A/N: Hey guys! This is kinda weird and pretty funny (I hope!). I like "Sweet Home Alabama" (even though it’s not my home) and the idea for a songfic with it just popped into my head. Please read and REVIEW! Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: "Sweet Home Alabama" belongs to Lynyrd Skynyrd, the alternate lyrics ("Sweet Home Privet Drive") and the plot belong to me, and, as always, the characters belong to the magnificent J.K. Rowling and her publishers.
"Sweet Home Privet Drive"
Dudley Dursley sat on the train carrying him and his classmates into Paddington Station for the summer break. Dudley, having just finished his fifth year at Smeltings, was alone in his compartment, simply because no one else could fit in there with him. (No, this was not the fault of the train designer, as Petunia was fond of suggesting. Actually, the compartment was quite spacious, but then, so was Dudley. He took up three seats and his protruding stomach prevented the door from being opened wider than a few inches.)
Anyway, Dudley sat in his solitary compartment humming to himself. At the moment, an old American song was running through his head. "What was it called? Sweet Home Ali Baba? No that couldn’t be it. Hmmm. Oh well." Since poor Dudley couldn’t remember the lyrics (or the title, for that matter) to "Sweet Home Alabama", he decided, in an unusual flash of creativity, to make up his own.
"This train keeps on rollin’,
Carry me home to see my mum.
Singin’ songs about Little Whinging,
I miss ole Surrey, but this song makes me feel better some!"
With a lurch, Dudley felt the train pull into the station and stop. He heaved himself to his feet and set about getting his trunk down, still singing.
"Well, I heard Mr. Potter talk about her.
Well I heard ole Harry put her down.
Well I hope Harry Potter will remember,
We Dursley men don’t need him around anyhow!"
As Dudley hauled his trunk out into the corridor, he started in on the refrain:
"
Sweet home Privet Drive, where the hedgerows are so neat,Sweet home Privet Drive, I know you can’t be beat!"
When he carried his trunk off the train and onto the platform, people were giving him odd looks, but Dudley didn’t care. It felt so good to express himself and just let loose- it felt great to sing!
"
In Grunnings they all love my Dad, (Boo Ooh Hoo)That’s because he is the boss.
They know if they show their true feelings,
He’ll tell them all to go get lost! Yeah Dad!
Sweet home Privet Drive, where the hedgerows are so neat,
Sweet home Privet Drive, I know you can’t be beat!"
Dudley was so absorbed he didn’t even noticed the three people making their way towards him from across the platform.
"Every year when I go to Smeltings,
And I cry myself to sleep at night,
I dream of you, Privet Drive,
And count the days till I’ll be back there with my night-light!"
Sweet home Privet Drive, where the hedgerows are so neat,
Sweet home Privet Drive, I know you can’t be beat!"
As Dudley finished his ‘concert’ he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder. He whirled around (as fast as a person who weighs roughly as much as a baby whale can whirl) to see Harry, grinning at him.
"Night-light, huh?"