Dudley's Secret

Bright, white sunlight filtered in through the pristine kitchen window, creating soft, yellow beams on the gleaming white bench. The dew on the fuchsia petals of the roses in a crystal vase glinted. The polished silver kettle whistled as it reached the boiling point nearby.

Petunia shielded her eyes from the glare with a thin hand, sighing loudly. Her grey-green eyes narrowed as she looked out towards the front gate. What was going on?

"Are the Buckets showing off their new car again?" Vernon grunted from the kitchen table.

Petunia shook her head, but upon hearing the tell-tale crinkling of a newspaper page turning behind her, realised that Vernon probably had not seen this. Pursing her lips, she dragged her eyes from the window and turned to her husband.

"No, it's not that. Dudley's home from school."

The newspaper crackled again as Vernon continued reading. His small, beady eyes scanned the contents, where every so often his thick, greying moustache would twitch as he read something he disapproved of. Without so much as a quick glance up at the large clock hanging above the refrigerator, he cleared his throat to reply.

"So? It's the usual time, isn't it – four o'clock?"

"Yes, but that's not what I meant. He's all by himself."

Vernon sighed heavily and finally closed the newspaper. Looking up at her sharply, he folded his arms. "You're not still going on about driving him to school are you? The boy needs his independence. He has his image to uphold; you cannot keep smothering him all the time."

Petunia shook her head indignantly; there was no such thing as smothering a child with love. "I'm just worried that Dudley isn't… coping. I've noticed he isn't his usual bubbly self lately; he's very reserved and quiet."

"All boys go through that stage. Dudley is still very popular. I shouldn't worry if I were you."

"Yes, but what if it's more than that? What if he isn't… right after what happened last year." Petunia rang her hands together nervously. Her eyes darted back and forth from the window – a natural reaction of hers now to ensure those black cloaked beasts were not outside – to Vernon's rapidly reddening face.

Vernon swallowed loudly, the folds of his neck. His eyes flashed as he clenched his jaw and clamped the closed paper within his hands, creating large wrinkles on the once crisp and smooth surface.

"Dudley is fine," he said through gritted teeth. "He is a strong boy; a real Dursley. Nothing those, those, those freaks do to him will ever stop him from being normal. No, Dudley is fine."

Vernon nodded to himself, reaffirming what he believed.

Petunia looked down and studied her pristine fingernails, finding her own cheeks burning. She knew Vernon hated when she brought up anything to do with the Wizarding world, especially when several times already magic had disrupted their perfectly normal lifestyle. It was her fault that he had to put up with it. She had taken in her late sister's freak of a boy, allowed him into their home. She had exposed her son to that insidious world' even though she had already known the dangers of magic from her own childhood.

Vernon had put up with all of it. He loved her despite her sister's disgusting heritage.

"I've had enough setbacks at work today. I can't be bothered with that nonsense."

Petunia nodded, turning back towards the sink. Lifting the kettle, she carefully poured water into a china cup and resumed making her tea. She racked her brain for a change of subject, hoping to ease her mind.

"Ms Finchly still thinks she can grow azaleas in that box she calls a garden I see. I have half a mind to go and tell her-"

Before she could finish, however, the front door banged open and Dudley came rushing into the kitchen. Without so much as a glance at his parents, he began to rummage through the cupboards, opening and shutting the doors with loud thuds.

Vernon looked at her meaningfully with a smile playing on his lips. Over the noise of their son looking for food, he mouthed. "See, what did I tell you? Absolutely nothing to worry about."

Petunia shook her head and turned her head away. Her gaze was focused on Dudley's dishevelled appearance. His fine, blond hair hung limply to his sweaty forehead whilst his cheeks were the colour of apples. The red and black tie around his neck was loose, swinging from side to side as he moved around. His chest heaved up and down as though he had run all the way home and, as her eyes narrowed, Petunia could see his hands shaking as he closed the final cupboard, a few boxes of food in his arms.

Licking her lips nervously, Petunia tried to talk to him. "Did you have a good day, Popkin? How was school? Are they piling up the homework?"

