Doomed Dudley Dursley
Grunnings Drills first opened its doors on May 20th, 1940. With the world at war and in desperate need of supplies, Grunnings quickly became one of the most successful drill companies in all of Europe, and a true fixture in the smallest town of Surrey, England. However, as the world advanced, Grunnings failed to advance with it. In 2002, after 62 years in business, Grunnings Drills finally was forced to close its doors for good. Hundreds of employees walked out of those doors with no new prospects to turn to. Dudley Dursley was one of those employees.
Dudley Dursley had begun working at Grunnings immediately upon graduation from Smeltings School. His father, then a manager at Grunnings, had given him the job as had he given Dudley most everything else in his life. Now Dudley's father had no job at all, much less a job he could give to his son.
Dudley lived at number four Privet Drive with his father and mother, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Since the factory had been shut down, Dudley had spent most of his days sitting around the house, watching daytime television with his mother while his father searched for a new job. Each day his father would come home with nothing, and each day the balance of his parents savings account got smaller and smaller.
Six months passed and Dudley still found himself lazing about the house. His father had finally found a job as a shift manager at a nearby hardware store, making considerably less than he had at Grunnings. Dudley's mother found a way to contribute financially as well, taking a job cleaning houses, but only in neighborhoods at least twenty kilometers away so as to avoid judgment from the neighbors. Dudley's mother and father had attempted to nudge Dudley towards looking for a new job, but they had never been very good at standing up to him. As the money began to stretch thinner, however, so did their patience.
One evening after a long day assembling new outdoor barbecues, Vernon came home to find Dudley asleep on the couch with dishes and food wrappers all over the table and floor around him. Dudley was snoring loudly over an episode of "Father Ted" playing on the television, wearing a stained white t shirt and a pair of faded pajama pants. Vernon slammed the door, causing Dudley to jerk to consciousness. "This has gone on quite long enough!" Vernon yelled, his face turning a bright shade of red.
"Every day I leave this house to go work in a thankless job surrounded by imbeciles, only to come home and see my only son throwing away his entire life!" Dudley stared at his father in shocked amazement. He had seen his father this angry before, but never had he been on the receiving end of it.
Vernon's face was now a darker shade of red, bordering on purple as he continued to bellow at Dudley.
"I've done nothing but give you every damn thing you've ever wanted and all you do is sit on my couch watching my TV, eating my food! You know you're breaking your poor mother's heart? At least Harry had the good decency to leave, even if he did tear us from our homes for the better part of year!"
Dudley's look of shock evolved in to one of complete bewilderment. Vernon hadn't so much as cursed his cousinHarry Potter's name since they had all been whisked away from Number Four Privet Drive by a handful of wizards.
Despite having lived the better part of his life with Harry Potter, a wizard, Dudley actually knew very little about the wizarding world. Most magical encounters he had experienced had not exactly been positive ones. He had a scar on his backside where a pig's tail was removed, and that was nothing compared to the emotional scarring he had suffered at the zoo when the glass separating him and a massive boa constrictor suddenly disappeared. Snakes still haunted his nightmares. There was also the time he nearly had his soul sucked out of his body by a dementor, which he still didn't fully understand. However, what Dudley lacked in knowledge regarding the wizarding world, his father more than made up for with hatred for it. Vernon blamed "them" and magic for every bit of misfortune to befall his household since the infant Harry Potter was placed upon his doorstep 25 years ago. He hadn't expressed any of this hatred aloud, knowing that the mere mention of any of it would upset Petunia.
Dudley watched as all of his father's disdain for magic exploded in front of him. His face now turning violet, Vernon suddenly stopped his yelling mid-sentence, yet his face continued to darken. Then Dudley watched as his father, clutching his chest, collapsed forward in front of the couch where he sat.
Dudley supposed that his father had always been a rather large man. Most who knew him were quite honestly surprised he lived as long as he did. Dudley was somewhat surprised to find that he didn't feel all that attached to his late father. His mother did of course mourn her husband's loss far more deeply and dramatically than he did. But the insurance policy helped her recover before too long. Dudley did however decide to find himself a job, primarily because his mother now was intent on spending as much time with him while she was still alive and would constantly break in to loud sobs.
Dudley took the train in to town and walked around to the different shops and put in applications. After about an hour he felt he had done enough work to earn himself an ice cream, so he stepped in to an ice-cream parlor and bought himself a chocolate chip cone. He walked out of the shop licking the cone and noticed a rather strange looking man walking on the opposite side of the street.
The man had on long emerald green robes with a tall, pointy, leather hat. Dudley had seen people dressed just as strangely before. This man was a wizard. Dudley dropped the ice-cream on the ground and watched as the wizard walked around the corner. Dudley looked down at the cone then glanced around nervously before rushing across the street. He turned the corner to see the wizard making a left a block down. Dudley followed, peeking around the corner as the wizard walked up to a tall, narrow house between two much newer-looking buildings. A man stood at the top of the stoop smoking a long brown pipe with purple smoke before billowing from the end and out of his nose as he exhaled. He was wearing brown pants with an old grey cardigan over a wrinkled blue shirt.
