Harry Potter: The Dark Lord Dudley Dursley

4 Privet Road, Little Whiggin District, Surrey.

A quaint, peaceful neighborhood where time seemed to slow down. The rustling leaves whispered secrets, and the soft hum of life filled the air.

A small, private car inched its way along the road. The engine's purr was almost like a lullaby, soothing the otherwise tranquil scene.

Finally, it came to a stop in front of a charming two-story bungalow. The car door swung open, and a middle-aged man emerged, his portly figure making the exit a bit of a struggle. With an eagerness that couldn't be contained, he stumbled to his feet, oblivious to the dust clinging to his clothes.

Breathless and excited, he rushed to the passenger side, yanking open the car door with gusto.

"My dear Petunia, let me catch a glimpse of our little one, that chubby bundle in your arms must be my own," he declared with enthusiasm.

Petunia, his wife, shot him a fierce look. "What were you just blabbering about?" she demanded.

Vernon found himself stammering, chastising himself for his momentary lapse of composure. "Dear Petunia, what I meant was, look at our big, healthy boy. He's clearly inheriting the finest qualities of our Dursley lineage. Those keen, perceptive eyes, I have a feeling he's destined for greatness, a future titan of industry."

Annoyed, Petunia handed the infant to her husband. "Our child is barely two days old, and you're already plotting his future?"

Vernon's expression soured slightly. "I simply think it's best if we avoid all these shenanigans—acrobatics, shows, circuses, clowns. They're nothing but tricks meant to amuse the common folk and curry favor with the wealthy. If our Dudley takes an interest in such nonsense, it'll be a real headache for me."

Petunia furrowed her brow. "Vernon, is this all because of that 'letter' that mysteriously appeared in our home last time?"

Vernon's rotund frame quivered with annoyance. "Petunia, I've told you a thousand times, that letter wasn't some profound message. It was just a prank, the work of some ruffian who dared trespass in our home!"

But Petunia couldn't shake off her unease. "Vernon, what if that letter is related to my sister, Lily? Perhaps it's her way of reaching out to us."

Vernon waved a dismissive hand, abruptly ending his wife's musings. "Enough, Petunia. You promised me we wouldn't bring up those peculiar relatives of yours in our lives. She was never a friend to our family."

Petunia found herself on the verge of starting an argument, but as she glanced at her husband's stern countenance, she couldn't help but let out a weary sigh. She began gathering the baby's belongings into the car, obediently following her husband's lead.

As they embarked on their journey home, Petunia couldn't resist the urge to express her viewpoint. She believed that setting life goals for their children at such a tender age was a mistake. Instead, she thought they should allow their children's preferences to shape their future. However, her husband was equally steadfast in his opinion, leading to a heated discussion during the drive.

The two adults engaged in a spirited debate, their words and emotions clashing with intensity. Unbeknownst to them, their precious baby, wrapped snugly in the swaddling blankets, had begun to exhibit a peculiar flicker of the eyes, observing the world with curiosity.

....

Meanwhile, Dudley found himself in a completely foreign setting, a world that bore no resemblance to his previous life. He observed the surroundings, which seemed several times larger than his memory served him. As he raised his hand, he marveled at the small, child-like fingers that now occupied it.

Reality washed over Dudley, and he accepted the undeniable truth that he had been reborn in a new time and place. Judging by the interior decor and his surroundings, he deduced that he had landed in the seventies or eighties of the last century.

With a heavy sigh, Dudley reminisced about his previous life, the memories flickering like elusive phantoms. He had been a child prodigy, demonstrating remarkable academic prowess from a young age. Skipping grades and recommended by his school, he had found himself in the prestigious Harvard.

Throughout his educational journey, his passion for biological knowledge had grown, leading him to secure funding and embark on a journey to Harvard to study biological research.

From undergraduate studies to graduate work and ultimately earning a Ph.D., Dudley had achieved significant milestones in the academic world. He was on the cusp of publishing his doctoral dissertation, all before the age of 26.

Yet, the night before his graduation from Harvard, he had experienced an inexplicable twist of fate. There were no crashes, poisonings, or assassinations; he had merely closed his eyes for a moment, when had he opened them he was in a different world.

But Dudley couldn't deny that this turn of events might not be entirely negative. In his previous life, his relentless pursuit of knowledge had left him with little time for social interactions. As a result, he had few friends, and even when faced with the admiration of women, he had remained indifferent.

After all, in the grand tapestry of human existence, unraveling the mysteries of cell replication or studying the transformation of insects into flying creatures held a unique charm that shopping with girls could not compare to. Dudley was a man of culture.

.....

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