HP Widdershins, Part 5
Hermione is not a nice person. *applies Ren and Stimpy voice* Just the way I like it! Eheheheh.
HP Widdershins.
An illustrated, alternate universe, OOC fanfic by Didodikali.
Part One, in which Harry Potter grows a brain.
Part Two, in which Dudley Dursley grows a personality.
Part Three, in which Hermione Granger seizes the reins.
Part Four, in which Harry Potter speaks softly.
And now, Part Five, in which Dudley opens packages.
Oct 20
I usually have to go downstairs to get the post, but today there was a big wooden crate parked in front of my bedroom door. I brought it in and opened it. And then I pulled out my phone.
Hermione answered on the seventh ring and I said, "Hi. How are you? I'll tell you how you are. I thought you were charming and eccentric, but it turns out you're just socially backward."
"I'll always know exactly where I stand with you, won't I. I suppose this means the box has arrived. That was quick. And, hello, how are you?"
"I'm fine. I don't know if you've noticed this, but I am also exactly the sort of bloke prone to regifting. And I'm thinking the zoo will be the lucky donor today. Because what else do you think I'm going to do with this freaking monster?"
"You mean my cat? Is he all right?"
The cat poked its head out of the box and looked around my room. "Wow," it said, in a disturbingly deep voice.
"So it's a cat, then? As in felis domesticus? Because I thought it was a cougar, or a puma, or- I don't know, it's got spots on it! It's freaking huge!"
"Did he bite you?"
I jumped back a foot. "NO! Were you hoping it would? What the heck is wrong with you? ...Is this revenge for not inviting you last weekend? I told you why I couldn't. It was rare opportunity to hear those guest speakers. I thought you of all people would understand. Why-"
"-Dudley, I didn't send you the cat for revenge!"
"So it's just a present. Sweet. A big, ugly cat that reportedly bites. That's dead romantic, Granger. On Neptune. Next time send me chocolates."
"Let me talk to Crookshanks."
"Who? Is that its name? That's a terrible name. You should call it Grendel, or-" The thing was huge and round and yellow. "-call it Ra, or something," I said. But I stuck the phone out towards the cat and Hermione spoke to it.
The cat listened, looked me up and down, and then stuck out its paw at me. I reached out and it shook my hand like it was a dog. "Wow," it said, sounding totally unimpressed.
"Okay, nevermind. The cat's brilliant. I can't keep it though. I'm in college housing and I'm not allowed to have pets. I'll be kicked out on my ear."
She sighed heavily. "Look, he's not exactly a pet. He's my familiar. I was going to call you and ask properly, but I had it on the Big List of Things To Do and the box was all prepared and my over-eager assistants have been whipping through the list and they sent him off before I could tell them to wait until I'd called."
"You have assistants?"
"Yes. Listen to me. The cat is not a pet, no one will ever even see him except you, and you won't see him unless you want to. You don't have to feed him, he'll eat the local mice. You don't have to let him in and out, he'll take himself in and out. The cat is letter transport in case communication fails."
"I thought you used owls."
"Our school owls are ...having a little trouble. If they think of a way to block the cell phones next, I need to have some alternate means of communication already in place. How soon will the next batch of results be ready?"
I looked at my computer, still chuntering quietly away. "I tweaked the code some more, but I need a better processor. It's still collapsing the indetermancies. A week? Two?"
"Right. If you can't reach me by phone whenever it's ready, just give the results to Crookshanks. There's a secret zipped compartment on the inside of his collar. It's very unlikely we'll need this; I'm just trying to calculate all the angles."
"Oh," I said. How's Harry? No, I'm not going to ask that. "How's the seige preparations?"
"Well, the Patronus mining went fabulously with only a couple of potion-drunk fights. If we ever get surrounded by dementors we'll be able to pop volleys of Patronuses up out of the ground on cue. Unfortunately we're having that umbrella problem where it looks like it's going to rain so you bring your umbrella and then it doesn't rain and you find out that what you really need is sunscreen, so the Patronus mines are looking a little moot at the moment. Can you give me any tips on making napalm? Apparently fire is what you use against a zombie army."
"Uh... What? Are you surrounded by a zombie army?"
"No, not yet, they're still on their way here. First they went to the Ministry and ate all the brains."
I laughed. "I suppose there wouldn't have been many brains at the Ministry."
