Harry Potter and the Weapon of Mass Destruction

'Happy Birthday, mate!'

Harry opens his eyes and almost finds out what a heart attack feels like when he sees two big

'Ron, you're scaring him. He probably thinks you're going to zap him to death with that stare.'

'I wasn't staring, you were,' he mumbles in reply. 'Besides, you were staring, too.'

'You said that already.'

'Oh. Yeah. I forgot. I'm going crazy.'

'You were always mad, Ron. What's this?' Harry asks, rubbing his eyes.

'It's your birthday, that's what! Here, open your presents,' replies Ron excitedly. His arm is held out to Harry's face, as if he wants Harry to take something from him, even though there is nothing there.

'Er, what are you pointing at me for?'

'He's not pointing,' says Hermione with a sigh. 'He wants you to take your birthday present.'

'I can't see any presents...'

'That's because there aren't any, ha!' Ron is laughing, arms clutching his sides.

'Ignore him, Harry. We haven't been able to get you any presents

'Forget it, I don't care. It's just a birthday, anyway,' he mutters, rubbing his sleepy eyes as he yawns.

'Eurgh, your breath stinks.'

'Thanks, Ron. Is that what I get on my birthday, then? Hmm? A rude comment?' says Harry, his voice rising into a falsetto.

'Harry!' Hermione looks stunned. 'We didn't know you'd be this upset-'

'Oh, it's all about "not knowing" with you, Hermione, isn't it?' Harry is now standing up, his hands gesturing wildly.

'Bloody hell, mate, leave it out.'

'Sorry, I just felt like being a diva for a bit. So, last day then, eh?' he says, grinning wildly. He has been waiting for this day for a whole month and a half. Not because it's his seventeenth birthday, who cares about that? (Even though he was expecting something from those stingy bats. He'd show them...) But simply because he is finally of age now and can leave the Dursleys - forever!

'Yeah, maybe we'll get better luck in trying to find out what your fat cousin saw with the Dementor.'

'You don't have to be so mean about it.'

'Mean? What part of that was mean?' asks Ron, his face twisted with a look of confusion.

'Calling him "fat", that's what.'

'Oh, yeah. Forgot I called him that, comes naturally, you see.'

'You seem to be forgetting a lot of things lately,' says Hermione shortly.

'What? Who said I was forgetting anything?'

Harry, for the millionth time this month, just arches his eyebrows at Ron and says, 'Yeah, I've got a plan. I think it'll work.'

'Cool, let's hear it.'

'No. You'll just have to watch and learn, my old friend.'

'Old? You really think?' says Ron, his chest heaving upwards with pride.

The next half hour is wasted with pointless bickering, getting dressed and singing "happy birthday" to Harry Potter, the-boy-whose-birthday-it-is; the-boy-who-has-smelly-morning-breath; the-boy-who-has-a-plan-up-his-

'Okay, that's enough. Let's go down and have breakfast.'

'You know,' Ron thinks aloud, 'I always wondered why we pronounce it "brekk-fust" when, really, it's "break-fast". Do you ever wonder that?'

'On a few occasions, yes, I have, actually,' replies Hermione. 'I've concluded that it's because it's easier to the mind to say "brekkfust" rather than "break-fast".'

'Plus, "break-fast" just sounds stupid, doesn't it? It's like, "Break time now, children! But make it quick!" which is just... stupid,' adds Harry.

'You two always have to take the fun and mystery out of everything,' mutters Ron with a pout.

Downstairs, the whole family is in the kitchen, watching television (what a surprise) and scoffing their faces full with "brekkfust". As soon as the three teenagers walk in, all faces turn and glance quickly at them, wearing expressions of disgust -apart from Dudley, who wears no expression at all.

'Ah,' says Ron, sniffing in the air. 'What's for break-fast?'

Aunt Petunia just stares at him, as though he's just vomited all over her flower-patterned table cloth, whilst Uncle Vernon snorts. Dudley's eyebrows dance as he's obviously trying to figure out what on earth "break-fast" is.

