Padfoot's Puppies

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02: Bangers go out with a bang

Summary: When the puppies drop in on the Dursleys' barbeque, Vernon and Petunia find that even without Harry, those freaks can still make their lives embarrassing.

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Aunt Petunia grimaced most sourly at the preparations Uncle Vernon was now making for his monstrous summer barbeque. She disliked barbeques most intensely. For her, barbeques were greasy, smoky and noisy affairs and had absolutely no place in her immaculately clean and proudly spotless home. Not to mention on her immaculately cared-for lawn. Especially when - horror of horrors - the barbeque attracted those dirty mongrels from the streets, or even worse - her guests encouraging the dirty little things by offering them titbits.

She grimaced even more sourly at the mountains of bangers, chicken legs, hamburgers, chops and steaks that Uncle Vernon had proudly been piling into the refrigerator. Mercifully the refrigerator was as big as Dudley (well, how else could it accommodate the stores sufficient to meet the appetite of such a fine young man?) so it had absolutely no trouble in accommodating the mountains of bangers, chicken legs, hamburgers, chops and steaks.

Unfortunately for Aunt Petunia and her abhorrence of such greasy, smoky and noisy affairs, Uncle Vernon had been making the deliberate habit of throwing a late summer barbeque from the moment Harry had departed for "that school". It had been a deliberate point so that unnatural nephew of his would not be around to mess things up in that most unnatural fashion. It was the perfect way to show off in front of the whole of Privet Drive that they were a perfectly normal family (not to mention celebrating getting rid of that unnatural nephew for another year). It would also help erase the dreadful memory of that disastrous dinner party where that freaky little nephew had flaunted his abnormality on his poor dear sister - not to mention having to suffer more of those freaks coming into his home to get his sister back to normal but frightening the wits out of his poor darling Dudley and his posterior.

That unnaturalness had gotten even worse. He had received notice that his poor sister had been trying to hide under her house because she had been invaded by a litter of unnatural, freaky PUPPIES. These little freaks had just about driven his poor sister to the lunatic asylum. It would have been most embarrassing indeed for the name of Dursley. The Dursleys had prided on showing themselves as a perfectly normal family. If word got around that his sister was in a loony asylum...

As it was, poor Marge had to take to the seaside for a fast rest cure and was reported to be making a satisfactory recovery. That was more than could be said for her beloved bulldogs who were still insisting on hiding under the house, much to Colonel Fubster's annoyance.

Aunt Petunia was still eyeing the mountains of meat sniffily. "Do we really have to have this greasy, smoky barbeque? Think of all those dirty great mongrels we'll be encouraging-"

"DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT MONGRELS!" Uncle Vernon winced and rubbed his leg although it had long since been healed by the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. "IF I EVER SEE ANOTHER RUDDY MONGREL AS LONG AS I LI-"

Uncle Vernon suddenly bit off his words in an exasperated shriek as he caught the flash of a small black mongrel suddenly disappearing out the door with an elongated trail of their bangers in tow.

Unfortunately Uncle Vernon couldn't throw the nearest thing to hand after the thieving dog. He was too busy falling on his squealing posterior as the trail of disappearing bangers caught round his ankles and sent him flying into the air at a much faster rate than Harry on his Nimbus.

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Padfoot's puppies wagged their tails fervently as they hid behind the Dursleys' shed and furtively devoured the elongated trail of bangers. They were being furtive not merely because they were still hiding from the nasty Ministry but also because:

"I don't like those humans," growled Alphard. "You only have to look at their markings to know that human pup and his sire are from the same litter as the bulldog woman. You can smell it a mile off, too." Had he been human, he would have wrinkled his nose. And had he not been Alphard, he would have shivered.

"But what a delicious pile of food they've got," wuffed Nimbus. "I saw it myself. They're burying it in the "fridge"."

The puppies had all learned at a very early age that "fridges" meant food, although they couldn't quite square it with the proper fashion of burying food in the garden. These humans have such strange ways of storing their food. And if they weren't burying it in "fridges", they buried it in things called "rubbish bins." Not that the puppies complained about that. Rubbish bins were the excellent places for little puppies on the run from the nasty Ministry (and now those horrible "dogcatchers") to find food.