"No, there were lots- oh, you mean the bureaucrats. No, all the bureaucrats were evacuated; the zombies ate the brains out of the tank."
The cat jumped off my desk and began exploring my room. I said, "The tank? Zombies? Brains? Brains in a tank? Am I really having this conversation?"
"Don't ask me; I don't do namby-pamby subjects like Philosophy. Now tell me your tips on making napalm. I'm afraid the boiling oil on the parapets won't have any effect on zombies beyond warming them up to a little above room temperature."
"Why on earth would you think I know anything about napalm?" I said.
"The notes in the margins of your chemistry text seem to hint at indiscreet pyromaniac boyhood adventure."
"And here I'd thought to cultivate a wholesome reputation with you. Oh, well." I told her about napalm.
She wrote down what I told her and then she said, "Hold on," and I listened while she talked to other people. "I want two Halfblood-led teams to go out and pick up these components. Get McGonagall to let out the Muggle funds to buy the stuff. Here's my signature," she said to them, and then to me, "Ah, there's nothing like the approach of a zombie army to really make everyone willing to pull together."
"Where are you?" I asked.
"The dining hall," she said. "Don't worry, I have privacy to talk. Everytime someone comes over I hand them a scrap of parchment with errands on it just for them and they go away. I just sent our resident giant off to bake us some great huge rock-like treacle muffins, which are irresistible to giants. We shall turn them into Portkeys that lead to various locations in the Himalayas."
"Oh," I said. And then I asked, "Do you have air superiority?"
"I'm working on it. I've got three hippogriffs, four quidditch teams, Harry, who's almost as good as a Ukrainian Ironbelly, and maybe a dozen invisible, flying, carrion-eating horses. Oooo. Maybe the thestrals would eat the zombies. That would be convenient. I doubt the horses would eat napalm though. So I'll use the tasty edible magic fire first, see how the thestrals like that, and then I'll have the napalm and Harry in reserve. Great! That's the plan." And I listened to her scribble.
So Harry's okay. "You're really gung ho about all this," I said.
"Yes. I need Voldemort dead by end of term. I'd like to spend next term studying for my NEWTs. So, chop chop, as they say."
"Wow, you are one bloodthirsty witch, not that there's anything wrong with that. My friends love the sound of you."
"Are you telling people you're dating a witch?"
"I tell them, but somehow they hear 'bitch' and I'm lazy and I don't correct them. So we are dating? That's interesting- considering I haven't seen you in ages."
"Well, if you don't want-"
"-No, no, if you say we're dating, then we're dating. It's a tad epistolary though. I want an actual in-person date one of these days. And don't think you can get out of this by dieing in some exciting manner, either. I bet you'd make a really cute zombie."
"Bleaaaarhg. My soul would be so grossed out by being your zombie girlfriend that it would stick around and haunt you."
"I'd open a concession stand and sell tickets to the haunting. And then I'd spend the money on my new, live girlfriend."
"You are so mean. I'd possess your new girlfriend and make her bite you."
"Lovely. I don't get bit nearly enough. This cat is not biting me, either. I'm very disappointed."
"Look in the bottom of the cat box," she said.
"Why? Is there something else bitey or horrible in there?" I looked in and pulled out the contents.
It was a collection of parchment pages, penned in Hermione's clear hand, sewn together on the side with irregular stitches of white cotton thread. She'd copied out the interesting parts of her Arithmancy book for me. "Ooooh," I said. "Thanks. This looks illegal."
"You bet," she said, "And if anyone's hands other than yours ever touch it, it will burst into flames. Won't that be nifty!"
"Great. How very James Bond. I'll store it in an envelope marked tax records," I said. And then a photo dropped out from between the pages. It was of Hermione and when I touched her she moved. Two inch tall Hermione waved at me. "Oh. Oh!" I said.
"You found it, eh? The charm on the picture is less secure: it will only move for wizards or you, and it won't burst into flame for anyone. I was going to make that picture much more ...um, interesting, but then I reconsidered. I might want to run for office one day."
"Uh-huh," I said, not listening. I touched her again and she blew a kiss. Touch, wave. Touch, kiss. Touch, wave.