'It's, er, it's my birthday today. I'm seventeen now,' Harry says, taking in a deep breath and nervously putting his sweaty hands into his pockets.

Uncle Vernon snorts again. 'And? I suppose you'll want a present.'

Harry can no longer stifle his cry as he yells, 'Can't a boy just get a present for his birthday? Is that so much to ask for?'

'Yes,' everybody in the room replies as-a-matter-of-factly.

'Oh, well, never mind. I already have myself a present. I'm going to try it out tonight, actually. So... ha.'

Ron suddenly jerks away from Harry and accidentally nudges Hermione in the process. 'I'd appreciate it if you don't tell me what that present is, please.'

'None of your business, anyway. It's just between me and my hand.'

'Oh, God,' whispers Hermione. 'Harry, be quiet.'

'Yeah! You heard me! I'm getting myself a new WAND,' he shouts, pointing to his crotch area where, incidentally, his wand-full pocket sits.

'A new... New wand? Er, okay. That's... nice.' Ron nods in hope that Harry will shut up about his new "wand".

'Yes,' Harry continues, a beastly smile covering his face. 'It'll be longer than this one and maybe a little lighter, too. Not sure if I'll have a hair on it this time, though. Oh, and I can poke Draco with it, too!'

'Blaaargh,' yells Ron. 'A mental image I really didn't need.'

'Pff.' Harry quickly turns to face Ron. He looks him up and down shortly before he continues with, 'Anyway, enough about this. Dudley, what did you see when that Dementor almost attacked you?'

Shocked by this sudden question, Aunt Petunia drops a few pans and Uncle Vernon spits out bits of toast, which fly across the room and stick to the television screen before slipping down and leaving a trail of holy Uncle Vernon saliva. Dudley, however, remains seated and as calm as he's ever been. He doesn't look up, he doesn't squeal and try with no dignity to hide behind his much-thinner-than-himself mother.

'I've told you, I'm not telling.'

'Even if I give you this?' Harry is now grinning. He flourishes a big, fat doughnut which is covered in chocolate, sprinkles and is

Harry quietly woke up in the early morning of his birthday and Apparated into Diagon Alley to spend a good deal of galleons on this heavenly potion. Dudley had better eat the doughnut, or he'd have wasted galleons for no reason. Not to mention risking his life by going into Diagon Alley at such a ludicrous time would have been completely pointless. Harry doesn't want to tie Dudley up and force him to speak... Okay, perhaps he does want to do that, but Veritaserum is so much easier and quicker. He'd rather not sweat on the morning of his birthday.

Thankfully, Dudley has snatched the doughnut from Harry's hands and is scoffing it down like a high pig on speed.

'Harry,' hisses Hermione, 'that was rather tactless of you. He can eat it and just refuse to tell you.'

'Oh,' says Harry with a grin, 'I don't think that'll be the case at all.'

Before Hermione or Ron can argue back or suspiciously ask why he's so sure of himself, Harry waves his hands for them to be quiet and they do so. 'So, Dudley, still don't want to tell me?'

'Tell you what?'

'What you saw that night the Dementor attacked you, two years ago,' he answers clearly.

'No.'

What - no? What was happening? If this potion was fake... Why, he'd have to bloody-

'Tell us, you big arse! What did you see?' shouts Ron, ignoring Dudley's parents' protests.

'I see dead people,' he replies, whispering.

'You saw dead people?' Everybody's mouths are now open wide in awe.

'No, I've just always wanted to say that,' he says, roaring with laughter at the look on everybody's faces.

'Oh, you awful boy!' screams Hermione. 'That's my line - that's what I've always wanted to say! You... You-!'

'It's okay, Hermione. Calm down.' Ron takes Hermione's hand and puts his arm around her small shoulders as he continues by

Her breathing slows down and she relaxes upon Ron's body. With a grateful smile, she replies, 'Thank you.'

'Er, anyway... Dudley, what did you see when-'

'The Dementor attacked me, blah, blah. You don't have to keep reminding me, do you?'

'Well, I like to remind you because-'

'Vegetables.'

