"There ain't a street in this town that I ain't walked
And I know them like I know your face
But they're here and you're not and it's my luck
That I can't go to sleep without you."
-Can't Go To Sleep Without You (Josh Ritter)
"Oh yes, this is definitely blackmail," Hermione told Dudley over a steaming mug of coffee the following morning. He had been surprised, after agreeing to a meeting at the location of her choice, to walk in and find that the place was a perfectly normal coffee shop with not a cloaked freak in sight.
"That's what I thought," said Dudley, though in truth he had not been entirely sure what to read between the lines of Rita Skeeter's letter until Hermione confirmed it for him. "What... Is there anything I can do?"
"I've had nothing but trouble from Rita Skeeter for years," Hermione replied, somewhat ignoring his question. "And I have to warn you, she's ruthless. She won't be happy unless you agree to this interview and tell her loads of horrible stories about Harry."
Dudley took an overlarge gulp of coffee to avoid having to respond and the scalding liquid caused his eyes to water. He shook his head, frustrated.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Well you're-" he lowered his voice, "-a witch. If you can do magic tricks why don't you just magic her away?"
Hermione smiled. "It doesn't really work that way, I'm afraid. You saw the Ministry yesterday. There are rules wizards have to follow, just as much as Muggles. It's like..." she waved her hands through the air, appearing to ponder her explanation. "It's like those synthetic toxins scientists discovered in Teflon a few years ago. Your company-Grunnings-they had to stop using Teflon in all their products, didn't they? It was in the Muggle papers."
Dudley nodded.
"It's the same way with wizards," Hermione went on. "After the war ended two years ago, the one that had you and your family in hiding, our government made up a lot of new rules. For instance, there was a type of Snake called a Basilisk whose venom can kill in minutes. It was like our version of those toxins in your drills. The Ministry of Magic spent a lot of time shutting down all the black market trade on basilisk venom. You can't get the stuff anywhere on Earth now. And that's only one example. There was a time when I caught Skeeter doing something illegal, but during the war she bribed her way into the files at the Ministry I could have used against her. Any spell I used against her now would send me to jail."
Dudley eyed her in astonishment and muttered, "How did you know that... all that stuff about, well, normal people? Muggles, that's your word. You read the papers?"
"My parents are dentists," Hermione said. "They're Muggles and they live regular lives just like you. They've never done magic."
"Then how come you-?"
Hermione shrugged. "I'm Muggle-born. Magic is a recessive but highly resilient gene. One of my ancestors was probably magic, but that's too far back to remember. It doesn't make any difference to my abilities, but of course there are some people in the wizarding world who would look down on me for it."
Which was a little daft, Dudley reflected. After all, he supposed he would prefer not to be judged by the actions of his own family. He had neither his mother's insatiable thirst for gossip nor his father's endless capacity to rage against everyday events. At least not anymore. In fact, Dudley sometimes felt that he had very little in common with his family at all, besides the secret about Harry's lot.
Hermione seemed as though she knew exactly what was going through his head.
"Don't worry about that part," she said, giving him a very level look. "I wouldn't judge them too harshly. After all, you're the one who knows so well what freaks our lot can be, aren't you?"
He had no retort.
Dudley returned home that night in a towering temper, having spent all day at work apologizing to his boss for his previous day's tardiness and gazing at a pastry shop longingly from his office window. The letter from Rita Skeeter was still in his briefcase, and he intended to lock himself in his bedroom to brood over it and ignore his mother's incessant knocking. Alas, he was not so lucky. The moment he walked through the door Dudley was ambushed by both of his parents and ushered into the kitchen.
"How was your day Diddykins?" Petunia asked, fussing over his jacket and setting a plate of pork chops before him on the table.
Dudley did not sit down. He gaped, open-mouthed, at the seat opposite his at the table. A young girl sat looking up at him expectantly, wearing a nervous smile and tucking her hair behind her protuberant ears every few seconds.
