Dudley was having a horrendous day.
His car had just been towed because he was an hour late for the meter. He thought gloomily of the meeting that had kept him so long. He had been waiting on Mister Yang for three weeks to buy this large order of drills – and Yang suddenly went back on it. Dudley, in his disappointment and shock, had spilled his coffee all down the front of his shirt in front of the whole office. His day couldn't possibly get worse.
Then the rain started.
Drenched to the bone, sullen, and car-less, Dudley slowly started his walk to his apartment thirty-eight blocks away.
At the age of 18, Dudley Dursley had taken over as the Grunnings Drill CEO when his father retired. Now 22, Dudley had thought his life was going well. A good job, his own apartment – he had even got in shape, melting away his fat and trading it in for toned muscle to match his perfect life.
Until his day had hit him with a disappointing meeting, a scalded chest, and a long walk home.
Suddenly feeling very angry, Dudley ducked into a bar on the corner of the street and ordered a drink. He looked around. Funny looking people were all around him. Men in long black robes, their faces hidden. They talked in hushed whispers. A few normal looking blokes were in the bar, too. A group of men who had just gotten off work from the looks of it, and a couple sitting in a booth. A young girl had just walked out of the lou. She was quite pretty, Dudley noticed, with long, silky black hair and olive skin. Her face was exotic, with dark almond shaped eyes. She wore odd clothing, a long blue robe with silver etched in it. She looked at Dudley and smiled.
Dudley's face went hot.
Things happened very quickly after that.
The men in robes jumped up and pointed long sticks at the pretty girl, yelling "Expulso!"
Bits of wall and table exploded around her, and she ducked behind the bar, jumping up and pointing her own stick, screaming "Impedimenta!"
One of the odd went rigid, as thought choking, and fell over. His two comrades stepped over him.
"Cruico!" they yelled back.
The girl, looking utterly shocked at this word, ducked and lifted her stick once more.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Another man went down, rigid.
It was down to one last man and the girl. She raised her stick. "Expelliarmus!"
The man blocked it easily, and pointed his stick back at the girl. "Incarcerous!" Somehow, ropes shot from the man stick and wrapped themselves around the girl. With an angry cry, she fell backwards as the man in the cloak approached her, lifting his stick and pointing it at her. The girl squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for Crucio again, when the sound of smashing glass rang across the bar. She opened her eyes, looking utterly astonished to see Dudley standing over the now unconscious man with a heavy, broken bottle in his hand.
"Wow," the girl said as he untied her. She rubbed her wrists. "Um, thanks."
"Who – who are these people?" Dudley asked, stunned.
"Former Death Eaters, more than likely," she said, looking disgusted. "Stirring up trouble for the ministry on the anniversary of You-Know-Whos downfall, as usual." She went around the bar, lifting their heads. "Torell," she muttered. She moved to the next. "Rook." And she moved to the last, that Dudley had attacked. "Shooknot."
She stood up and picked up their odd sticks, pocketing them.
"Are those . . . wands?" Dudley asked.
"Yes," she said, unconcerned as she opened the grate to the fireplace. She removed a pouch from her pocket and reached inside, pulling out a handful of shimmery dust. She lit a fire with her wand, and tossed the powder in it. The flames turned green, and she spoke to the fire. "Auror Office." A moment later, a floating head appeared. "Hello, Romilda," said the girl. "I have some troublemakers here that need apprehension."
"Of course," the floating head replied. The fire went out, and the girl stood up, using her wand to clean things up in the bar.
"Erm," Dudley said. "I'm Dudley Dursley."
She looked over her shoulder a smiled a charming smile. "Hello, Dudley. I'm Parvati."
"Are you a – a witch, then?"
"Why, yes!" Parvati said. "You're familiar with the magic world?"
"I know a few people . . ." Dudley muttered uncomfortably.
After a moment, Parvati spoke. "I work for the Ministry," she said.
"The British Ministry?"
"The Ministry of Magic."
"Oh," Dudley said stupidly. "Yeah. Of course."
Parvati tilted her head. "You look familiar, Dudley. Have we met?"
"I don't think."
"Well you should more often, it's good for you."
Dudley looked at her blankly for a moment, before she gave a small smile. "It was a joke, Dudley."
Dudley got it, and opened his mouth to tell her a quite terrible joke of his own, if only to see her smile again, when a loud bang! went off outside, and voice could be heard clearly yelling one word.
"MORSMORDRE!"
Parvati's pretty face twisted in the look of pure, heartsick agony. "Oh, no," she cried softly.