'What?'

'Vegetables. You want to know what I saw, there you have it. Vegetables. Lots of them, too.' He shudders for a few seconds and the whites of his eyes appear.

Ron is unable to suppress his laughter as he belches it all out. He even falls to the kitchen floor in the process and cries, 'My stomach! My stomach!' a few times. Hermione grins, but manages to quickly wipe it away and excuse herself from the room as she coincidentally "must use the bathroom".

Harry, however, is still serious. 'Vegetables? That's IT? You're scared of... Of... Vegetables? Of carrots and peas-?'

'Harry, please, stop! Make it go away... Make the laughter go away, please... My stomach... Pain... Ahahaha, vegetables! This whole time I thought it would be bullies, vampires, magic folks, when, instead, it was-' Ron doesn't manage to finish his sentence as he's just burst into uncontrollable laughter once again.

'Control yourself, it's not that funny. It's... pathetic. You hear that, Big D? Pathetic. Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be here soon to pick us up. Ron's brother, Bill, is getting married tomorrow. I suppose you didn't really need or want to know that, but there you have it. Me and my useless rambling, eh? Well, that's it, then. You'll never have to see me again. I would say it's been nice knowing you

'No! Harry, don't go! I... I love you!'

'What in the blazes do you mean by that, boy?' Uncle Vernon gasps as he turns to face his son.

Harry is now laughing. 'I seem to remember you saying you never wanted a "swotty nancy boy for a son". Well, you don't have a swot, that's for sure... But he seems to be scoring a few goals into becoming a "nancy boy", wouldn't you agree?'

Hermione has just re-appeared, thankful that Ron has finally managed to stop his mad laughing. 'So are we done, then?

'Pretty much, yeah. Dudley's just announced his unrequited love for Harry, but that's about it.'

'Oh. How... lovely.'

'You'd think so, wouldn't you? Harry's being a total arse about it, though.' Ron shakes his head and quietly tuts.

'Really? Humph, I say Dudley should just get on with her life and find someone else to love her. You go

'Why am I a "her"?'

'Well, I don't know... One of you has to be a female and, really, between you and Harry, you're the female,' she explains with hand gestures before finishing with a slightly nervous cough. Her cheeks have flushed a slight pink.

'Hey! I want to be the woman!' moans Harry.

Ron rolls his eyes and says with a sigh, 'Fine, Harry. You be the woman, then.'

'While we're in the chat show mood, how about you tell us that story? You know, the one involving a Lilac Brown?'

'Lavender, Vernon. Honestly, do you ever listen to what the boy says?'

'Oh, well... Okay. I'll whip us out some tea, because you can't do this sort of thing without tea, really, can you?' Harry mutters a spell under his breath and five cups of tea appear on the kitchen table. Uncle Vernon, Petunia, Harry, Ron and Hermione all take a seat beside a cup of tea and, just as Harry is about to start, there's already an interruption.

'Where's my cup?' says Dudley.

'You ate it?' offers Ron.

'Did I? Damn! I'll be in the living room then. Have fun,' he says, getting up and leaving the room, his head drooped downwards in disappointment.

'Basically, there's a girl called Lavender Brown in our year and-'

'She developed some sudden "crush" on Ron, here. She's never known him like I've known him, though. I mean, er, like we've, Harry and I that is, known him. She-'

'Yes, thank you, Hermione,' Harry cut in, throwing an annoyed look at her. 'Anyway, one time, Ron and I were making our way around the castle to get to somewhere and we see Ginny, his sister, getting it on with Dean, a boy in our year-'

'Ugh, don't remind me.'

'So Ron starts having a go at her and they exchange a few nasty words. She told Ron he was jealous because he still hadn't had any girlfriends and he was nearing seventeen too, so-'

'You didn't really have to mention that, did you?'

'I did. It's important to the plot.'

'It's okay, Ron. All in the past, now,' says Hermione, holding Ron's hand in a comforting manner, even if she does sound slightly bitter.

'Well, whatever it was that Ginny said, she hit a nerve, because next thing I know, he's kissing Lavender Brown in our common room-'

'Ooo, aaaah,' say the audience.