Dudley grunted and shrugged his shoulders. Balancing the boxes in his arms and not bothering to grab a bowl or cutlery, he headed towards the door.

Petunia looked helplessly Vernon, who had once more resumed reading the newspaper. Something was going on with Dudley, and she needed to know what. Deciding to take action herself, she followed closely behind him.

"Dudders, wait a moment. Let me fix you up a snack."

"Not hungry."

"But you have all that food-"

"Busy. Got to go."

"Dudley, wait." Reaching forward as her son began to ascend the staircase, Petunia grasped onto his arm and pulled him back to her. Looking down, she let out a light gasp as she noticed his fingers, hands and wrists were covered in tiny scratches, cuts and bruises. Looking into his anxious face, she searched his eyes for an explanation for his evasive behaviour.

"Let go, Mum. I'm busy."

"What's going on, Dudley?" she demanded once the shock wore off. "Are you being bullied? Did someone – something – attack you?"

Dudley looked down at the floor, chewing on his bottom lip. Then, his cheeks reddening just like his father's, he yanked his hand out of her grasp. Shaking his head, he snapped back, "No, mother. Leave me alone!"

"Dudley!"

Dudley bounded up the stairs angrily, taking two at a time. Petunia winced as she heard him slam his bedroom door shut behind him, watching as the carefully framed pictures swung precariously on the wall. Swivelling around to Vernon, she mustered her most hawkish glare. She had been right, not that he noticed. Then, swallowing thickly, she hurriedly climbed the stairs after Dudley.

She could hear the scrape of Vernon's chair against the tiles and knew that he was following close behind. She continued on, ignoring his urges for her to leave Dudley be, and soon reached the landing. Pausing outside his door, she listened for any signs from within.

"Dudley? Dudders, please come out, I just want to talk."

"Go away." Came the muffled reply.

"Dudders, please." Petunia gripped onto his doorknob, twisting it back and forth. She wasn't too surprised to find that the door was locked.

"Leave him be, Pet, he'll be alright."

Vernon had finally caught up to them, his face still ruddy and small beads of sweat glistening near his hairline. Bending over and clutching his knees, he paused to catch his breath. Vernon was showing his concern by coming up to her. Her smile didn't last long, however, as she heard Dudley cry "ouch!" from behind the door.

"Dudley, open up please," she called, pressing her ear to the door to hear what was going on. It sounded as though Dudley was struggling with something, though she could not hear the usual metallic sounds of his gym equipment being hoisted into the air.

Vernon coughed beside her, clearing his throat. As she turned to him, she could see that his expression was a curious mix of embarrassment and pride. Although his cheeks were flushed, his blue eyes sparkled mischievously. Raising an eyebrow questioningly, Petunia watched as he shuffled nervously.

"Uh, Petunia, maybe its best we leave him. I think, perhaps, he just needs some time alone to, er, sort some stuff out."

Her eyebrows rose even further into her blonde hair as she looked at her husband incredulously. Could he really still not see that something was wrong? Catching her look, Vernon held his hands up. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he quickly continued, "No, no, you, er, see, well, he's growing up and probably going through a phase that all boys are. You know, secret men's business…" He nodded his head slowly, seeing if she understood what he was trying to say. "Best just let him finish, alright?" he chortled, amused.

Titling her head to the side, Petunia opened her mouth to ask what he could mean. However, as a moan came from Dudley's room, she found the words wouldn't come out. Her hand flew to her mouth as she realised what Vernon was implying, eyes widening, horrified, as she looked to the door.

No, he was lying. It couldn't was her little boy. He was innocent. Only boys who attended schools like the one her degenerate nephew attended ever did something so filthy, so utterly disgusting. Her Dudley would never… Shaking her head roughly, she squeezed her eyes shut, hand now covering her heart.

"No, Dudley would never do that. No, I raised him better than that. No, something is wrong."

Vernon shrugged his shoulders again helplessly before winking at her. "He's my son alright."

