Second Chances [The Dudley Story]

Dad said that we were poor, so I left everything and focused on making money.

Mom said that we're not happy because we're poor. So, I searched for happiness in money.

I feared asking for presents on Christmas. I feared asking for a little extra food. I feared asking for a little pocket money. I worked, I studied, and it was all for shit. Finance guys make the most, they said, but nobody told me about the crack that ran through their veins.

At twenty, I made bank, a finance guy's dream—10 million dollars—What a party it was. Gorgeous women, tits, drinks… crack… overdose… ambulance, and now this fading light.

"Fuck… F-Fuck… Fuck thi—"

I'm dying on the greatest day of my life. Where's my happiness? Where's my money?

That beeping sound turned into a flat tone. The beating heart refused to wake up at the jolts of electricity. The pulse refused to soar again.

At twenty—2018, Saturday, September 1…

I died.

####

"Aaaaah! I'm dying! I'm fucking dying…"

His screams faded slowly as he felt a soft bed underneath himself and the faint darkness around him. It was a small bedroom and more than that, it was a small bed for someone of his size. He felt like falling from a great height in his sleep, ending up in a puddle of water, splashed.

"Where am I?"

The room wasn't his. It didn't need a rocket scientist to realize that. Everything was unfamiliar.

Shifting from the bed, he tried to stand up.

Thud!

"What the—" He frowned at the realization. Shorter legs, shorter arms, everything was short, and chubby?

Click!

He quickly turned on the bedside table lamp and looked at the walls of the room. They were filled with many portraits, small and large. In each of them, he noticed three figures, a large man, a slender woman, and a plump boy.

"I've seen them before…"

Scratching his head, he walked closer to the portraits on the wall. But in doing so, he walked past a mirror on his right. He caught something from the corner of his eye and instantly felt alert.

He rushed back to the mirror and looked.

Pa!

He slapped himself.

Pa!

No, this wasn't a bloody dream.

Pa!

This was reality!

Pa!

"I'm fucking Dudley Dursley?!"

####

"Careful! Don't burn it!"

This can't be real. Dudley, or the one inside that body, looked around at the breakfast table. Right beside him was the large-bodied Vernon Dursley, reading a newspaper. Inside the kitchen, he saw Petunia pouring juice into a jar, and then there was Harry fucking Potter flipping pancakes.

Dream? Coma? Yeah, that makes sense. I was pretty into Harry Potter back then.

"Be quick, boy!" Vernon shouted at Harry from his chair.

Dudley looked at the small-bodied, scrawny boy doing his best to not mess up the pancake. Holding the spatula in his hand, round glasses on his eyes, and his arms as thin as twigs.

Seeing the boy physically made Dudley realize how malnourished he was. While not on the verge of dying, there had to be some medical issues hiding inside that body. Or perhaps, the magic was keeping him alive.

"Oh, dear, my pumpkin. It's your birthday today! Why are you so silent? Don't you like the gifts?"

I feel like vomiting. Dudley didn't like the way Petunia addressed him. Who the fuck calls their already fat son pumpkin? And why are there so many gifts?

The entire living room appeared full of boxes. They didn't excite him since they weren't his, and birthdays never held any significant meaning to him. It was just another day of continued grind. But not anymore, it appeared.

He focused on Harry instead. The boy lived in the cupboard under the stairs despite there being an extra room upstairs. The schools hadn't started yet, so he was the de facto slave of the house.

Considering he's going to be a wizard, and filthy rich, there's no way I'd let this chance go. Since he had control over Dudley's body in this 'dream', he decided to do things differently.

"Mum, why does Harry live in the cupboard?" He suddenly asked.

Vernon and Petunia looked at their son with confused expressions. Their boy had never pondered over something so trivial and selfless.

"We have another room upstairs. Why doesn't he stay there? Is the cupboard really nicer? If it is, I want to sleep there too!" Dudley requested, using his child-like innocence as a weapon. After all, they loved to spoil him, and he knew how to use that to his advantage.

