Dudley Dursley: My Adventures as a Giant Bucket of Lard

Emaleneangel: How many months has it been? Seven? Eight? Oh well. Here's the second chapter. I hope you like it and please review. Oh, and I don't own anything.

I spent the morning after my arrival at No. 5 (of course I didn't call it that then, it was just the Dusty Hell Hole) watching people out of the corner of my eye. Harry and his red headed friend, Ron, played a game of chess. The first time a knight smashed one of the pawns I almost jumped from my seat and ran over there, but managed to remember myself in time to maintain my façade of irate boredom. The red-headed girl sat of to side watching them, or more accurately, watching my cousin's hands as they absently caressed the chess pieces. And Hermione, the girl who several hours prior had threatened to castrate me, was reclined on a sette, diligently reading through one of the biggest books I had ever seen.

The next time there was a crash from the chess board I couldn't help but look up. Tiny pieces of black marble fell to the floor, crashing loudly on the wooden surface.

"Don't worry Dudders. They won't hurt you," remarked Harry. The way his lip upturned would almost have been comical on his young face if there wasn't so much fervor behind his eyes. His friend was also glaring daggers at me. Hermione cautiously watched the scene unfold from the side, trying to determine if she should intervene.

"Well you could try to quiet it down. The stupid game is bloody loud." Harry's eyes squinted as he tried to think up a retort but his friend beat him to it.

"It's your move mate. I think your queen's getting a bit restless." But just as he had turned around to ponder which piece he wanted to get smashed next Mrs. Weasley walked into the room. Even in the dimly lit confines of the study her hair shined brightly.

"Come on kids. Up and at 'em. Those closets aren't going to clean themselves."

"Aw, Mom," whined the girl.

"Now Hermione, Ginny, you two take the third floor. Harry and Ron, you go after the basement."

"And what about him?" asked Ron. If I had thought his look before was unfriendly this was venomous.

"Now Ronald, the poor boy has enough to deal with." For a moment she stopped and looked at me, pity simply oozing forth in her demeanor, before she returned to normal. "Come on. We haven't got all day." There were a few more pointed groans before they exited and I was left alone.

The wonders of the decrepit study could only amaze me for so long. The first ten minutes I spent counting the waves of color in the coffee table. Then I tried to convince the white king that his queen was having an affair with the black knight (they of course didn't respond). I even attempted to read through one of the books (a dusty tome entitled: Autun Abeer's Guide to Wandless Torture) but gave up on that fairly quickly as well. Finally I set off in order to find something interesting to do.

The first two rooms I entered were completely unremarkable apart from the moving portraits that lined the walls. For a moment I thought about going down to the kitchen but, with the previous night's meeting still at the top of my memory, I decided it would be best to avoid another run in. Just when I was about to go back into the study and break something, I heard hushed voices coming from a room at the hall. Creeping so as to not reveal my presence (which, considering the age of the floorboards and my weight at the time, was quite a feat) I carefully made my way to the cracked door.

"...I've told you Molly. It's just not possible. If he goes anywhere without a strong magical presence, they'll be able to track him. And if she comes here, she'll be placed needlessly in harm's way. Somewhere we've all been since Albus..." the Scottish woman trailed off, and I thought I heard a sniffle.

"I know, I know Minerva. It's just my maternal instincts." Confident that they had not yet noticed my presence, I started to lean forward a bit to peep through the cracked doorway when something hit the back of my head. I resisted the urge to yelp and turned around.

The girl who had been watching my cousin earlier that day was standing behind me with her hands on her hips. I couldn't help but gulp as she strutted forward.

"You know," she started, leaning in so that the women wouldn't hear us. "It's not polite to eavesdrop." She paused for a second and moved in even closer. "And if you really wanted to there are far more effective ways." I couldn't help it, when I felt her breath brush against my ear, I bolted.

At that time I could have said a lot of nasty things about Mrs. Weasley, but that she was a bad cook wasn't one of them (of course it never crossed my mind to compliment her either). Everything she made, from the eggs she had whipped up for breakfast to the fish she fried for dinner, tingled the taste buds in the best possible way. Piling generous helpings on my plate I proceeded to shovel as much food into my mouth as humanly possible.

"Uggh," said my cousin. I looked up to find that everyone was staring at me, except for Hermione, who was looking purposefully away. Harry's face was scrunched up. The red-headed girl's eyes were wide in horror, and her brother was trying to look appalled, but a bit of admiration crept through his cold demeanor. I made sure to smack my next bite of potatoes as loudly as possible. Suddenly the fire roared to life behind me. I jumped so hard that I fell out of my chair. I continued to scoot away after my initial shock, not because I didn't have a clue as to what was going on, but because the last time I had seen a fire place act like that my tongue grew a good three feet. Luckily everyone else was distracted enough that they didn't bother to tease me. With a final burst of flames the Witch Lady emerged, followed closely by my mother.

"Dudley," she cried, rushing forward. "Oh my Lord, you're alright. My baby's all right." Her bones stabbed as she hugged me, and I could tell that the foursome was smirking off to my side, but, for once, I didn't give a shit.

The Witch Lady cleared her throat behind us. "Perhaps you two wish to remove yourselves to the foyer? I am sure you have much to discuss." My mother nodded mutely and followed me out the door.

The foyer was different from the rest of the house only in size. It was still dark and gloomy but the haunting furniture that lined the walls of the various bedrooms and studies was about three times as large. Not the best place to start a conversation that was bound to be awkward, which is probably the reason we just sat there, saying nothing.

