Muggle Studies, task 2: Write about someone worrying about where someone is

Word Count: 752


Piers knocks; no one answers. Frowning, he takes a step back, looking around. It isn't unusual for Dudley and his parents to not be home, but Dudley usually tells him beforehand.

There's something different about this, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

He knocks again, harder and louder this time. His bony knuckles come away with red splotches and a soft, throbbing ache in the muscles of his hand. There's no way they couldn't hear them. Pressing his ear to the door confirms that it's silent inside.

It's okay, he tells himself. People pack up and go on impromptu trips all the time.

Except that he's reasonably sure that Vernon Dursley doesn't have a spontaneous bone in his body.

Still, worrying about it seems pointless. What good will it do? Is he going to knock on every door until someone tells him where his best friend has disappeared to?

With a sigh and a shrug, Piers turns and walks away.

"You are just in time for cake!" Max says brightly, gesturing at the freshly frosted chocolate-on-chocolate-topped-with-more-chocolate cake.

Normally, it would make him smile. His cousin-turned-guardian is practically famous for his chocolate chip cookies, but his chocolate cakes are out of this world. Today, however, his mind is so far away, too occupied by thoughts of Dudley and the strangely empty house on Privet Drive. Even baked goods cannot get through to him.

Max clears his throat. "I'm not sure that you heard me," he says. "I said we have cake. For lunch. Cake for lunch, Piers. Come on. Give me something here."

Piers just sighs heavily, folding his thin arms over his chest. "Did Mrs. Dursley mention going out of town?" he asks.

Dudley's mum usually stops by once or twice a week to buy desserts from Max. The two seem to have struck up something of a friendship. According to Dudley, she dotes on Max often.

"Not to me," Max says, dark brows raising. "Why? Did they send a postcard?"

"No. They're… gone." Piers swallows, hating the way his throat tries to tighten. "They're just gone."

Day after day, Piers goes back to Number Four. There are no signs of life to be found. The lush green grass begins to turn brown in spots after a week of no water. The hydrangeas by the window begin to droop. Petunia Dursley would never let her yard get like this. She has always cared too much about what the neighbors would think.

It doesn't seem possible, and he doesn't understand. Why would they just leave? Wouldn't they have asked strange Mrs. Figg to tend to their lawn while they were gone?

Unless they aren't coming back… Unless they're gone for good, and Dudley hadn't even bothered to tell him goodbye.

"There has to be a reason for it," Max tells him as they sit down at the dinner table.

Piers drums his fingers anxiously against the table, nodding. "Sure." But he doesn't sound so convinced.

What reason could there possibly be to leave without saying goodbye? Is Dudley in danger? Has something awful happened to force them out of their home in the dead of night, under the cover of shadows and secrecy?

No. The obvious is there, at the back of his mind. Its tendrils dig into his brain, always clouding his thoughts. He would never voice them aloud, of course, because he knows how silly it would sound.

Maybe Dudley didn't want to tell him goodbye. Maybe, whatever the reason for their disappearance, he had been glad to be rid of Piers. Maybe that's why he never told Piers at all.

Tears sting his eyes, and he blinks rapidly. He will not cry; he will not show weakness.

"They'll be back," Max says, his dark curls bouncing as he nods his head. "Just wait."

"I'm not even worried about it," Piers says, but his voice cracks, betraying the emotions that have been bubbling beneath the surface.

He is worried, and he does care. His best friend is gone, but now he's wondering if they're even friends at all.

Max sighs, offering him a soft smile. "Cake?"

Piers can't help but laugh. Cake isn't going to fix his paranoia and insecurities any more than it will make Dudley appear on their doorstep with an apology and a funny story about how his dad got called away to some great drilling convention in Milan. Still, maybe it will make him feel better.

At the very least, a little cake won't hurt.