Dudley Dursley wished he was surprised at the lack of people attending his late father's funeral reception. Vernon Dursley was clinical and cruel when Dudley was a child, and as he grew up Dudley realised his father was spiteful and petty, only getting worse as he got older. In fact Dudley could whole-heartedly say that if it weren't for his mother's tears and the knowledge he'd not have to speak to his father or his aunt Marge; who'd passed away seven years previous; then he wouldn't have even turned up. Vernon had plenty of work associates and clients after all, him being missing would surely go completely unnoticed.

Staring around the living room, seeing only fifteen people there, not including himself or his mother who had gone upstairs to mourn, leaving his wife to take the cling-film off the sandwiches and to pour the drinks. Dudley found himself determined to not make the same mistakes his father had made with him.

"Dad?"

Dudley looked up to see his son's face – his only child, the child his father had told him to get rid of. After all what did an 18 year old know about kids anyway? How was Dudley going to support him? And he'd have to because his apparent whore of a girl hadn't the decency to tell him until after the time had passed to get rid of the parasite. But Dudley had done something he'd never done before. Fresh from a stint in prison he'd hit his father, breaking his nose before turning around and storming back out of the door ignoring his mother's calls and his father's angry muffled yells.

Dudley walked four miles to the girl's house, she wasn't there but her dad had let her in, and Dudley had been given a mug of strong coffee and been told to explain himself.

Dudley had. He'd told Andrew – the girl's father that he and his daughter had met in a club, that they had ended up in bed together, exchanged phone numbers but neither had contacted the other until last week. Three days after getting out of prison for assault, Hannah had phoned him. He'd not known who it was at first but eventually remembered, then she had told him that she was 7 months pregnant, that she'd tried to contact him when she'd found out but that she couldn't get hold of him and his parents had told her he had left to join the Army for six months.

Andrew set up a bed in their spare room for him, helped him get a job in customer services at the company he worked for. Dudley had no contact with his parents until the day after his son, Barclay Andrew Dursley, was born. His mother had fawned over their grandchild, Vernon had declared Barclay as a proper young baby, perfect in every way, despite the fact that two months previous he'd been calling his grandson an aberration and Hannah a whore.

He and Hannah hadn't stayed together, she had gotten married and ended up with three more children. But Dudley had stayed in touch – wanting to be a positive part of his son's life, even if it was pointing out his own failings and advising his son on making the same mistakes.

His son had grown into a wonderful person, and Dudley was so proud. At the age of thirty his son owned a series of small restaurants across the south west of England, he had a wonderful wife and five lovely grandchildren.

"Dad?" His son asked again, his blue eyes looking at him in concern.

"I'm fine, boy. Is that mug for me?"

Barclay laughed, "No chance – yours is still in the pot if you want to go and make one yourself – I've sent the kids upstairs to your old bedroom is that alright?"

"It's fine – I'll go and find them, best to keep myself moving after all – I'm getting old."

"Forty-eight's not that old."

"I'm a granddad – no thanks to you young man. And that thanks I do get doesn't come bringing me coffee – at least my grandkids care."

Barclay smiled and went back towards his wife who held his youngest, a tiny bundle who seemed to only have two states of presence, asleep or crying, luckily she was currently asleep. Dudley made his way upstairs – refusing to look at the cupboard as he passed, despite it now holding only the vacuum and shoes. Opening the door to his old bedroom he found three of his grandkids playing video games on his old console.

"Everyone doing ok?"

"Yes Granddad,"

"Where's Marie?"

"She went off somewhere to explore." Matthew told him. "Think she's in the study,"

"Alright then, if you need anything…"

"We'll go and help ourselves – we know." Ethan told him – not looking away from the old game of Crash Bandicoot on his old PS1.

Dudley smiled and moved out of the doorway, closing the door on his way out he walked into a room he'd done his best to not step into in twenty odd years. Old screw holes could be seen in the door – the bolts long ago disappeared but no effort to remove the door had been made. The Door was ajar and pushing it open further Dudley found Marie sitting under the desk a piece of floorboard next to her.

"Marie?" the girl jumped – almost smacking her head on top of the desk. She leant out from underneath the desk to give Dudley an awkward hug as he sat down beside the 9 year old.

"What are you doing?"

"'splorin'. The floor creaked n wobbled last time I went on the laptop. Remember? When it went and fizzled?"

"I remember." Dudley replied – his granddaughter had been on the laptop for the first time when her brother startled her, she'd spilt a drink on the desk – and though she promised that none of the liquid went on the laptop, it couldn't have short circuited otherwise.

"Well I wanted to see if there was any treasure."

Dudley stared around the room – though filled mostly with shelving and bookcases, a small brown handprint could be seen on the wall next to the door, a scuff mark, as though something heavy had been shoved against the wall could be seen from under the window sill, and a circular watermark – the size of a bin could be seen in a corner with a humidifier used to get rid of the mould which had a penchant for growing there according to his mother. "Did you find any?" He asked as he turned back towards his second eldest grandchild.

"Not treasure – but look at this granddad." She held out an old photograph – black and white, "it looks like the people in it are waving at us. "

Dudley looked at it. And started, he saw a still photograph, none of the occupants were waving at him, but then his granddaughter had always had a sharp imagination, and a lack of willingness to let go of fairy tales and magic as she got older – much to her great grandma's dismay. The occupants of the photo however, made Dudley's heart clench. A familiar mop of dark black hair and funny lightning bolt scar smiled up at him, arms flung around the shoulders of the boy and girl stood next to him. In the background stood a magnificent castle, the turrets taller than the frame would allow.

"Who's in the picture granddad? Is it you? Is that Smeltings?"

"No. No it's not me," Dudley sighed, "It's a picture of my cousin Harry and his friends at his school. Smeltings looked more or less like a normal school."

"Oh. I didn't know you had a cousin."

"Yes – I've not seen him in almost 30 years. I've no idea what he's doing now."

"Did he used to live here?"

"This used to be his old room sweetheart. He doesn't come back here anymore. "

"Why?" Marie's strawberry blond hair, curly like her mother's swung over one shoulder as she turned her head towards him sharply.

The sounds of the Playstation in the next room could be heard as Dudley had to think on his answer "Because…Because he and my parents didn't get on."

"Oh. Why not?"

"They just didn't sweet heart."

Marie scowled at the answer, Dudley's tone not allowing for further conversation on the matter. Both occupants jumped as the laptop popped and started smoking, groans could be heard as the console turned itself off and several adults shouted as the lights blew down stairs.

Marie looked scared, "Sorry granddad" she whispered, Dudley looked at her in shock, "I didn't mean to. It keeps happening, I wrecked three laptops and six phones already."

Dudley couldn't answer her , he was still staring at her in shock as his mind cast back to his childhood – how the TV would never work in school if his cousin went to get it. How the only think that would work in the kitchen was the gas hob and fan oven when his cousin cooked.

"Please don't tell anyone – dad'll be furious."

Dudley remembered his father's reactions to failed electrics; spontaneously combusting glass and china wear; and the randomly changing colours of the old shed. Making another decision, Dudley simply stood up and smiled at his young granddaughter. He held out his hand as she took it wearily.

"Let me tell you a story about my cousin." He said, smiling as Marie's smile lit the room.

Welcome to my second Harry Potter story. I hope you enjoyed seeing a redeemed and still learning Dudley. I had a lot of fun writing this. Please tell me what you thought of it, any sort of feedback is welcome.

Thank you for reading this.

FP15