It had been three years since Petunia's nephew had been dropped off at her and her husband's door step. She could remember that day clearly:
                              (Begining of flashback)
                              It had been a rainy and cold october evening. She had been warming up a bottle for her precious son, Dudley, who was currently in the arms of her husband, Vernon, who was in the living room watching soccer. It was Dudley's first Halloween, but because of the rain, they had decided to skip trick or training, since they didn't want him to catch a cold in the rain. Dudley was too young to remember whether or not they participated in the holiday anyways. 
                              As Petunia approached her son and husband, sitting in a worn arm chair in front of the telly, three sharp knocks rapped on the front door. 
                              "Vernon? Are we expecting anyone tonight? Its a bit too cold for trick or treaters." She asked her husband as she glanced curiously at the door.
                              "No, not that I'm aware of." Vernon answered gruffly, launching himself out of his chair and handing Dudley, rather roughly, to Petunia. "And they better have a good reason for interrupting the game." He stomped towards the front door and wretching it open as he wife followed hesitantly behind him. 
                              "What the hell is this?!?" Vernon shouted. He had reached the door before Petunia did and she now glanced over his beefy shoulder to see what all the ruckus was about. 
                              There, sitting on their front step, was a large whicker basket lined with a light blue blanket. The blanket was concealing its contents as a corner of it was wrapped over and tucked around a bulky-looking object. The basket was barely out of the rain from their home's awning. 'What an odd object to find on one's door step', Petunia thought as she cocked her head to the side and pulled Dudley closer to her chest as a cold breeze pushed its way through the door. 
                              "Dammit, looks like I'll be missing the rest of my game." Grumbled Vernon, his face turning a dark shade of red. "Petunia! Take our child inside and put him to bed. I'm gonna inspect this rubbish so I can find out whose arse I need to kick for harassing us in the middle of the night." 
                              Petunia nodded silently at her husband as she turned around and headed up the stairs towards the nursery. Shortly after their marriage, Petunia, or more specifically her right eye, found out why one was to obey and avoid Vernon when he became angry enough where his face started turning colors. And she also learned never to interrupt his sports watching in order to avoid said colorful reaction.
                              After feeding Dudley his bottle and settling the drowsy infant in his crib, Petunia cautiously made her way down the stairs, peaking around the corner of the stairway into the living room. She flinched when she saw her husband pacing back and forth and mumbling to himself curtly, clutching a wrinkled paper in his hand and sporting the entire range of red hues on his face. The basket was nowhere to be found, at least in her line of vision, and this curiosity is what pushed her out of her self-placed rule of 'never bothering Vernon when he's angry'.
                              "Vernon? What was it? What was in the basket?" She squeaked, rounding the corner and slowly making her way towards her husband. 
                              She about fell back on her butt from fright as Vernon whipped around to face her and shoved the paper in her face. "Its from those damn freaks your sister was galavanting with. It says she and her no-good husband got themselves killed by some 'dark lord' and their spawn survived. The brat's not safe in their world so they have decided to burden us with the wonderful task of taking care of the runt until he's old enough to attend their bloody freak school! Like its our responsibility to clean up your bloody sister's mess just because your related to the fool. Well I say patooy to that!" And with that Vernon threw the paper at Petunia's head and retreated back to his chair, shaking the house a bit as he plopped down on the poor furniture piece. "Great! Just look at that! I've missed the whose last half of the game! DAMMIT ALL!!"
                                      
                                   
                                              YOU ARE READING
The Dark Lord's Apprentice
FanfictionThree year old Harry Potter is sent off by his Aunt Petunia to live in an orphanage as a way to save him from his abusive uncle. The orphanage life does not treat him well however, because by the time a not-so-dead Riddle finds him, he decides to ta...
 
                                               
                                                  