Chapter 28: Returning to the Dursleys

Clark Kent stood on the curb of Privet Drive, the quiet suburb stretching before him like a faded postcard. One night remained before the Hogwarts Express, his trunk packed with supplies—robes, books, and the Black Dragonwood wand humming with power.

The Knight Bus, a rickety shuttle of screeching metal, had dropped him off, its bumpy ride barely registering. His mind was on the wand's promise, its seductive cores whispering of influence, and the pocket universe ring glinting on his finger—a Kryptonian secret no wizard could match.

He smirked, striding toward Number Four. The Dursleys' house loomed, a prison of his miserable childhood, but things were different now. Petunia's public fretting and Vernon's bluster couldn't hide their private fear, broken by his dominance. He knocked, the sound sharp in the evening stillness.

Petunia opened the door, her apron-clad figure tense, hands fidgeting with the hem. Her beady eyes darted, avoiding his gaze. "Y-you're back, Harry," she stammered, her voice thin.

Clark tilted his head, amused. "Thought I'd stay away?"

She swallowed hard, stepping aside. "We… made up the guest room."

He chuckled, brushing past without invitation. "How kind."

The house was eerily quiet, the living room empty. No Vernon, no Dudley. Clark's smirk widened—were they hiding, cowering from the boy they'd once bullied? His Kryptonian senses caught Petunia's quickening pulse, her fear a sharp contrast to her public politeness.

"Where's Vernon?" he asked, turning to her in the hallway, his voice low, commanding.

"Out. With Dudley," she mumbled, her throat bobbing.

"Convenient," Clark said, his eyes glinting. The Dursleys' absence was a victory, their fear a chain he'd forged.

Clark led Petunia to the guest room, the bed neatly made, a stark contrast to the cupboard of his youth. His trunk sat in the corner, the snowy owl from Bathsheda hooting softly in its cage. He gestured to the bed. "Sit."

Petunia hesitated, her hands trembling, then obeyed, sinking onto the mattress with a faint creak. Her eyes tracked him, wide with nervous anticipation.

"Why so jumpy?" Clark asked, stepping closer, his smirk sharp. "Afraid of me, Petunia?"

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "N-no, Harry."

He chuckled, his dominance a quiet thrill. The Dursleys' public facade—scoffing at his "freakishness"—had crumbled in private, their submission his to command.

His eyes lingered on her, noting the tight skirt hugging her legs, a fleeting thought of her unexpected allure crossing his mind. He'd been blind to it as a weak boy, but now, as a wizard with power, he saw everything.

"You've been good," Clark said, his tone softening, teasing. "Keeping the house quiet, making the bed. Deserve a reward, don't you?"

Petunia's breath hitched, her eyes flickering with confusion and fear. "A… reward?"

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her cheek, a gentle touch that made her flinch. "Relax," he murmured, smirking. "I won't hurt you. Not today." Her face flushed, her neck reddening as he teased, "You're looking at me like you want something."

She stammered, "I-I don't know what you mean," her voice trembling as his knuckles grazed her skin again. "Sorry," she whispered, her gaze dropping.

Clark laughed, his tone playful but edged with control. "Sorry for staring like you're hungry?" Her whimper only widened his grin. "It's fine. I'm not mad."

His hand moved, cupping her gently, a bold move that froze her. "Rewarding you," Clark said simply, his thumb running over her hardened nipple.

She let out a shaky breath. "ah ahh."

"Shh." He squeezed her breast gently.

She shut up, her face frozen.

He kept playing with her breasts for a while until she looked on the verge of hyperventilating.

He leaned in close and kissed her neck.

"Enjoying this?" he asked, his voice low against her neck.

She nodded, trembling, and he pressed, "Words, Petunia. Tell me what you want." Her lips quivered. "M-more… of your touches."

He smiled, reaching out to tweak her nipple.

Petunia let out a startled gasp and then moaned, her eyes half-closing in bliss.

Clark leaned in and kissed her neck again, his mouth traveling down her skin until he reached the neckline of her dress. His tongue slipped under it, laving her nipple gently through her bra.

Petunia moaned louder, her hand clutching his shoulder desperately.

"Harry." She gasped. "Please."

Clark pulled back, his hands cupping her face gently. "Tell me," he ordered, his voice firm.

"Make me come," she pleaded, her voice desperate, and he obliged, her release a quiet victory under his control.

Clark laughed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"That's better," he murmured and then reached under her skirt.

A few minutes later, she was moaning into the pillow and cumming on his hand.

After she came down from her orgasm, she looked at Clark with wide eyes.

Petunia sat, breathless, her eyes wide with awe and lingering fear. "That was… amazing," she whispered, her voice shaky.

Clark wiped his hands, his grin casual but commanding. "Glad you think so. Now, I have a question."

Her brows furrowed, still catching her breath. "What?"

"I'm leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow," he said, leaning against the wall, his wand in his pocket humming faintly. "Want to come?"

Her face lit up, a spark of hope breaking through her fear. "Really? You want me to?"

He shrugged, his smirk playful. "Sure. Could be useful."

Petunia's eyes shone, and she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you, Harry!" she mumbled, her voice muffled against his chest.

Clark chuckled, his hands resting on her briefly. "Anytime."

She pulled back, frowning slightly. "But… how? The train—"

"Don't need a train," Clark said, his grin widening, a predatory glint in his eyes. "I've got something better."

Petunia tilted her head, curious. "What do you mean?"

Clark held up a small ring, its golden glow pulsing softly. "A pocket universe."

Her eyes widened. "A… what?"

"A pocket universe," he repeated, his voice smooth, confident. "A dimension I control, like a vault with its own space and time. I can carry it in my pocket."

She gaped, her fear giving way to awe. "That's… incredible."

He laughed, flipping the ring in his hand. "Watch."

He opened his palm, and the room shifted, expanding into a vast, starry void, like a sci-fi chamber defying reality. Petunia gasped, her hands clutching the bed as they floated in the open space. Clark raised his other hand, a white light forming a small, cozy room—wooden walls, a soft bed, a window showing a glowing horizon.

"Wow," Petunia breathed, stepping into the room, her fingers brushing the walls. "This is… unreal."

"Made it for you," Clark said, gesturing at the space. "You can live here, if you want. Anything you need, I'll create."

Her eyes welled up, emotion cracking her voice. "Really?"

He nodded, his smirk softening. "Anything."

She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered, her voice thick with gratitude.

Clark hugged her back, then flicked the ring, collapsing the pocket universe. They were back in the guest room, the ring glowing faintly in his hand.

"Be a good pet," he said, leaning close, his voice a low command. "That's how you thank me."

Petunia swallowed, nodding, her eyes locked on his, a mix of fear, awe, and loyalty.

Clark's grin widened, his wand and ring ready, Hogwarts a stage for his rise. With Petunia under his sway, he was one step closer to ruling it all.