthinkable!" He took out his wand. "I should send a message. NO! I can't. Too risky – could be overheard. He might be meeting with Minerva or Filius as we speak. Hestia's at work. Same with Kingsley. The whole Tonks family being watched. Weasleys searched. I – c-can't…" His eyes darted back and forth. "This is exactly what the Death Eaters are hoping for."

"Do you want to go check on your friends?" said Dudley. "It's alright if you do. We'll be okay here, with the wards and everything."

The tiny wizard ran his finger through his grey curls. "It's a thought, Dudley. It's a thought. But… Hestia might come back, and then she'd worry."

Vernon opened his mouth, and Petunia placed a warning hand on his forearm. He closed it. Dudley said, "We'd be able to explain everything. Or you could leave a note."

Dedalus nodded to himself several times. "Could work, could work. Could go to Abe. Every excuse in the world to have a drink right now. Could be alright."

He dropped back into his seat again. He made Dudley think of a little purple rabbit, constantly pulling himself out of his own top hat and then jumping back in.

"Then again," Dedalus said, "this whole thing with your cousin, this Di-ella. Perfect set-up for a trap."

Vernon shot a worried look at Petunia. The Dursleys very much wanted to attend the funeral procession, if for no other reason than to get a change of scenery.

She put her magazine down, although she kept one finger marking the page. "Do you think – they were killed, then? By the Death Eaters?" She was trembling a bit, Dudley noticed, and her eyes were bright.

"I don't know," Dedalus said in a small voice. "I was going to check the Prophet for any indication, and the Quibbler might have the story, although Xenophilius isn't the best for international news. When I saw -"

Petunia slid The Daily Prophet over to her side of the table. She took a deep breath and flipped it over. Starting from the back of the paper, she thumbed through Quidditch reports and obituaries to the international news.

"France: Giant Attack, Two Muggles Killed," she read. "Surviving witnesses successfully detained, memories modified by IMLE officials."

Dudley looked over her shoulder. "No photo."

Dedalus waved a quavering hand. "I'm sorry, Vernon Dursley. There's just no way to know. These two unfortunate Muggles could have been your dear relatives, or they could have been anyone. Now that the Ministry is under the thrall of You-Know-Who, all news is suspect, anyway. The way things are going, they might stop reporting Muggle deaths altogether."

"No way to know," Petunia said. Her shoulders shook, and her eyes looked into the distance, past Dedalus, past Dudley, past the ugly wallpaper. "Well, we've heard that before, haven't we, Vernon?"

Vernon curled an arm around her. "I think," he told Dedalus, "I think you'd better go. My wife needs a moment to compose herself."

Dudley ran to fetch Dedalus' top hat from the hook. "It'll be alright," he said. "You'll see."

Dedalus nodded again and bowed. Inspired by the solemnity of the morning, Dudley bowed in return. As soon as Dedalus disappeared with a POP, Dudley felt rather silly.

The Dursleys waited a moment in the sudden quiet. The little house was far more silent than any place Dudley had ever stayed. No hum of television or refrigerator. No neighborhood dogs barking or children playing. No school sounds. No machines and no other people than the two they'd seen for the last few weeks. All the sounds were outside – birds, wind, occasional rain. The silence had intensified now that Dedalus was gone.

Each of the Dursleys seemed reluctant to break the silence. Vernon opened the front door and looked outside at the spot the witch and wizard appeared whenever they returned to the house. Petunia flipped The Daily Prophet back to the front page and began to read. Dudley thought of heading upstairs to fetch his CD player. He'd brought a few battery-operated devices, most of which were disappointments. The radio played nothing but static. The cellular phone was useless – no signal, even from the hilltop. But the CD player worked, and at this point, he knew every one of his albums by heart, even the ones he didn't like very much.

He had started using the CD player to fall asleep at night when Harry had got so loud last summer. Sirius. No. HE CAN'T BE DEAD. Then he'd start in on Cedric again.

It had taken him all summer (the summer that ended in Dementors) for Dudley to find the right time and right place to ask Harry about Cedric. How'd that go, idiot?

He hadn't managed to figure out a way to ask about Sirius. He knew who he was, kind of – the escaped convict who'd been on the run, then had turned out to be Harry's godfather, and now (apparently) was dead.

Dumbledore, too, was dead.

Snape. SNAPE KILLED HIM. Harry would thrash and groan, and Dudley would burrow under his duvet and turn up the volume as high as it would go. He'd usually fall asleep five songs in and wake up the next morning with the headphones half twisted around his neck.

What had started as a fight for sleep had become a source of normalcy in this electricity-free house. He'd listen to a song or two before bed. He'd listen during the daytime, and he'd shared it a few times with his parents (not that they liked his music).

