ULTRAVIOLENCE

CHAPTER 2: Freakish Mentalities

Petunia Dursley had been married for four years now and she enjoyed the duties of being a house-wife, tremendously. She liked cleaning, she liked spending time with her son, Dudley, and of course, she adored her husband, despite his many flaws. On November 1st, Petunia woke up feeling odd, strange, a tingle in the air that made the hairs on her neck stand still. A frown had immediately adorned her pale face and her eyes widened. Petunia had felt this before, she had felt the silent crackle in the air before, and she identified this mysterious force as "magic". Petunia eased herself from her bed, silent as to not wake up her husband. Her mouth was dry and tasted bitter, she let one of her snaggleteeth catch onto the thick flesh of her bottom lip. Petunia's mind flashed towards the only person she physically knew that had magic, real magic. None of those muggle magicians who played tricks on the mind, rather than actual tricks of the world.

This crackling energy, it didn't feel like her sister. Now, although Petunia wasn't magical, she knew almost too much now that she was twenty-five. She had long stood against the favoritism that her parents had shown towards her sister, she had thrown away the teenage ideals that she wished for magic, she knew what it was and she knew what if felt like. It didn't feel like normal magic. It didn't feel like the warm, ticklish sensation of her younger sister. In fact, it made Petunia deathly afraid. Petunia pulled her robe from the coat-hanger, wrapped it around herself, and slipped from the bedroom. Motherly instinct brought her thoughts to her precious baby boy, her Dudley. As odd as it was, he had been what ended the rough patch between her and Vernon. He held a tie between the two of them that had simply renewed their marriage. Petunia had been told that having a child would place a bar between the two of them, but she assumed that it was because that the other women married their husbands for looks.

Despite being blonde and blue-eyed, Petunia mentally admitted to herself that she wasn't beautiful. She had been told by her only boyfriend aside from Vernon that she was too "cold". Petunia had been fifteen then and that night had taken a long two-hour session with the mirror, trying to experiment with what little make-up she had, and being critical of her features. Her neck was long, her face was long, and her nose was long. Everything was long. The world (at least as it was now) did not like long facial features. Fortunately for her, her beauty wasn't what Vernon saw in her. It was her traditionalism, her views on things. Although they disagreed with things. It showed Petunia that he listened to her and liked listening to her.

She crept across the hall-way and into the nursery. The door still creaked only a little, but Vernon and her were still saving up to pay for a new hinge. She looked into the much-larger-than necessary nursery and saw Dudley curled up into his stuffed animals, lightly snoring. He had turned three last June. Her teeth released her lip at knowing he was okay, but if anything, the buzzing, magical sensation seemed to be getting stronger, much more worrying. Her hand went to the little bow she had made out of the thin, silky strands. She toyed with them, knowing that if she chewed anymore out of her lip it would begin to bleed and sting. Even then, swirling her tongue in her mouth, she could taste a hint of blood. She shut the door and then began to head downstairs. She needed to find out what was happening. Magic wasn't going to ruin her family! Not this time! She reached the end of the stair-way, frantically moving her head, her fingers crinkling and uncrinkling into and out of her robes. It almost hurt her head, the buzzing did. It felt like static, a terrible static.

Petunia held her breath. One of the last few letters, which Petunia had yet to respond too, had mentioned that the wizarding world was facing an evil man out to get people like Lily, more importantly Petunia. They hated muggles, they hated non-magical people enough to mass-murder them. Lily had compared them to wizard Nazis. A hint of guilt burrowed into Petunia's brain. Things had been strained between her and Lily since...Well since she had started going to Hogwarts. To still hold a grudge that had started at eleven years old, it made Petunia feel ridiculous, but she knew she was willing to forgive her sister, just as long as she didn't bring that good-for-nothing husband of her's. And Petunia had thought Vernon to be rash and hot-headed when she had first met him!

Checking the kitchen proved fruitless. Petunia had grabbed a knife from one of the kitchen counter's drawers. She held it tightly and knew it would be of no use to the bad wizards that could be coming after her. Where was it coming from? Her eyes flickered around her house. She then decided to check the living room. It got stronger, the buzzes did. She stepped passed the sofa, her head felt like a drum. Her free hand went to the two locks she they had placed on the door. The chain released, the bar noisily clanged against the wooden door, she then reached down to twist the inside-lock. Quickly, she swung the door open. She held her right hand up threateningly, cautiously, but what she thought she would see was anything but.

The milk man shrieked and he held his hands up. "I am sorry Mrs! I am just doin' my job!" Petunia looked down and found two things, one she expected and one she didn't expect. A case of bottled milk and a sleeping toddler.

