Month: January 2021

The following is the last scene in Chapter Five of Very Big Dursley Family. It has just gone out to the betas as of this posting.

“Bradley, get the mail,” Vernon ordered, as he heard it hit the floor and the mail slot snap shut. He was hoping for a letter from Dudley. It may have only been a couple days since he’d dropped his son off, but Dudley had said that he’d write earlier and more often than Harry would. A white form glided through the open kitchen window, before landing on the back of Petunia’s chair. It was Hedwig, and it looked like she had a letter.

Lily was smiling as she stepped up to get the letter off of Hedwig. “I told you my older brother would write first,” she said, addressing Bradley as he got up. Vernon had known for a while that Lily was not actually his child, being magically transferred to Petunia on her sister’s death. It had been something he’d suspected at first when she started having accidental magic. For a while he’d thought that the sign of a Dursley was no magic, then Bradley had summoned his pacifier, and he’d discovered Violet adjusting the color of her shirt the next day. Still, it actually hurt him a bit when Lily started aligning with Harry instead of Dudley.

Lily still called him Dad though. Vernon missed her calling him Daddy. The way she used to plead with him, drawing out the word had never been matched by his younger children, and even Harry was his child, as far as he was concerned. Lily was growing up way to quickly. She was nine, now, and just starting to show signs of her development. He was hoping that she would develop more of a sense of modesty, soon. Thus far, the only sign he’d seen of it was the one time he’d opened the garage door to discover that she was showering in the back. That reminded him, it was past time for him to finish installing the privacy wall for the shower and sinks he’d installed as a project last summer.

“He’s in Hufflepuff!” Lily said unscrolling the letter as she read it. Bradley was returning with the stack of Royal Mail that had been shoved through the letter slot. “Told you he wouldn’t be in Griffindor, Noel! And definitely not Slytherin, Brad.”

Bradley looked up from shuffling the letters. “Nothing from Dudley,” Bradley said in a monotone. It had only been a couple days, but Vernon could tell that Bradley was missing his older brother. Bradley was now the oldest of his boys at home, and third eldest child not away at boarding school. He’d hoped that it might give his son just a little bit more maturity, with some additional responsibilities devolving to him, namely taking more a role with Noel and being responsible for the cleanliness of the room the two shared. Judging from the peak he’d taken of the room, that wasn’t happening yet. “There is a letter from Aunt Marge.”

His children didn’t like Vernon’s sister. There were times where he had to agree with them. The Ripper Incident being one of the primary examples. He’d nearly torn his sister a new one when the dog, after chasing Harry up a tree had bit then two-year-old Noel. It had taken a while before she was welcomed back to the Dursley home. Marjorie, she’d insisted on being called by her legal name after Vernon turned ten, was his sister, though, and the usual Spring visit to her home out in the Lake District where last year they’d been able to ride the Steam Yacht Gondola was a highlight of the Dursley family’s year.

Vernon opened his sister’s letter, as Harry’s letter got passed from Lily to Violet. It began with a whole page about the antics of her dogs, which Vernon only skimmed. It was an interest he didn’t share with his sister. He was a cat person, not a dog person, and if it wasn’t for practicality, he probably would have encouraged Harry to go for a cat instead of getting the owl. Next was a little bit about some house and kennel renovations, then a request on how Petunia was doing with her latest pregnancy.

Vernon looked up to discover that Petunia was just entering the dining room. As she passed near enough, he reached out to pull her into a kiss, causing his children to immediately groan. She was sixteen and a half weeks, now, and showing it a bit. “How is the baby this morning, Pet?” he asked.

“So far, avoiding making me sick this morning for the first time in weeks,” Petunia said, looking over his shoulder. “Marge? I’ll give you a couple paragraphs for your response. Violetta, I’m next for Harry’s letter, and Brad-de-kins, good attempt at making your bed, but you can do better.”

“Yes Mummy,” Violet said. Bradley merely nodded back at his mother before going back to his breakfast. Violet, on the other hand, seemed a bit hyper this morning, squirming in her seat as she finished Harry’s letter.

Vernon turned back to his sister’s letter. It seemed that there had been an incident with Colonel Fubster, whose old regimental secretary had stopped by. Marjorie was afraid that she might have made a fool of herself. Vernon huffed. It was almost a certainty that she’d made a fool of herself. His sister had it bad for the Colonel and really should give it up, because the Colonel did not and would not ever, as far as Vernon could tell.

The Colonel had apparently volunteered to watch the kennel, though, so she could make her yearly trip to visit family in the South of England. Most of which, Vernon was sure, could care less for her visit. His children were not alone in that feeling. She was his sister, and at this point, it was tradition. Violet would move in with Iris and Primrose for the visit for the weekend of her visit. Without Harry and Dudley, they wouldn’t need to make up the parlor at night for the children. He was sure that his children would miss that. It was apparently great fun to camp out there. Last year he’d discovered all eight of them asleep in the parlor on the third morning of his sister’s visit.

“Marge will be here from the twentieth to the twenty-third, this year,” Vernon announced, to his children. The groan from the six was epic.

“My oldest brother is evil,” Ron Weasley said dropping his books on one of the tables in the Hufflepuff First Year Dorm. “Ending class with a tour of the library … how is that Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“I don’t know, his Dark Arts of Madame Pince’s Library tour certainly gave us some defense against her,” Harry said as he leaned back on one of the scattered low chairs in the wide main chamber of the Hufflepuff First Year dorm. He’d already dropped his robe in his alcove and picked up his Transfiguration boor to look over for the next day’s class. “I think Hermione enjoyed it. At least she had much larger load of books when she left for Ravenclaw than you picked up.”

