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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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