The Morning after the Night of Horrors-November 1st
by: Dogstar--madhu893
hosted on: the unknowable room--Portkey
"'Tunia, where's my coat with the purple lining?" shouted a plump and boulder-like man named Vernon Dursley.
"The one with silk on the inside?" questioned the skinny, horse-faced Petunia Dursley as she fed Dudley, her year old son who resembled a medium-sized pumpkin.
"That's the one," said Vernon as he rushed to grab his conference papers that were scattered all over the spotless parlor. His beady eyes looked up just in time to grab the plastic-covered coat.
"I see you're using your best clothes for this meeting. Is it that important?" asked Petunia nonchalantly as she wiped some dribble from Dudley's chin with his baby bib.
Vernon looked at her as if she had insulted him. "That important? THAT important? Petunia, today is the day that will secure our future! The oil business is not forgiving, you know." Vernon didn't have time for one of his pride lectures as the doorbell rang. He yanked the door open without kissing his wife goodbye and looked to see who was at the door this early. He stopped dead in his tracks and backed away from the door.
"Who is it?" asked Petunia, noticing her husband's strange behavior. She walked over to the door and saw a baby about as old as her son in a woman's arms. The woman has graying blonde hair and kind grey eyes. She looked to be in her fifties.
"Oh, `morning, I'm Arabella Figg. I just moved in a few houses down. I was out taking my morning walk when I heard a cry come from your porch. I saw this little tike at the door and had to wonder why you would put your son outside?" hummed Arabella sternly.
Vernon and Petunia couldn't speak, they were just awestruck. Eventually, they had to say something.
"He-he's not our son. He's our nephew," stuttered Petunia as she took her sister's baby and the letter with him.
"Oh, I see. Well, I won't meddle in your business anymore. I can see this is a personal matter. No worries," said Arabella as she retreated to the sidewalk.
Vernon completely forgot about his meeting and shut the door from the chill.
"What is the meaning of this?" whispered Vernon as if the baby was some kind of bomb planted in their house.
"This is Harry, my sister's son. Remember, I told you about him?" blubbered Petunia absentmindedly as she read the letter.
Dear Dursleys,
This message is urgent and must be followed. I suspect you know that Lily Evans-Potter went into hiding with James and baby Harry because the Dark Wizards were after them. This may sound as a joke or game to you, but this is most serious. Lord Voldemort, the dark lord, came on Halloween night and killed Lily and James. He had tried to kill Harry, but the spell backfired and made him weaker and non-human. We do not so much request as order you to keep Harry safe in your home. I would ask you to take him in as one of your own children and treat him with care. When he is old enough, he will be sent to a wizarding school and find out about his roots.
You must understand that every person in the Wizarding world knows who he is and what happened in his life. This morning, everyone must be celebrating.
I cannot tell you much more and you cannot give him to any adoption shelter, this is a grim time.
With Respect,
Headmaster Dumbledore
P.S. I will visit you a few hours after you read this letter to make sure all is well.
"What the bloody hell is this rubbish? THEY CANNOT ORDER US TO TAKE IN A CHILD! We should send him straight to the orphanage!" bellowed Vernon as he turned a deep shade of mauve.
Dudley started to cry in the distance and Harry woke up. He looked around and also started to cry.
"Vernon, we really don't have a choice," whimpered Petunia, but her mind was elsewhere as she choked back tears. Her little sister was dead. Petunia had never gotten the chance to have a good teen-hood with her. She never thanked her for attending her wedding even when she didn't attend hers. She never came to support her during childbirth even when Lily was the one holding Petunia's hand all through hers.
She never told her that she loved her.
"Vernon, I'll feed Harry some spare applesauce. We can't let him starve," said Petunia, but Vernon was already out the door. She had forgotten about him meeting, but how could he even think about anything else at a time like this?
Petunia sat down near the eating table dejectedly.
--Dudley's second birthday-
It was a bright day outside in the garden of a country house.
"Shoogla!" whined Dudley as he squirmed in his too-small high chair.
"Aww, how cute. He can't talk yet?" smiled a young woman as she tickled Dudley's fat belly.
"No, he just babbles some gibberish," grinned Petunia as she glanced to the side. She saw a raven-haired, skinny boy playing with a stick and waving it in the air. He smiled as a ginger colored cat pounced on the stick.
"Who's that?" asked the blonde haired lady.
"Oh, that's just Harry, Amelie." Petunia tried to wave him off, but Amelie was already walking toward him.
Harry looked up at the pretty woman and said, "'Afternoon! You like cats?" questioned Harry as Amelie squatted down to pet the ginger cat.
"Actually, this is my cat. She lives with me in this house," laughed Amelie. She wondered why Harry could talk, but Dudley couldn't. In the distance, you could hear Vernon saying, "I think it's a bit pathetic, really. My son has to be an intelligent and successful oil man like me."
"WEELY? You have a really pretty house, it's big," shouted Harry with his wide, emerald eyes.
"Say, could you tell me how life is with Uncle Vernon?" asked Amelie. You couldn't blame her, the boy had a purple and blue bruise on his left arm that looked fresh. His body was clearly malnourished and his clothes looked like hand-me-downs from a worker.
"Auntie and Uncle aren't very nice. I fell on the sidewalk and nobody helped me up. They always got to go to the garden with Dudley. They stay there for a looong time. I get hungry," murmured Harry. Amelie was shocked. They treated their own nephew like he was an unwanted stranger!
"Amelie, what are you doing here? Everyone is asking for you…oh, Harry," cried Vernon and then he noticed the scrawny boy. "Go open Dudley's presents for him!"
When Harry had sadly sauntered over to the crowd of overweight people, Amelie started to talk.
"Vernon, what is Harry to you?" asked Amelie seriously.
"He's…he's a hooligan, Amelie. He is really the bad apple and doesn't know when to stop talking. We try to discipline him, but he never listens. There are countless times where he runs away from home!" lied Vernon. His palms started to sweat.
"Oh really?" huffed Amelie. She would call child services and immediately report this.
"Well, we take very good care of him, but he always lies to adults about how we treat him. I'm sure he lied to you, too," frowned Vernon, trying to fake being sincere.
"Vernon, I'm going to get to the bottom of this, but right now we'll just not ruin Dudley's birthday. OK?" ordered Amelie. What would she do?
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