Petunia pursed her lips disapprovingly, not wanting to hear it. Her Dudley was innocent, and though she would usually allow him to do what he pleased, she would not allow this. Extending a curled fist, she rapped sharply on the door.

"Dudley, open up. This nonsense has got to stop. Unlock the door this instant!"

Vernon sighed loudly behind her, shaking his head.

"Ouch, no, stop it!" Dudley cried from his room. Then, directing his voice to his parents, said louder, "Go away, I'm busy."

This only served to increase Petunia's determination to get him to open up the door as she frantically twisted at the doorknob. Glaring at Vernon to help her, she called, "We're coming in whether you like it or not, so I suggest you make yourself unbusy."

Vernon grunted before reluctantly mimicking Petunia's actions. "Son, you'd better do as you're told. We're coming in now." Putting all his weight against the door, Vernon tried to force it open. The door creaked with the motion, and after a few hits against it, finally gave way to him.

Petunia shrieked as the door burst open and shielded herself from some of the splinters that flew off. Brushing down her clean pinafore, she hastily clambered into the room after her husband, remembering the task at hand.

Dudley was on his bed, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Snapping out of his stupor as Vernon, now exhausted and annoyed from exerting himself, marched towards him. Quickly, he stumbled onto his knees, throwing his quilt over a small, moving lump and shielding it from their sight.

"What the devil is going on in here?" Vernon blustered, looking around the room before trying to see past Dudley.

Petunia paled as she wondered what Vernon must have been searching for, not entirely sure she wanted to know. Blinking slowly, she walked closer to Dudley, who shifted his weight so that she could not see behind him.

Vernon recovered slightly from his annoyance just in time, reaching out to stop Petunia from moving any closer. "Better let me check."

Dudley gulped nervously as his father approached him. Without too much resistance and looking frightened of what would happen, he allowed himself to be pushed aside.

"What in the…?" Vernon's eyes widened as he whipped back the wriggling quilt covers and gasped.

Petunia's breath hitched in her throat as she watched a dark cloud pass over his face. She glanced at Dudley's guilty expression before peering over Vernon's broad shoulder.

"Oh!" she echoed Vernon's gasp, jumping back. Dudley was hiding something, just as she'd been expecting, but this isn't what she had in mind.

There, on Dudley's clean sheets, sat a small, dishevelled-looking owl. Its large, amber eyes blinked up at her curiously as it tilted its head to the side. The grey feathers aligning its front stuck out at odd ends, their relative fluffiness indicating that it could be no more than a year or two old. The owl's left wing was taped with a bandage to a stick where Dudley had presumably tried to repair its broken bone. It didn't seem too concerned, however, for it happily hopped around, twittering.

"I call him Hoot," Dudley mumbled, making kissing noises as he tried to coax the owl into his cupped hands. The little owl nipped at his fingers, causing him to withdraw them.

Vernon's face was steadily growing purple as a large vein began to throb on his temple. His fists were curled by his side as he glared at the tiny bird. Through gritted teeth, he demanded, "Where did it come from?"

Dudley stopped the kissing noises and watched the owl, careful not to meet his father's gaze. Swallowing hard, he replied, "I found him."

Petunia could hear Vernon breathing heavily through his nostrils and tore her gaze away from Dudley's carpet. She had been irked to see that the fresh, white rug was now covered in crushed up pieces of cornflakes and Fruit Loops that Dudley had evidently tried to feed the owl. Gently placing a calming hand on his shoulder, it was her turn to remind him to relax.

"Vernon, maybe we really should go-"

"Where exactly did you find it?" he spoke.

"I- I found him near- near the mailbox last week. His wing was broken and he- he couldn't fly," Dudley trembled slightly, not daring to look up.

"You brought one of those, those, those things into our house? What were you thinking, boy? Oh no, no, no, he's going. Wretched creatures like that belong to those, those, those FREAKS!" Vernon roared, pointing a shaking finger at the owl and stepping away from Petunia's touch. Unfortunately, Dudley had not yet managed to train the owl, which hopped forward and nipped Vernon sharply on the finger.

