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Rabbit Food-As told by Dudley Dursley by Ollie Vander

Format: Novella
Chapters: 8
Word Count: 10,606
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Strong Language, Mild Violence, Contains Spoilers

Genres: General, Humor
Characters: Harry, Mrs. Figg, Muriel, OtherCanon
Pairings: Other Pairing

First Published: 01/05/2008
Last Chapter: 11/26/2008
Last Updated: 11/26/2008

Summary:
WOO-HOO, 190+ REVIEWS!!! Thanks everyone! Banner currently down.




Everyone I knew said I hated my cousin. My teachers said it. My friends said it. My family, neighbors, and even just random people said it.

And I beleived them.  

I regret that.

(Thanks to RainingGrace @ TDA for the awesome banner! Prolouge-Ch 3 edited, now better than ever! Ch. 8 up!)



Chapter 1: Prolouge
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Disclaimer: I am JK Rowling I am extremely famous and own Harry Potter. 

Yeah. I wish.


                                                              Prologue 

With him around, I got away with more things than I should have been able to. I was a leader, people knew, and they became my followers. No one could doubt that I had power amongst my peers, and I liked it.

I guess though, if mum and my father hadn't seemed to have an unhealthy disgust for his existence, I wouldn't have been where I was in status. My old clothes draping him like a circus tent added to my controlling ability. Not to mention the fact that he was uncontrollably skinny while I was a wrestling champion.

There was always something weird about him, I knew it from the beginning. Mum kept her distance, and I being her "little boy" followed suit. She shoved him into the cupboard in the stairwell when he was 3, and he stayed there for more than 7 years.

My father was especially annoyed with him, threatening with no food or daylight. He seemed determined to exclude him from our perfect family. A family outing? Call Mrs. Figg! He'll do something terrible. I was jealous of the cake he got at Figg's house. He liked the cake I think. I know I would have. 

Family outings were more fun with him around, but I couldn't tell my father that. He gave me something to do. All except that one visit to the zoo. I will never forgive him for causing me to fall in that water. 

But I’ll tell you about that later.

My Auntie Marge expected us to crush him like a bug. She had something against his birth parents I expect, because she threw looks of disgust at him. I only liked her for the presents she gave me, so I expect he hated her. She gave him dog bones and such. I got computers and scooters. She told me that he was a peasant and I was king.

My school, Smeltings, "did not accept such filth as him, and recommended he go to a special institute." He was mercilessly made fun of in the primary grades, the teachers giving him detention every day for some reason. They said he was a no good boy.
I was expected to believe all of them.

Plus, my community pretty much hated him. They thought he was extremely weird and pitied my mother for having to keep him. My friends especially teased him. We chased him and we beat him up.

And I was proud of it.

At the time, I couldn't understand why my parents spoke in hushed tones about him, as if they were scared. Hah! I could beat him up with one fist, and they cowered from him.

So my fun was in making him miserable. It wasn't a great idea, but it passed the time. He wasn't scared of me though, so I took it to the extreme annoying him.

Everyone I knew said I hated my cousin. My teachers said it. My friends said it. My family, neighbors, and even just random people said it.

And I believed them.

I regret that.


A/N: Sorry it's so short, the chapters get longer soon after. This was my first fan fiction piece, so let me know what you think please! <Revised with the help of my MAGNIFICANT beta, Aurora Dawn.>

Chapter 2: The Vanished Glass
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A/N-Disclaimer: This Chapter was taken a lot from HPSS (HPPS), but I do not own any of JK's brilliant work.

(I wish I did though.)
         
                                                  The Vanished Glass

I minded my own business on my eleventh birthday, he just happened to be able to talk to snakes.

It all started with the fake crying I initiated as a plan to not let him come with us. Mum was sympathetic. She knew what it was like to have someone-a family member to be exact- ruin your day, or life. She never told me this, but I'm not stupid. I know there is a reason why we never talk of his parents.

Then Piers, my partner in crime, came in, and I stopped pretending. I was the leader after all, and crying-even fake- was outlawed in our gang. He gave my cousin a look worthy of a rat and we snickered. The next second though, he was in the backseat with us blabbering on about flying motorcycles.

Father had no patience for "pretend talk," which he did a lot. He had weird dreams, read comics and books, all of which father hated. He hated "pretend talk" even more than my cousin's never ending questions.

If Father heard him say something ridiculous, he would do one of the following: stop reading the newspaper, stop eating, stop talking, swerve on the road, and scream. This particular time, it was the swerving and screaming.

"MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

"I know they don't." He had replied. "It was only a dream."

Piers and I snickered again, which we did a lot to him. I though, was somewhat interested. Flying motorcycles-that sounded cool.

I should have realized then that the day was about to go downhill in both our favors. Father bought him a lemon pop, and let him finish my first Knickerbocker Glory. On top of that, it was a crowded, hot day. We decided to take refuge in the reptile house.

It was cold and dark in there, and really felt like the jungle. There were some stupid, boring animals like "cam-lions" and brightly colored frogs. I wanted to see the king though. The Python.

 It was sleeping, and was the most boring thing ever. I could get more fun out of watching him sleep, because he talked and moaned. "Boring." Piers and I agreed after father couldn't wake it up, and went to look at some smaller snakes. 

Piers I guess, kept a weary eye on the Python, probably because he had walked over to it. The next thing I knew, Piers was over there, yelling for me and father to come look. I huffed over. (I was a little hefty in those days, now I am a healthy 298 lbs, thank you very much.)

 I shoved him to get a better view and he winced. "Sorry." I shrugged and mouthed. I got a view alright, but not from the place I was expecting to.

Piers and I were dripping with water as the snake slithered past us. I think I screamed like a girl, so the one good thing was that the glass was soundproof. 

Glass?



After we had been clothed and dried, we sat with the zookeeper. He was mighty annoying, repeating, "But the glass...where did the glass go?" Piers and I were to bewildered to talk, but when Piers did, it was rude. 

"Well we don't know, now do we?"

I do not think we will be going back to that zoo anytime soon.

A/N: The cam-lion is a chameleon, definitely not boring! And the frogs were supposed to be poisoned dart frogs, also very cool.  

Please read and review, I really would love to know what you think! I am most definitely not perfect, so criticize people! Thank you to my first reviewers!


