Redemption (Dudley Dursley)

I. Dudley.

Chapters I-XVI are edited, the rest will be edited in time.

Multiple cars drove down the secluded suburb of Little Whinging, Surrey. Along with them, a slight wind left in their trails. Around twenty nearly identical houses lined the quiet street of Privet Drive, giving off a friendly aura. The houses were all rather large; each boasted five bedrooms, and were all occupied by at least one wealthy businessman or woman.

At the leftmost end of the street, one house stood out from the others. Number 4.

At first glance, it seemed to be no different from the others. The Dursley family were all known and well respected despite their rocky relationship with their neighbours. But on further inspection, a person would see that the garden was preened to utmost perfection. Even the growing flowers were arranged in such a way to look like a giant prism being bombarded with light. Not a single weed littered the driveway; the pale grey stones lay undisturbed. On closer inspection, it was obvious the Dursley family thrived upon normalcy and perfection.

Vernon, the man of the family, was a very large man indeed. He was short, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in his weight without a doubt. He was a successful director of a drill producing company and was rather well-off; the brand new Mercedes in the driveway confirmed this. Petunia, the woman of the family, was a little shorter than her husband, but was a polar opposite in looks. She was very skinny, had an extremely long neck and did not work. She spent all of her time doting on her garden, spying on the neighbours and most of all- spoiling her son Dudley rotten.

Dudley was the centre of attention in the household. At seventeen years old, and a dead ringer for his dad as well as a young boxing champion, he was well known throughout the small town. He attended a prestigious all boys private school which was very expensive and had a high praise in the whole country for excellence. Despite this however, Dudley failed most of his classes and relied on Vernon to essentially 'buy' his grades through a lot of bribing.

Not many people knew of the other boy who had lived in the house three years prior, or rather the boy who lived there during the summer of the six years leading up to the fateful day which changed everything. The boy almost never left the house and when he did, he made sure he wasn't seen by many people. He was a lanky boy, a month younger than Dudley and he was Petunia's nephew. His parents had been murdered when he was a baby and had been dumped on his estranged family members very soon after without any warning whatsoever.

Harry James Potter was against everything the Dursley's were for. In their eyes he was not normal and not well behaved. Harry was also rather short, but he had a very kind personality that he didn't show unless he was where he truly belonged. When the boy was seen, Petunia told her curious neighbours that she had taken him in after her sister's death and he attended St Brutus' boarding school for incurably criminal boys.

That one fact unsettled the neighbours and neither of them talked about the sixteen-year-old much, which Harry enjoyed very much, he got enough attention in his own world.

Harry Potter was a wizard and even though Dudley wouldn't openly admit it, he was jealous of his cousin. Harry had fought multiple people and attended the best school of Witchcraft and Wizardry there was, Hogwarts.

Well, this was the normal life for the Dursley's until everything changed. A few witches and wizards had arrived via the floo network- a form of public transport which consisted of travelling through people's fireplaces. One of them was a middle-aged man who had dark skin and wore midnight blue robes with a rather strange looking hat; he had informed the family his name was Kingsley Shacklebolt. The second was an elderly woman who had her thin grey hair pulled into such a tight bun it looked as though it could scalp her and dark emerald robes; she told them she was one of Harry's teachers at that school and her name was Minerva McGonagall. The last one was rather different. She was a young woman who looked no older than twenty-five and even though the family hardly said anything- they all thought she was extremely beautiful. She was slender and was sporting shoulder-length hair in a shade of deep amethyst and she wore plain black robes; she told them that her name was Nymphadora Tonks but she preferred to go by her surname and she was also what was known as a metamorphmagus.