Music was sleep and sanity.

He'd nearly exhausted his supply of batteries.

He decided against getting the CD player. He had to make it last a little longer.

"Dudley," Petunia said. "We have to find out more about him." She tapped Severus Snape's picture. "Try to get one of them to talk about him, if you can."

Vernon kept watching the door. "I'll keep watch," he said. "But we finally have a moment to ourselves. Though they've got the place bugged, I'll warrant. Think they'll let us out of here?"

"He's falling apart," Petunia said. "He might do anything."

"If they do let us out," Dudley said, "what should we do?"

"That's just it," Vernon said. "What is it we want? What is our objective? At Grunnings, I write business plans and mission statements. But we have to know what we want. It's clear nothing good is going to happen with us staying here."

"It's been weeks," Petunia said. "With no information, and no chance to do anything."

"That boy is loafing about in London while we're held prisoner," Vernon said. They'd heard early in August that Harry and his friends were safe at the old Order headquarters in London. "Such a braggart he is, about his house in London – not a care for the rest of us!" Vernon scowled. "And, I know he said this Snape killed Dumble-whatsit, but did you see the paper a while back? He's wanted for questioning in the matter! This whole thing reeks, is what I say!"

"Oh, I'm sure it was Snape," Petunia said. "Nasty thing, he was, when I knew him. One of my sister's friends. I always told her he was no good."

Vernon's eyebrows lifted, and Dudley's jaw dropped. He always forgot his mum had learned a great deal about magic when she and his aunt were kids.

She tapped Snape's picture again. "We might be able to use this somehow. Find out what they know about him and see if my information might amount to anything. Use it to get some favors. We're treated worse than prisoners here!"

Dudley agreed. Prison had television, phone calls, and visits.

He thought about what his father had asked – what was their objective?

Dudley had felt detached from himself ever since moving to this quiet countryside. Since he'd started at Smeltings, he'd felt there were two Dudleys, or maybe even more. There was school Dudley. There was home Dudley, which included how he was with his friends and with his parents. Dursley. Big D. Dud. All his mother's baby names for him. Soon there would be no more school, and eventually, a new home away from his parents.

What did Dudley want? He had no idea what he was allowed to want, anymore.

He missed everything he had, but he knew his home was unsafe. Death Eaters were living there, or at least watching it. Presumably, his school was also being watched. He hoped the Death Eaters didn't decide to attack it, especially his boxing coach.

He wanted a different life altogether.

"I want to pass my A-levels," he said. It wasn't so much that he was keen on studying, but that the A-levels had been touted as the ultimate path to the adult world for a modern Smeltings man.

"Of course you do, Diddums," his mother cooed. "Such a studious young man." She started to cry.

"It's alright, mum," he said.

"NO! It's not alright! Nothing is," she said. "I've gone and ruined you and your father's life. Me and my blood."

"Don't say that, Petunia," Vernon said. "It's their fault, not yours."

"NO. When I took him in, I promised you, Dudley, that it wouldn't change a thing for you. And now – you can't even go to school! I swore that he'd never get to overshadow you, or make you feel… unimportant." She tapped the paper. "But you see? You see how they talk about us? No names, no ages, nothing – just Muggles. Even when we die. You could be the most famous, most beloved person in the world, and it wouldn't matter to them."

Vernon turned around. "Go ahead and tell him. About his grandparents."

She shook her head. "I don't know. That's the worst of it. I asked my sister, after our parents were found dead in their house, if it really was a gas leak, or if it was … her sort. And she said she didn't know. There was no Dark Mark – that's a kind of sign they leave – and she couldn't get at the Ministry records. And neither could her friends. I asked if Dumbledore might know, and she said he didn't either. And then she went and got herself killed and stuck us with him, and Dumbledore's dead too. And I'll never know. I'm sorry. To both of you. Our perfect life, completely upended, and for what? For a war these freaks have no idea how to win."

The Dursleys fell silent for a moment.

Petunia clenched her fists. "You asked what I want, Vernon? What I want is to get some of our own back. A war should have casualties on both sides."

Vernon nodded. "Quite right. They keep saying this is war. Let's act like it."

"And I want television again. And my computer. I'll need a VCR too, or a DVD player, for my Film Studies A-level." Dudley thought of a few more things he wanted, but those could wait for another time.

Vernon thought a moment. "Normally, I'd write all this down, and we'd craft a mission statement on paper. But we oughtn't to leave anything where they can find it. So. We'll just have to remember it. Snape. Funeral. Casualties. A-levels. Electronics. We fight this war, on our terms."