When asked about it years later, Marge Dursley couldn't exactly remember why she had taken the other boy home with her that day when she'd gone to the hospital to pick up her nephew. Back then, she had believed the boy to be the lying, sniveling, thieving, retarded and abnormal brat her brother had claimed him to be. The time she spent caring for the boy while she waited for her brother and his wife to get out of he hospital had opened her eyes and changed her mind about the child who had been far more of an angel than her "Precious Nephipoo" Dudley. That time with the boy had also taught her that Petunia was a lying weasel who wouldn't know the truth if it bit her in the ass.
It had all started on a seemingly ordinary day when...
Marge had been taking her afternoon tea at the time the officer came to the door to notify her that her brother and his wife had gotten into a serious accident and had been badly injured and taken to the hospital. The children, through some miracle, had walked away with only minor injuries and needed a place to stay until her brother and Petunia were released. She had been listed as the next of kin, and guardian to her nephew if something happened to her brother.
The next morning, she drove to the hospital to retrieve her precious nephew who was undoubtedly traumatized by the experience he'd been through. Little Dudley was bawling his eyes out, completely inconsolable no matter what the nurses tried to do when she arrived. In contrast, the other one, the one she had no blood ties to, was sitting in a corner silently staring off into space.
She probably would have left the runt behind for Children's Services to deal with that day if the nurse hadn't run after her with the boy in tow. The only reason she took the boy when the nurse handed him to her had been because it would have been completely inappropriate to make a scene at the hospital where her brother was recovering. On the ride home, her precious Dudley loudly demanded food and continuously inquired as to whether they had reached their destination as a child his age should. The runt remained quiet and put up with Dudley's constant poking and hitting without trying to defend himself.
When she got home, it was more of the same. Dudley was a boisterous child as a healthy boy his age should be, and the other one was quiet, and hid himself in an out of the way corner until it was time for dinner. At dinner she gave the runt a larger serving of food in order to fatten him up a bit, though it would most likely be wasted on him since he'd never reach a healthy weight because he suffered from some genetic disorder whose name she had forgotten. The boy looked up at her like a dog who had been kicked too many times and knew better than to expect kindness. She had to order the runt to eat, unlike her precious nephew who didn't need to be told. When it came time to go to bed, her precious nephew threw a temper tantrum at not being allowed to stay up late. The runt however, didn't complain at all, even when he was given the lumpy couch in the storage room to sleep on because Dudley needed her only guest room.
Without her brother or his wife to intercede and take Dudley away when he got to be a little too much for her to handle, her precious nephew's "boisterous" behavior began to grate on her nerves. The final straw came a week after she brought the boys home with her when Dudley knocked over the urn containing her mother's ashes while she was in the next room over and had the gall to blame the runt who she knew for a fact was in the kennel feeding the dogs as he had been ordered.
This, unbeknownst to her, marked a turning point in her views about "the runt" who for the past week she had been watching like a hawk, waiting for him to set one toe out of line. The runt whom she had learned was special.