So this is something that gripped my brain right before I was gonna go to bed (at 6 am) and wouldn't let me go until I wrote it. An hour later, I'm posting my insane ramblings for all to see. Don't y'all feel lucky?

I don't own Harry Potter, which is sad. I don't own Dudley or Piers either, which is not as sad.

The first time, Piers Polkiss was seven years old. He sat watching his best friend in the whole wide world playing a new computer game, but the game was rapidly getting boring.

"Hey, Dudley!" Piers said as a thought struck him, "Where is your cousin's room? We could make him mad if we messed it up!" Dudley's beady little eyes met his, and the other boy smiled in sadistic glee in the way only children could. He hopped down from the chair and they both trundled out of the bigger boy's room with mischief on their minds.

Piers thought it odd when his best friend, instead of leading him to the one bedroom on the floor he hadn't seen, led the way to the stairs and pounded his way down them. Last time the small boy checked, there wasn't a bedroom downstairs in the Dursley house.

Shrugging off his confusion, the boy followed dutifully behind his friend. He was understandably confused when Dudley gestured grandly to the door that led to the cupboard under the stairs. Surely the other boy was pulling his leg.

"This is Harry's room. Mum says even this is too good for the freak." The larger boy told him conspiratorially.

Something about this seemed... off to Piers. People, no matter how weird, didn't have to live under the stairs! Instead of opening the door, he turned to his friend.

"This looks boring. Let's go play at my house instead!" He announced, and Dudley happily agreed.

Piers forgot all about the boy living under the stairs.

The second time, Piers was fourteen, and home for the summer from Smeltings. He was at his best friend Dudley's fifteenth birthday party.

He broke away from the loud celebrations, tired of seeing Dudley opening presents. After the seventeenth one, it got a little tedious. He walked through the hallway, and a small shiver of disgust made its way down his spine when he passes the boot cupboard. A flicker of a memory passed through his mind, and the teen, looking around to see if anyone was watching, opened the door, not knowing what he expected to see.

"What are you doing?" A quiet voice inquired, and Piers practically jumped through the roof. He spun on his heel, ready to give some random excuse to defend himself, but relaxed when he came face to face with Dudley's weird cousin.

"What does it matter to you, freak?" He sneered, adopting the name his best friend always called the small teen.

Harry sighed, and looked down. "It doesn't matter. Shouldn't you be at the party?" He asked. Piers almost had to strain, as the other boy's voice never rose above a whisper.

"Shouldn't you?" He countered. Something struck him as off about the boy's behavior. Didn't Mr. Dursley say that this boy was criminally insane? Did criminally insane people usually act this... submissive?

Harry Potter gave him an incredulous look, before shaking his head and backing away. The other boy then dashed up the stairs.

Piers' eyes widened when Harry's shirt rode up a bit during his retreat. That bruise on his back looked like a hand print! Was Dudley up to his old tricks? Resolving to ask later, Piers went back to the party.

And once again forgot about Harry Potter.

The third time was another summer. Piers was now fifteen, and enjoying his vacation before going back to school in the fall. He and Dudley had fallen out of communication, as his old friend now hung out with the wrestling crew, but he still saw the other teen around fairly often, and Piers would hang out with him from time to time. He never saw the other boy's cousin though, which is why he was now staring at the other boy in shock from across the old playground.

Harry Potter seemed to be lost in thought, but they couldn't have been anything good as the tears poured down haggard cheeks. The other teen sat forlornly in the one swing that Dudley and the crowd he now normally ran with hadn't broken.

He had never seen another boy cry, which was why witnessing Harry's little breakdown had shaken him a little. The playground was usually empty at this point, which might have been why the black haired teen had felt it private enough to let go of his sorrow, Piers couldn't understand why Potter felt the need to cry here of all places? Why not at home, where he had his cousin to commiserate with? Granted, Dudley had been a bit of a bloody bastard to the crying teen in primary school, but surely now that they were all older, that was behind them right? Right?

Leaving Potter to his misery, as the other boy clearly wanted, Piers couldn't forget him as easily as he had any of the years previous.

The fourth and final time, Piers stepped into number 4, Privet Drive with a present for his former best friend and a mission. He would talk to Potter, and see for himself what the bloody hell was going on.

But once again the other boy wasn't at the extravagant party the Dursley's were throwing for their beloved (exasperated) son. Dudley, now seventeen, sat among his multitude of presents with a worried air about him, and he kept glancing at the hallway. Finally, while everyone was busy with the cake, Piers snuck out of the crowded dining room. He thought he made it out unnoticed, but a beefy hand on his arm stopped him.

Piers looked into the eyes of his one time best friend, worried about the aura of menace he felt coming from the other teen.

"I don't know what you're about, Piers, but I think Harry has had enough trouble without you adding to it." The muscled teen hissed. Piers shot him a confused look.

"I was just going to check on him is all, Big D. Honest." He hushed back, wondering why they were whispering. The large hand on his arm, which had tightened enough to cut off circulation, loosened it's grip, and Dudley's expression matched his own.

"What do you care about Harry?" The large teen queried.

"I don't really know..." Piers admitted, but Dudley seemed to find that an acceptable excuse. The beefy boy stood out of his way, but not before delivering an ominous warning.

"If you hurt him anymore, on top of what my dad has done, so help me I will..." He didn't need to finish his threat, the bulging muscles in his biceps did it for him. Piers nodded fearfully.

When he got to the room he suspected was Harry's, he certainly didn't expect to hear what sounded like a frantic owl. He opened the door cautiously, and found Harry Potter lying in a pool of blood with a snow white owl fluttering over him.

Hours later the police left with Vernon Dusley in tow. The medics said that Harry was in critical condition, but he would probably make it due to Piers' timing.

Piers stood with a stoically silent Dudley and a sobbing Petunia Dursley watching the bobby drive away, feeling like he had made up for something he couldn't quite remember.

The end. Yeah, that's it. Not too insightful and probably not my best work, but the evil carnivorous plot bunny is gone now, and I'm going to bed.

I am finished putting these thoughts into words.