A Very Dursley Lockdown

Chapter 5: Fallout

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 – 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."

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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.