Harry Potter Dudley Dursley Novels & Stories

Darwin muffled as he stood up from where he was seated. He looked across the table as he signaled me to get up. “And this gathering won’t ever be completed without a proper introduction of our associate, Dumbledore Voldemort. A man who has the entire publicity of Hawaii in his hands!!” He chuckled softly as every board member clapped their hands in unison and in a pretty disorganized manner. I smiled back at Darwin and every other persons that was present. “Oh mine!! I wish I was made his personal assistant.” I heard a lady wished for something funny.

Harry's father isn't kept in his room like I thought he would be. Instead, we walk down to the dungeons and I start to wonder why Harry would keep his father there. But its unlike any other dungeon, it's deep and it doesn't have gates. Instead, it's an iron door with four guards in front of it. Harry dismisses the guards, and he opens the door. I watch him as he does so. Once the door is opened, Harry is the first to step in, and I follow suit.

she said with a mischievous smile on her face. It didn't take long for me to understand what she meant, and an image of a British actor portraying a fictional character popped into my head. "Oh, you mean, Harry Potter, and yeah, it was Hagrid who was the keeper of the keys," I exclaimed. "Bingo!" "Wait, are you saying that there is someone here named Hagrid?" I asked in disbelief. "Of course not! But there is someone here named Lucy, and she kept all the keys in each room," she said, still oblivious to my excited heart.

“And I’m sorry about...” “Yes, I’ll come over to braid your hair,” I cut in quickly. “Thank you for bringing it.” I didn’t give him a chance to finish. I shut the door quite fast. “I’ve seen him somewhere,” Duke said, now standing close behind me. “I’m sure you have,” I replied. “He’s Harry Peters. The musician.” Duke tilted his head slightly, thinking. “Yeah, I think we’ve crossed paths before. I just can’t place it.”

“But we’ll have someone else go undercover, or my son will never let us hear the end of it.” I can only nod to that because he’s not wrong on that. As the meeting breaks up, I catch sight of movement through the window, and my attention shifts completely. In the training yard below, Harry, who is now seven and sprouting up like a weed, is sparring with a retired Dylan and three other pack warriors. His movements are confident and he’s no longer the scared little boy who used to have shifting episodes. "Look at him," I murmur, watching Harry duck under Dylan’s swing and counter with a move that would make Wolfgang proud.