"All right, all right, back to the agenda. If your technomancy location results match with what my arithmancy results here are describing, then we'll have a hard time finding the entrance to Voldemort's Fortress of Eeeevil. I'm expecting What's His Face to have a local water supply that we could poison though. He'll notice magical poisons quickly though and be suspicious, but if it was a Muggle poison maybe he wouldn't be too suspicious. And maybe he'd send someone out to fix the water and, if we had the entire area filled with bugs and watchers, we could find his entrance. So, hypothetically, what would be an excellent undetectable-till-you-were-puking-and-half-dead Muggle poison?"
"Hypothetically, huh? Dimethyl mercury?" I said.
"Is that something I can get in quantity? From a local shop?" she asked.
Hypothetically, my foot. "Er... No?"
"Useless, then. What can I get easily that's still horrible? No need for something with a Muggle antidote. I'd prefer not to poison Bambi and all the local wildlife, but if we must we must. We'll send in the unicorns after I suppose. If they'll talk to us again. I'm certain I can find some virgins somewhere at this school."
The cat looked up then and vanished under my bed. And then my friend, Gordon, burst into my room. I showed him the way out.
"What was that noise?" asked Hermione.
"Uh. Some bloke in the hall. He, uh, he tripped. He's fine," I said.
"Some bloke? You don't even know me now? Come on!" said Gordon. I shut the door in his face.
"So. Poison?" said Hermione.
"Uh... I'm a maths and computers person. Despite the whole napalm business I'm not all that up on chemistry, and you have my book. ...My friend Gordon will know how to kill Bambi. I'll ask him and call you later." I'll buy him a couple of pints, maybe he won't remember me asking him horrible, creepy questions.
"Thanks, Dudley. You're a prince."
"Riiiight. I think you're unclear on the concept. I can't believe it, but you're actually a bad influence on me." Gordon pounded on door outside. "And I have to go," I said.
"I have to go, too. I need to subvert the werewolves somehow. I'm thinking a potions co-op. Talk to you later?"
"Yup. Bye." I shoved Hermione's parchment in my desk, and grabbed my rucksack.
I left my room and locked the door. Gordon said, "We are going to be late, and you-"
"-Don't even start with me. And I've told you at least five times to knock first."
"Whatever. Has your invisible friend dumped you yet?" asked Gordon.
"Shut it." For that I'll buy you twenty pints and you can be sick all weekend.
~
~
Next: Part 6.
HP Widdershins.
An illustrated, alternate universe, OOC fanfic by Didodikali.
Part One, in which Harry Potter grows a brain.
Part Two, in which Dudley Dursley grows a personality.
Part Three, in which Hermione Granger seizes the reins.
Part Four, in which Harry Potter speaks softly.
And now, Part Five, in which Dudley opens packages.
Oct 20
I usually have to go downstairs to get the post, but today there was a big wooden crate parked in front of my bedroom door. I brought it in and opened it. And then I pulled out my phone.
Hermione answered on the seventh ring and I said, "Hi. How are you? I'll tell you how you are. I thought you were charming and eccentric, but it turns out you're just socially backward."
"I'll always know exactly where I stand with you, won't I. I suppose this means the box has arrived. That was quick. And, hello, how are you?"
"I'm fine. I don't know if you've noticed this, but I am also exactly the sort of bloke prone to regifting. And I'm thinking the zoo will be the lucky donor today. Because what else do you think I'm going to do with this freaking monster?"
"You mean my cat? Is he all right?"
The cat poked its head out of the box and looked around my room. "Wow," it said, in a disturbingly deep voice.
"So it's a cat, then? As in felis domesticus? Because I thought it was a cougar, or a puma, or- I don't know, it's got spots on it! It's freaking huge!"
"Did he bite you?"
I jumped back a foot. "NO! Were you hoping it would? What the heck is wrong with you? ...Is this revenge for not inviting you last weekend? I told you why I couldn't. It was rare opportunity to hear those guest speakers. I thought you of all people would understand. Why-"
"-Dudley, I didn't send you the cat for revenge!"
"So it's just a present. Sweet. A big, ugly cat that reportedly bites. That's dead romantic, Granger. On Neptune. Next time send me chocolates."
"Let me talk to Crookshanks."
"Who? Is that its name? That's a terrible name. You should call it Grendel, or-" The thing was huge and round and yellow. "-call it Ra, or something," I said. But I stuck the phone out towards the cat and Hermione spoke to it.