"Dudley, you remember Audrina Fisher from Marge's wedding?" Vernon said, waving an airy hand as he effectuated introductions.
"Fifth wedding," Dudley muttered under his breath, too low for his father to hear. He did remember the girl, vaguely, but not in a way that made him particularly happy to see her in his kitchen.
"Well dear, Audrina has just gotten an internship here in the city and is moving in nearby," Petunia informed him. Her eyes held the smug gleam of a matchmaker on the verge of success. "I thought it would be nice for the two of you to get better acquainted."
Dudley dropped into his chair and grunted a noncommittal reply. Vernon gave him a very pointed look, which Dudley ignored as long as he possibly could. When he was no longer able to disregard his father's glares and nudges under the table, Dudley sighed and addressed Audrina.
"How do you, er, know Aunt Marge?" he asked.
"I'm an amateur dog breeder," Audrina said at once. "Mostly bulldogs. I met Marge at a dog show in Wales. We got along quite well and she gave me the most precious little pup for Christmas. I named him Louis after Louis the Sixteenth of France. Seventeenth century monarchs are another passion of mine..."
She seemed to need no encouragement, but babbled on enthusiastically while Dudley nodded here and there, allowing his mind to wander while focusing on the droning sound of her voice. He supposed she had a pleasant enough voice, though not as lovely as Parvati's. Her hair was stringy and limp, unlike Parvati's which always looked shiny in the light, and she was perpetually tucking it behind her ears in a sort of nervous tick. Dudley found after a minute or two that simply looking at her put him to sleep.
"Dudders? Dudley, dear?"
Petunia was looking at Dudley with concern, her knuckles white on the handle of the spatula she was holding.
"Mum. What?" Dudley asked, shaking himself out of his torpor with great effort.
"Audrina was asking you whether you're interested in ornithology," Petunia said.
"Orni-?"
"Birds," said Audrina a little testily, as though daring Dudley to admit that he had not been paying attention.
In his haste to fill the awkward silence Dudley blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
"I saw a shop full of owls the other day. And toads and rats as well."
Vernon dropped his knife and fork with an almighty clatter and Petunia got a very pinched look on her face.
"I don't approve of allowing vermin into the city," Audrina huffed. "Rats belong in sewers, don't they?"
Another hour and two full courses of mashed potatoes and gravy later found Dudley being dragged into the sitting room by his livid father and flustered mother. Audrina had ploughed on with her diatribe on owls and rats and the lack of cleanliness in the city, and Dudley had toyed with his pork chops and potatoes and said not a word. All in all, the dinner party had not been such a rousing success.
"Where the devil have your manners gone to?" Vernon demanded in a furious whisper.
Dudley shrugged. "Why is she here?" he asked.
"You've been so peculiar these last few months," said Petunia. "We thought it might cheer you up to meet a nice girl. Audrina comes from a lovely family, you know, and she went to a good school. Why don't you try spending just a bit more time with her, Popkin?"
Dudley stared at his mother for a full ten seconds. Then he turned towards the stairs without a word, climbed to the second landing, entered his room, and locked the door behind him. He could hear his parents arguing downstairs and he took a deep breath, willing himself not to smash the room to pieces. At length he found his patience and was able, instead, to pull a suitcase out from under his bed and throw random items inside it pell-mell. A jacket from his boxing days, an old comic, a pair of mismatched socks, a computer game he had not played for years... It seemed everything he owned was a relic from another life; he needed new things.
"Son, this is really no way for a man to behave," called a gruff voice outside, and Vernon rapped smartly on the door. Dudley ignored him.
"Darling why don't you come out so we can talk about what's upsetting you?" Petunia implored, knocking more softly but for much longer than her husband. Dudley ignored her, too.
When he was finished packing his things Dudley pried his window open and threw his trunk down. Thankfully, it landed in the hedgerows, which muffled the thunk that came with its fall. He proceeded to climb out and step onto a branch from a tree that was near enough to reach. He was struck by how juvenile it might seem to sneak out of one's own house through the window.
