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Summary:

Dudley Dursley dies at birth, leaving his mother deeply distraught. She’s in and out of therapy to cope. When Harry Potter winds up on their doorstep, Vernon is left to take care of him. Dumbledore is left to deal with a Potter who will stop at nothing to find a way to help his uncle help his wife.

Notes:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 1: Tragedy Strikes

Chapter Text

Vernon Dursley was a very happy man as he got in his car after a hard day’s work at Grunnings. He straightened his tie before starting the car. Not ten minutes previous, he got a call from the East Surrey Hospital telling him his wife had been admitted, and she had gone into labor. His son was finally being born!

He’d soon have a son who he could teach and have follow in his footsteps, a son who will love him unconditionally and go to Smeltings, just like he had.

He quickly arrived at the hospital and headed up to the receptionist’s desk. “Vernon Dursley to see Petunia Dursley, please,” he said respectfully. He could imagine the sheer about of people disrespecting these people.

The woman searched on her computer and turned to him. “I’m sorry, but it appears that she’s in surgery right now. I can give you the floor, but I’m going to have to ask you to stay in the waiting room.”

Vernon frowned. He felt dread settling deep in his stomach. “S-surgery?” he gulped. “W-why on earth would she need that? She was giving birth.”

The woman suddenly gave him a pitying look. “Yes, she was admitted for that, but it appears there have been complications.”

“Complications? What kind of complications?” he asked quickly.

“I can’t say at this time, sir,” she said lightly. Vernon gulped, wondering what was wrong with his wife. “She’s on the first floor, sir, so just head up the stairs down the hall, please.”

Looking extremely pale, Vernon followed her direction and headed down the hall and up the stairs. Once on the first floor, Vernon headed up to this receptionist.  “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to get her attention.

She looked up. She had bags under her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, “How may I help you, sir?”

“I’m here to see my wife, Petunia Dursley. My name is Vernon Dursley.”

She nodded and checked her computer. Apparently, whatever she found wasn’t good because she paled. “Um…c-could you p-please take a seat. I-I’ll inform you w-when she’s out of surgery and you c-can see her,” she stammered, not looking back up at Vernon.

Vernon, feeling like he would vomit, hobbled to a chair and heavily sat down. His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. What was happening to his wife? What happened during the birth? Why is she in surgery?

Trying to distract his painful thoughts, Vernon looked around the room. He nearly turned a ruddy color as he noted that nearly everyone in there, aside from the heavily pregnant women, was stick thin. He glanced down at himself. He could do to lose a few pounds.

“Mr. Dursley,” a male voice called. Vernon looked up sharply. His eyes landed on a man in a pristine, white lab coat. It was a little too pristine.

“That’s me, sir,” he said, getting up.

The man’s face was grave. “I’m truly sorry, sir, but there were complications.”

“Yes, I was told that,” Vernon said nervously. “But what were they.”

“We don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “You can go see your wife shortly; she’ll be fine after a few days of observation and a couple weeks on the prescription we’ll be supplying her before she leaves.”

Vernon almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to know, “And my son? When can I see him?”

 The doctor closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry sir, but your son didn’t make it.” Vernon simply stared at the man, looking horrified. “I can lead you to your wife,” he said, turning and leading Vernon down the hallway.


 “This way, Petunia. That’s right, watch your step, Pet,” Vernon said, leading his wife up their drive to their house, Number 4 Privet Drive. She had finally been released from the hospital, and Vernon was allowed to bring her back home.

Sadly, she hadn’t said a word since she was told that their son, Dudley would have been his name, hadn’t made it. She just stared out into the distance, not really seeing what’s in front of her.

Vernon guided her to their bedroom and let her lie down on the bed. He headed to the kitchen, extremely distraught. What could he do to help his lovely wife? He quickly made some tea and sat down in the living room. He noticed the phone book sitting on the table.

He knew his wife needed counseling, but he didn’t want to send her. He didn’t really want to admit that things weren’t okay. He sighed. That was selfish of him, so he decided he couldn’t just let her suffer.

He grabbed the book and opened it. He flipped through it, wondering what section it would be under. He paused when reaching a list of local therapists. He never liked the idea of people like them. He didn’t like the thought of people getting into your head and messing with it, but he figured he’d make an exception in this case. His wife’s mind was at stake.

He sighed and dialed the number of the first one, hoping they could actually help.


 It was well over a year now since Dudley Dursley died at birth. Petunia still wasn’t anywhere near close to being back to her usual self, but she spoke now. Vernon counted that as a huge improvement; he had been starting to miss her voice.