The cat listened, looked me up and down, and then stuck out its paw at me. I reached out and it shook my hand like it was a dog. "Wow," it said, sounding totally unimpressed.
"Okay, nevermind. The cat's brilliant. I can't keep it though. I'm in college housing and I'm not allowed to have pets. I'll be kicked out on my ear."
She sighed heavily. "Look, he's not exactly a pet. He's my familiar. I was going to call you and ask properly, but I had it on the Big List of Things To Do and the box was all prepared and my over-eager assistants have been whipping through the list and they sent him off before I could tell them to wait until I'd called."
"You have assistants?"
"Yes. Listen to me. The cat is not a pet, no one will ever even see him except you, and you won't see him unless you want to. You don't have to feed him, he'll eat the local mice. You don't have to let him in and out, he'll take himself in and out. The cat is letter transport in case communication fails."
"I thought you used owls."
"Our school owls are ...having a little trouble. If they think of a way to block the cell phones next, I need to have some alternate means of communication already in place. How soon will the next batch of results be ready?"
I looked at my computer, still chuntering quietly away. "I tweaked the code some more, but I need a better processor. It's still collapsing the indetermancies. A week? Two?"
"Right. If you can't reach me by phone whenever it's ready, just give the results to Crookshanks. There's a secret zipped compartment on the inside of his collar. It's very unlikely we'll need this; I'm just trying to calculate all the angles."
"Oh," I said. How's Harry? No, I'm not going to ask that. "How's the seige preparations?"
"Well, the Patronus mining went fabulously with only a couple of potion-drunk fights. If we ever get surrounded by dementors we'll be able to pop volleys of Patronuses up out of the ground on cue. Unfortunately we're having that umbrella problem where it looks like it's going to rain so you bring your umbrella and then it doesn't rain and you find out that what you really need is sunscreen, so the Patronus mines are looking a little moot at the moment. Can you give me any tips on making napalm? Apparently fire is what you use against a zombie army."
"Uh... What? Are you surrounded by a zombie army?"
"No, not yet, they're still on their way here. First they went to the Ministry and ate all the brains."
I laughed. "I suppose there wouldn't have been many brains at the Ministry."
"No, there were lots- oh, you mean the bureaucrats. No, all the bureaucrats were evacuated; the zombies ate the brains out of the tank."
The cat jumped off my desk and began exploring my room. I said, "The tank? Zombies? Brains? Brains in a tank? Am I really having this conversation?"
"Don't ask me; I don't do namby-pamby subjects like Philosophy. Now tell me your tips on making napalm. I'm afraid the boiling oil on the parapets won't have any effect on zombies beyond warming them up to a little above room temperature."
"Why on earth would you think I know anything about napalm?" I said.
"The notes in the margins of your chemistry text seem to hint at indiscreet pyromaniac boyhood adventure."
"And here I'd thought to cultivate a wholesome reputation with you. Oh, well." I told her about napalm.
She wrote down what I told her and then she said, "Hold on," and I listened while she talked to other people. "I want two Halfblood-led teams to go out and pick up these components. Get McGonagall to let out the Muggle funds to buy the stuff. Here's my signature," she said to them, and then to me, "Ah, there's nothing like the approach of a zombie army to really make everyone willing to pull together."
"Where are you?" I asked.
"The dining hall," she said. "Don't worry, I have privacy to talk. Everytime someone comes over I hand them a scrap of parchment with errands on it just for them and they go away. I just sent our resident giant off to bake us some great huge rock-like treacle muffins, which are irresistible to giants. We shall turn them into Portkeys that lead to various locations in the Himalayas."
"Oh," I said. And then I asked, "Do you have air superiority?"
"I'm working on it. I've got three hippogriffs, four quidditch teams, Harry, who's almost as good as a Ukrainian Ironbelly, and maybe a dozen invisible, flying, carrion-eating horses. Oooo. Maybe the thestrals would eat the zombies. That would be convenient. I doubt the horses would eat napalm though. So I'll use the tasty edible magic fire first, see how the thestrals like that, and then I'll have the napalm and Harry in reserve. Great! That's the plan." And I listened to her scribble.
So Harry's okay. "You're really gung ho about all this," I said.
"Yes. I need Voldemort dead by end of term. I'd like to spend next term studying for my NEWTs. So, chop chop, as they say."
"Wow, you are one bloodthirsty witch, not that there's anything wrong with that. My friends love the sound of you."