Chapter 3: Pig Tale (pun intended)
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Disclaimer: I do not own Dudley Dursley, only his most intimate thoughts.



                                                  Pig Tale (pun intended)


After a run-in with a giant man in a shack where we learned he was a wizard and had powers, he left for wizarding school. Before that, his big, fat "bodyguard" gave a final legacy: a pig's tail.

So let me tell you; going to the hospital to get a pig's tail removed from your arse isn't pleasant. So I'll just skip over the bad details, shall I? Plus, sitting for hours in that hospital before they were ready for me really brought a lot of complex things to my attention, which took my mind of the surgery.

First, my loser of a cousin was a wizard.

Second, my loser of a cousin could do magic.

Third, my loser of a cousin got all the luck.

Think of how much more popular I'd be if I could threaten with pigs tails and such! If I had magic, then I would make it perfect. I would practice and practice, and be the most famous sorcerer in the world. I would definitely be better than that "Hagrid" who I don't think knew what he was doing.

Then again, I wanted my popularity to be achieved by myself; my kicking, punching, wrestling, teasing, demanding self. I just needed someone to torment. Yah, I know. He's my cousin. But hey, he was right there! And he was asking for it-climbing the walls of the school, and tormenting my poor mum. All she wanted was to be normal, and then he had to come into our perfect lives. (I assume it was perfect anyway. I was only a bit older than him.)

Anyway, I couldn't help but feel jealous. I'm a Dursley and an Evans. Two families with a big jealousy issue. (Mum never spoke of her family though. She was ashamed.) He got to go far away where parents could do nothing to interfere…where you wouldn't have to lie about where you've been because there's no one to lie to! I would be honored and respected by all, even my parents, because I would be able to do special things to/for them.

Finally, they called me and the procedure was soon over. Mum and I were very quiet on the ride home, thankfully not back to that shack. When we were at the door, Dad chuckled. "Free at last, eh son?" It was a scared chuckle though, one that didn't believe it's own words. "And that bloody boy is long gone! I propose a bottle of brandy, eh Petunia?"

Mum nodded and kissed my cheek. "There's a gift for my brave little boy in the sitting room."

Groan. Little Boy. How many more times would I have to tell her to stop calling me that? And another present? The only thing that would now make me happy would be to get powers and go away with him.

School started out simple and stupid as usual although it was a new one. Smeltings had nothing special to offer in my case. It was farther away though, and I got away with much more…physical stuff let's just say.

Although I went to a rich-kids school where the teachers were pretty much paid to put up with us, I missed my regular punching bag. Piers missed him too. It confused him at first that he was no longer going to Stonewall. I had to explain countless times that he had got in a run-in with the law and now had to go to a criminal school-St. Brute's. Once it got through Piers's thick head though, he started blurting to the world; "DUDLEY'S GOT A CRIMINAL FOR A COUSIN!"

Though I had cowered at first, (I was worried about my behind if someone found the truth,) having a criminal for a cousin worked to my advantage. I was asked dozens of questions, and instantly raised to the top of the social ladder.

Thanks to him.


A/N: Hope you liked this revised version.

So, while I was writing I was thinking, (duh) “If Dudley could go to Hogwarts, what house would he be in?” I thought “Hufflepuff b/c even though he is mean enough to be in Slytherin, he is not sly.” When you REVIEW, tell me what you think!



Now some urgent business to discuss:  Reviews! I’m not perfect and if you want me to go on I need critism and ideas! Sorry it’s short again.



Thank you to my first reviewers! I appreciate the time you took to read and review my story. Elfgal, hannah17, lunarlovegood, Timechild, TheJealousOne, Loonylovegood, neo_pets17, adodcefa, Horselover328, NiennasMoon, GinnyAlamalexia, Lizzy Leigh, and ginwannabe, you guys rock!



Chapter 4: The Best And Worst Birthday
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Some of this is taken/adapted from Jo's work.  I am sorry if I bore you. I'm also sorry it took so long. The validators thought I had too many quotes from the book. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Dudley although I wish I did. Tell me what you think; can I do a better job with him than Jo?



JUST KIDDIN! Here’s the next chapter; it’s longer!
      


The Best And Worst Birthday



The school year went by easily and harshly. Easily, meaning I didn’t do anything but bully and fail, harshly meaning I didn’t do anything but bully and fail. Mum and Father didn’t say anything about my grades. Dad said he had been a “late bloomer” too. Late bloomer, hah! I could have gotten B’s if I had wanted to. I just had more important things to do, such as tormenting the squirt from down the block.



 


Finally, the school year was at a close. Two days after I got out, we had to go to the train station to get him. He was at platform 9 ¾. Father thought that was the funniest thing. He was delighted at the prospect of not being able to find the place he would come home to. I however, was excited. I wanted to hear all about this special school. Mum was looking utterly terrified.


“Mum, what’s wrong?”



“Oh Darling, these…wizards,” she whispered the last word, as if afraid the world would scold her, “Can be very dangerous people.”



“They can?” I questioned.



She gave me a pointed look at my bottom. Oh. I gave her a small look of anxiety.



That’s when he came over. Father was looking absolutely embarrassed. He took my cousin by the scruff of his coat. “Get to the car. Don’t talk. Push your luggage.” He didn’t argue, but he did send me a smirk as he walked past. I jumped. Could the school year have changed him from the easy-going toothpick to a dangerous wizard like mum had said?



The car ride home was cramped and tense. He was fiddling with a stick. I gulped. A wand, maybe? A magic wand? Like in the story books?



His owl would not shut up. She was really pretty, I have to say, but she was downright obnoxious. After the fourth squawk, father pulled of the road.



“Shut up that Bloody owl!”


“I can’t.” He muttered. “She’s scared. She’s never been in a car before. Maybe I could let her fly behind us.”



“Don’t you dare let it out of this car! I’ll put both of you back in that cupboard!”



The owl must have gotten the message, because the ride was silent after that.



____________________________________________________________________________________



For the first week or so of the summer, he stayed in his room, only coming out at meals to cook and be yelled at. I confronted him one suppertime when I was getting very hungry.



“Can’t you use that…stick to make dinner go faster?”


He smiled, a little evilly. “Do you want me to?” He pulled it out and pointed it at my behind. “Backity offity, Duddleyo.”