According to her therapist, she believed Dudley to be alive and well. She simply believes that he is a very special, but very ill child. Just the other night, Vernon listened to her worry about when her ‘Duddikins’ will be released from the hospital.

Vernon was very worried; the doctors said there was no cure to her trauma but time. The therapist told him to just play along with her stories because they helped her cope. Vernon couldn’t see how having his wife speak about their dead son as though he were alive was helping her, but he couldn’t argue with someone who had a special degree.

Sometimes, it would seem like things were working because there were a few times Petunia had moments of clarity.

Vernon helped his wife into his car to take her to her session before he headed to work. He barely sent a glance at a tabby cat sitting on the corner of Privet Drive and looking at the sign. Quickly sending his wife off, Vernon went on his way to work. He curiously eyed the men and women wearing strange clothes all throughout the city. They were standing in little groups, chattering excitedly.

Was there a convention nearby?

Deciding to ignore it, Vernon set off to finish his day. He couldn’t help but think that he was missing something important. The style of clothing was eerily familiar. He could remember someone had described them to him before, but he couldn’t remember who or why.

The day went off without a hitch. He had decided against getting something from the bakery, committing to losing those few pounds he had decided to do the previous year. On his way back home, Vernon picked up his wife. As he drove, she prattled on and on about how she simply couldn’t wait for Dudders to get home.

Curiously, the cat from that morning was still there. Vernon decided to ignore it and helped his wife inside. He and Petunia went to bed oblivious to what was going on right on their doorstep.


 The next morning, Vernon got up early as he was wont to do as of late. He went downstairs and opened the door to get the morning paper. He froze as he spied not only the paper, but an infant wrapped in a blanket. “What in the world?” he breathed out in horror. Who in their right mind would leave a child on someone’s doorstep at the beginning of November?

It was getting chilly out and, not knowing how long the poor child had been out in the cold, Vernon picked it up with the paper. “Now, why are you here?” he asked the boy, assuming as such due to the blue blanket.

Surprisingly, the child wasn’t nearly as cold as Vernon would have thought.

“Vernon, who’s that you’ve got there?”

Vernon looked up sharply. Petunia was staring at the child in her husband’s arms. “I’m not sure, Pet,” Vernon said, looking back down at the boy with a frown. “He was on our doorstep when I got the paper.”

Petunia walked up to him and grabbed a letter that was tucked into the blanket. “Have you read this?” she asked, eyeing the boy. He looked so familiar. Petunia, recognizing a moment of clarity decided to utilize it. She had no idea when she would go back to thinking Dudley was still with her, but she decided that she needed to help her husband solve this mystery.

She opened the letter and read aloud:

“Petunia Dursley,

“It is my duty to inform you that your sister, Lily Potter, has reached an unfortunate end.” Petunia paused and anguish filled her. Lily was dead? She mentally shook her head and continued, “This boy is her son, Harry Potter. Both his parents are dead and you, as his only living relative, must take him in. It is this boy’s fault his parents are dead. An evil wizard attacked them to kill this boy, but his parents gave up their lives to protect him. Keep him ignorant of the magical world and do your best to beat and belittle him. He did kill your only sister after all. His magical ability has already been proven. He hast the gift you’ve always wanted but could never have. I leave his less-than-nurturing care in your capable hands

“Albus Dumbledore.”

Petunia looked up at Vernon in shock. “He wants us to beat an infant?” Vernon spluttered. “And what’s all that garbage about a one year old causing his parents’ deaths? He sounds downright manipulative, the way that letter is written!”

Petunia shook her head. “He must want to do something with the boy,” she fretted. “Vernon, please, protect him. Teach him about his magical heritage – as much as you can. There’s a box in the attic, labeled ‘Lily,’ that has everything she has ever given me pertaining to that world. I would do it myself, but…” she trailed off and she got a far off look in her eyes.

“Petunia?” questioned Vernon slowly.

“Oh, love, do you think Dudders will come home? I do hope he’s okay. It’s such a shame that his doctors won’t allow visitation.”

Vernon sighed. Her clarity was gone again. He should probably notify her doctor since that was her longest moment yet. He looked down at Harry, who was still in his arms.

“Welcome to the family, Harry,” he whispered. He realized he had to go call in to work today, possibly quit. Petunia was in no way capable of taking care of Harry, so he’d have to find another source of income that didn’t have him leaving the house too often.

Knowing things weren’t going to be easy in the years to come, especially when that Dumbledore fellow turns up again looking for Harry to be a certain way. Vernon decided to raise Harry as his own. He belated wondered how to go about getting him legally adopted.

He’d have to do that soon, or else he’d have no claim to Harry should the time come when someone else wanted him.