"Are you telling people you're dating a witch?"
"I tell them, but somehow they hear 'bitch' and I'm lazy and I don't correct them. So we are dating? That's interesting- considering I haven't seen you in ages."
"Well, if you don't want-"
"-No, no, if you say we're dating, then we're dating. It's a tad epistolary though. I want an actual in-person date one of these days. And don't think you can get out of this by dieing in some exciting manner, either. I bet you'd make a really cute zombie."
"Bleaaaarhg. My soul would be so grossed out by being your zombie girlfriend that it would stick around and haunt you."
"I'd open a concession stand and sell tickets to the haunting. And then I'd spend the money on my new, live girlfriend."
"You are so mean. I'd possess your new girlfriend and make her bite you."
"Lovely. I don't get bit nearly enough. This cat is not biting me, either. I'm very disappointed."
"Look in the bottom of the cat box," she said.
"Why? Is there something else bitey or horrible in there?" I looked in and pulled out the contents.
It was a collection of parchment pages, penned in Hermione's clear hand, sewn together on the side with irregular stitches of white cotton thread. She'd copied out the interesting parts of her Arithmancy book for me. "Ooooh," I said. "Thanks. This looks illegal."
"You bet," she said, "And if anyone's hands other than yours ever touch it, it will burst into flames. Won't that be nifty!"
"Great. How very James Bond. I'll store it in an envelope marked tax records," I said. And then a photo dropped out from between the pages. It was of Hermione and when I touched her she moved. Two inch tall Hermione waved at me. "Oh. Oh!" I said.
"You found it, eh? The charm on the picture is less secure: it will only move for wizards or you, and it won't burst into flame for anyone. I was going to make that picture much more ...um, interesting, but then I reconsidered. I might want to run for office one day."
"Uh-huh," I said, not listening. I touched her again and she blew a kiss. Touch, wave. Touch, kiss. Touch, wave.
"All right, all right, back to the agenda. If your technomancy location results match with what my arithmancy results here are describing, then we'll have a hard time finding the entrance to Voldemort's Fortress of Eeeevil. I'm expecting What's His Face to have a local water supply that we could poison though. He'll notice magical poisons quickly though and be suspicious, but if it was a Muggle poison maybe he wouldn't be too suspicious. And maybe he'd send someone out to fix the water and, if we had the entire area filled with bugs and watchers, we could find his entrance. So, hypothetically, what would be an excellent undetectable-till-you-were-puking-and-half-dead Muggle poison?"
"Hypothetically, huh? Dimethyl mercury?" I said.
"Is that something I can get in quantity? From a local shop?" she asked.
Hypothetically, my foot. "Er... No?"
"Useless, then. What can I get easily that's still horrible? No need for something with a Muggle antidote. I'd prefer not to poison Bambi and all the local wildlife, but if we must we must. We'll send in the unicorns after I suppose. If they'll talk to us again. I'm certain I can find some virgins somewhere at this school."
The cat looked up then and vanished under my bed. And then my friend, Gordon, burst into my room. I showed him the way out.
"What was that noise?" asked Hermione.
"Uh. Some bloke in the hall. He, uh, he tripped. He's fine," I said.
"Some bloke? You don't even know me now? Come on!" said Gordon. I shut the door in his face.
"So. Poison?" said Hermione.
"Uh... I'm a maths and computers person. Despite the whole napalm business I'm not all that up on chemistry, and you have my book. ...My friend Gordon will know how to kill Bambi. I'll ask him and call you later." I'll buy him a couple of pints, maybe he won't remember me asking him horrible, creepy questions.
"Thanks, Dudley. You're a prince."
"Riiiight. I think you're unclear on the concept. I can't believe it, but you're actually a bad influence on me." Gordon pounded on door outside. "And I have to go," I said.
"I have to go, too. I need to subvert the werewolves somehow. I'm thinking a potions co-op. Talk to you later?"
"Yup. Bye." I shoved Hermione's parchment in my desk, and grabbed my rucksack.
I left my room and locked the door. Gordon said, "We are going to be late, and you-"
"-Don't even start with me. And I've told you at least five times to knock first."
"Whatever. Has your invisible friend dumped you yet?" asked Gordon.
"Shut it." For that I'll buy you twenty pints and you can be sick all weekend.
~
~
Next: Part 6.