I stepped back. Now he was really scaring me. “Mum! Mum! He’s threatening me with that stick!”



She ran into the room. “How dare you.” She hissed. “You are not to use that…you are not to take it out in our sight.” He put It back in his pocket.



I honestly don’t know why he was being so mean to me. The worst I had ever done was ground him to a pulp and brake his glasses. Not that much harm. He had gotten better anyway.








The next breakfast was in particularly interesting, if not scary. I was hungry and wanted more bacon. Guess it was the wrong time to ask, because him and Dad had just had a row.



I asked him to pass the frying pan.



“You’ve forgotten the magic word.” He replied smugly.



I gasped. Was I magic? Could I summon the frying pan by saying something such as jigulous pickulous? I fell onto the floor. Imagine, magic! At last! I looked up. I was so excited I couldn’t wait to tell mum. I opened my mouth but father had to speak.



“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT SAYING THE ‘M’ WORD IN OUR HOUSE?”



He stuttered and father yelled. A lot.



I toned Father out, I had just realized something. He had meant please, obiously. Come on. I wanted powers. I wanted to be special!

I continued eating my meal and father started grilling me about what to do when our dinner guests got here. I droned about taking their coats when they arrived. Then we went through what to do in the lounge. I acted out asking if I could take Mrs. Mason into the lauge, then put out my arm to be funny. Mum took it as practice and went on about her little gentleman and all that. Crap. I really didn’t want to sit through this dinner.




Then I had to go on about a school project about heroes. Like I had actually done that project! And I sure wouldn’t do it on that idiot. Anyone thick enough to buy from…never mind.



I then went outside to toment him for the night before. I said something I thought would touch a nerve.


“Today’s your birthday. How come you haven’t got any cards? Haven’t you even got friends at that freak place?” I was hoping to make him feel guilty and alone. Like he had made me feel all school year. Yet, his only reply was about mum not hearing me talk about his school.


That conversation ended with him pretending to use magic, mum scolding him, him doing work, and me eating ice cream.



____________________________________________________________________________________




The dinner was a disaster.



Like usual, because of him.



A/N: Okay, hope you liked the chapter. See you later!



Yah, I’m kidding. That’s just usually how I end, you know, “Thanks to him.” I couldn’t’ resist. OK. I’ll stop blabbing and let you get on with the story.




The beginning of the evening went well I guess. Well meaning I was bored out of my mind. Dad told some stupid jokes. He was in the middle of a really funny one when we heard some noises upstairs. Mum, Father and I exchanged looks. Dad excused himself. While he was gone, the Mason’s asked me questions. No offense to Father, they seemed more interested about me than the drills.



“So you go to Smelting’s?”


“Yes sir.”



“They teach good manners.”

“It seems so ma’am.”



She laughed. “How cute! We only ever had a daughter. I always wanted a little boy!”

Little? Ugh.



Father finally came back. A few minutes later, all hell broke lose.



1.)   The pudding mum had artfully made that morning smashed onto the floor. We all screamed and turned to see him, covered in dark chocolate. He grimaced.



        2.)   A large owl, like his but larger and brown, delivered a letter into his hands. After the Mason’s left, he read it and grimaced again.



From what I heard, he was not allowed to use magic outside of school. That was a relief to me. To mum and father too.



Dad barred him up and banned him from going to school. Mum fed him soup through a flap. I laughed from behind the door. Then I felt sickened. I wanted to help him so he would tell me all about the magic school. The door was locked well though, and it creaked.



One morning, Dad took me aside.



“Dudders, I want you to be a good boy and promise me something. You’ll get a nice reward in return.”



OoO, a reward. Who cared? “Sure, father.”



“I looked you cousin up, but you never know. He might escape. At night. That’s the easiest time, you know? I want you to get him if he wakes up. Come get me. You sleep much lighter than I do.” I nodded. “That’s m’boy.”



Then I made the silent decision not to wake my father.



____________________________________________________________________________________



One night, father’s fear came true. Three of his friends came in a flying car to get him. I pretended to snore even while I heard him talking. Two people scurried down the stairs and into the cupboard. They retrieved his books and stuff I expect. Then they packed up the car. I opened my window to get a better view, and his owl heard. She hooted. “Shit.” I thought.



I ran to his room, right behind mum and father.



He screamed something that sounded like “see you.” Then they were off. Father was furious.



Man. “Why does he get to do all the good stuff? And why does he always have the good lines?” I wondered.



But I did feel some reassurance knowing that I saved him about two minutes. He owed me big time.


A/N: Sorry guys, now I actually am done. I hope you enjoyed. How do you like my little cliffie? Isn’t it cute? LALOL. (Laugh a lot out loud. I use it a lot. Get used to it.) Anyway, we all know how Harry ‘pays back,’ so it’s not really a clifie is it?




PS: I am looking for a better name for this chapter. If you think of one, let me know!



I hoped you liked, and THANK YOU to my awesome new reviewers! I’m not putting your names here because I it’s too confusing, but each of you have a special place in my heart! LALOL.





Chapter 5: Dennis and Diaries
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A/N You will be surprised to hear that I own everything except the characters this time. So, this is a short a/n, so enjoy and I’ll talk to you later!~


 


Piers Polkiss and I met in primer school, year four. It was the day he pushed me into the mud and I smacked his lip. (I was obviously more aggressive.) We were both sent to the headmistress who gave us detention for 3 weeks.


 


So, we had to clap erasers after school. This involved getting a lot of chalk dust in our throats and racing to the water fountain.


 


“Move over, will you?” I rasped. He had gotten there quicker, being less large than I was. He gave me a slight look and went back to his water. I rolled my eyes. Finally, two minutes later, he moved over and slumped to the floor.


 


“Ahh,” He sighed. “That felt good.”


 


It did feel good. My throat had to be as dry as the Amazon dessert. Wherever that was. Wait. Amazon? No, that’s a rain forest, right? I dunno. My throat was as dry as some dessert place. You get the picture.


 


I slid down next to him and put out my hand, as if we hadn’t met before. “Dursley.”


 


He shook it easily. “Polkiss. Piers Polkiss.”


 


Soon the teacher who was doing our detention came over with the cane to get us back into the room. We scampered back in. “Dudley Dursley.” I whispered as we assumed our clapping positions, aware that I hadn’t told him my first name.