However, "rubbish bins" seldom provided much food, especially for growing puppies constantly on the run. Now Prongsy, Kingsley and Weasley all salivated slobbily at the thought of that delicious pile of meat. And in true mischief-maker form, the thought of those repulsive humans being from the same litter as the bulldog woman only made stealing that store of food all the more exciting. Luna and Moony didn't agree and started quivering. They barked anxiously that they wanted to get away from here. Syria growled snappily at them for being such sillies while Tonksy licked them in commiseration and growled agreement that she didn't like hanging around here either.

Padfoot II prevailed by growling them all into silence. He had just heard that these humans were going to throw a "barbeque", and the puppies had all learned during their weeks on the run from the Ministry that when humans have these things called "barbeques" there were always good things to eat. If you just minced up to humans looking your best to hungry and pitiful (which wasn't difficult, with their being on the run and all) there would always be someone willing to throw you something.

Luna objected very indignantly that these humans were from the same litter as the bulldog woman. They were definitely not the sort to throw them titbits. In fact, being bulldog humans, they would be far more likely to bury their food in the "fridge." Alphard growled in agreement. These bulldog humans were clearly not the sort to throw them anything except boots, and those were definitely not edible.

Padfoot II replied that in that case they would have to resort to smash-and-grab. They were very good at that sort of thing, weren't they? He glanced around Nimbus, Firebolt, Prongsy, Weasley and Kingsley expectantly. They all wuffed in unison and wagged their tails in true marauder fashion. Yes, the mischievous streaks were already drooling in anticipation and their tails were wagging even faster.

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"Not now, Popkin," Aunt Petunia lightly waved Dudley's eager piggy fingers away from the food she had spent all afternoon preparing. "Wait until the guests arrive." If there had been a note of tetchiness in her voice, it wasn't just because of the prospect of a smoky, greasy barbeque but some dirty dog had stolen their bangers and sent her husband upstairs with a very sore posterior. Since then, Aunt Petunia had been keeping her beady eye and craning neck on the lookout for any more dogs instead of interesting goings-on at her neighbours. However she had been most relieved that nothing more had happened. It looked like they might have a normal barbeque, with nothing at all abnormal to mess things up. Not like that time when the violet pudding exploded during the Masons' visit, or Marge floating across the ceiling like some monstrous balloon, or that wretched boa constrictor breaking out and scaring the living daylights out of their poor Diddykins....

And now Uncle Vernon had finally re-emerged. Still rubbing his posterior and looking blotchy, but now feeling capable of wielding the monstrous barbeque, for which they had invited all their friends, neighbours and business associates. Uncle Vernon had been most relieved that the Masons had decided to accept, notwithstanding that embarrassing episode with the violet pudding. Dudley's friends were only too happy to accept and piggy out with their most piggy friend.

But as the barbeque got underway, something seemed to be going wrong with their pigging out. No sooner than they snatched a piece of Uncle Vernon's well-done meat than it seemed to disappear from their very fingers. One banger...two bangers...three bangers...four bangers - just vanished from their hands like...magic. Piers and Gordon were looking most annoyed...Dudley was starting to get nervous. He was getting a growing, ominous feeling that there was another bit of funny business going on that would join the ranks of his piggy tail, the exploding pudding and his rapidly ballooning aunt...

Other guests, too, were beginning to notice strange things happening with their food. Mr Mason thundered that he had only put his plate of grilled steak down for a moment and when he looked again, all he could find was his coleslaw...Mrs Piers was clouting her husband with her handbag, and he dodged her blows while screaming his innocence about her missing chicken legs...by turns guests were rounding up on Uncle Vernon because their food kept disappearing before they had a chance to make it disappear themselves. They were demanding that they be reimbursed immediately with that rich mound of meat that was crackling most happily on Uncle Vernon's splendid barbeque.