"Did you perhaps deliver something more?" The knife was still raised up, but not as aggressive.

"Of course not!" The man mumbled, "He was there when I got here. I was going to knock!" His hands were still raised.

Petunia could see the sweat dribbling off his forehead. Slowly, she began to comprehend the situation. She looked at her hand, to the knife, and back to the milk-man. "I am so sorry!" She cried. This was embarrassing! She looked worriedly at the baby on her porch.

"It-It is fine Mrs! Honestly, it is early and dark. I am usually just as terrified!" The man began to back away and Petunia pretended to not notice.

She looked down at the little toddler. The poor thing. He or she was a beautiful child. With pretty pale skin, none too plump, and nice dark lashes. There was something about the eye and face shape...Something strikingly familiar. He or she was stuffed in a basket, one of their hands had escaped the blanket, his or her arm curved over a letter. She ducked back into the house to place the knife on the coffee table. Kneeling down, she picked up the nicely woven basket, and glanced down at the baby. Perhaps Dudley could use a sibling? A little brother or sister? If they were even younger? She brought the toddler inside, careful not to wake it. She shut the door and re-did the locks.

The first thing Petunia grabbed was the letter, and if she had known the contents inside the letter, it was plausible that she might not have even opened it. Her eyes scanned it. What was once acceptance quickly turned dark.

Her sister? Dead? It seemed like a wave of pure regret washed over her. Her mind went swiftly to the last times she had seen her sister. Their weddings. Both had been sour times. Her sister had insisted on bringing her awful husband with her. Petunia could clearly remember the snarky comments on everything. The food, the music, Vernon! He had been terribly rude. The evil man who had murdered Lily and her husband, had died, due to her nephew, Harry, vanquishing him. She looked down at the sleeping boy with curious eyes. Yes, she could clearly see her sister in him, even a bit of herself. Petunia wished she could have spoken to her sister again. It wasn't like she could give Harry up anyway. The letter had clearly stated bad things would happen to her family if they turned Harry away, aside from that, he was her nephew and Petunia refused to live in a permanently guilty conscious.

Things had started out fine. Petunia could ignore that Harry was magical as she would raise him to believe that he and Dudley were truly no different than each other, that they merely had talents in different things. Petunia had vowed she would never let Dudley and Harry be the way she and Lily were or else they would end up like her...Regretful and tragically lonely. Vernon had been very much reluctant at first but Petunia had explained to him that this was God's way of allowing Petunia to make up for her mistakes. He had soon agreed to informally adopt Harry, whom would keep his whole name. Petunia wished to raise Harry, not take him in as her own, that would be desecrating Lily's memory. Yes, things had started out fine. Now if only Petunia could ignore that terrible buzzing!

ϟ

The man sat in front of Petunia. He was tall, dark, and absurdly handsome. He had pale skin, beautiful blue eyes, and the most charming smile. "Nice night isn't it Petunia?"

And his voice, it was velvety smooth. She couldn't help herself, she giggled. "It is indeed! And you are?" This was going to be one of thosedreams. She could feel it. It was no secret that Petunia was a fan of romance and sometimes those things simply worked their way into her brain. Not that it bothered her, no, it didn't bother her one bit.

"You can call me Tom," Tom seemed to widen his smile flirtatiously. He didn't look old, but he didn't look young either. Petunia was firm in her answer than he was around thirty.

"You have a last name, Tom?" Petunia said bodaciously, flirting back with just as much vigor.

"Hmm...Funny." He scooted closer next to her and Petunia looked briefly around. They were in a pleasant clearing, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. He held a single finger up to her lips, "It's a secret." She felt his breath on his face. Petunia almost felt faint. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She felt like a school-girl again.

Tom looked around and whistled, "You sure have a nice, pure mind Petunia." What? That was an odd thing to say. His arm fell around her sliding around her waist. He ducked his chin into her neck. He whispered closely to her, "I am going to enjoy breaking it."

Then, as fast a lightning, his hand gripped her throat tightly. Petunia found herself screaming, all the while staring into the face of the charming man named Tom. This wasn't the first dream nor would it be the last where this would happen. This became a regular occurrence for Petunia.

"Are you a demon?" Petunia whimpered as Tom pressed closer and closer to her shaking form. Despite being in her twenties, she felt like she was five. That was when Tom pulled out something from his sleeve, something he hadn't had in any other dreams.

"No, I like to consider myself worse." He sharply grinned. Petunia felt like a drop of blood in an ocean and Tom was the first and only shark to scent her. He had slipped out a wand. Petunia recognized it immediately. The puzzle seemed to fall together. The moment Harry had been placed around her home. The buzzing sensation, the nightmares. It was because of Harry! That freakish boy!

