DUDLEY AND THE SARGE
These characters belong to J. K. Rowling, the unquestioned Mistress Of The Universe. No writing news right now, but I'm hacking away at the keyboard, of course. Also, I'd like to offer a profound apology to the memory of Stanley Kubrick.
Harry found Dumbledore in the kitchen, humming to himself.
"There you are, Harry. How was the interview?"
"I think I was honest," Harry said. "I hope I came off well."
"Did she actually write down everything you said?"
"Everything. Sir, I think..."
Dumbledore leaned closer.
"What is it?"
"I think Rita might not spell very well, sir. Not on her own, anyway."
"Really," Dumbledore said. "Sit down, won't you?"
Harry sat down next to Dumbledore.
"As you know," he said, "Your cousin will be at Springfield Elementary all day,
and so will I. It's not going to be pleasant-"
"Don't hurt him," Harry said. "I know he's a murderous git, but-"
Dumbledore sighed.
(but he's FAMILY)
"This is a complicated situation, isn't it?"
Harry looked at the table.
"What's his favorite film?"
Harry looked at Dumbledore again.
"His favorite film?"
"His favorite film, boy, what is it?"
"Well...sometimes when my aunt and uncle go out, his friends bring movies over,
but they're...you know...weird. People puking on each other-"
Dumbledore put his hand over Harry's.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For being his exact opposite. You're a joy to have around, Harry, your teachers
love having you in class."
"They do?"
"Of course they do." Dumbledore paused. "I will not harm Dudley. Unless he tries
to harm me first, of course."
"Of course. If he tries anything, you turn him into a...hmmm..."
Dumbledore smiled. "Can't think of anything harsh enough, can you?"
"Sir...I can't stand him. But I don't...hate him. I don't like him very much,
but-"
"Well, then, what's his favorite film?"
"Well...this one time, after he threw his X Box out the window..." Dumbledore
shook his head-"He put on this movie called FULL METAL JACKET..."
"You'd best sound off that you love the Virgin Mary, or I'm gonna stomp your
guts out!"
Harry covered his mouth. He nodded.
"You'd be surprised at the number of films I've seen," Dumbledore said. "I was
alive when they showed the very first one. And I've loved them ever since."
"What WAS the first movie ever made?"
"L' Arrivée d'un train à la Ciotat," said Dumbledore. "In 1895, by the Lumiere
Brothers."
"I knew Lumiere wasn't just a cartoon character."
"It was footage of a train arriving at its destination, and people actually
screamed and ran out of the theatre. I suppose they thought the train would hit
them. But, getting back to the subject at hand, Harry...you're aware of my
magical capabilities, of course."
"Not all of them," Harry said.
"The mark of an artist," Dumbledore said. "My father was a magician. He
performed at childrens' birthday parties. He taught me everything he knew. Such
as, when you pull a rabbit out of a hat, it's best not to put on the hat." He
blinked. "Pardon me. "There were some tricks I never saw him perform, but I knew
he could do them. Harry, you know I have powers, but you haven't seen
everything. For that matter, neither have I. You know I can become invisible, as
well as see the invisible. Of course, you know what a glamour is."
"Sure," Harry said.
"I can make myself appear as someone else, without Polyjuice Potion."
Harry thought for a moment.
"Have I ever seen you as someone else?"
"Yes, you have. For now, though-"
He ducked under the table, and when he came back up-
"Whoa..."
He no longer looked like the old man Harry had come to know. Now, sitting across
from Harry was a leather-faced man with beady, wild eyes. He looked just like
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from FULL METAL JACKET.
"Bloody brilliant," Harry said.
"You got a warface?" he asked Harry.
"Uh..."
"LEMME SEE YOUR WARFACE!"
Harry made a face. "Rraaaugh."
In a moment, Dumbledore reasserted his true form, long silvery hair and all.
"It works, then."
"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "Dudley's never going to be the same."
A quiet moment passed between them.
"Sir-"
"I'm just attempting to rectify an old man's-"
(YOUR old man's-)
"-mistakes. If I can prevent Dudley from harming you, that'll be a large step
forward, don't you think?"
"He won't ever hurt anyone ever again?"
"Especially not you."
Harry looked at the table. Then he looked up at Dumbledore.
"Can I help?"
"I want you to go on a tear. Play video games. Go see another movie. Listen to
music, take Hedwig to the park...just have as much fun as you possibly can,
Harry. Dudley's one of the reasons you live like a monk. Go celebrate your
youth."
"Well...okay."
He got up from the table.
"Later, sir?"
"MUCH later," Dumbledore said.
Smiling, Harry left.
"Albus, I am NOT coming out like this..."
"Minerva, please-"
She stomped into the kitchen. The leather suit fit her perfectly.
"What bloody kind of school is this again, Albus?"
"Nothing Dudley isn't aware of," Dumbledore said.
"I'm not wearing this. Diana Rigg wouldn't have worn this."
"Fine, fine. He doesn't know what you look like."
"Excuse me," she said. "If you can find a putty knife to help me peel this thing
off-"
"Peeling your clothes off sounds quite…appealing."
She rolled her eyes.
"I'll be back," she said.
"Minerva, wait a moment." She did. "Before I forget-the protective spell you and
Harry laid around the school-"
She looked disappointed. "Must we remove it?"
"Dudley won't be able to enter, otherwise."
"Fine," she said. "Excuse me."
She left the room. If there had been anyone else in the room, Dumbledore
probably wouldn't have gotten up from the table.
Dudley looked at the building in disbelief.
"Oh, bloody hell..."
The words above the doors were bold, authoritarian.
ST. BRUTUS'S SECURE CENTER FOR INCURABLY CRIMINAL BOYS
Under that:
SPRINGFIELD CHAPTER.
and under that, in smaller print:
DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT RUNNING.
That was the only thing on Dudley's mind.
He turned, and before he could lift his foot-
"DURSLEY!"
Dudley froze.
He knew that voice.
"Where do you think you're going, you tubby little maggot?"