'Ooo, aaah, indeed. Anyway, they went out for a while. Ron didn't really like her, he was just doing it to get Hermione jealous. Look, Ron, shut up. We all know it's true. Throughout the year, the pair of them kept doing things to make each other jealous and, really, it was so annoying to watch. I kept thinking "if you're going to get it on, just get on with it!"'

'Totally, girlfriend,' says Uncle Vernon.

'Right?' says Harry. 'In the end, he and Lavender broke up and that's that, end of story.'

'Where does the "Won-Won" part come in?' asks Aunt Petunia, a tear of joy dropping from her eye.

'Oh, that... It was Lavender's pet name for Ron. Hermione liked to tease him with it. Any questions?'

Both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia raise their arms, desperately shouting

'Settle down, now. Erm, yes, you there with the large head and no neck?'

'Yes, well, I was just wondering if they're going out?' Uncle Vernon asks, indicating Ron and Hermione.

'No... No, we're not,' replies Ron, ears and face turning red.

'And-' starts Aunt Petunia before-

'Nuh uh! No shouting out!'

'Sorry, Mr Potter.'

'Yes, you?' he says, jerking his head towards his Aunt.

'Well, why aren't they going out yet?'

'Good question. Ron? Hermione?'

Ron and Hermione shrug and look at each other, hands still touching. In what feels like a lifetime, Ron finally says, 'Shall we, Hermione? "Go out"? I love you. I even noticed that my name-'

'Is in my name!'

'Yes!'

'Er, what?' say Harry, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, ruining the love scene.

'Well,' says Hermione in her "know-it-all" voice, 'HeRmiONe. You see?'

'Oh! Nice touch.'

'Hermione, kiss me!'

'Oh, Ron! I'd love to!'

And with that, they embrace each other like they've never touched each other before. They kiss for what seems like an eternity. Dudley's even waddled his way from the living room back to the kitchen by the time they've stopped kissing and, honestly, that is a very long time.

'You see, Harry?' wails Dudley. 'They're kissing! And you... You won't even look at me!'

'Dudley, I can't. I'm too poor, too old, too dangerous...'

'Bollocks! You're rich, my age and I like a danger in my man, anyway!' This time, he's grabbed Harry by his shirt and he's pulling him in complete, undignified, desperation.

'Will you die your hair pink? And re-name yourself Tonks?'

'Anything!'

'Oh, well it's still a no. I was just wondering.'

Ron and Hermione, still in a tight

'It'd just seem more realistic. The whole "I'm desperate, love me back" thing. It'd go better with pink hair and the name "Tonks".'

'Oh, yes. I see what you mean actually,' nods Hermione in agreement.

Seeing Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's greedy expressions, Harry adds, 'That's another story. Who knows? We may meet again one day and I shall tell you this one too. It's a favourite of mine, actually, just because of its sheer hilarity.'

'Let's make an appointment. We're free whenever you want.'

'I'm very busy this year. I've got a few things to sort out, you know, ridding the world of the greatest and meanest wizard alive and all that. If I live, I'll give you a visit, eh?'

Suddenly, a voice shouting can be heard from the living room. All five people getting up and leaving their full cups of tea behind, they rush to the living room (Dudley is still in the kitchen, distraught at Harry's rejection) to see who it is.

'Ah, Ron!' says Mr. Weasley. 'Hermione, Harry,' he adds, nodding. 'Erm, son, why are you and Hermione stuck to each other like that?'

'Oh, ignore them, Mr. Weasley. They've just realised that they're madly in love with each other and they can't seem to let go of one another. It's actually quite disgusting. I'd've cursed them if they weren't my best friends.'

'Right, and, er-?'

'Yes, he's still fat.'

'What?'

'Oh, never mind. So, we'll be off, then? I'll try not to look too happy,' he adds, facing his Aunt and Uncle.

'Feeling's mutual,' snaps Uncle Vernon.

'Is that why you're crying?' Mr. Weasley asks Uncle Vernon, raising his left eyebrow.