"Must you always come dressed that way? I get enough strange looks from all of these muggles as it is." Said the old man quietly as the wizard walked up the steps.
"Yes, yes, yes... Well I'm not as ashamed of who I am as you are." Croaked the old wizard as the old man banged out his pipe into his hand.
"How dare you? It's merely a matter of not begging for unwanted attention! They may be stupid, but they do notice things after a while." said the man as he opened the door and they both walked inside.
Dudley walked down the alley and stood in front of the old house, staring at the door the two old men had walked through. He had heard the man who owned the house use the word "muggle" which Dudley knew was the magical term for non-magical people. People like him. He glared up at the old house, thinking of the arrogance in the wizards voice as he spoke of 'muggles.' His mind flooded with thoughts of all of the trouble and pain that wizards like them had brought upon him and his family. Displacing them from their home, nearly killing him. He'd never especially disliked Harry. He certainly wasn't kind to him, but that was mostly out of boredom, fear, cruelty and a bit of jealousy. Dudley knew that if his father could blame anyone for his own death, it would be Harry and magic altogether. As Dudley stared up at the Wizard's old house, he came to the conclusion that he also had a hatred for magic, but not for the same reasons his father had. Dudley had always known at the back of his mind that he wasn't particularly remarkable, despite his parents having told him otherwise, but now the thought of how unremarkable he truly was suddenly rushed in to the forefront.
Very few muggles have been presented with the existential dilemma that comes with knowledge of the magical world. Most muggles who encountered magic promptly had the event erased from their memories, thus ending the dilemma altogether. Most of them are never forced to come to terms with just how unmagical they are. Although Dudley had been aware of witches and wizards for the majority of his life, only now had his ego deflated enough to reveal that it wasn't built upon much at all. Dudley wasn't even remarkable by muggle standards, let alone magical standards.
Dudley stood staring at the old wizard's house for a long time as the sun fell before finally walking back to the bus station and heading home. As he ate dinner alone while his mother worked, and as he lay restlessly in his bed, Dudley could only think about the two old wizards he had seen. He thought of the resentment he had heard in their voices. He thought about that same resentment and disdain he had received upon nearly every interaction he'd ever had with a magical person, despite having only been treated that way due to his overall terrible nature. They were no better than him. It wasn't as if they had chosen to be wizards just as he hadn't chosen to be the product of two truly vile human beings. His deflated ego was being slowly pumped back up as he thought of the unmagical power he now possessed. He knew what they were and what they went to such great lengths to protect. Whatever evolutionary fluke made them into the freaks that they were, Dudley knew about it. And nobody knew that he knew about it or, at the very least, nobody who cared.
Dudley woke up the next morning with the thoughts of those old wizards still floating around his mind. He ate breakfast and watched some morning television with his mother, listening to her vent all of the gossip she had learned since morning the day kissed his mother's cheek and then left the house. He had told his mother that he was off to continue the job search, but instead climbed aboard the bus and headed back to the narrow street he had found the day before. He walked to the corner of the street and peered around the wall at the strange old house.
Dudley didn't know what had compelled him to come back here, yet here was. He continued to stand on the corner looking at the house for most of the morning. He wondered what it might look like inside. Were there great wooden shelves filled with jars containing strange, exotic ingredients? Was there a large cauldron bubbling in the center of a dark room as the old wizard hovered over it reciting incantations? Dudley had gotten so lost in his own mind that he was quite startled when he saw the old wooden door of the house suddenly open. Dudley immediately lunged forward behind a trash can, bruising his knee a bit. He watched as the wizard, in muggle attire, turned and locked the door to his Dudley saw him slip a wooden stick in to the pocket of his green corduroys. He made his way down the opposite end of the road. Dudley stood up from behind the trash can as the wizard turned a corner, then followed him, keeping his distance.
He followed for about six blocks, all the while looking around nervously, even though there was hardly anyone out in this quiet part of town. The old wizard turned into an old shop with a large sign over the storefront that said "Cloude and Hawkins" in dingy gold letters. Dudley kept his distance as he stepped inside, then made his way over and peered through the dirty window. It appeared to be a jewelry store with large glass cases along the walls, but they contained some of the strangest jewelry he had ever seen. Dudley watched as a tall, serious-looking man nodded at the old wizard, saying something which Dudley couldn't hear, and then opened a dark green door behind him. The old wizard nodded back and then walked through the door, and the man closed it behind him. Dudley squinted through the glass as the old man disappeared, then glanced over to see that the shopkeeper was now looking directly at him. Dudley stood up in shock as the man quickly brought his arm up, and the curtains whooshed closed. Dudley sprinted a block down the road and turned the corner. He looked back at the strange shop, hoping the man inside wasn't going to investigate his nosiness further.
A few minutes later the old wizard exited the shop holding something in his arms that was wrapped in brown paper and some twine. The wizard began walking back down the street towards his home. Dudley remained hidden behind the corner as the man came closer. He stepped out right as he was passing and bumped in to the old wizard, nearly knocking him to the ground and causing him to drop the package.
"Oh. I'm so sorry sir." said Dudley, as the man glared at him as he picked up the package off the sidewalk.
