A Servant to Time and Consequence (rude_not_ginger) wrote,
A Servant to Time and Consequence
rude_not_ginger

for theatrical_muse: Four

Number two didn't answer, of course, neither did number three. By the time the Doctor limped over to number four on this little street, he was more than a little fed up with it all.

After all, he had come to this place because he was quite certain it was all so ridiculously normal that he wouldn't have a problem setting up a static bimolecular charger, because there would be no alien interference. Besides, this was Surrey! Nothing happened in Surrey!

Least of all attack owls. Attack owls, of all things! The Doctor couldn't run away from them fast enough, and some old woman with a purple hairnet started chasing him down the street, waving a broom at him and screaming things about eating death or whatever. And then the really strange things started happening. Ghosts, screaming banshees, and all those bloody owls! Wasn't Surrey supposed to be normal?

After much running, the whole situation left the Doctor with an owl's claw in his right hand, a nasty sprain, and no idea where exactly he was. The street sign read "Privet Drive", but that could've been in Spain for all he knew.

He stepped up to the door and gave it a rap with his good hand. Someone had to answer this door. It looked like number five was full of cats, and the Doctor did not like cats.

He was so wrapped up in staring at number five, he didn't realize the door to number four had opened, revealing a rather overweight teenage boy in a school uniform that fit a little too tightly around his middle. He gaped at the Doctor's injured form.

"Hello," the Doctor said. "I'm the Doctor. Did you know you have attack owls out there? Nasty bunch. Appears one has injured my hand badly. Was wondering if you happen to have a bandage, maybe some tweezers? Well, with a claw this big might even need pliers."

No response. Clearly the boy was a bit stunned.

"Is your mum or dad home, maybe? Won't be a mo' just gotta fix up my hand I'll be out of the way."

The boy's gaping didn't cease, and the Doctor was left wondering if, perhaps, the boy was simply stupid rather than stunned.

"Who's at the door, Dudley?" a booming man's voice came from inside.

The boy, Dudley it appeared, snapped out of his gaping immediately. "It…looks like one of Potter's nutters." He shook his head and turned around, leaving the door open for the Doctor.

It was the Doctor's turn to gape. Was he honestly just leaving the door open, with all those cats and owls out there? Was he mad? The Doctor hopped inside and shut the door quickly behind himself. He was welcomed by a rather tidily put-together home of complete averageness, with yellowing wallpaper and small, perfectly-positioned pictures of the aforementioned Dudley along most of them. Oh, and a slightly larger version of Dudley, this one with a mustache and a red face.

"What are you doing in my house?!" he demanded. Well, bellowed. Well, demanded. Demanded and bellowed at the same time.

The Doctor turned, pointing at the door, then pointed at the Dudley boy.

"He let me in, I wound up---"

"Oh, Vernon, he's bleeding on the carpet!" A tall, very thin and very plain looking woman snapped, looking quite put out.

"Of course I'm bleeding on the carpet!" the Doctor returned, "I've got a----"

"I'm tellin' you, Mum, he's one of Potter's nutters." Dudley dropped onto the couch in front of a video game.

"Are you one of those lot?" The large man, Vernon, demanded/bellowed.

"One of wha---"

"Isn't it obvious, Vernon? Trying to fool us in order to get that boy again?" The tiny woman hissed at him. It was practically a hiss. It was also practically a squeal. These were strange people.

"Petunia, let me handle this." Vernon snapped/bellowed back to her.

"Oh, very well," Petunia relented/squealed.

"Are you trying to fool us in order to get that boy again?" Vernon turned back to the Doctor.

"What boy?"

"He isn't here! Ran off to train with that bloody bird of his. Go find him elsewhere!"

The Doctor pointed at his hand. "I could use a bandage! Attacked by owls! What is wrong with you lot?!"

Vernon stepped up to the Doctor and all but growled in his face. His breath smelled like sausage. "Do I need to show you the door?"

Before the Doctor could answer, the man's fat finger pointed at the door. The Doctor would normally protest, but this entire town seemed to be completely bonkers. He took a step back, then another, then stepped back towards the door. Another step. And another. And then he made a limping run out and away.

The door was slammed rather unceremoniously closed behind him. Before him, just down the walk, was a rather thin teenager with round glasses and a big snowy owl on his arm.

"S'not attacking you, is it?" the Doctor asked, pointing to the owl.

The boy looked at the owl, then back at the Doctor. "This is my owl."

"Ah." The Doctor nodded. He knocked his head back to gesture at the door. "You live here?"

"Yeah." The boy didn't seem very happy to admit that.

"They're…a bit mad, aren't they?" the Doctor was just double-checking. The boy's nod confirmed it. "Right. Where can I get something to take care of this?"

"Next door. Lady with the cats is also a nurse." The boy with the owl said.

"I hate cats."

"You'll hate the Dursleys more."

"Touche." The Doctor limped across the lawn towards number five. "Watch out for that owl, all right? Not…really sure they're native to England."

"Uh, will do?" The boy shook his head and went back inside number four.

Surrey was most certainly not the quietest place on Earth. And owls quickly replaced cats as the Doctor's most dislikeable animal.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 991
Tags: community: theatrical muse, verse [active]: 00: open
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