CRACK.

"Wha…? What?!" Dudley Dursley screamed as he ran down the stairs of his modest three bedroom, two bath, living room, dining room, rec room, normal, muggle home.

Standing at the foot of the stairs was his wife, Karen, wearing a white blouse and a gray pinstriped skirt. Her hair was a boring shade of brown, and her make-up natural and modern. She was a normal schoolteacher.

"Dudley!" she cried, as soon as she saw him. She was holding a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise and fright. "Dudley, what was that?"

He reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around. He realized the noise must have come from the living room, and tried to push Karen into the kitchen, away from any danger. She looked at him with the face she normally reserved for the children in her classes, and walked behind him into the room closest to the front of the house, the one with the fireplace, the one where the noise had come from.

As he was about to pass through the doorway, he realized that the noise had sounded familiar, and in that instant, he realized why.

It was about twenty minutes after they had left their house for the last time, and along with it, his cousin. Dudley had spent years and years being hostile to Harry, but he was never sure if he meant it or not. Ever since his cousin came into their lives, his father and mother had taught him to hate Harry. And for the first fifteen years, he did. Not for anything he had done, but for the fact that he had existed.

But then that summer, of his fifteenth year, something happened. He was attacked by a wizarding menace, called a dementor. The ultimate fear, a fear he had only felt one other moment in his life…no. Even two and a half years later, he refused to think of even the memory of a memory. And Harry had taken it away. Dudley was defenseless, for all his size and strength, he could do nothing. Then Harry; even though he had hated—still hated—Dudley, had scared away the bad memories and the creature.

Dudley was contemplating all this when the wizard, who was in the passenger seat in their SUV next to his father, jumped and gave a little squeak. Dudley looked up at him and then followed his stare to a point only seven feet or so away from their car. There was a silver lynx, almost translucent, sitting there. It seemed wraithlike, and with a surprise, Dudley realized it was similar to the stag his cousin had produced once; that he had used to scare away the dementors.

The witch next to him in the backseat opened the car-door and stepped out. Dudley shuffled out after her, and was just in time to hear the lynx speak.

"It is time; we are preparing to leave the house." It was the deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Dedalus Diggle, the wizard, squealed, "Alright then, all of you come here," and held out a book. When Dudley tilted his head, he read the title, Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander. He sighed when he realized that the picture on the front, that of what appeared to be a dragon, was moving. He already knew how his parents would react when they saw this. Personally he thought it was really cool.

His mum looked at it and squealed; a sound to rival Dedalus' voice. His dad simply shuddered and tried to stand between it and his mum. Dudley looked to the dark-haired witch, and saw her roll her eyes. He hid a smile, but she still seemed to have seen it, and her eyes twinkled at him.

"Alright now, all of you take hold of this book here," she commanded. Dudley put his hand to it immediately, watching as his parents hesitated and then did the same. Suddenly there was a loud crack, and he felt a pull behind his navel, and then they were all gone.

Entering the living room, Dudley shook himself of these memories. He knew now that it was something…magical. Something magical was in his living room, and he knew that there was a distinct possibility that whatever it was wouldn't like him.

A/N: So, do you like it so far? Most of it was a flashback, but I think I like where it's going, so I'll update really soon. Read and Review, tell me what you like, what you don't like, and if I'm just an awful writer.