 


“Mates?” He asked later.


 


“Mates.”


 





 


Three years later and we were still clapping erasers. Nothing much had changed between us. He was still lanky; I was still intrigued with food. The school year was amazing for us. He wasn’t there to give us more of a bullying outlet, but we enjoyed out power anyway. He had been going to that school for two years, and now without him, Piers and I spent numerous hours together.


 


“Bey Budley!” His mouth was full of ice cream. He swallowed. “Whaddyah say we ‘play’ in the playground?”


 


That was our keyword for getting free ice cream. Our means of getting the money were simple. We would walk up to one of the kids on the teeter totter. I would put my foot down on the plank so no matter how hard the other kid pushed, they wouldn’t be able to go up and down. One kid would be stuck in the air, and the other trapped by my foot.


 


“Hey kids.” Piers would joke, nudging me. “Wanna ice cream?”


 


Most of the kids nodded, it all depended. We tried not to do it to little girls, because they had a knack of crying for their mummies.


 


Then I would roll up my sleeve and sneer; “so would we.” By then, if they weren’t terrified, they thought it was a big joke. Once, we had this kid who gave us a lot of cheek. He told me that he had dairy allergies, nut allergies, caramel allergies, fruit allergies, chocolate allergies, and all kinds of other stuff. God, he was annoying. He finally just left him there blabbing about all his allergies. His name was Mark Evans. We vowed to get him one day.


 


Anyway, after we would sneer, we would reach into their pockets to see what they had, most of it was pocket money, so we were in luck. Piers would take the kid on top, and I would reach into the pockets of the kid I was holding back. Once, I found a yo-yo. That same time Piers found a worm. That kid was more concerned about his worm than the other kid was about his yo-yo. Sad, I thought.


 


Simple, yet effective. It worked every time.


 


There was one time though. The experience scared me half to death. I just wasn’t expecting it…


 


There was this little boy, one of the two stupid brothers from the next town over. Their Dad was our milkman. His name was David. Or Dan. Or Mike. I don’t know. Anyway, he had a big brother, but we had heard he went to boarding school, so it was just the little kid all by himself.


 


He was singing very quietly. We snuck behind him and listened.


 


“…Teach us something please. Whether we are young or old or bald with…” He scratched his head, trying to remember the words. “Purple knees!” He exclaimed. Piers and I fell over laughing. No matter what the words were, we could tell you “purple knees” were not part of the song. The boy looked at us quizzically. “Do you know the song?”


 


Piers was trying to keep a straight face. “No, can you teach me?” He gave me a look.


 


The boy smiled. How gullible. “It’s from the school my brother Colin goes to. He’ll be home in the summer. It’s a special school for special people. Like him! I Hope I get to go there too, I mean it’s supposed to…”


 


I was rolling on the floor. This kid thought his juvenile delinquent brother went to a “special school.” And he wanted to go there too! But then he started singing again.


 


“Hogwarts, Hogwarts teach us something please, whether we are…”


 


One word in particular caught my ear. “What did you say boy?” I interrupted his singing.


 


“You’ll have to call me by my real name if you want my attention.” He remarked in that remarkably high voice of his.


 


“Sorry, your highness.” Piers sniggered. “What is thy name?” He curtsied, but I was still looking at the boy with an open mouth.


 


“M’name’s Dennis Creevy!” He exclaimed. “The song goes “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, teach us something p-”


 


I stopped him short by pushing him backwards. “Did you say Hogwarts?”


 


“Yup, yup.” He scrambled to his feet. “That’s the school. I get to go when I’m 11 I think. Yes, 11, that’s the age. Only two more years, I’m nine! How old are you?” We didn’t answer. He didn’t wait. “Well, time for supper, see you around!” He hobbled over to the gate and walked down the path to the milkman cart. His father joined him and they drove away.


 


“That was weird,” Piers started. “Weird little kid, phew! You’d think they’d put him in that special school already wouldn’t you? He’s crazy! And what kind of name is “Hogwarts” anyway? Is it an asylum? You know, it’s too bad he didn’t stick around. I bet he would have given us all his pocket money if we asked.”


 


All I could do was nod. “Yah.”


 




I ran home to mum. “Mum, I...” I was about to ask her to tell me everything she knew about his world. She turned around quickly from tidying the desk. Too quckly. Hmm…


 


“I have to go to the washroom Dudleykins. Give mummy one minute, then I’ll fix supper!” She slammed the drawer shut before leaving.


 


I nodded. As soon as her back was turned I seized the drawer and pulled it open. Inside was an old fashioned diary. It was brown. I flipped it open. I recognized my mother’s thick but neat handwriting.

September 1st, 1972
Dear Diary,
Lily started Hogwarts today, and I am very sad. I want to go too, and so badly. Instead, I have to go to the local public school. I hope they are nicer than the kids in last year's school... 


 


 


The first line alone made me drop the book like a hot potato. My prim and proper mother had had the same fantasies as I did? No wonder! I picked the book up and kept reading.

...It's not my fault I have such a horrid name.

Anyway, when Lily walked through that wall, I felt myself rip inside. I am going to miss her dearly.


  


Been there, done that. It wasn’t quite a rip, but a pain. And it wasn’t in my butt.


 
So now Mum and I are going to buy some new things. I absolutley hate shopping. Usually she brings Lily, her little dress-up-doll. I have a feeling I'm going to be going wi-


 


“Put. It. Down.” I heard a voice behind me.


 






 


A/N You know, I could be mean and stop here. Lucky for you, I’m nice. It’s just a bit longer though.


BTW, the journal entry Petunia makes corresponds somewhat with my other ff, “Chrysanthemum Evans.” So when your done, if you haven’ checked it out and you liked this I suggest you do!


 


Recap:


 


“Put. It. Down.” I heard a voice behind me.






 


 


“Mum really, I didn-” I wheeled around to find…my father?


 


“Father! I…I…”


 


He chuckled. “I was just as curious at your age. Did you read anything, son?”

“No.” I lied easily.


 


“Well then, you know, we could just keep this our little secret.”


 


I nodded, thankful. “Why don’t you just put that back where you found it?” He suggested. I nodded again. He left with a grunt of “Is supper going to be ready soon?” I snuck one last look at the diary.

