Harry Potter, Parselmouth I am not JKW and do not own anything other than the... wait I don't own jack... crap.
What if Harry's abuse had been a bit more... pronounced and evident. Warning: Dark Dursleys and Dark Harry. HP/HG & HP/GW.

I present a plot bunny that refused to leave my brain alone.

Vernon Dursley was a narcissistic creature of habit. Every morning he would sample his wife's latest offering of bacon and eggs before heading off to work at Grunnings, a local manufacturing plant where he was the chief supervisor. Naturally this meant he spent a lot of time doing nothing more than berating others for incompetence, an activity he thoroughly enjoyed. After a short day's work of five hours or so he would head on home for another fine repast before sitting down to read the paper while his wife fretted over Dudders and watched the Telly. The entire family settled down to bed around 9pm and this pattern almost never changed.

Changes to Vernon's daily routine were not appreciated, and by not appreciated I mean that Vernon had a distinct hatred for anything that would interfere with his carefully laid out life. One of the few changes which he would consider positive was occurring today! Namely his annual review which was largely ceremonial as it was comprised of him taking his boss out golfing for the entire day followed by a 5% raise for good work and a few thousand pound bonus for keeping the bottom line under control.

After his morning repast he hurried out the door while toting his clubs only to trip over an obstruction and fall flat on his face. With slacks torn at the knees and hands cut up Vernon regained his feet and looked back at the bundle as it loudly made it's displeasure known. A small basket tipped over on it's side which clearly contained a crying newborn. If there was anything that Vernon Dursley hated more than changes to his routine it was newborns. When his son Duddly had been born he had shipped his wife and the baby off to her mothers for three years just to avoid the unrelenting wailing. Babies did nothing but cry, eat, stink and poop and some infernal person had the gall to go and leave one on his doorstep. Well he would show that idiot that he was not one for charity.
After closing the door and picking up the bundle and basket he walked to the sidewalk where he not so gently dropped it right beside the rubbish bins. He then grabbed his clubs and after throwing them in the boot raced off to work. Damn brat had made him late.

It was a very disgruntled Dursley that returned home late that night. His boss had apparently had the indecency to have a heart attack the night prior and Vernon's review had fallen his boss' boss, who was incidentally not amused when Vernon showed up for his review late, disheveled with torn pants and packing golf clubs. This annoying overseer and pencil pusher had demanded reports and upon finding them unavailable had done a full audit of the entire manufacturing plant.

This of course uncovered all of the complaints that had been received by the company that his boss usually swept under the rug for his golfing partner. The pencil pusher was not so kind. After uncovering the tenth incident of verbal abuse reported by an employee he had the entire plant shut down for a meeting where he proceeded to let anyone with a grudge against Vernon take the floor and make less than flattering comments about his person. In fact it was only due to Vernon's unending capacity to keep the bottom line under control, mainly by firing employees who got too high on the pay scale, that he managed to keep his job. If that was not bad enough the pencil pusher had given the entire company a method to bypass his office for complaints and informed him that his annual review would be conducted in the same manner next year. It goes without saying that Vernon did not get his raise or annual bonus check.

When he came home and found the baby absent from it's place near the rubbish bin he was inwardly pleased. Although a thoroughly rotten day at least his woes were not compounded by having to put up with a newborn. When he entered his home and heard a loud wail a straw fell and his proverbial weak back was broken. When he greeted his wife that evening it was with a loud complaint, Petunia gave as good as she got verbally, brandishing a letter and warning of dire interactions with freaks like her sister and the only by the frequent wailing. When he lost the argument over the baby staying he reacted in anger and told Petunia once. When she looked back at him with her fresh black eye and a glare he responded by telling her twice.
The baby was staying, but Vernon Dudley did not have to like it.

Wailing... Wailing... Incessant and annoying wailing. It had been two months since it had moved in and Vernon had not had a moments peace since. It was a more than slightly frazzled man that made his way into Grunnings that day and after working a long six hour day he decided to call it quits and head for the golf course for some much needed relaxation. Choosing to gather a random partner from the clubhouse he soon tee'd off with a respectable gentleman, a doctor, specializing in abortions.
After about twelve holes and much complaining about the noise level of his unwelcome guest Vernon made a comment that would change the lives of many.
"I wish he had just been born mute."
The doctor looked at him briefly before turning away and muttering quietly,
"That could be arranged... for a price."
Vernon's response was a whisper that changed the world.
"Lets talk further, I am sure we could come to an arrangement."