"I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you."
Episode 8-The Brute & The Heir
"I'm waiting for a message by a girl, by the name of Veronica" Sung Dudley quite animated. Dudley Dursley lay in bed listening to seventies progressive Rock, and picking at the loose threads in his bed sheets. Every so often he would slightly sit up and glance at the area on his desk by his roaring radio. Petunia Dursley had been oddly quiet since Harry departed like he usually did every year at that time, and Dudley was sure it was because of what sat on his desk, next to his radio; Her wand.
In the span of a year, Dudley Dursley had been the victim of two different Dementor assaults: The first time he wasn't familiar with the sinister fiend's, the second time, unfortunately, he was. The vile depraved monstrosities had been echoing through his nightmares for months, so last week when they appeared on his front lawn and infested the morning sky of Little Whinging, it was like Dudley Dursley worst nightmares had somehow manifested themselves into being. It was true Miss's Figg had nearly died, or had her soul devoured according to Harry, like he had just a year before. It was also true that his dad and Harry himself had nearly met the same fate, and yet all he could think about was a brunette named Veronica Faye, such was teenage boy hormones.
She was supreme in all her glory, her bright green eyes and deep dimples are to die for, in Dudley's opinion anyway. If not for these two assets, Dudley admitted to himself she would look quite plain Jane, but this suited him just fine. A subconscious thought left as soon as it had come, that maybe he was looking for his mother in the opposite sex, but Dudley wasn't perceptive enough to deliberate on such profound ideas.
There was a hard knock on the door signifying he had his radio up to loud, so he got up and turned it up louder. He was angry with his parents, they had lied to him his entire life, he was a wizard, although he couldn't understand how he didn't realize this sooner. There were times when he would just gain weight for no reason; this made him often hungry because he had to feed his new girth. Then there were times, like this year, he would lose weight and it would be replaced by muscle, without him having to work out.
Could these things be explained as magic or was his body just constantly changing? Dudley wanted to laugh at himself of course his body was constantly changing; he was constantly eating, then dieting, then eating again. But when Harry left, he left most of his school books which were titled fifth year this, or fifth year that, so Dudley took it upon himself to read these pages of wonder and splendor.
One book was about discerning ancient languages; Dudley quickly threw this one to the side after only a half a minute of staring at it. After a day of rummaging, he came across a book titled Fifth Year Charms; he spent most of the morning and afternoon flipping through its many pages. Dudley found that if he was successful in manipulating the wand correctly and pronouncing the incantation appropriately, he could turn toast into cupcakes. This aroused his interest, he practiced this spell until he ran out of toast, and then he used a whole loaf of bread, to his father's dismay.
He practiced this particular spell for days and became quite adept at it. The next time he seen Veronica he planned on impressing her, he knew if he could master this spell then it only stood to reason he could master another. Soon he would be proficient with his mystical abilities and no woman would be able to resist his "magical charm", literally.
As night approached Dudley decided to go for a stroll, he knew his mother would go barmy if he was out past dark, but he had a wand now, even though all he could do was conjure cupcakes. As he walked his block his stomach began twisting in knots as he seen Veronica Faye standing at the end of the street, as if waiting for him. Her black dress was be speckled with white polka dots, her gray eyes where glowing behind her brunette tendrils which were obscuring the rest of her face. She seemed to be smiling viciously as her hands were holding each other behind her back, while she stood on her tiptoes, in an antsy fashion.
As Dudley approached he noticed Mrs. Figg cats began to come out of nowhere, as he got closer there seemed to be a number of them surrounding Veronica, some even going as far as brushing her leg or fighting to be near her. "Umm, Veronica? Is everything alright love?" questioned Dudley as he got closer to his paramour, to many of the cats apprehension.
"Of course I am you silly child, would you like to go for a walk?" Veronica asked, while she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, allowing some strands to escape and to fall over her face.
"Umm sure, I'd love to honestly, but what's with these rudy cats, and are you going to show me where you live this time?"
"I told you, you know where I live you silly boy, now, let's walk to the park."
As they began their trek out of Wisteria Walk and in to Magnolia Crescent via the dark alley way where Dudley and Harry had been attacked by Dementors barely a year prior, Dudley found himself sweating and humming his favorite song, as of yesterday that is. Veronica noticed his stressed manner and questioned it.
"Dudley, are you fine lad, and what's that tune you're going on about?" Veronica quarried in a very mature conduct.
"This, is the alley where-"
"Oh yea, the Dementors, I hate those buggers."
Dudley stopped in his tracks and stared at Veronica with a bizarre expression, utter shock planted on his face. How did she know? Did he say something about the wicked magical creatures when he talked to her last? No, that's impossible, he would have remembered, besides even if he did, why was she so casual about it? Dudley could fell saliva rolling down his lip as he continued to stare at Veronica with his mouth agape.
"Ewwww, close your mouth you mad child, that's disgusting, didn't that ponce of a mother teach you any manners you tosser."
Dudley closed his mouth and whipped the dripping saliva free with the sleeve of his biker jacket. Veronica disgusted expression changed into hysteria immediately after, grabbing Dudley's arm as she continued to skip down the alley with Dudley in tow. Dudley was happy and befuddled at the same time, who was this girl he asked himself in complete wonder, and how did she know about those demonic demons of hell he pondered. Then at that moment he thought about that bloke Harry told him about, Voldemort. Could this be some kind of trick? This girl had moved into Little Whinging about a week ago, he knew nothing about her, neither did his friends. The fact that he had no information in her regard was insane, he knew about everyone who lived in Little Whinging, via his mother religious gossip of course. Veronica said he knew where she stayed, did he? Or was she taking a piss? Dudley knew he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed but something wasn't right about this situation, this he knew for sure.
