Dudley's Secret Passions
By: Ceyl the Intelligent and RenTheGenius
A collection of fanfiction pieces centered around Dudley Dursley, highlighting some of his more eccentric tendencies that most of us are not aware of...
A/N: As in our other stories, pieces of thought process may be found following the end of this installment.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is a single entity and does not have a split-personality disorder, as far as we know. Then, why would she be referring to herself in the plural? Are these disclaimers necessary? Employ a bit of common sense and face the facts: we are not a world-renowned author.
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It was constantly on his mind– a burden to his everyday living, a tragic secret that affected him to the core of his existence. Dudley Dursley had an undisclosed and unchangeable love for argyle. Whether it was the overlapping triangles of various colours or the enticing, dotted-line framed pattern that kept him awake in the early hours of the morning, he did not know; but, he was convinced that his obsession was putting undue stress on his life. Somewhere, in his meager, hostile little brain, however, Dudley realized that argyle designs were an obsession that he would have to contain in the crevices of his underdeveloped mind. They could only be accessed and reflected upon extensively in the privacy of his oversized, unfashionably-decorated bedroom during the early hours of the morning. There, he felt safe; no one would break in and discover even a hint of argyle. Dudley shuddered at the thought: What would happen if his father knew? His mother! Would she die of shock? Would Harry use the incriminating evidence against his reputation and destroy his life's dreams? Such were the tortures of daily living. At one time, Dudley felt his mania would never be exposed; but, he soon realized minor intrusions on his personal loves were inevitable. Though, some were more painful to experience than others.
His naive shell had in fact been broken several times in this one day alone. Though, as of yet no one had discovered his secret, and, hopefully, they never would. Dudley thought he was safe; his mother would not find his collection of argyle because she never delved that far into his smelly sock drawer. His father had no cause to rifle through his perfect son's sock drawer, and Harry hated coming in contact with Dudley. Going into Dudley's room would definitely guarantee some form of interaction. Dudley assumed he was safe. However, only this morning, while Dudley sat admiring the argyle, his small mind was unable to comprehend that the noise of faint knocking on his door meant that someone was going to actually be entering his room. Only as the door was opening did he realize the danger, and, with a speed that Harry would not think him capable of, Dudley snatched the socks off of the desk and threw them onto the unused bookshelf just before his mother entered the room.
Dudley's bad luck did not stop there. Later, after Dudley had resumed his appreciation of all things argyle, none other than Mr. Dursley decided to pay Dudley a visit to congratulate him on his recent boxing victory, reward him with money, and remind him of how much better he was than Harry. Dudley was only just able to avoid detection by stuffing the offending socks down his shirt and crossing his arms.
This, however, left the last and worst encounter, when his secret is finally discovered by the worst possible person, the Freak more commonly known as his cousin, Harry Potter.
It was later that evening. There was a nasty thunderstorm which prevented both Dudley and Harry from escaping the confines of the house. Dudley decided to use the cover of playing on his computer to escape from the other occupants of the house so he could admire more argyle. Harry, much to his displeasure, was sent by his Mrs. Dursley to fetch Dudley from his bedroom for dinner. As Dudley sat on the floor holding his precious argyle socks, Harry knocked on the door before quickly throwing it open. Needless to say, Harry was astonished. Here was his intellectually inferior and extremely round cousin flopped on the floor staring at argyle socks like they were some sort of precious gem. Dudley, though slow in the head, was able to tell that he was in for some extreme taunting if the grin slowly working its way across his cousin's face was anything to judge by. Being Dudley, he said the first thing that came into his head, "This isn't what it looks like."
"Why Dudley, to me it looks as if you are admiring argyle patterned socks. I wasn't aware that you were a fan of argyle. You know, I'm sure that Piers would like to know. It might give him an idea of what to get you for Christmas," Harry said.
"Don't tell or….. or…….or……I'll hit you!" Dudley replied slowly, being unable to get his brain to go at a faster speed.
Harry stared at Dudley with one eyebrow raised. Dudley, with an angry and frustrated expression stared at Harry. They were interrupted, however, by an angry Mrs. Dursley, who was yelling about Harry taking too long getting Dudley for dinner. She walked in looking incredibly like an overgrown goose and shrieked upon seeing the argyle patterned socks in her extremely argyle free house.
"AHHHHHHH! IT'S ARGYLE. IN MY HOUSE! Dudley, I …I…..I……How could I raise such a—it's argyle!" Petunia sputtered before collapsing in a dead faint, where both Dudley and Harry stared at her motionless form before Dudley shoved the socks back into the drawer and proceeded downstairs to eat dinner.
Luckily for Dudley and Harry, Mr. Dursley was completely oblivious to the entire situation, as he was busy shoveling as much food as possible into his oral cavity. Needless to say, neither Dudley nor Harry mentioned the argyle again, so as not to provoke another fainting spell from Aunt Petunia.
A/N: The end of the first installment of DUDLEY'S SECRET PASSIONS it may be continued once we have more inspiration. Unfortunately I cannot come up with anything remotely entertaining unless we are actually at the same location. Anyways, the first paragraph of this was written by RenTheGenius while the rest was written by CEYL THE INTELLIGENT .......... so until we have inspiration…. ~`CEYL THE INTELLIGENT`~
There is minimal documented thought today:
Okay! Are you ready for The Bothersome Nose: The Tales of a Greasy Git? I think you will… I couldn't decide which characters to put in, but in case you're writing all this, I won't say. I added both. I have something to add! How do you spell "Sirius"? Ok, never mind, I found it. :I now relinquish my creative liberties for the next paragraph to my co-author, thank you for reading… - RenTheGenius.