Dudley Dursley and the Death Eaters

(Author's note: this story is set during DEATHLY HALLOWS, a few weeks after Harry's relatives went into hiding)

"Death Eaters!" cried Diggle. "Run for the Portkey!"

It was almost a relief to hear that. The Dursleys had been in the Wizard version of a Safe House for weeks, and they were bored and unhappy. Not only that, but like Tolstoy's unhappy families, each Dursley was unhappy in his or her own way.

Dudley was cut off, from his electronics, from his telly, from his gang, almost everything he enjoyed in life. Nobody that he dealt with now cared that he could beat up anybody, and besides he did not dare beat up anybody around him because, though he hated to admit it, he depended on them for his life.

Vernon Dudley had operated his own business for years, and took quiet pride in that. He had been accustomed to the employees who treated him with clear deference. They acted that way because they were afraid of being sacked, but at least they acted that way. Now the business was gone – had somebody taken it over, or had it crashed? – and so was the charming suburban home that he had bought with the earnings from his business. He had nothing to show for 30 years of hard work. No money, no power, no prestige.

Petunia Evans Dudley had a slightly more complex form of unhappiness. Back when she was about 12 years old, she was fascinated at the possibility of going to Hogwarts, the fantastic castle by the sea, and dwelling with the magical people there. But as a Muggle with no magical powers, unlike her sister Lily, she was ineligible, and for more than 30 years she had convinced herself that she didn't care. She had even forgotten that she had ever wanted it. Now she WAS finally living with magical people, but not as an equal. She was a dependent, a poor relation.

The hiding place had been comfortable enough. In the wizard world a hiding place didn't have to be small and cramped. A proper Secret-keeper spell was all that was required. But the fact that the Dursleys didn't want to associate with the wizards who owned it (and, after a day or two, the feeling was mutual), limited the living space that they could use.

Now, it sounded like they would be leaving, in a hurry. In spite of a determination not to get involved in the wizardly lifestyle, they knew what a Portkey was – an object that could be programmed to teleport at a certain moment, taking with it any human who happened to be touching it. They also knew what this Portkey looked like: an old blanket.

Dudley picked up one corner of the blanket, his mother a second, and his father a third. There was a flash and the world seemed to spin about them. Then – total darkness. The hint of a breeze implied that they were outdoors, in an unlighted area.

"You'd think they'd remember to light up their transport system," grumbled Dad.

"Lumos," said a female voice, and Dudley could see light coming out of a wand a few feet away. But it was designed to light up the Dursleys, not to help the Dursleys see their surroundings. "Who goes there?"

"I am Mr. Vernon Dursley," said Dad, trying to sound as imposing as possible.

Another wand lit them up. "The Muggle? Can you prove it?"

Being treated as suspicious characters did not improve the Dursley's mood. "I could show you my National Health ID, but you lot don't know what National Health is, do you?"

"Actually, I do," said the original female voice, "but there are simpler tests. Who is the Muggle President of the States?"

"Bill Clinton," said Petunia.

"When did World War II start?"

"Um—"

"1939," said Dudley. As they stared at him, he explained, "I saw it in a movie."

"I think that's convincing," said the woman's voice to her companions. "The pure-bloods despise Muggle culture; they wouldn't study up on random questions."

"OK, they can come in. But we have to be careful, being Secret-keepers."

The questioners turned, and their wands now illuminated a path through somebody's back yard. Eventually they passed through the back door into their new protectors' sitting room.

The protectors turned out to be a 30-something man in wizard costume, and a teenaged girl in jeans. Dudley thought the girl was sexy, but then again, Dudley had been in a Safe House for several weeks.

"So you know things about Muggle culture, as you put it?" asked Mum.

The girl nodded. "The Giles family has always been sorta split – half Muggles and half Wizards. Never known why, whether we're Muggleborn wizards or wizardborn Squibs. But the Ministry, before You-know-who took it over, allowed the Muggle relatives to know the secret. I have an Uncle Rupert, not a wizard himself but very knowledgeable about magic. He lives in a city in the States, called Sunnydale, and fights Dark Arts."

"Roberta, not so much talk."

"Pardon my uncle; he has to be careful what he says, because he's secret-keeper. And we recently heard that You-Know-Who put a taboo on his own name – to use a Muggle expression, speak of the devil and he'll appear."

Dudley unexpectedly found himself liking the girl. She might be a witch, but she tried to look normal, and she spoke to them more like equals than anybody else in the wizard world.

"Show them their new rooms," said the uncle. "Until we can send them to a more permanent destination."

"Now, looka there," said Dad in annoyance. "We're not parsels, you know."

"I know that. You are fugitives from the Ministry."

"From your Ministry. Look, I have worked hard all my life, and I have lost it all, for no fault of my own. What did I do wrong? I gave shelter to a child relative of my wife's."

"I heard the way you treated Harry Potter –"

"Which isn't the issue. I DID take him in. If I had turned them down, I'd still be in business today."

"You-know-who would eventually work his way down to you," said the Uncle.

"DOWN?!" exclaimed Mum. "Are you implying that—"

"Mum, do we have to have to keep arguing?" demanded Dudley. Class distinctions did not mean match to him, except for the difference between bullies and bullied. "I wanna see my room."

"Oh, very well, darling." Dudley squirmed; he did not want his Mum to call him darling in front of the cool girl.

Roberta showed them to a room. Petunia immediately started complaining that three Dursleys could not be expected to squeeze in one room, and Roberta left, saying she would discuss it with her uncle.

A couple of minutes later she screamed.

Dudley ran back to the sitting room, but stopped before entering. There was a scrawny-looking stranger, somebody that Dudley would ordinarily consider too small to be a threat. But he was pointing a wand at Roberta and her father, and they were acting as if it was as dangerous as a loaded gun. Somehow they had lost hold of their wands, which were lying on the floor. The man did not seem to notice Dudley.

"Mudbloods and blood traitors!" the scrawny man said. "Thought you could thumb your nose at the wishes of your rulers? I'll teach you." He pointed his wand at Roberta. "Crucio!"

Roberta screamed again, and fell to the floor, thrashing as if she was burning to death.

Dudley did not know afterward just what caused him to act. Contempt for the scrawny man, plus realization that letting him bully a girl was an admission that Dudley himself was afraid to fight him. Besides, it was because of men like him that the Dursleys had lost everything they had.

Dudley rushed across the room and rammed into the Death Eater, knocking him off his feet. After all, Dudley weighed nearly twice much. As they both fell on the floor, the man tried to point his wand at Dudley, but the boy punched him in the face, which seemed to knock him out. Then Dudley picked up the wand and bent it as far as he could. Eventually it snapped in two, and Roberta stopped writhing.

Dudley looked up and around. His parents looked shocked that he would risk his life for something. Roberta was looking grateful, and as for the uncle—

"You beat a Death Eater and broke his wand!" he exclaimed. "That was magnificent!"

"Um, yeah," said Dudley.

"Do you think you could teach us to fight like that?" asked the Uncle. "We've never learnt fisticuffs, though it was com--, well never mind. Any new weapon against the Dark Lord will help."

"Well, it helps to be, um, hefty," said Dudley. He was conscious of Roberta smiling at him. "But yeah, I'll teach people."

Suddenly exile didn't seem so bad now.

THE END