Petunia seemed to blank. What? What was she saying? This wasn't her! Harry wasn't a freak! This wasn't Harry. But even her own protests began to fall on deaf ears as Tom raised his wand and uttered the words, "crucio."

Things were fine. Were.

ϟ

Vernon Dursley had no idea what to think of his nephew. He had never met the boy. He never felt any compelsion to, as he had met the boy's father, and was quite surprised at the man's entitlement. Now Vernon didn't like to think himself proud, no, he thought himself to be rather grounded compared to his father. Vernon wasn't his father, he was adament about that. Vernon Dursley Sr. had been a strong, stern, terrifyingly cold man who rose his hand spitefully often. Vernon Dursley Jr, formally now the only Vernon Dursley, knew his father was the reason his sister had turned out the way she did. But, even Vernon could admit how bodacious and annoying a certain James Potter was. So when graced with the prescence of his only nephew, he made sure to calm himself with thoughts that not all sons turn out like their fathers.

"Oh Vernon! We have to keep him!" Petunia flung herself into his thick, warm arms. He rubbed his hand across her arm soothingly. His lip twitched as he thought of what to do in this situation.

Reluctantly, he said, "Darling, do we have enough money to raise two boys? My posistion at Grunnings, it isn't very high."

"Lily would never forgive me if we don't." Petunia sobbed, lifting her face out of Vernon's chest. "I couldn't take it. I know she wouldn't be able to either!"

"Petunia! Lily is dead and in a better place. If she loved you, she would understand."

Vernon looked away from his wife and glanced down at the young toddler, whom Petunia had placed on the couch. The boy looked like his father in almost every way. However, Vernon could recognize the slightest bit of Petunia in him, showing their relation. The poor child. He was innocent in all of this. In the Potter and Dursley's slight feud, to the nature of the world, and the evilness of it all.

Petunia's eyes tightened, "How could you say such a thing? Don't you see! This the lord's way of giving me redemption!

"Now, darling, I did not mean it like that." Vernon attempted to sooth once more. He blinked and came to a quick, almost rash conclusion. "We can keep the boy."

"Harry." Petunia corrected. A sad smile crossed her face, but Vernon thought, at least it was a smile. "His name is Harry."

For the first two months, Vernon could say that life was okay. His job was fine and he was always making improvments to his work. As much as one could while taking note of how many drills had been made that day and how many they would reach within the month. It was boring, but it was a job; A job that put food on the table. Coming home to two toddlers was irritable at times, but happier than he thought it would be.

"Da! Ya home!" came the loud cry of the rambunctious Dudley Dursley. A small playpen had been set up in the living room. Vernon noted that his young son had pulled himself proudly up and was smiling at him from his little pen. Vernon couldn't help the wide smile that sprouted across his face. Dudley reached up at him, silently demanded to be picked up.

"Good evening Dudley. How has your day been?" Vernon eyed the room, searching for the other toddler. "Where is your cousin, Harry? And your mummy?" He sat his brief-case down and picked the small boy up.

At the mention of his mummy and younger cousin, Dudley scrunched his face up. "Mummy said Harry was bad. A fw-fr-fw-" Dudley stumbled over the word before finally saying, "fweak."

Vernon jolted, his grip tightening around Dudley. "Petunia!" he shouted, worried for both his wife and his nephew. Had Harry's heritage finally start showing up? The both of them had agreed to explain to Harry that being-well, what he was-made him no better than the rest of the family, just skilled at a different thing.

Barely, but Vernon had noticed a change within the past few weeks, specifically regarding Petunia. Vernon had been tired and had always assumed she was tired as well. Being a mother to two children, boys at that, it was long, tiring job, and it had brought immense respect to Petunia, not just from Vernon, but from the whole of Little Whinging. The thought of Petunia finally snapping, the thought of her doing something she would so greatfully regret. It made his heart throb painfully in his chest.

A sharp, child-ish cry rang out throughout the house. Vernon placed Dudley back into the pen, despite the young boy's whines. Vernon found himself running throughout the halls and into where the cupboard was. It was locked. Vernon banged on it a bit. "Harry, lad, are you in there?" Vernon shook his head. Of course Harry was in there! Promptly, he unlocked the bolt keeping the cupboard shut.

Vernon let out a gasp at the sight before him. Harry was naked. Bruises raked across his tiny frame and Vernon could make out the marking of an adult-sized, very Petunia-like, handprint across the Harry's face. A belt was strung across the floor. One of Vernon's. Instantly, the man felt sick to his stomach.