"Quite alright, my boy. Just mind where you're going next time." grumbled the man as he continued on his way. "Damn muggles..." he murmured as he moved along, and then begin whistling again. Dudley looked down at the foot-long narrow piece of wood that he now held in his hand. He had seen Harry's wand before, and a few times, had even had it pointed at him, but he had never held one before. He examined it for a second before pocketing it, and then carefully continued following the wizard back to his home.
Dudley watched from a distance as the old wizard unlocked the door and walked back in to the strange house. Dudley walked over a few minutes later. He walked up the steps and pressed his ear to the door, but heard nothing stirring inside. He placed his hand on the doorknob and was surprised when it turned. He opened the unlocked door carefully, looking in on a long dark hallway with a light coming from a doorway at the end of it on the right. The wizard was still whistling as Dudley walked slowly down the hall towards the lighted doorway. The walls of the hallway were covered in finely framed portraits. As Dudley walked he felt as if the eyes of the people in the portraits were following him. He looked at the wall and noticed that the heads seemed to be moving as well. He stopped and stared at an young stern witch sitting in a chair for a long time. She stared back at him, then stood up and walked right out of the photograph. Confused, Dudley shook his head and then continued down the hall. He was still holding the wizard's wand in his hand when he peered around the corner and saw him standing at a sink with his back to Dudley, washing his hands.
Dudley stepped into the wizard's small kitchen clutching the wand in his hand, his mind racing, unsure of how he even got there. He had followed this man all day not really knowing why. He now felt that the compulsion was building in his chest, as if growing hotter with every step. Dudley looked over at the counter and saw a knife block. He reached over and silently slipped a chef's knife from the block and held it as his side, still clutching the wand in his other hand. The water turned off and the wizard dried his hands. He lowered his hand to his pocket, feeling that his wand is missing, and checked his other pocket.
"Are you missing something?" Dudley asked quietly, holding up the wand in front of him. The old wizard spun around, a look of shock on his face as he saw the young man standing with his wand.
"Who are you? What do you think you're doing in my house?" he asked with anger in his voice. "How did you get my wand?" A sudden look of realization came to the old mans face. "Y-you ran in to me out there on the street... to steal my wand? What do you want from me?" The wizard backed up slowly, hitting the sink behind him as Dudley stepped closer. "Not much without your silly stick, eh? No different from us 'muggles', are you?" Dudley smiled a bit through clenched teeth as he raised the wand toward the man. The man looked at him fearfully as Dudley raised his arm still holding the knife. Taking the wand in both hands, he then snapped it in the wizard's face. A few blue sparks shot from the broken ends.
The old man stared at him and then looked down at the pieces of his broken wand.
"Muggles? You're a-a muggle? How do you know about me? How do you know what I am?" He stammered as Dudley brought the knife up in front of his face.
"I know what you are. I know all about the whole lot of you. You'd think your lot might be a bit more careful." Dudley could feel his rage building up inside of him, his face turning bright red the way his father's had.
"You're really nothing but a weak old man, aren't you? All your power is sitting broken in two at your feet." Dudley's Cheshire grin widened as the wizard began to cower to the floor in front of his sink.
"Please. What do you want from me?" he blubbered, his eyes beginning to shine with tears. Dudley reached down and lifted the man by his shirt and looked in to his eyes.
"I want you to feel powerless. I want you, a freak, to know that your life is in the hands of me, a muggle, and there's nothing you can do about it. No wand to wave, no spell to cast. Just you, me, and this here knife." He held up the knife in front of the old wizard's face, and then pressed it to his throat. The wizard tried to jerk away, but Dudley held him firmly by the back of his neck. He then slowly slid the knife across his neck, and blood began to pour out of his throat. Dudley let the wizard go as he tried to hold his hands over his neck to stop the bleeding. The man sunk back down to the floor, looking up at Dudley's grinning face until the life finally left his eyes and he collapsed.
Dudley's heart was pounding. He could feel his pulse throbbing throughout his entire body, down his arms and into the hand still clutching the knife. He stood still staring at the body for a few moments, then the grin finally fell from his face. He looked down at his hands, still clutching the bloody knife. He was almost surprised that the blood was actually red. He reached for a washcloth on the counter and began to wipe the knife handle like he'd seen on all of those crime shows he had watched with his mother. He placed the knife on the wizard's chest, then picked up the two broken wand pieces. He wiped them down as well, then placed them both on the lap of the body as blood pooled on the tile floor. He placed the knife next to the wand pieces, looked a last time at the body, then turn to walk out of the kitchen. As he turned he saw the package the wizard had carried home from the strange shop, "Cloude and Hawkins". He grabbed it and tucked it under his arm, then walked out of the kitchen and back down the hall. The people in the portraits watching as he walked out the front door.
As Dudley rode the bus home, he did his best to keep from grinning to himself, because he knew that he shouldn't. He walked in to Number Four Privet Dr., greeted his mother, then walked upstairs. Tossing the package on the floor, he laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His body was still pulsing. He had just killed a man. A wizard. He had watched the life vanish from his old grey eyes. One moment it was there, and then the next it was gone. Poof! Like magic.