“I asked Bill what I really needed to check out first. It had to be on the very top shelf in the very back of the collection,” Ron replied. “I thought I’d be able to relax a little at school instead of Mum always pushing me to do stuff. Then bloody Bill had to become a professor. Why did Quirrel have to die?”

Harry weighted responding for a moment. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think trying to shake his hand would turn him into ash. The smell was horrible.”

“You were there when it happened?” Ernie MacMillan asked, as he tossed his robe into the alcove he shared with Malfoy. After classes were over you didn’t have to keep the school uniform on, and the Hufflepuff dorms were on the warm side. Pretty much all of them had ditched the black wool robes. MacMillan had rid himself of his tie, and unbuttoned hid white dress shirt to reveal a Wasps t-shirt.

Malfoy leaned out of the alcove, “at least try to get it on your bed, MacMillan.” Malfoy was still in his uniform, save that the tie was gone. Malfoy seemed to really hate his Hufflepuff tie.

“My family was visiting Diagon Alley for my school supplies. From what the Auror told Aunt Petunia a few days later, Professor Quirel had been possessed by the seriously evil wizard who killed my parents, and the protection that my Mum created by her death for the rest of the family literally burnt the Wraith of You-Know-Who out of his body. He’d been possessed too long, effused with the wraith throughout his body, so he burnt up. I had nightmares for days. That smell.”

“It’s not just the Dark Lord’s possession that burns,” Malfoy said almost inaudible to Harry as he exited the alcove and found a seat. It wasn’t close to the other chairs, which were pretty close to the center of the chamber, but over almost all the way to the door to the boy’s corridor.

“What do you mean, Malfoy?” Harry said, curious. After all, if it was something that his mother’s protection did, he needed to know. At first it didn’t look like Malfoy was going to respond.

Malfoy seemed to sink into himself as he sat in the chair. He wasn’t opening the book in his hand, as his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. Harry nearly resigned himself not to find out, before Susan spoke up. “Come on, Draco. I think you need to say it.”

Malfoy stood up, and uneasily moved forward. He let the book he’d had in hand drop to the floor. As he began to pace, you could hear his deep breath, as he settled himself, as if he was about to release a big load from his body. “My father was a Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle, so they say. He claims that he was under a curse to obey. All of the Dark Lord’s inner circle have this mark, father calls it the Dark Mark, that the Dark Lord gave him.

“Father always tries to hide it, I’m not sure why. Anyway, he was in Diagon Alley when your family went by, Potter. The Dark Mark caught fire, and the burns, they’re not healing well. I’m worried for him.”

Harry stood up and went to stand by the now stationary Malfoy scion. He placed his arm around his fellow Hufflepuff, much the way he’d done so when his younger cousins were in similar moods. “He’s your father, fathers are important, and you should feel that way. I don’t have one anymore, but I remember when Uncle Vernon, my guardian, broke his arm at work. Seeing the cast on his arm, well, I thought he was going to die like my father did at first.”

“Father is too important to die,” Malfoy said, as Harry turned him so they faced each other. Draco was actually just a little bit taller, but somehow Harry still managed to envelope him in a hug. As Harry held Malfoy, it was like something went loose inside Malfoy, as he slumped against Harry. Tears started going down his face. For a long minute, nothing was said, before the gates opened up.

“I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed in me,” Draco admitted pulling slightly away from Harry. “Father expected me to be in Slytherin, to rule the school, or at least my year within days. Now I’m in Hufflepuff that’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t count on that,” Harry replied. He was kind of used to this. It seemed that all of his younger siblings and their friends had ended up in his arms at one point or another. Aunt Petunia said it was because he was like his mother, a natural at getting people to open up. “Like Professor Sprout said, we’re Hufflepuffs, we can do anything.”

Draco pulled out of Harry’s embrace, pulled out a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his robe, and blew his nose. “Not going to happen. I already know who is going to rule our year, and it is not me. It never was going to be. And you know, I really don’t mind.”

“We haven’t been hear a full day, how do you know that, Malfoy?” Macmillan asked.

Draco looked around the chamber. “It was always going to be Harry, come on. Boy-Who-Lived? Heir to the Most Noble House of Potter? Who somehow filled a compartment on the Express with Heirs of no less than three children of Wizengamot members, and one head of a minor department of the Ministry. Don’t scoff at that, Weasley. Your father might be in a small department, but my father has real respect for the office, even though he’s been a rival of yours since their first years.

“If Granger doesn’t end up being number one in our class, I’ll be surprised, just based on sharing a couple classes and being in the library with her. You know she memorized Hogwarts, a History?
“Both Thomas and Finnigan are likely to be tops in Gryffindor. You saw how they greeted and introduced the others to us. Though I already knew Crabbe. Zabini is going to rule Slytherin since I’m not there, and that’s only because he sat with you on the Express.”

“Sitting with me isn’t that important,” Harry replied, feeling his face warm with his blush.

“It’s Slytherin, who you’re seen with is all important. That and who your family is, and what your parents do. Everyone knew who was going to be what in Slytherin. Then I had to be sorted in Hufflepuff, because, apparently, I will do well here. Mangey old hat!”