The silence did however give me a chance to survey the changes in my mother over the past few days. Her eyes were bloodshot and sunken back into hollow cavities. Her nose was red, and her blond hair was oily and waved in various directions. After seventeen years of die-hard perfection, it was her appearance that made the happenings of the previous few days really hit home.

My mother almost looked relieved when McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later and delivered us from the stagnant silence.

"Now, we all need to sit down and sort this fiasco out," she said, clapping her hands as she entered.

"Minerva, are you sure that it is a good idea to let the children listen?" asked Mrs. Weasley, following directly behind her. The Witch Lady turned her imposing figure to the smaller woman.

"I understand your concerns Molly, but it was Dumbledore's wish that they should be included. And I think it will do them good to understand what is really going on."

Mrs. Weasley held up her hands in defeat and moved aside to let 'the children' by. It was only when the red-headed girl entered that she started up again.

"Oh no you don't Ginny. You march yourself right back into the kitchen."

"But, mom--"

"Do not try my patience Ginevra Weasley."

The girl huffed and exited. I was surprised that the door didn't break when she slammed it.

"Now," started McGonagall, as if nothing has happened. "Petunia, we have found a household that will hide you on the continent. Since your husband has not yet regained consciousness, he is safest where he is at St. Mungo's."

"What about Dudley?"

"I'm afraid that because of his situation it would be impossible for him to go with you." I felt my insides clench at the way she elongated 'situation.' "I think it's time you told him, Petunia." My mother said nothing however, only slouched farther into the chair.

"Very well," started McGonagall, turning back to me. "Dudley, you are a wizard." The room seemed to shrink to her lips as she spoke. But the words were so insane, so preposterous that I couldn't process them. Instead I fought the urge to laugh as my cousin choked in the background. "Do you understand me Dudley?"

"You're lying," were the only words I could manage to form.

"I assure you that I am not." But I didn't believe her and turned immediately to my mother. She was massaging her temples and refused to look at my questing eyes.

"She's telling the truth." For three whole seconds the room was deathly silent.

"What?! You've all gone bloody bonkers. I'm not one of those freaks."

"Mr. Dursley, if you will quiet down?" commanded the Witch Lady. I did, but only because I was pretty sure she would force me if I didn't. "As I was saying--" But my cousin interrupted.

"That makes no sense. If he were a wizard he would have received a Hogwarts letter like I did."

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, that he was sent one. I wrote it myself. His parents, however, replied that they had no interest in introducing Dudley to our world, and I am politely paraphrasing what they wrote."

"And why would we?" laughed my mother. But it was a sick sort of laugh, filled with saline, and it made the hairs on my neck stand up. "All this place is is death."

For the first time I saw McGongagall's eyes soften. "I assure you it is not. But I can understand why you feel that way."

"Wait, then how come Uncle Vernon couldn't prevent me from getting my letter?"

"Because, although he was your legal guardian, he was not your parent. Lily and James had made it clear that they wanted you to attend Hogwarts. Now, if I may." When no one objected she continued. "As I was saying, it wouldn't be safe for Dudley to go with his mother because You-Know-Who would then be able to trace them."

"And why would You-Know-Who," I gestured wildly at the words, "care about me?"

"Because you have Harry's blood in you. Harry and You-Know-Who share the same blood and thus he would be able to trace you."

"I should have known it was your fault, you little--" I lunged forward

"Now, now. I have been interrupted quite enough. There will be no name calling or attempted murder." I grunted and fell back into my chair.

"But my mom's related to Harry as well."

"Yes, but your mother posses no magical power, so he would not be able to trace her. You see, each witch and wizard emits a magical aura, something that is unique to them alone. Although it is possible for their aura to change over time pieces of it, revealing their pedigree and various other innate aspects, will always remain the same."

"Is this how they found us?" McGonagall shook her head, sadly.

"No. I fear that would be the product of one of our members defecting. Your house was most strictly warded because of your unique circumstance."

"Bloody bastard," Harry muttered behind her, and for once no one corrected his language. In fact, I even thought I saw McGonagall's head incline slightly in agreement.

"So is that why he doesn't attack Harry. Because he's guarded?"

"That, and because Harry is well trained. His magic is focused from his years at Hogwarts, no longer shooting all over the place. Your magic, however, is much more ambient." She paused for a moment and looked at me as if considering something. "Well I think that settles everything."

"No," started my mother. Her voice was choked and raspy. When she removed her had from her face to look at McGonagall I realized that she was crying. Her voice rose a bit with her next words. "You are insane if you think that I am going to let Dudley out of my sight for another twenty years after what's happened."

"Petunia, I assure you it's for the best--"

"That's what you lot told me last time isn't it!" And with that chaos ensued. Mum was yelling at McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley. Harry was trying to taunt me from the corner without letting any of the adults know. Hermione and the read-headed boy were whispering, but their words soon turned into screams.

"Wait," I yelled. "Wait," I repeated, and to my surprise everyone quieted down and looked at me. "I'll stay." Out of all of the outcomes people had expected, I could tell immediately that this wasn't one of them. Eyes widened, heads bobbed forward, and I shifted under the unwanted attention.

"Dudley. Don't be silly. You're coming with me."

"No, Mum," I shook my head as I walked over to her. "I'm staying." Placing a hand behind her neck, I leaned down kissed her forehead. I could feel her sobs vibrating against my lips.

Barb 1: I hope I didn't disappoint. I want to finish tale, because I really like the plot, but it's so off now that HBP is published that I'm having problems with it.

Hyper Pearl Girl: Do you mind if I ask why?

Grizzabella: Honestly, your review was what started me writing again. I know my thanks is extremely belated but I hope you accept it anyways.