But then they all looked again and the rich mound of meat that had been crackling most happily - was suddenly gone. All those beautiful bangers, hamburgers, chops and chicken legs that had been sizzling so magnificently on the barbeque had completely vanished into thin air...like -

Uncle Vernon's pale pasty countenance suddenly darkened in his Uncle Vernon blackcurrant blotch. It was all looking suspiciously, and embarrassingly, like that freakiness again...

"It's like magic!" One of the guests gasped.

Someone had said it. THE word. The one word which gave any one of the Dursleys apoplexy. Aunt Petunia blanched furiously. Uncle Vernon blanched even more and went absolutely dizzy as he was consumed by an even purpler frieze of fury.

And then came a cry from Polkiss Piers, "there's our food! There's our food!" He was shouting and pointing at the back of the shed.

Uncle Vernon stormed around to the back of the garden shed, privately wondering what the back of the shed had to do with the disappearing food.

He stopped...he stared...and then his whole body began to shake, inflate, and purple with the greatest fury he had ever known since Aunt Marge had floated on the ceiling like a monstrous balloon...

Behind the shed lay his magnificent barbeque of hamburgers, bangers, chicken legs, and chops, about one-third of which had now been converted into bones and leftovers. Twelve black puppy mongrels stared quite blithely up at him, their guilt written all over them and their surroundings of Uncle Vernon's magnificent barbeque...

One of the puppies walked up to Uncle Vernon, offering a steak and a hopeful tail wag. Tonksy had learned that this strategy worked when humans were cross - well, sometimes...

This was not one of those times. A terrible volcano erupted inside Uncle Vernon. He roared, he shrieked, he bellowed, and he threw his tongs at Tonksy with the force of Snape throwing a jar of cockroaches at Harry's head in two years time. Nimbus or Firebolt would have dodged nimbly out of the way, but it was Tonksy and unfortunately Tonksy is a little clumsy. As she tried to leap out of the way, she stumbled, and the tongs hit her squarely in the face.

But then Harry didn't have Syria when Snape was to throw that jar of cockroaches at his head. Tonksy did, however, and Syria was definitely not going to take an insult like that on any of her siblings. Bellowing ferociously herself, Syria tore into Uncle Vernon with such fury that he was on his heels like Nimbus taking off with one of Uncle Vernon's steaks.

As Uncle Vernon came flying around the front, it was his turn to stumble as his foot got caught on something or other. He went flying, face first, into the bowl of trifle with such force that the trifle showered both him and the entire table in a trifle frosting. Uncle Vernon looked most consternated as his guests now exploded into gales of laughter. Uncle Vernon's face turned its deepest blackcurrant blotch yet, contrasting most floridly with the cream trifle decorating his face. If there was anything Uncle Vernon simply could not handle (besides that unnaturalness) it was being laughed at as if he were some great big clown...

The puppies decided it was time to get out of here before "the Ministry" or "dogcatchers" turned up. Fortunately for them, the guests were in such hilarious incapacity that they could just nip out of Number 4 Privet Drive and be out of sight before those humans sent for "dogcatchers." Somewhere in the distance they heard Uncle Vernon ranting and spluttering about how he was going to "roast those ruddy dogs alive"...Aunt Petunia was trying anxiously to smooth things over: "violet pudding, anyone?" while the guests were still laughing uproariously at the sight of Uncle Vernon trifle...

They were planning to run as far away as they possibly could. But then, as they turned into Magnolia Crescent, Padfoot II suddenly stopped by the great gaping alleyway that connects Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Avenue. He didn't know it was the same alley where Harry Potter had met their father, but it did look the most promising place to hide from whatever "dogcatchers" that human might send after them. Padfoot II yapped sharply to draw his siblings' attention to this promising hideaway. Following Padfoot II's lead, the puppies slipped into the beckoning maw of the alley.

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Meanwhile, a basset hound had come across the remaining bangers, hamburgers, chops, steaks and chicken legs. He licked his doggy chops and drooled most avidly. This haul looked even more promising than a pile of stolen cauldrons, and anyway, those Muggles looked too busy laughing at that trifle-covered Muggle to come and eat it themselves. He settled down and proceeded to munch away quite contentedly, while laughing in a most doggy way at that trifle-faced Muggle.