You are Draco


You don't know what you were thinking when you suggested 4 Privet Drive, other than to go somewhere unexpected. When you consider the decision further, you realize it may not even be safe -- Death Eaters could go there looking for Harry and find you instead.

Still, you're prepared to take that chance now that everyone's decided on it. Deep down, there's a part of you that's curious about Harry's childhood: Could it have been as austere as yours was at Malfoy Manor?

You, Pansy, and Fleur apparate into the neighborhood, making sure to arrive several houses down the street just in case it's being watched. You look for signs of trouble but nobody seems to be there other than the usual run-of-the-mill bustle. Amazingly, the muggle world is still functioning as normal despite Voldemort's reign of terror. That won't last long.

You knock at the door and get greeted by a goofy, heavyset man with an unsettling mustache and an air of self-importance. "And who might you be?" the portly man asks.

"Ummm," you start, "I'm Maco Dralfoy and this is Deur Flelacour and" -- you realize this won't work with Pansy, since both of her names start with P -- "Germione Hanger. Who might you be?"

"I'm Vernon Dursley of course!" he states in a proud, irritated manner. "What have you come here for? What are you looking for?"

"Well," you say, "Harry and I have never really been friends, but -

"Not friends with Harry?" he remarks. "That's what I like to hear. Come in. Come in." And it suddenly occurs to you that Harry Potter may not have led the charmed existence you always assumed. His relatives hate him more than you did!

"Petunia, dear? Let's give these enemies of Harry a fine tour of the place."

"Well, I wouldn't say enemies," Fleur starts to say, but you wisely indicate that she should keep that to herself.

"Ah yes, darling," Petunia Dursley says, arriving upon the scene. "This cupboard here," she begins, pointing to the staircase, "is where he spent his early years, and I dare say it wasn't small enough for that ungrateful brat. Eventually we were forced to give him his own room -- you know -- for fear of magical retaliation." She states those last words in a whisper.

"And here is the jewel of the house!" she exclaims, pointing to a beefy youth about your age. "It's my precious Diddykens, Dudley Dursley."

"Hello," Dudley mutters, white-faced as he looks on thunderstruck at Pansy. Then he says the oddest thing: "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

And Pansy, to your astonishment, goes with it: "Dudley, Dudley. Wherefore art thou Dudley?"

Suddenly, you start to feel sick as the two of them embrace in a long, passionate kiss. You're thrilled to have Pansy off your back, but you're also supposed to be finding a horcrux.

But it's no use. Pansy loses all sense of reality and refuses to separate from her dearest Dudley, and Fleur -- touched by their sudden romanticism -- starts feeling homesick and returns to her family in France. That leaves you to stew over the Ring with Mr. Dursley, and all you can get out of him is, "Oh, some people came for the ring already. Strange sorts, all dressed in black and on horseback. Something about a Shire. Why they chose that instead of motorcars, I haven't the faintest idea. But you don't want to get mixed up in that business."

Eventually, you fall into an existential crisis and move to Provence, where you reconnect with the innocent joy you once found among the vineyards.