...-the her every time from now on. I hate shopping, but I guess it will be good to spend time with mum. I feel we are very distant, especially because she thinks Lily is so special and i'm so...so...normal.

-P. Evans


  


I took a deep breath and put the diary down, my head reeling with what I had read.


 


 


A/N So this was a rather long one, I hope you liked. I will be back with the next chapter ASAP. Please leave a review so I can fix up what you don’t like!


 


Chapter 6: When the Aunts Come Marching In
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A/N: Wow, it’s great to be back. I couldn’t wait to get this up after the queue closure, because it seemed to go on FOREVER.



I took a liberty in this chapter and changed one of JK’s lines. “Dudley had spent most of his summer in the kitchen…as he ate continually.” I had to have him doing something all summer!



Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I would not be sitting here waiting for validation, I would be going to my publisher and seeing my story out in print.

                                                    When the Aunts Come Marching In



It had been months since I found the diary; 7 to be exact. Now it was July. My favorite of months, for a few reasons, was here. I could watch t.v. at every meal, I could travel around the town as I pleased, beating up kids and gaining popularity, eat as much as I wanted, and most of all, make fun of him.




His wizard friend had tried to call him using the telephone. That was a fun site to see; Father squinting and turning purple and such. I happened to be in the room when he slammed the telephone back on it’s rocker, and yelled at him. It was a little horrifying to see Father so mad really. I guess I get my intimidation skills from him, eh?



Piers and I went out every day to get some ice cream and build up our gang. We had a one other now, a good puncher named Malcolm. We played a game I dubbed “Hunting” which included the name of whoever we were “hunting” that day. Usually, it was him. We liked variety though.  



My favorite ice cream was vanilla; it was plain and simple and could be topped with everything. Piers liked pistachio, (don’t ask me why) and Malcolm would eat nothing but chocolate. We would sit on the swings we had broken earlier in the year and discuss our plans. Although none would have guessed, we were very organized.



“Dud, I’ve got to be home by 4 today.” Malcolm groaned. “Me mum thinks she’s gonna take me out to look for a suit.” Piers nodded sympathetically. I raised my eyebrows and lifted my fist. It was meaty, sweaty, and grimy.



“Then we will just have to get on without you. Right Piers?”



Malcom jumped of the swing, his fists raised too. “I mean, I could try and get out of it or something.”



I nodded and went back to my ice cream. “Why don’t we stop her from getting home?”



Malcolm’s mother was one of the few who worked during the summer. She needed to support all 4 of her kids and drunken husband.



Pier’s eyes widened in excitement. He was the one with the ideas. “We could deflate the tires with rocks,” His eyes flashed. “The walk is pretty short. I expect we could get there in 15 minutes.”



“But since the walk is short, she would still get home.” Malcolm told Piers.



“I betya she would be so tired and frustrated she wouldn’t give a bloody care where you were though.” I cut in, pleased with myself. “C’mon guys.”


That was just one little adventure. I was right, his Mum was not happy. She couldn’t even pay the air conditioning bills for weeks; she had to save up for a new tire. Pier’s wasn’t so happy about that one either.


So sometimes we got in trouble, but usually we were off the hook considering how “good” I was. It was a great summer. A great summer that is, until the very end of July, beginning of August.







  I was watching the television and planning my activities for the day when I heard who was visitng.



My Auntie Marge.



Ahhhhh!



She loves to smother me in kisses, squeeze my cheeks, give me hundreds of expensive presents when all I really want is a new set of boxing gloves, and teases him. That’s my job!



Anyway.


She came with her dogs every time.



And I absolutley hate canines.
 


One time, her dog chased me around the yard for two whole minutes when he stepped on it’s tail! Before he came out and distracted it, I thought I was a goner. I guess I owe him one. Anyway, the dog chased him up the Mongolia tree in the garden. Aunt Marge told me I did well, bringing it out to the lawn. She pinched my cheek, gave me a hug, told me a joke, and went to get more brandy. The joke was funny, so I laugh every time someone mentions that day.



Anyway, I turned and smiled, remembering the joke. Then I watched father talk to him. From what I gathered, he was going to pretend that he went to a criminal school for boys. That required effort on his part, hah! He had to lie, eh? My perfect cousin, lying! Humph.



I turned back to the television and started watching again. Father asked me if I wanted to come to get Aunt Marge. Was he crazy? No way was I spending any more time with that woman than I had to. After breakfast I retreated to the sitting room to watch the television in there and pass the time before…she came.







“Where’s my Neffers? Where’s my Dudley-poo?”



God, would it be nice to be invisible today. I trudged into the foyer. He was holding the suitcase. I had to surpress a smile. It looked heavy. “Hullo.” I muttered as she squashed my face, something most people do not even attempt to do. But, I did get paid to hug her. That meant I could save up for something big…I don’t know what yet. I didn’t like asking mum and father for everything, though they would have given it to me.


Everyone retreated into the kitchen, and I knew what that meant. Food! I ate my first piece and half my second piece of fruitcake before he came back down.



Now, I have always had a special talent. When I eat, I can tune anyone out. So I was eating my fruitcake and drinking my tea and I didn’t look up until I heard her ridicule him for still being here. She asked him if they used the cane at his make-beleive school. “All the time.” He answered. Then he went upstairs.



Over the next few days, I received four new computer games, three movies I already had, seven big bars of chocolate, and ice cream whenever I wanted. My cousin got a sliver of my chocolate, which I gave to him. He didn’t even say thanks. He just went on eating. Rude, yes?



The funniest part of her visit was when the wine glass exploded. I still don’t know if it was her “firm grip” that did it, or him.



Soon after that, the problems erupted. Aunt Mage started talking badly about his parent’s and their death, which I now know was not a car crash. He got very upset. I didn’t know the whole conversation because I was eating, but after he screamed that they didn’t die in a car crash, I looked up. Aunt Marge was obviously chocking on her words. “They died in a car crash.” She assured him, and was to say more, if she hadn’t blown up like a balloon. My father and mother tried to grab onto her leg as she blowed up and up…higher and higher…the Ripper, the dog, bit onto my father’s leg and father yelped. That’s the thing I hate about dogs. They are obviously evil and waiting to take over the world someday.



So, I was watching him the whole time she was floating. He soon ran to his room. I made to follow him, but mum called, “Dudley, stay! We’ll punish him! Don’t worry sweetims. We’ll get aunty all right soon.”