Harry's face was red, covered in snot, and he whimpered at the sight of Vernon. "Oh Harry!" Vernon picked up his nephew and cradled him closely to his chest. Harry snuggled into him and Vernon could feel the new wave of tears pouring into his shirt. "Petunia!" Vernon yelled out once more, angry, no furious. How could she do such a thing? Of all the time Vernon had known Petunia, she had never once done anything like this! She held more a temper, sure, but she would never hit someone, especially not a child!

Vernon exited the cupboard and walked upstairs, Harry still in his arms. He creeped into the nursery, slowly. He tried his best to cover Harry as best as he could. He pushed the nursery door open. He let out a relieved breath. No one was in the nursery. Carefully, he walked over to the second crib they had managed to get. He placed Harry into it. The little boy looked up at him tearfully. "Don' go." Harry cried, his hands raising up pitifully into the air.

"I'll be back Harry. I promise." Vernon rubbed his hand across Harry's head. "Uncle Vernon has to go take care of Aunt Petunia now. She's sick, Harry." Vernon hated the idea of leaving Harry by himself, especially if what happened...happened, but Vernon knew he needed to find Petunia. Vernon sat in silence for a second, listening for anything.

Dudley was playing with his toy trucks. Vernon could hear the loud clinking of the friction of the tiny wheels against the wooden floor. Just barely. Vernon had no idea he could hear that well, but the house was never usually this silent.

Then there was the clinking of glass, a heavy glass. Down in the kitchen. Vernon shut the door quietly. Harry was no longer making any noise. If Vernon were to look back, he would notice that the youngest member of the Dursley house-hold was looking at him with a frightened smile. His tiny fingers were clenching into his orange blanket, his stuffed lion sat limply by his side. But he no longer cried for Vernon's attention.

Vernon swept from the room in a hurry. He practically ran down the steps, almost lost his footing on the last floorboard, but he managed to retain himself. How could he have not guessed the kitchen? Petunia always went to the kitchen when she was stressed. This was more than stressed, however. What she had done was for sure done without reason, without thought. There was no way his loving, mostly kind wife would ever hurt someone so small, so brutally.

Vernon threw himself into the dining room. There she sat, her heels thrown in opposite directions, a wine bottle was open. Petunia looked like a wreck. Her mascara was had run down her face, already dried up. She looked up at him and Vernon felt uncomfortably vulnerable. "What have I done, Vernon?" Her voice was rough, scratchy. Petunia broke out into a set of dry heaves, there were no more tears. "I need help."

Vernon nodded his head. He had never seen her like this.

Three days after the incident, three days of Petunia living in one of the cheaper hotels, Vernon took off from work. One of their long-time neighbors, Ms. Arabella Figg, had been baby-sitting the boys at her house.

"We're going to be gone for at least two weeks. Hopefully no longer than that. The stress is just...It is taking its toll." Vernon stated, looking down at the small, elderly woman.

A cat sat, perched in her lap. Ms. Figg rubbed her hand through its fur. "The poor dear," she crooned. "I am so very happy that you asked me to take care of Harry and Dudley. My grand-nieces and nephews have all but grown up. They were the only children I could consider akin to my grand-children you see. Such a good husband you are for taking a slight vacation with your wife! I say, as I always told Lucy, a mother deserves at least one vacation per year."

Vernon tuned out her rambles. She had no idea.

"I'll miss the both of you," He whispered to the two boys. Dudley and Harry were both asleep on Ms. Figg's fur-covered couch. He leaned down and kissed both of their foreheads. He walked out the door and out to the car. Petunia had to be picked up. They were headed to a remote location, or rather, a post-martum therapy camp. It was what the priest had told them would help. Vernon prayed to God it would.

Back on Ms. Figg's couch, Harry opened his eyes. A red glint appeared and then just as quickly, disappeared. Harry felt his face scrunch up, knowing that the bad man was going to get Uncle Vernon too. And being the smart boy he knew he was, Harry had realized there was nothing he could do about it. The bad man had gotten Aunt Petunia. He would get Uncle Vernon...And then, eventually, Dudley...Harry looked at the smiling Ms. Figg. No one was safe.

"What is wrong Harry?"

Harry ignored Ms. Figg's worries. He pushed his face into the couch and let out a shrill wail.

I always hate how most fanfiction portray Vernon as the bad, abusive guy. I still read it, but it gets repetitive and annoying, almost as if the fandom believes that just because Petunia is a woman, she can't hurt Harry. I know, I get it. Most people don't want to see women hitting their children, or in this case, their nephews. But as I have said, if you are sensitive, please stop reading.