About Julian S. Jacobs

Julian S. Jacobs oversaw the London Pediatric Hospital for over three decades. On Medicine was published in 2005.

A Note:

This peice was originally intended to published as part of a larger work. It was found on Mr. Jacobs' computer by a team of Aurors who searched the hospital after the printing of the first Harry Potter book revealed the incident to them. It was deleted, and Mr. Jacobs, as well as some other involved parties, had their memories wiped.

It is being printed now for the enjoyment of the community, as it has come to the attention of the Ministry that these readers may have a special interest in this peculiar interlude in the special ward.

In the original writing of this section, the names of the little boy and his parents, referred to below, were changed to respect his privacy. However, his name is presumably already known by those reading this, so it has been changed to reflect the actual names of the people involved. We kindly ask you to keep this confidential, since the family in question has not been reachable.

* * *

For several years, I worked in the special ward. This usually meant cases like facial deformities, suspicious injuries, and the like. It did not, however, usually entail (no pun intended) little boys with pig tails.

The little boy in question walked — or rather waddled — in during a lull in my tightly packed schedule. This was lucky, since Dudley Dursley's parents required special treatment for a special boy, as they put it.

Because despite being a biological mystery (tail, anyone?), Dudley was just as spoiled as the next boy, if not more so. He demanded his computer in the lobby, and his parents almost succeeded in sneaking a television into the operating room.

Another meeting with Dudley's parents made it abundantly clear where Dudley got his character from. Mr. Dursley at one point slammed his fist upon the table, exclaiming that he'd had it with me. It took a good half hour or so of cajoling to even get them to listen to what I had to say.

Strangely enough, the tail was easy to remove. As he sat on the operating table, we realized that it would be extremely easy to remove, since it was barely connected to his nervous system.

Dudley was stable by that evening. Against our recommendation, his parents took him home that night. I had my last interaction with Mr. Dursley then, and it was not one that I look upon fondly. He shouted, and though it goes against my instincts to comment upon my patients' appearances (in fact, I've had a hard time coming to terms with publishing something about the personal nature of my profession, but I believe that the accounts published in this book will help enlighten those wishing to follow my path) I will give you a brief description of Mr. Dursley's appearance as he told me to keep this to myself. All these years later, it's still easy to recall.

Simply put, he turned purple. He pulled on his hair—which, oddly enough, was missing in a chunk—and he growled. He looked like a bear, and I am embarrassed to admit that I may have peed my pants. A bit.

And yet, that was the last time I saw the Dursleys. They never showed up for the check-in we'd scheduled, and they didn't answer the phone when we called. Who knows where they are now.

The hard part, actually, was figuring out how he'd grown it. My team's theories ranged from genetic modification to full fledged magic, but our ultimate conclusion was that someone had construed it manually.

I wish I could say that we were certain of our diagnosis. Alas, this was a rather improbable scenario to begin with, made worse by the fact that we didn't get a chance to do detailed analysis of either the tail or the boy, since Mr. and Mrs. Dursley took both away before it was time. The fact is that we'll never really know. That's part of the profession.

The truth is that the Dursleys were totally within their rights to do what they did, even if it was rude. And the important thing is that we ridded a little boy of a pig tail, which undoubtedly would have been a nuisance. So we did one thing right, at least.

A/N:

Review review review! Please! This worked last time, so I'm offering a reward for anyone who reviews: Some fictional chocolate cream pie to be given to any fictional character you choose. Because I like chocolate cream pie. And your characters probably should too.

Also: I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. Not that this will do anything if anything were to happen, but still.