If only he could disappear and transport himself through space like he had seen Parvati's friend do what felt like a lifetime ago in the parking lot of Grunnings.
Dudley frowned as he swung down from his perch on the tree and landed in the garden. Had he really just wished he could do magic? Surely it was the stress from the evening's frustrations. Of course, he didn't wish that.
Seizing his trunk and brushing a few twigs from his hair, Dudley strode into the gathering dusk that enveloped Privet Drive. He was not entirely certain of where he was headed, but meandered from neighborhood to neighborhood for several hours until he was able to hail a taxi.
"Where to?" the driver asked him.
"Central London, please."
The driver eyed him in disbelief and barked, "That's a ways off, mate. Cost you a pretty penny."
Dudley unfastened the Rolex watch his father had given him when he had joined Grunnings and held it out to the driver.
"Here," he said. "Will you take this?"
"This is too much," the driver protested. Dudley insisted, and at length the driver accepted with much stuttered thanks. After an endless drive the taxi entered London and passed a rather dingy street which Dudley recognized.
"Stop!" he shouted. "This-this is fine, thanks."
He climbed out before the driver could say anything more and ran with his trunk to the storefront that had attracted his attention. It was an antiques shop with a green awning that looked awfully familiar, standing next to a tea shop that had closed for the night. The last time Dudley had passed this way, there had been a pub called The Leaky Cauldron wedged between those two shops.
An entire alley had disappeared in a matter of days.
Dudley stood immobile, stunned, and torn between his curiosity and the distaste he felt towards the now vanished magical domain. Fortunately a distraction arrived in the form of a young woman who strode right up to the gap between the two stores. Less fortunately, the woman turned out to be the very last person he wanted to see.
Parvati stopped short directly to Dudley's right and faced the tea shop. She had found time since the previous afternoon to cut her hair, acquire pierced ears, and adopt a dramatically different style of clothing than Dudley had ever seen her wear. He gaped, willing himself to turn on his heel and run away. But it was already too late.
"Hello there," Parvati said, smiling at him. "Nice night, isn't it?"
It was as though they had never met. Dudley's mind was a rolling, roiling turmoil of confusion. Had she caught on to his game and decided to play along? Had her memory somehow been wiped, too? He struggled to regain control over his breathing and to remember the one thing he must do at all costs: act as though he did not know her, either.
"Aren't you going in?" Parvati asked.
Dudley turned, and nearly fell over. There, right in front of him, stood The Leaky Cauldron, almost as though it had been there all along. It was as if Parvati's presence had triggered its appearance. Dudley frowned, unsure why Parvati would expect him to enter the magical world if she thought him obliviated. Nevertheless, faced with the pressure of her expectant gaze, Dudley folded and entered the pub. Once inside, however, he held back awkwardly without any notion of what he might do next. He sure as hell was not about to head back into the Diagonal Alley to be attacked by freaks who wanted to set him on fire.
Parvati had gone over to the bar, and she nodded at him, noting his embarrassment. She struck such a contrast to Audrina Fisher, who had all but ignored Dudley in favor of her endless discourse on bulldogs and God only knew what else. He was sorely tempted to join her at the bar. Feeling that he was about to get in much too deep once more, Dudley smiled furtively and began to back away towards the door.
"You look lost," Parvati called over. "Are you not from around here?"
"I- Yes... I mean no," Dudley stammered.
"Looking for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?"
"How do you know- I mean, no. I mean-" he stopped himself.
She laughed and pointed at his trunk, from which a flap of the tote bag he had gotten at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes peeked out near the corner.
"I'm Padma," she said. "Padma Patil."
The Phoenix Or The Flame by GinnyRULES
Chapter Endnotes: Before anybody asks, I don't plan on this turning into some weird love triangle. The fact that Parvati has a twin is just a great opportunity for some mistaken identity hijinks. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and reviews are appreciated as always.