Dudley felt more cheerful for the next few days. His dad took him and Gordon to the go-kart circuit, and he met with his friends some days to play football at the park on go cycling. Piers joined them, though he didn't speak much to Dudley.
It was after the first week of summer that Lockhart turned up.
"You must Mrs. Dursley!" Lockhart greeted, jovially. "Dudley has told you so much about you! I must say I admire your garden—you have done an excellent job with your rhododendrons. I grow color-changing ones in mine, but you wouldn't believe how many gnomes they attract. I can show you a better way to prune them one day."
"Right, well, it's good to see Mr. Lockhart," Petunia said, a little uncertainly.
"It's Gilderoy, Mr. Lockhart is my father!" Lockhart said, striding inside. He gave her a wink as he passed.
"And you must be Mr. Dursley," Lockhart said, shaking hands with Vernon who was eying Lockhart and his extravagant robes with distaste.
Lockhart was wearing turquoise robes for the occasion with a matching beret. The beret was something Dudley hadn't seen him wear before.
"Dudley has told you all about me, I assume," Lockhart said, grinning toothily around. "Gilderoy Lockhart, former Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts—taught Dudley all I know!" he clapped Dudley on the shoulder here. "Except of course the secret to winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award for a record six times. That, I'll take to my grave."
Vernon was turning people. Loud, handsome, arrogant, extravagant and oddly dressed—Lockhart was a combination of many things that Vernon disliked.
"He helped me a lot, dad," Dudley said.
Vernon's demeanor changed. "Well, if you're a friend of Dudder's then you're most welcome. Drink?"
"A spot of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, my good man!" Lockhart said.
"What the ruddy hell is firewhisky," Vernon muttered as he went into the kitchen.
Dudley led Lockhart into the living room.
"How's your summer, Dudley?" Lockhart said, taking off his beret and placing it on the arm of his chair.
"Not bad," Dudley said, with a shrug.
"Terrible events last term—read all about it in the Prophet. Black menacing the school. Lupin a werewolf! Why, if only I'd have still been Defence Against the Dark Arts professor …"
Vernon interrupted with a glass of whisky for Lockhart and a orange juice for Dudley.
Lockhart took a sip and smacked his lips. "Delicious! I've never been one for these muggle drinks, but I may make an exception."
He took another deep sip and drained his glass, putting it on the table.
"Now, Dudley, my friend. To business," he gave a broad smile. "Excellent work, Dudley, quite excellent—kept your head down for much of the term, then, bang! You hit the wizarding world by capturing Black! Quite remarkable—of course, I would likely have sniffed out the old scoundrel's hiding place sooner, but still … excellent work. Way to get your name in the papers once more. Did you see the Prophet, Dudley? Dursley Strikes Again! I had a word in Rita's ear—suggested that title. Quite catchy isn't it."
Dudley nodded. He had seen the Prophet article. It had all but omitted Hermione's role in things and had made Dudley out to be the only hero. Somehow, he suspected Hermione wouldn't be too pleased by this. He suspected Lockhart's hand in exaggerating his role in the affair.
"But, I didn't come here to talk about your fame, nor did I come here to talk about mine," Lockhart said. "Though, now you mention it, I have been offered a spot on the Wizarding Wireless Network—The Lockhart Hour—where I chat with notable witches and wizards. It debuts in a couple of weeks—Mildred Marchbanks of the Ballycastle Bats!"
"Cool, congratulations," Dudley said, feeling pleased for Lockhart. He was pompous and, as Ron said, "a bit of a prat" but Dudley liked and respected the older wizard. He considered him to be a friend, despite his flaws. He could be good company, told fun stories about his adventures and was full of advice. Plus, he was a talented wizard—Dudley had seen that first hand during his second year when Lockhart had wiped the memories from the giant basilisk that had been attacking students in the school.
"As you can guess, Fudge is feeling the pressure," Lockhart said. "These past few years have been a disaster—an absolute disaster—for him. The attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets opening, arresting the wrong person and sending him to Azkaban, letting Black escape, letting Malfoy escape, putting Dementors at Hogwarts …" he listed.
"How did he ever become minister in the first place?" Dudley asked.
"He was competent enough working for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, one of the first of the scene when Black killed all those people, you know. But as minister he has, frankly, being appalling."
Dudley nodded, not sure where Lockhart was going with this.