He came down. Trunk, cage, and magic wand in hand. He yelled at my mother and father, slammed the door, and left.



I raced upstairs, muttering “bathroom” to my parents, who I think were in shock. Really, I ran to my room and looked out the window, which showed me the street he was walking on.



So I watched the boy who had blown up my least favorite aunt walk out of my life, for a year, at least.



A/N: Hey everyone, it’s great to be back! I hope you liked this chapter, it was fun to write about Marge blowing up. And poor, poor, Malcom. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.



So please leave a review and tell me what I need to fix, or come visit me at my author’s page and ask some questions!


Chapter 7: Rugby
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Hey everyone, I’m back. Sorry about the wait. I have been having some huge difficulties with my computer. I hope this one proves satisfactory.

Anyway, here we go!

Disclaimer: Am I richer than the queen of England? No.


                                                                 Rugby

 
Another September 1st, another start of a school year. This one though, promised to be better than the last. No more freaky kids or spooky diaries. That was all in the back of my mind, destined to be forgotten.

But it couldn’t be.

With Aunt Marge’s explosion and his leave, I just couldn’t forget the two occurrences. They all added up, in a freaky, paranoid way, and I knew something was going to happen.

But thankfully, not this year.




I was thirteen and everything seemed to be perfect. I wasn’t interested in girls yet, and neither was the rest of my gang, so we had ample time to prank instead of gawk. To us, girls were just there for later. As of now, they were beneath us.

In the third year, we were supposed to try some sports so we could decide what we wanted in 4th year. I had a hard time deciding which one I wanted. Soccer was out of the question, I thought it was stupid. Basketball was unpopular and also quite stupid. I wasn’t about to play cricket, and track and field were out as soon as they were mentioned. I was not a good runner. Rugby was fun, but I thought that neither of my friends were bulky enough to play, but at the tryouts they proved me wrong. We were a tight knit circle so we were happy that we could all play the game during gym. Piers was fast and could throw quite well. Malcolm was really an all-around athlete, so he was good with anything as long as he could show off his muscles. 

We even requited 2 new boys for our gang. Dennis (not the weird Creevy kid,) and Gordon. We knew them before, but didn’t really associate until the first rugby practice.

“Move over, you.” Malcolm grunted to a boy almost twice the size of him.  The boy raised his eyebrows, but obliged when he saw me glaring as well. The coach was a tall, skinny, balding man. He was so pleased with the team that he decided to put us into a competition with other schools in the area.

We had our first game on a Sunday soon after that, Piers, Malcolm, and I had been the kings of the game. The three of us each got more points than the rest of the team combined. That Sunday though, someone proved us wrong. We were not the champs. The big boy who Malcolm had annoyed was.

He lead our team to a victory, winning by over 20 points, and damaging many of the other team members. With one look at each other, Malcolm, Piers, and I had the same thought. 

New gang member.




We confronted the boy, Gordon the day after the game at school. We instructed him to meet us by the garbage cans before the bell rang and then we seriously asked him the question.

“Gordon.” I stated. “Would you like to be part of our gang?” He raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Is this a joke?” The bloke asked us. “You three actually want me to join you?” We nodded, again.

“But we will take the invitation away if you don’t say soon.” Piers cut in, loudly. I looked at him. That wasn’t like him at all. I would have to ask him about that later. 

“Alright,” Gordon said slowly, and we looked at each other, excited. “Your initiation starts on-.” I said excitedly until I glanced down and saw his expression.

“Alright.” He repeated, “But only if my mate Dennis can join too.” I looked at my friends. They looked just as surprised as I was.

“We would…we would have to see him.” Malcolm said slowly. “We have to see if he’s right, you know?”

Gordon smiled. “I think you will be quite pleased with him.”

 



Dennis, as we found out, could not stop talking. He was just like that other Dennis…maybe it was in the blood line. People with the same names are related, right? 

Kidding. Kidding. I’m not that stupid.

Wait…


A/N: At this point, Dudley and I got into a little argument. Sorry for the inconvenience, that’s why the chapter took so long. “Big D” can be very forceful. We agreed to what I wrote before, after I made him take an IQ test. He didn’t do as badly as I thought he would…kidding Duds! But now I’ll let you get back to him.

So Dennis was a talker, and a planner. He had brains, none of us denied it, we needed him for it. Pier’s and my plans only went so far. Dennis also idolized us, we soon found out. Gordon told us that ever since we bashed Tim Stoone, a bully who teased Dennis for his size, he had talked only of my gang. That gave me a warm, fuzzy, feeling.


After our little meeting, Dennis stood up. “I have something to show you.” He smiled. Eager. Too eager if you ask me, but Gordon assured us he could be like that. Dennis jumped up and pulled a shelf out of the filing cabinet. (We were in the detention room, a room I knew only too well.) He lay a piece of paper on the table and smiled up at me. Raising our eyebrows, Piers, Malcolm, and I glanced down. In front of us on the table was a design- a blue print if you will. There was an elaborate plan of how to snitch food from the kitchens, how to get to school using a faster route, and even a passage from the local park to the school yard-underground!

 Within a few days all our plans were in action. Dennis and Gordon were let in with an initiation “rain check,” so we could get started. We not only stole food from the cafeteria, but from the teacher’s lounge. We snuck out before Rugby practice and baught ice cream. The only negative was that we got booted off the rugby team. 

At the time, I didn’t count the gained weight.




Even with the year drawing to a close, our bullying did not cease. We wanted to get everything in before Malcolm went to his dad’s for the summer. He was upset that he was going to miss “hunting” my cousin, but I assured him we would. 

Peirs however, did not look excited at the prospect of summer. Because he was my one and only real friend, I asked him why.

“Dude…what’s up?”

Peirs looked up and down at the floor. “Dudley, man, it’s nothing.” I however, didn’t believe him. I squinted my eyes in what my gang calls “The Look.” “No, really,” he assured me. “It’s no-nothing.”

“Ah ha!” I exclaimed. “You stuttered!” Piers could have been a professional public speaker. He was always sure of himself. “You stuttered, you stuttered….” I went on.

