That evening, Dudley returned to Hogwarts in a frenzy. In the one hour he had spent with Professor Percy (that was what Professor Weasley had insisted Dudley call him), he had been given a crash course in the Dark Arts. While he had not been able to do any magic, the three Unforgivable Curses had been explained in full detail to him. Of course, Professor Percy had made him promise not to try it out just yet. They had already scheduled a meeting for the next week in which he would actually start practicing.
Meanwhile, he was beginning to notice that his fellow students had been acting rather strange… no doubt because of the jelly bean curse, as Mrs. Figg liked to call it. No one had been openly engaging in any outrageous acts of course, but they had noticed that little things—small personality quirks—were developing. The professors seemed to sense it as well, but most of them seemed to occupied and worried about something to do anything about it. Undoubtedly, Mrs. Figg, as Hermione, had been brought into the professors' offices many times, wondering why her magic was slipping. Ultimately however, after lengthy questioning, it was determined that it was "boy-trouble" and that it was a "phase" she would hopefully pass through as soon as she sorted out matters with "that Bulgarian quidditch boy" and "that Weasley boy."
George and Fred's switchoff seemed pretty smooth. As a matter of fact, they were wreaking so much havoc that Filch, in his current depression over Mrs. Norris, had given up scolding them. For the first time, Filch had taken what McGonagall had called a "long overdue holiday".
Thus, when Friday night arrived, Dudley had no problem making his way to Myrtle. As soon as he opened the door, he heard Myrtle speaking.
"Now, now, Draco, you must leave now!"
"Just one kiss my sweet…"
Giggles ensued. "I'm a ghost, Draco… And you shouldn't be seeing me anyway… after all, you have Pansy and—"
"Pottuh!" spat Draco. Dudley stood gaping, his hand still on the door.
"Close the door! Now!" shrieked Myrtle.
Dudley stood dumbly. "What's going on?"
"None of your filthy business," said Draco, turning into a deep shade of red.
"Are you…" said Dudley. "Are you…two-timing me?" he looked at Myrtle.
"WHAT?" the Slytherin glared. "What are you talking about?"
"I have a date with Myrtle…"
Draco opened his mouth, and shut it again. He paused, and a wicked grin spread over his place. "I don't know what you're talking about. I came here to ask Myrtle about Pansy. But apparently you have some business here of interest, Potter," said Draco slyly.
"Draco!" screeched Myrtle. "You liar! You said you loved me!"
"Shut up, don't be stupid." And with that, Draco shoved Dudley aside and exited the bathroom.
Myrtle burst into tears. "He said he loved me… he—he—" she bawled.
"Oh well now…" Dudley adjusted his collar uneasily. "I'm here now." He smiled.
"Awww…" Myrtle sniffed. "Come to think of it, you're much nicer than Harry ever was… what do you really look like?"
"Uhhh…" Dudley responded. "Um… muscular…" Well, that wasn't a lie… not exactly. "I was on the boxing team…"
"Oooooh! Tell me about it…"
Dudley was amazed. For the first time, a girl, well, nevermind that she was dead, was interested in hearing about him!
So he sat on one of the sinks and began to talk about himself while Myrtle listened. And for the first time in his life, Dudley was happy.
When he returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, Fred and Mrs. Figg were up waiting for him, their faces looking guilty.
"Look here mate," said Fred, "We've been thinking, and we're awful sorry about putting you through this…"
Dudley smiled, and ran his fingers through his (Harry's) hair. "It was wonderful."
"Excuse me?" Mrs. Figg widened her eyes.
"It was… so romantic…" he sighed.
Fred gagged. "But she's—she's—dead—"
"She's just misunderstood. Like I am…And besides, being alive is overrated."