"I don't think he is long for the office," Lockhart said. "Rita and I are both in agreement, Fudge needs to go."
"I never took you to have an interest in politics," Dudley commented.
"I have an interest in everything, Dudley. My work in combatting the darkest wizards and creatures known to man is much easier with a competent captain at the helm of the ship!"
"How come he's still the Minister, if he's so … well, useless?" Dudley asked. This was the first time he had ever discussed politics, and he was unsure of what to say or ask.
"He has many friends and many loyalists. He's a shrewd man—put many of his friends and allies in top positions, but if public opinion changes enough …" Lockhart trailed off and smiled.
"Who will take charge if he steps down, though?"
"Oh, I am sure there are plenty of witches and wizards who will throw their hat into the ring," Lockhart said. "Dumbledore, of course, will be offered the position. Whispers abound that Madame Bones would be the favorite to take over. There is also Rufus Scrimgeour—Head of the Auror office—and Dolores Umbridge, a very experienced witch who is the senior undersecretary to the Minister. They would be the favorites, I expect. There are others, of course—Dirk Cresswell, Walden Macnair Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman—who might decide to give it a shot."
"Ok, so where do I come in?" Dudley asked, feeling certain that he had to come into it somewhere.
Lockhart grinned. "Just a statement to our old friend, Rita," he said. "The world knows you were attacked by Dementors, but if you could perhaps give a statement for how close you came to getting the kiss, a lot of people would appreciate it."
Lockhart lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Having friends in high places can open many doors, Dudley. Contacts are everything. You scratch their back, and they'll scratch yours. Besides, the public want to know more, Dudley—you haven't given an interview for a while. A short chat with Rita and, let's say a photo—you are looking much better than you did before. If anything was going to hold you back it was the fact you were too fat," Lockhart said bluntly.
Dudley would have been irritated by this, but he knew it was true, which is why he had spent last year dieting and exercising. He was still large—tall, broad shouldered and not what you'd call thin. Burly would be the best way to describe him.
"Sure, I'll do it," Dudley said.
Lockhart beamed at him. "Excellent! Now, I don't know if you heard, the Quidditch World Cup is being held this year in England. Being a very important wizard, I can get free tickets for you. I'll be attending in the top box of course."
"Thanks," said Dudley. "But I think I'm going with Ron's dad."
Ron's owl had arrived yesterday, inviting Dudley to come. His dad, Arthur had managed to get a bunch of tickets at work for the top box. Dudley didn't know how Arthur had managed to secure so many seats—Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Dean, Dudley, Hermione, Ginny and Luna were all attending. He must have, as Lockhart had put it, "scratched someone's back."
"Excellent," Lockhart said. "Well, I'll be there. I'm going to be in the Top Box," he said proudly.
"Me too," Dudley said. "That's where Mr. Weasley's tickets are for."
"Excellent," Lockhart beamed again. "Well, I'll see you there—should be a good match. Bulgaria have an excellent seeker, Viktor Krum. Not a patch on me during my quidditch days with Ravenclaw. Did I tell you England asked me to play for them?"
Dudley listened as Lockhart told a story about how he was cheated out of winning the House Cup in his final season by a sneaky Slytherin seeker.
"And would you believe he actually pulled my hair—I had a ponytail back then—completely illegal, of course. But he got away with it. Tragedy—if only I'd had my wand with me, then he'd have thought twice!"
He pulled a gold pocket watch out his robes. "I must be off, Dudley—prepare a statement for Rita about the Dementors. I don't think there's any need to actually meet her. She can fill in the blanks, I;m sure—that marvelous Quick-Quotes Quill of hers."
On his way out, Lockhart stopped to say goodbye to Petunia and Vernon.
"Lovely to meet you, and I must say, Dudley is making quite a name for himself, following in my footsteps!" Lockhart said, brightly. "Did he tell you I'm quite a famous author myself? If Dudley keeps it up, the public will be asking for his book in no time." He laughed. "Well, tell you what, I'll send an owl over with a couple of signed copies of Magical Me for your both—my little gift to Dudley's parents."
Vernon showed Lockhart to the door, a smile plastered on his face which disappeared the moment he left. "Idiot," he muttered, quietly.
Dudley smirked. As much as he liked Lockhart, the wizard did have a knack for rubbing people up the wrong way.