'What? I'm not crying! Are you implying I'm crying?'

'Yes.'

'Oh, well, I'd be lying if I said I won't miss you.' Uncle Vernon bursts into uncontrollable sobs as he leans over and hugs his wife, almost strangling her it seems, and she does the same.

'That's nice, isn't it, Harry?' says Mr. Weasley, grinning at them and glancing back and forth from the two sobbing adults to the cool-headed teenager. He's also quite obviously shocked at what he's witnessing. The last time he stepped into this household, Harry's Aunt and Uncle hadn't even bothered to say "goodbye" to him.

'No, it's disgusting, actually. I still hate them both.'

'Get out! Get OUT, you ungrateful boy!' roars Uncle Vernon, obviously too depressed by the coming departure of his favourite nephew.

A new thought runs through Harry's mind and he can't help asking, 'Your sister, that dog woman, is she married yet?'

'No,' he replies, blinking. 'Why?'

'Just wondering. So that means that, realistically, I'm your only nephew. If you can call me that.'

'Well, I never said she never had any children...'

Everybody in the room faces Uncle Vernon, eyebrows almost hiding underneath their hair (except for Mr. Weasley who, bless him, has no hair).

'She has half

'How dare you? No! She has no children, for your information! And, yes, I suppose that does make you my only "nephew", but don't start getting any ideas! You still won't be getting a birthday present from me.'

'Damn. You're all stingy! The whole lot of you,' hisses Harry, his eyes prowling around the room, staring at each and everybody's eyes for three seconds or so.

'Well,' Mr. Weasley says, breaking the uneasy silence, 'Molly will be wondering where we are. We should be off. You all know how it goes. Er, Ron, Hermione, I suggest you don't go in together. Could cause a few complications.'

Harry's turn comes, he's insisted that all three go before him so that he can have a few last and meaningful words with the Dursleys. Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, he moves towards the fireplace.

'Bye, then,' he whispers.

'That's it? Those are your meaningful words?' Uncle Vernon whispers back.

'No, I just wanted to see what you'd say and whether you'd whisper with me,' he replies with a shrug.

'You slag! You slut! I hate you! How can you leave me when I'm pregnant with your baby?' screams Dudley.

'Big D, that's taking it a bit too far. Don't bring babies and pregnancy into it. Men having babies is so irksome.'

'Yeah, fair enough.'

'Okay, well, this is it. Enjoy the, er, rest of your lives,' he says, not sure what else to add. 'Thanks for having me. Even if you were complete arseholes to me, you arseholes.'

'Your Uncle was a bigger arsehole, though, wasn't he?'

'Well, no. All of you were equally sized arseholes. You a little more than the others because, although not having egg bits sprayed at my face in the morning, or the daylights punched out of me would have been nice, you, Aunt Petunia, hurt me more than the others,' he says, sniffing and covering his head dramatically with the back of his hand.

'What? I never raised my voice to you once, you silly boy.'

'Yes, but you were supposed to be my blood... My Aunt... My mum's sister! But you treated me like... Like Vermin! And I don't think that's fair, because if anybody should have been treated like Vermin, it should have been him!' he shouts, pointing to his Uncle. 'It's his name that sounds like it,' he adds, in a melodramatic sigh (for a bigger effect).

'Oh, well. We're bad parents, no need to rub it in any more. That Dumbledore made himself clear when he helped himself in last time.'

'Don't you speak his name, you Vermin! You're not worthy to,' Aunt Petunia snaps, before she can control herself. 'Er, never mind.'

'Oh, and Aunt Petunia, thanks for the, er, box. I'm hoping it will work... If it does, you won't get any credit for it in the papers, but I'm sure you won't be too upset about that.'

She shudders, saying, 'Don't you even mention my name to those... Those... Your weird kind.'

Harry takes one last look at the three of them and at the living room. They're standing together, Dudley in front and his parents behind (so that their heads form a triangle from a bird's eye view, Harry notices).

He takes in a deep breath, turns and says, 'The Burrow, here I come.'