"It's just…" Vernon froze mid-speech. How does one justify child abuse to another child? "He's a freak… Harry likes to live in the cupboard?"

Pathetic. Dudley sneered inside.

In mind, he remained a twenty-year-old, after all. He had Dudley's memories, and he knew all the instances where Harry was bullied. Not just at home but at school too. By none other than him. These fools. He's a living lottery ticket with a fucking plot armor.

"Really? Then I'll stay in there with him!" Dudley said, beaming as he looked over at Harry. "You wouldn't mind, would you, Harry?"

Harry Potter blinked dumbly, as frozen as his uncle and aunt. What had happened to Dudley that day? He didn't jump on the stairs to annoy him. He didn't push him around either.

"We… ugh…" Petunia tried to say something. "It's not big enough for the two of you."

Dudley sighed and gulped, preparing himself. Time to throw a tantrum.

"I WANT TO! I WANT TO LIVE IN THAT CUPBOARD!" He roared like a banshee. Damn, he loved his efficient vocals. "Why does Harry get to have it but not me? Don't you love me? I hate you! I hate you all!"

Bam!

Dudley jumped off the chair, letting it fall back onto the floor. He stormed away, running up the stairs and slamming the door of his room shut. He did half of it to play the role, and the other half to hide away the cringe he felt.

Remembering his own childhood, he couldn't even imagine acting like that with his parents without receiving a good beating and skipping dinner.

This feels so bizarre.

Alone in his room, he plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt unhealthy in that chubby body. He felt appalled by the memories in that brain. Moreover, he felt annoyed.

Great, I'm in a magical world but as a muggle. What's the point of it all? Do I still gotta struggle to make a living?

He really wanted to go to Hogwarts. He really wanted to do magic, fly on brooms, and maybe date a few pretty witches. He wanted to see the impressive castle and all those amazing magical beasts. He wanted to see Diagon Alley and the Gringotts Bank.

What a disappointment.

As far as he could remember, he was eleven years old. In a month it was going to be Harry's eleventh birthday, and soon after the boy would head out to Hogwarts. The letters were soon going to arrive.

This is fucking depressing.

In the end, he shut his eyes to wake up from that nightmare. Or at least wake up in Harry Potter's body.

####

Nothing changed.

A week passed, and he woke up each morning expecting a change.

Then a month passed and he was still the fat Dudley who couldn't even do a single push-up. He slowly came to silently accept his condition and tried to make something out of his muggle life. He was going to start Year 7 at his school in the coming September, and he expected it to be as bland as possible.

Although many things were different in the UK, it was easy to get used to the new life with the help of Dudley's memories. On top of that, he read a few newspapers to discern if the world events were going the same way he remembered, one of them being the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Of course, it wasn't yet December, and no such thing had happened yet.

But to Dudley, it was an opportunity. The fall of the USSR meant the Western stock markets would rise, driven by optimism about new economic opportunities and the end of Cold War tensions. The expectation of open markets and reduced military expenses in the U.S. and Europe.

But it's all useless. Dudley understood his shortcomings. Being an eleven-year-old was a curse.

However, he felt slightly better knowing that Vernon wasn't a poor man, and came from a well-off family too. The man was already the director in his firm, and earned enough to afford a four-bedroom house, dozens of presents for him, and still much more left to spend.

However, he saw heightened greed in his new 'parents'.

They were not satisfied and wanted to uplift themselves. Not just in terms of money but also class, as they seemed extremely aware of it, one of the major reasons they didn't want Harry to be seen with him. The Dursleys wanted to be part of the elite, not just rich.

That was a curse as well as a boon. Vernon's greed meant that he was easy to manipulate as long as there was profit to be made. In his case, as long as he could use some of his future knowledge to make something out of it, he'd be valued greatly. Similarly, if Harry and his friendship boosted the Dursleys' wealth and status, the friendship and the boy would be valued.

But the main problem was…

I'm a broke eleven-year-old kid… Well, at least the pocket money is decent.

______________________

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