Cowboys and Angels

moment one: loose ends (December 1981)

Petunia cradled her dear sweet little Dudders in her arms, and glared at the baby on the changing table. Harry was such a quiet child. It was appalling, the way she couldn't really blame him for anything. Well, apart from being what he was, of course. But he never screamed, or threw tantrums, or kept them up till five in the morning. Not like her precious Dudley.

Although perhaps that was an indicator of greater things. Dudley might be overly enthusiastic at times, but it showed he was part of the family. Harry wasn't. Harry was a burden, a drain, an outcast. He didn't behave like normal babies. He didn't care enough to have them take care of him: they, who had taken the little wretch in despite his abnormality! His very presence was a slap in the face, let alone his lack of any kind of decent reaction. Perhaps he was touched, or dropped on his head as a child. Yes, that would explain a lot.

Burping Dudley, she took him out into the living room, where her husband was pulling back one of the white lace curtains and peering anxiously out the window. "I saw a moving van go by earlier, but it didn't stop near us, thank heavens."

Petunia sniffed audibly, hefting the baby in her arms. "Fortunately, Surrey is still full of people who respect traditional values. If it wasn't, we'd leave, wouldn't we dear?"

"Oh. Yes. Certainly," Vernon huffed, still looking out the window. He'd been jumpy ever since they found Harry on the doorstep.

Dudley started to wail.

* * *

A few weeks later, Petunia found herself in the local supermarket, Dudley sitting in the crook of an arm, Harry dumped in the trolley. She barely gave him a moment's pause as they drove home on the blustery winter day, pulling up in her driveway. She made sure that Dudley was inside first, then pulled out Harry to sit him on the paved surface, so she could now get to the shopping bags, and hauled them in, two at a time. Both Vernon and Dudley were strong eaters, of course.

When she came out, there was a woman bent over Harry. Elderly, and frail, but somehow strong at the same time, with a cane in one hand, almost in some ways it almost seemed as though she was supporting the cane. She seemed to radiate strength, and then Petunia dismissed the idea. Watery grey eyes looked up from Harry to take her in.

"This is your child?"

The idea! "No," Petunia replied, sharper than she intended, picking Harry up. "This is my sister's son. We're taking care of him, you see, as his parents died."

"Ah. So generous of you." For a moment, Petunia heard contempt in that quavering voice, and then it passed. Besides, this was just an old woman. Probably a bag lady. What reason would she have to be contemptuous of her? Her lips curled. A bag lady. In her driveway. She might have to call the police.

"Don't you worry about me, dear," the elderly woman murmured, as if she could read her mind. "My name is Arabella Figg...I moved in a few weeks ago, a couple of streets away." She gestured off in a vague direction. "Been hobbling round to get myself acquainted with the new area, meet some of my neighbours. And the walk's good for my arthritis."

Petunia nodded impatiently, the words flowing over her. The woman was probably senile. A risk to the community. She should be locked up.

"I'd be most willing to take the child if you want. I don't have much company now, apart from my cats, and my own children are all grown...I know how to care for babies."

Petunia's eyes widened. This woman was a godsend! A saviour! Although she couldn't just hand over Lily's brat to someone unknown...if she checked her out, and Harry seemed to be fine with her..."I'd have to talk it over with my husband, of course," she said, the wheels turning in her mind. "But I'm sure it would be fine. Harry's hardly any trouble at all."

Arabella nodded. "Yes, I'm sure he's learnt to be quiet." There was that hint of something beneath her politeness, again, and taking a small note pad from her handbag, she fumbled briefly for a pen, and wrote something on the paper, tearing it off to hand to Petunia. "My telephone number." A slowness to the words, as if trying them out for the first time.

Petunia took the paper, and smiled politely. "Thankyou. We'll be sure to get in contact."

The other woman inclined her head, and hobbled down the driveway with surprising speed, to disappear down the footpath.

Petunia narrowed her lips slightly, and looked after her, before bending her head to glare at the baby cradled in her arms. "She might be insane, but if she gets rid of you, she'd be worth it."

Turning her heel, she stormed smartly inside the house, and closed the door behind her.