Stewed chicken, chicken soup, braised ribs—Dudley whipped up a different dish every day, each one packed with nutrition.
With his wealth, he could easily hire a professional chef, but no one could cook with the care and flavor he put into his meals.
In just two weeks of Dudley's all-out feeding efforts, Petunia had gained a noticeable bit of weight, finally looking the part of a pregnant woman.
Otherwise, people might've thought Vernon was starving her.
Outside the operating room, the three of them sat nervously. Vernon, like an anxious child, paced in circles by the door, asking Dudley every minute or so, "Everything's fine, right?"
His round, chubby face was etched with worry and care.
"Don't worry, Dad. Everything's going to be okay," Dudley said, patting Vernon's shoulder like the adult in the situation.
Standing before him were two wizards, after all. They might not have a potion for a smooth delivery, but their stockpile of restorative potions was more than enough to handle any situation.
Finally, after another half-hour, a strong, healthy cry echoed from the room. Petunia had successfully given birth.
"Congratulations, Mr. Dursley," the nurse said to Vernon. "Your wife has given birth to a little princess."
Vernon's heart, which had been in his throat, finally settled.
Boy or girl, it didn't matter—as long as Petunia was safe.
He was itching to rush in to see his wife and daughter, but the nurse stopped him, explaining that Petunia needed rest and the baby needed to be cleaned and moved to the nursery. Newborns were fragile, and the hospital had to monitor her for a bit.
So, Vernon resumed his pacing.
Maybe it was the only thing keeping him calm.
At that moment, the Grangers arrived with Hermione, bringing nutritional supplements and fruit.
After a while, the nurses told Vernon he could see Petunia, but to keep it quiet. Whether he heard them or not, he bolted into the ward like a gust of wind.
Petunia lay in bed, looking weak but otherwise fine.
Dudley and the others finally got to meet his new sister.
Her tiny body was wrinkled, her face and eyes a bit swollen. She lay curled up, clutching her little fists, looking fragile yet oddly like a skinny little monkey.
Most striking were her eyes—not Vernon's blue, but Petunia's green.
No, greener even than Harry's. A vivid emerald.
"She looks so much like Lily," Petunia said softly, leaning against the bed, gazing adoringly at the sleeping baby in the cradle.
Red hair, green eyes—just like Lily Evans, as if she'd inherited the genes of the previous Evans generation.
It was the first time Dudley had heard Petunia speak of Aunt Lily in such a warm, natural tone, laced with deep longing.
"What's her name?" Mrs. Granger asked.
Vernon and Petunia exchanged a glance. They'd chosen the name long ago—if it was a girl.
"Lily. Lily Dursley," Petunia said, her eyes never leaving her daughter.
It was a common tradition in many places to name a child after a departed loved one or friend, a way to honor their memory. Like in the original story, where Harry named his children Albus Severus Potter and James Sirius Potter.
"Lily Dursley. A beautiful name," Dudley said softly, looking at the sleeping baby. "I bet Professor Snape will love her."
"Severus?" Petunia said, her voice softening at the mention of their old neighbor. "If he's willing, I'd like him to be Lily's godfather. I remember Lily mentioning that wizards often do this—if little Lily has magical talent, of course."
"Oh, I'm sure Professor Snape would be thrilled to be her godfather," Dudley said with a knowing smile.
He could already picture it—eleven years from now, when little Lily started at Hogwarts.
"Lily, answer this Potions question," Snape would say.
If she got it right: "Excellent. Ten points to Lily."
If she admitted she didn't know: "Honesty. Ten points to Lily."
It'd be quite the scene.
If they all made it that far.
Hermione leaned over the cradle, her eyes fixed on little Lily, lost in thought. A flush crept from her neck to her ears, turning her face as red as a ripe apple, tempting enough to take a bite.
A week later, Dudley, Harry, and Hermione left Number 4 Privet Drive, as planned.
Little Lily's arrival had already delayed them by a week.
Before leaving, Dudley had made arrangements. He'd moved Vernon, Petunia, and Lily to a villa near the Grangers' home—a temporary residence he'd bought on a whim. He'd also hired professional nutritionists, bodyguards, and chefs to ensure their meals were taken care of, especially for little Lily.
What was the point of having money if you didn't use it to care for the ones you loved? Let it rot in a bank?
At Godric's Hollow, the half-repaired Potter family home now stood near a newly built medieval-style mini-castle, commissioned by Dudley and completed by Caro just a week ago.
Wizarding construction was impressively fast, thanks to magic. It wasn't any slower than Muggle machinery.
"Not bad," Dudley said, patting the castle's sturdy walls. He'd given them a light tap, and not a single brick budged. Top-notch quality.
Per Dudley's instructions, Caro had used the strongest, finest materials for every detail.
Only someone as loaded as Dudley could afford it. Most wizards would go bankrupt halfway through a project like this.
The house was built, but it was far from meeting Dudley's standards. A home, a place to stake your life, needed airtight defenses.
Otherwise, he'd never feel secure.
So, Dudley planned to fully upgrade the mini-castle—and the Potter house, too.
Once the modifications were done, he'd cast a Fidelius Charm to hide them perfectly.
He'd even considered turning the house into a mobile fortress, like the moving mage towers in fantasy novels. But his current skills—and wallet—weren't quite up to the task.
For now, he set a small goal: earn a hundred million Galleons in a year.
And, of course, level up his magical modification skills.
Lily Evans had red hair and green eyes.
Whether the Evans and Weasley families were connected, Dudley didn't know.
But J.K. Rowling's love for redheads? That was a fact.