Dudley Dursley has grown up as quickly as he has grown out. He never learned to eat the salad off his plate - it was never an issue. Yet, at 32 years old, he still lives at Number 4 Privet Drive, gorging on his mother’s food and daily updating a little-followed twitter feed with stray quips and witticisms.
Vernon Dursley is still the same elephantine man. He reads the same business newspaper on his commute. He’s not searching for clients any more; instead he scours the vacancies page. (Once a week he approaches his son about an occupation. Dudley always shrugs.) Last month, his GP encouraged him to make lifestyle changes or go under the knife. He has been slowly killing himself and his son - they’ll both drown in his pride. His choice.
A poor woman frets at a spotless kitchen table. She knows that she’ll crack eventually, but it will have to wait. No-one wants to listen. Her husband doesn’t want a diet or surgery. Her son doesn’t want a job. No-one wants to change.
Inexplicably, her mind drifts to a boy who she once knew, a boy who had once lived among them. She had scolded him instead of the son she had spoiled. But he had left long ago. Yet somehow, Petunia Dursley knows that he can help her. If people will forgive.