With a howl, Vernon clutched his throbbing finger and jumped around. With watery eyes, he lumbered forward, clawing at the owl, which hooted excitedly.

Dudley scrambled forward also intent on reaching his owl. Being on the bed, he had an advantage and managed to scoop him up before his father could.

"Give it to me! Give it to me!" Vernon cried, launching himself towards it.

Dudley cradled the owl closer to him, shaking his head profusely. Tears slid down his face as he backed closer to the head of his bed. The owl twittered noisily, its shrill screech piercing Petunia's ears as it tried to escape Dudley's tight hold. Dudley's face was crumpled up, and it hurt her heart to see him so.

Breathing in and readying herself, Petunia stepped forward. Placing her hand once more on Vernon's shoulder, she used more force than intended to turn him around to face her. Vernon stared at her, his face still purple with rage as his beefy hands continued trying to find the owl. Pressing a finger to her thin lips, Petunia hushed him, nodding her head towards the sobbing form of their sobbing son.

"Stop. You were right, we should leave Dudley alone."

"But- but-" Vernon spluttered, his moustache twitching.

Taking advantage of his confusion, she began to push him out towards the door before he could stop her. When they reached the door, Vernon still spluttering, she leant up and placed a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

"Go, I'll deal with it. I'm sure it's just a phase he's going through," she whispered calmly.

"But, but, it's an...it's one of those...it's..."

"He'll be fine."

Shooting a venomous glare towards the owl, which had managed to peck its way from Dudley's hands, Vernon stormed out of the room. Petunia could hear him thump down the staircase, very much like his son had ascended earlier, and head into the living room. She waited until the television began blaring loudly before striding over to the bed and sitting down. Her eyes wandered over to the owl, which was now pulling at a loose thread on the quilt as Dudley hiccoughed loudly.

Glancing at her son, she extended her hand towards him – careful to avoid the owl who was, once more, watching her curiously – brushing away his hair from his forehead. Dudley flinched at her touch but soon relaxed, his shoulders slumping as he wiped his wet nose and eyes with the sleeve of his school shirt.

"I'm sorry, Mum, I didn't mean to, I just-" through more hiccoughs, Dudley tried to apologise.

Petunia smiled at him, still stroking his hair. Her heart swelled as, not for the first time, she realised just how lucky she was to have such a compassionate son.

"I know, Dudders, I know," she murmured soothingly.

Dudley shook his head roughly, blinking back more tears. "No, you don't understand. I wanted to know how, how Harry feels being a, a you know. It's not fair that he gets to, to... when I..." sniffling loudly, he struggled to get the words out.

Petunia breathed in, a lump rising to her throat. Rubbing Dudley's back, she nodded her head slowly. "I do understand, I do."

Looking up sharply, Dudley sniffled again, his eyes shining with hope. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed.

Processing this information, Dudley nodded to himself thoughtfully. He reached a finger out and began to pet his owl gently. He was quiet for a moment before his eyes, still shining with hope, turned back to her once more.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Does that mean I can keep him?" Dudley smiled as the owl hooted his approval, the thread now hanging from his beak.

Petunia pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring at the small creature. But, upon turning back to Dudley, found her lips twitching into the barest of smiles. "We'll see. We'll see."

A huge thank you to my captain, Lokilette, for beta'ing this for me, especially for giving lots of inspiration for wording (some being hers lol)

this fic was written for the Quidditch League comp round 13 (our last main round for season three! Here's to hoping Falmouth make it to finals!). This round was a free round, by which we had the freedom to write whatever we wanted (almost). I always imagined that Dudley would secretly adopt a magical creature one day, especially after Harry rescued him from the dementor the year before (this being set in Harry's sixth year). I apologise in advance not only for the format of this (my laptop has died -.- and so I've had to type this all on iPad Notes) but for any squeamish feelings this fic might have caused with Vernon's implied activities. Yes, it was hard to right without simultaneously laughing and vomiting at the thought.

As usual, I wrote as Chaser 1 and my prompts were:

(Word) evasive

(Restriction) no spell can be cast or mentioned

(Word) launch