Disclaimer: I gain nothing but satisfaction and maybe a few reviews, so I am neither JKR, nor The Police, whose song 'Every Little Thing She Does is Magic' inspired this in me on the bus this afternoon.
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"A Rough Day"
every little thing she does is magic
[ the police ]
-:-
It had been a rough day in the Dursley household.
Mrs Figg had called to say that she couldn't take care of Harry on the day of Dudley's eleventh birthday because she'd broken her leg; Aunt Petunia's dessert pie had been ruined, left too long in the oven because the neighbours-over-the-back's cat had gotten into her zinnia bushes and systematically destroyed them flower by flower; and, finally, the last straw had been Uncle Vernon's moustache turning a vivid lime green during an argument about chores with Harry that had resulted in the boy being locked in his 'room', which was actually the cupboard under the stairs.
Dudley was sitting in the kitchen, playing the radio as background noise while he devoured a tub of chocolate ice cream. He was only half aware of the lyrics as he hummed along between scoops, but the appearance of his green-moustached father in the doorway soon put a stop to that particular ignorance.
"Every little thing she does is-"
The song was cut off as the radio was hurled at the ground, smashed beyond repair.
"I will not have the 'm'-word in my house!" Vernon Dursley hissed agitatedly, his offensively bright moustache bristling as he crushed the already destroyed piece of technology once more beneath his shoe for good measure.
Dudley watched him go, the spoonful of ice cream suspended halfway to his mouth. Dad's losing it, he thought pensively before his slowly melting snack regained his attention. And now we need a new radio.
When he left the kitchen Dudley aimed two kicks at the door of Harry's cupboard: one to show solidarity to his father, and the other out of habit.
End.
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