“Shut up!” He cried. I stepped back, my goal accomplished. “Just because you have new gang members doesn’t mean you can ignore me! I thought I was better than them, but no-o. New gang members, why not? Why not let the whole school in? Why not degrade Piers to a…” He trailed off, his face completely red. It had dawned on him that he had told me exactly what he was hiding. My mouth must have been opened. I shut it. 

“I didn’t realize you felt that way, buddy. I never meant to degrade you…its just that all the famous gangs in history had more than four people, you know?” He nodded.

“Alright Dudley.” 

So after we kicked some cans, we made our way home, hoping for a better summer than the previous.


A/N: Hey, hope you enjoyed. This chapter was a bit different to write because I actually hand-wrote a portion of it. I’m surprised I could read it afterwards. :-)

Anyway, if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to:

 a.) leave a review

 b.) OWL me,

c.) visit my author’s page

 d.) do all of the above. 

Choice ‘D’ earns you a 100 and a free dessert…next chapter ASAP!

Chapter 8: Rabbit Food
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Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling, I would….I would be a lot of things. Writing fan fiction would not be one of them.


Sorry this took so long, enjoy!



Rabbit Food


There was still three full weeks of school and they were not going well.


Sure Piers and I had worked everything out, but there was still a feeling of unease between us. He thought I was keeping too much from him, and in reality, he was right. Inside of me, I had hundreds, thousands of secrets bottled up, just itching to be released as soon as summer started.


You see, the only place I could be perfectly honest was at home, during summer.


There was no possible way I could be honest with myself during the school year.


While he was away I spent time trying to convince myself that he didn’t frighten me. “I am much better than he is.” I repeatedly reminded myself. I had friends, and tons of them. He had a few, and they were obviously stupid, not even able to use a telephone properly. I was better in the eyes of my parents, I was better at sports. I was better at everything. This is what I convinced myself every school year.


Then summer vacation started again, and I realized I had no place. I had no idea. His friends didn’t keep in touch to my knowledge; they had their own ways of communicating. I was of course better to my parents, I was their son. I was better at sports…yeah, ones like ditching. He was superior to me in every way and the only way to keep him in the down low was to constantly lie to him, myself, and my gang.





“Guess who’ll be home soon!” Piers sneered to me. “Our favorite chew toy. You’ll let is know the exact date, yea?”


“Course.” I muttered. “We shouldn’t miss that day.”


Around me, the boys laughed. We were seated at the park on a lazy Sunday. It was our favorite day of the week. Free ice cream every hour. We still used the method Piers and I had devised so long ago to get it. He was content with that at least. 




Last day. It was funny how in two months I would be saying the same two words, but instead with regret.


Customarily, all the students go to the nurse on the last day for final weight and height checks.


“Nice Duds, another two inches!” She had taken the heights at the beginning of winter vacation. I had grown a lot before that too. The nurse was nice. She always gave me a lollipop whenever I went to see her. Usually it was for a bruise. She seemed somewhat suspicious when I told her that it was from tripping. Who cared anyway though? Mum and father would never find out what I had really been doing.


“Well your height is great Dud, now up-up, on the scale.” She treated all the kids the same- like first years. “Lets see.” She moved the marking weights around. “You are a healthy…” She gasped and looked at me over her spectacles. “Dudley, can you please go sit in that chair over there while I write something down?” I nodded and went to where she was pointing.


About seven minutes later she came out of her office. “Dudley, I need you to give this letter to your parents, k?” Again with the two year old. I nodded. They couldn’t get too upset about it whatever it is.


Besides, once I got home, I would have other things to worry about. The day after I finished school would be the day that father was going to go and pick him up from King’s Cross.


I passed a note to Piers during our last hour of biology. “Guess whose coming.”


“Ah ha!” He scribbled in that pig scrawl of his.


“Yeah.” I wrote back.


“Get a back-bone Duds! It’s not like he’s about to tell anyone or anything. He has no one, remember?”


“Right.”




“HE HAS A BLOODY GODFATHER!” I heard father roaring as I came into the house. “A BLOODY MASS-MURDERER FOR A GODFATHER!”



Mum was shaking. Her voice was so delicate next to his. “Are you sure he wasn’t just saying that to make us think....” Father cut her off.


“No Petunia. It’s real. I saw a letter. A bloody letter. He’s not alone anymore.”


There was a moment of silence in which I decided I better make a run for my room. But then;

“This is all your fault.”


“My fault? Vernon, how could this possibly be my fault?”


“It was your bloody sister and that…that…that husband of hers! Their stupid world, their stupid ‘magic.’ I’m sick of this Petunia. I want a normal life. He has to go! Next summer he is not coming back here!”


“Vernon, we made a promise, we have to keep him, Vernon…he’s Lily’s son!”


Deep breaths.


“I thought you hated Lily.”


“She was my sister. I can’t entirely hate her.”


This was news to me.


“But you said…you told me…whatever. He’s going.”


“The promise!”


“PROMISES ARE MADE TO BE BROKEN!” Dad screamed into her face. I even saw bits of saliva. “YOU NEVER RAN ANYTHING PAST ME WHEN YOU DECIDED TO TAKE HIM IN. NOTHING.”


“Vernon, I didn’t realize you fe-”


“SHUT UP.”


Mum did so.


“I’m going to take a walk.”


Mum nodded, defeated for the moment. She slumped down in a chair the moment he had slammed the door. I crept quietly to my room.




I knew my parents had fights, all parents did. I also knew that he was the object of them. I didn’t realize however, how much father hated his family. Why, I didn’t know. It’s not like he had a diary I could read. I started up the stairs to my bedroom when I stopped, dead cold with realization.


Diary.


Father.

Diary.


Bedside table.


Notebook.


Bugger.




I knew I couldn’t get the diary that night. I needed time to think. And plan. This was a job I needed an accomplice for. Someone who wouldn’t tell no matter what. Someone who knew about parents struggles and was willing to help me investigate.


In truth, it was Pier’s kind of job.


Not tonight though, and probably not within the week. Probably not within the month, not even within the summer. I needed him out of the house to execute my plan.



The next morning, I ran downstairs hoping for coco bombs. Instead, I got grapefruit. I don’t even like coco bombs. I just want something not healthy.