Dudley snatched his arm away from Veronica and reached for his mother's wand and aimed it at her. Dudley was sweating profusely as Veronica slowly turned around with a deranged smile, she looked mad, but even in this insane state, Dudley couldn't help but notice her glowing loveliness. Miss Figg cats began hissing and creeping towards Dudley with dark intent in their once slit eyes, which were now wide as they bared their fangs in a threatening craze.
"Who are you?" Dudley questioned his voice shaking as he began backing away, falling in the process.
"The Wicked Witch of the West you silly boy."
An Island east of the Mediterranean Sea
"So, are you going to continue to conceal yourself in the obscurity of this old citadel? Are you afraid of me old man?" Voldemort quarried with mirth evident in his voice as he continued to float on his black cloud which gave him the ability of flight.
"How arrogant, these wizards and their obnoxious ways are beginning to annoy me Grandfather-Kaiser." Came a voice Voldemort knew could not have been the figure he referred to as "Old Man", it was youthful and seemed to be echoing throughout the entire island, amplified it would seem.
"Actually he reminds me of you Ozean-Allgemeine, he seems a bit more astute however." Replied the figure in merry jollity, still concealed in the darkness of the demonic castle.
The Dark Lord was growing frustrated with every passing second; the palm of his right hand was itching, his wand hand. He swallowed his compulsion to kill because he had not received the information he was promised by the "Old Man". He glided of his cloud of darkness, which disappeared immediately after his absence, and stepped on to the limestone's of the demonic fortress.
He summoned a black chair; it was fleshy and alive, it smelled rotten and dead, but its size resembled that of a throne, albeit a dead one. Voldemort formally sat down with his legs crossed and then summoned a china glass, a saucer, and a kettle full of tea. Before he further addressed the obscure figure with the aged voice, he took a sip, perking his reptilian lips, then smiling allowing his fangs to show and even extend as he peered through the darkness anxiously at the figure he knew to be there.
"Civilized are we Tom? You definitely seem allot more refined since I seen you last, old sport. It must be awfully challenging still, this game of cat and mouse that is, although you would think all those years in ethereal exile would have rewarded you with patience." The dark figure with the old voice observed, still hidden in the lively shadows casted by the flying buttresses.
"I, Lord Voldemort, am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end. As far as civility is concerned, no matter how far I delve in the mystique of the dark arts, I will always retain a deep since of urbanity, I am English after all." The Dark Lord acknowledged in a sense of reverie while he continued to sip his brew in classic English fashion.
The lively shadows casted by the flying buttresses that concealed the "Old Man" on the tallest tower the castle could offer began to retract, revealing the image of the Old Man: he was as Voldemort remembered him in his youth, tall, regal, and extremely old. His had platinum blond dreadlocks that dragged on the limestone of the tower as he approached the dark lord with his arms hidden in the many layers of his dark pristine cloak. He glowed in the darkness, like that of a super moon on a cloudless night, his crown was like nothing Voldemort had never seen before: it was as if it was intangible, the light exclaiming from it was blinding yet compelling, the dark lord could fell his hunger and curiosity scratching at his insides demanding to feed.
As the "Old Man" stood in front of the darkest lord the wizarding world have ever known, the shadow which concealed him only moments before, had not just retracted into nothingness, but into another tangible figure: a handsome young man stood in the corner of the tallest tower the demonic castle could offer. His cloak was just as black and just as pristine as the "old man", though this was all they seemed to have in common as far as appearance's was concerned. The young man's hair was black, and pulled in to a ponytail which was long but not nearly as long as the "Old Man's" blond dreadlocks. Where the old man had wrinkles, the young man had high cheek bones, where the "old man" eyes was coated with cataracts, the young man's eyes was icy blue, Voldemort knew this because he could see them glowing from across the tower. His lips were full and pink; he knew this because the young man blew a kiss at him in a sarcastic, feminine manner.
"This…person, is a megalomaniac and pathologically narcissistic. He refers to himself in the third person, how arrogant, and you think this…thing will do better then I at controlling Mallum Castellum, you have gone mad, I shall report this to-" The young man emphasized and argued as he walked across the tower to where the "old man" stood and where the Dark Lord sat, "patiently". But before he could continue his lecture, the "Old Man" snapped his fingers, and the limestone of the castle beneath the Youngman's advancing feet morphed into a dark void, which he fell through. He seemed annoyed by this sudden occurrence and powerless as he fell through the void silently eyeing the Dark Lord with contempt.
"Adolescent behavior, oh how I despise it, and yet envy it." The Old Man revealed with a deep sigh and a bowed head.
The Dark Lord continued to sip his brew, thoroughly entertained. It would seem the younger man was to be his successor, or so he thought. The Dark Lord was well versed in Latin and knew that "Mallum Castellum" was Latin for "Evil Castle". So the "Old Man" planed on bequeathing him with this glorious edifice hmm? Voldemort couldn't help but wonder why, but he need not ask for it seemed his old mentor was allowing him to probe his mind.
"I see" laughed Voldemort obviously satisfied with the information he retrieved from the "Old Man".
A/N I would love to know how you guys felt about this chapter.
-TTT
