Chapter 1
Harry was nervous. After a good month, he would be going back to Number 4 Privet Drive, back to his aunt’s house. Mrs Figg had been her usual batty self but at least he’d gotten to eat a good meal every day without fail. Harry was pretty sure that he’d actually gotten taller, even! Dursley’s pants and sweaters were still large and hung off him but he didn’t have to roll up the sleeves as much as he usually did.
The thought of his cousin had his mood souring even further. While he’d been put up with Mrs Figg, Dinky Duddums had gone to his Aunt Marge’s place to stay, where he must have gotten even worse, Harry was sure.
Although…
Well, a part of Harry couldn’t help but feel sorry for Marge. And Petunia too, really. Who could have expected that Vernon would have a heart attack while behind the wheel of the car, driving himself and aunt Petunia into a pole? Well, alright, perhaps the heart attack part wasn’t unexpected but...Vernon had died. Marge’s brother and Petunia’s husband was dead. They were probably very sad right now.
Harry could claim no such thing.
Still, he looked about the room he’d been staying in for the past four weeks. It was an attic room, sloping ceiling that reminded him of his usual cupboard, but it was an actual room. His trunk was set up at the base of the bunk bed, filled and ready to be hauled down the street. Harry sighed and prepared for that task.
He’d had some pretty bad birthdays the last few years but turning six seemed to be the worst one.
Ah, well. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with cat fur on everything he owned.
The body of Petunia Dursley moved about in number 4 Privet Drive with a great amount of energy. She flitted from one room to another, familiarising herself with all of it. She’d told the doctors she couldn’t remember too much, that it was all a bit spotty. The truth was that she was in what seemed to be a self-insert fic as the worst possible character, and knew about her in a vague sort of way. Petunia wasn't exactly written about that much, after all. The doctors had been worried but since she at the very least recalled the names of her ‘son’, ‘husband’, ‘nephew’, ‘sister-in-law’ etc, she was released from the hospital since she told them all the stuff she remembered.
The stuff she remembered from the books that she hadn’t read in a very long time.
It was worrying to say the least.
Before waking up in Petunia Durlsey’s scrawny ass body, she’d been a working girl living it up in the city and about to get a promotion, with no intent of having children in the next 10 years at least. Now she was a housewife in the suburbs with no credentials, no higher degree to her name and two kids to boot.
Yes this was going to be difficult to say the least.
Ah, well. At least she wasn't a blonde.