Why healthy? Healthy because of that rat of a nurse. Healthy because apparently, ice cream adds up once you quit rugby. Piers, Malcolm, and Dennis don’t have a problem. Father says I should be proud to be “big boned.” At the moment though, I don’t trust father very much. I want a hamburger. And some fries. And an ice cream. I don’t want these carrots, or even these grapefruit quarters although I do love grapefruit.


All young children try to make their chocolate last. (Ooh, chocolate…) That is what I have been doing with my grapefruit, oranges, carrots, grapes, apples, and broccoli. (I know, broccoli!) However, I still finished my grapefruit before he even started his.


Then the doorbell rang. The infamous doorbell. Father went to answer.


I heard murmuring. When it seemed as though father was going to be a while, I ate his grapefruit. Mum would give him more; he was not the one being watched like a hawk. I found this extremely unfair. If grapefruit is good for you, why do I still have to eat small amounts?


Anyway, father came back after a few minutes. He was red as the wine he had poured for his boss last week and definitely as bitter. He directed my cousin to the living room and closed the door.

Now of course, I couldn’t just let this go by. I had to know what father was going to do to my punching bag. “Bathroom.” I muttered to mum and walked to the door which I pressed my ear upon. They were obviously already in conversation.


“Letter. You.”


What? I must be missing something. I pressed my ear even harder. It was impossible for him to be getting a letter. My gang had made sure that he had no friends in Little Winging, or anywhere else for that matter.


Anywhere else. My eyes grew wide. Wizards contacting the house!

Father read the letter and it was from his friend’s mother, inviting him to stay with them and watch footage of some game. Only the way father read it, it sounded like “footage” which a “qu.” Quittage. He had always been a peculiar man.



Then they were talking about stamps. This was now getting boring. I left the door, walked to the bathroom, flushed, and went back to the door. (I may have not been the brightest, but a few years of stealing made me quite…um…convincing?) I did the actions just to keep mum away from the hall.


I let my mind wander during their next few exchanges. I was sure that father would never ever, not in the future of Privet Drive or the Dursley family let him go. It was against the laws of nature, of science! It went against…OOF! The door had opened, and he walked out. He was smiling snidely, as if he was the king of the household. “That was an excellent breakfast, wasn’t it? I feel really full, how about you?” He laughed in my face and ran up the stairs.



How dare he! And in my house! I ought to give him a piece of my mind…or fist rather. I stood, astonished and annoyed in the hallway. Father came out. “Go eat your rabbit food Dud.”


I ate my rabbit food.




The rest of the day droned by, and the one hour I was awake the next day before father ushered me silently into the sitting room had no excitement for us normal folk. I am sure however, he felt a lot of excitement, with his best friend coming to have him watch footage of games with his family. (Now I don’t see why this would be exciting but hey, they are freaks.)


Freaks. Powerful freaks. I could not, and it seemed they would never let me, forget. Don’t give me that “I’m so innocent” look. You know exactly what I mean about powerful, memories, and freaks.


I walked warily into the sitting room and promptly put my hands on my arse. You can never be too careful. I might just end up with a horse’s tail next. 




 I admit, curiosity can get the better of many of us sometimes. They say curiosity killed the cat. Which cat, I am not quite sure. I do know however that if there is a cat involved, Mrs. Figg is probably as well.


Okay, bugger that. It wasn’t curiosity. It was greed. Greed and longing. Greed of him with his “not so secret” food stash up in his room. Longing for something other than vegetables and fruits for two months. The candy the redhead had dropped was just sitting there in the sitting room…it was so very tempting…how was I supposed to know that it was the product of some cruel joke?


I stuffed it into my mouth. The next thing I knew, my tongue was slippering and slithering out of my mouth and onto the floor. It was purple. Wouldn’t you think that a tongue would be red? Well, it’s not. It’s purple. There. You learn something new everyday.


Anyway, the only people left in the house were my parents and his friend’s father. He told me to hold still, it wouldn’t hurt a bit. I did so and he muttered some words and suddenly I felt fine.


He muttered about some plugs and electricity then went back into the fireplace. Mum and father looked at each other as to say “Aren’t you glad normal people aren’t such nutters?”


I went to bed thinking. I had rather liked the feel of magic on my lips, and wanted more. I no longer cared what dad thought or said. I would be my own person, with my own ideas and feelings and I would no longer take any crap from that man. Who needed health food? Who needed curfews? Who needed him?


The next day I was about to make a declaration. I was about to say “Mum, I do not want this goop any longer. I believe that if…”


“Eat your rabbit food Dudley.”


I ate my rabbit food.







I want to let you know, that If It wasn’t for you all preparing to throw rocks at me, I would have ended at the “I ate my rabbit food” line. I am just so partial to it. However, JK gave me so much info. to work with on Dud for this chapter that I just had to keep going. I am so glad I did. Now none of you can complain that my chapters are too short. Over 2,000 words! And as you can see, I did get my line in to be the ending. :-P  Was it too repetitive? I thought it brought the chapter-and possibly the story- together.


I have many thanks for this chapter;


1.)    The first goes to my teachers for not giving me homework on this glorious Sunday night. THANK YOU! I needed the time to finish.


2.)    The second is to my sister for lending me her computer. (She wanted to play Sims on mine, so I had no where to go but to her room and word processor 2008 which is by the way, quite nice!


3.)    The third is to my good friend Jo, (no, totally JKing, pun intended,) for giving me so much info on Dudley in this chapter and the whole series which so changed me and my life.


4.)    The fourth and final is….drum roll….to you! Thank you for sticking with Dudley so far and I hope you continue to do so. You deserve a million cookies and hot fudge sundaes and all of my leftover Halloween candy. (okay, so it’s really my sister’s. She won’t miss it. I hope.)


I am so sorry if the next chapter isn’t out for a while after this one…I do however, promise to try. I also want to work on “A Type…” and a new novel I’m planning. Also, please do check out my author’s page. I do love hearing from you guys and let’s face it, that page needs some love.


While writing this chapter, I keep thinking that Dudley must have had a major growth spurt in order to write like this. What do you think? Is it too mature and stylish (excuse my conceitedness)for him? Haha.


I hope you enjoyed and keep reading! :-) :-) :-) 

P.S. I made a refrence to a book and a movie in two of Dud's lines. If you can tell me both, I will review everything you have as a prize. Just a bit of trivia! *Hint* One of them is HP6. Good luck! XD








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