Mini-M.E. says: Ahoy maties, this here be a bit o' idea that hit M.E. when she be lying in bed last night. It be an AU, o' course, as she be rather fond of such things. She be blaming me for the writing of it, but I says it be all her own fault. Oh, and we be thanking Rapunzel for beta-ing this here yarn.
A Tale of Two
by M.E.
I'm sure you think you know the entire story.
When the boy was born, he was deeply loved by both his parents. To them he was perfect and could do no wrong. It could be construed, therefore, that it was a great blow to him when the Dark Lord killed his parents before he had even turned eighteen months old. The boy survived the encounter only because, in those final moments of her life, his mother called upon something that had been sleeping inside her throughout her entire life, waking it up. Mothers, and the love that they harbor for their children, can be counted among the most powerful and amazing things in this world.
So it was that when the Dark Lord tried to kill the boy, something backfired. The Dark Lord fell, and the boy, sitting innocently in his crib, lived on, a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead the only testament to his traumatic experience.
Orphaned, the boy was sent to live with his mother's sister and her family. It was not ideal at first, while his cousin adopted the boy as the brother he had never had, his uncle was another story entirely. The man was not particularly happy about taking his nephew into his home. He had never gotten on very well with either of the boy's parents, his in-laws. As for his aunt, despite the enmity between her and her sister in the past, she had always looked up to her older sibling to a certain extent, and she welcomed her sister's only child into her home with open arms and an open heart.
With time, even the boy's uncle learned to love him – which actually was not all that hard, since his uncle was a very loving person, once you got past the suspicion.
The boy's name was Dudley Dursley.
While neither boy was what you might call a normal child, they both went to the same, normal school when they were younger. This was because Dudley's aunt insisted that her boys needed to have a basic education, no matter what secondary school they happened to attend. Her husband agreed with her; if for no other reason than that he had learned, over the years, that it was generally a good idea to agree with his wife on such matters. So both Dudley and his cousin Harry went to the local grammar school.
However while their school was quite normal, the same could not always be said about their school days. Occasionally Harry, being on the small side no matter how much his mother tried to "feed him up," was tormented by bullies. Dudley, large for his age, was often Harry's savior in such encounters. But when Dudley was too far away, or couldn't help Harry because he himself was in trouble, strange things would happen around Harry. He would end up on top of the school roof, or the bullies would end up on the roof – and number of things might happen to Harry or his tormentors.
Lily Potter, Dudley's aunt, was hard pressed to explain her son's actions to the school authorities. She now felt a great deal of compassion for her own parents, finally understanding what they'd had to deal with when she was a child. Though it made her feel terribly guilty, she was glad that Dudley never caused her such problems. Neither Dudley and Harry however, could see nothing wrong with the fact that rather strange things would occasionally happen around Harry, and rarely (if ever) around Dudley. Before long school bullies learned that it really was not a good idea to pick on Harry, there was too great a chance that something might happen to you. It might be Dudley, or it might be something that you would rather not think about.
You might think that Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter would not care for each other very much, Dudley being a Muggle, and Harry being a wizard, but they actually got along quite well. In fact, they were a force to be reckoned with when they worked together. Dudley's Uncle James and Harry's adopted uncles (who soon became Dudley's uncles as well) were hard pressed to actually keep the pair in line. Really the boys could only be trusted to follow the instructions of Aunt Lily. It was from her that they learned that red heads most decidedly were not something they wanted to upset.
The pair had grand times with their adoptive uncles and it didn't take long for them to decide that uncles were much better than aunts. For, while Harry's aunt had died when both boys were mere toddlers, Dudley still had his aunts. Of course Aunt Lily was the nearest thing to a mother that Dudley could remember so she didn't really count as an aunt. But unlike Harry, he also had his father's sister, his Aunt Marge.
When they were quite young Dudley had a hard time understanding why his cousin disliked Aunt Marge so much. It was not until both boys were older – six or seven, perhaps –Êthat he truly understood that Aunt Marge only liked Dudley... and Dudley was not so sure if he liked her. Oftentimes when she came to visit she would make disparaging remarks about how Aunt Lily was raising him, and Aunt Marge had proclaimed on more than one occasion Dudley's Uncle James to be a good for nothing layabout. To make things worse, she would sometimes bring one or more of her dogs with her.
Now Dudley liked dogs. He and Harry had a grand time with their Uncle Sirius who would change into a large, black dog now and then and play with the boys. Uncle Sirius was the kind of dog that every boy wants to own when he reaches a certain age. Aunt Marge's dogs were never fun and playful like Uncle Sirius. More often than not they would terrorize Harry something frightful and Aunt Marge would have to be asked several times to call them off. At the age of eight, Dudley and Harry concluded that they would hide in their room whenever Aunt Marge came to visit. Neither her big fat hands nor her atrocious dogs could reach them there.
So both boys grew up with what could most definitely be called a happy childhoodÊ– albeit with occasional bullies and visits from Aunt Marge. And they were content with it continuing that way in the future – which likely it would have, if it had not come.
The day that it came, neither boy was on the lookout. They simply happened to be the first ones up that morning and were therefore the ones to collect both the wizarding and the Muggle post. It was one of the chores that the boys took pleasure in doing each day and they enjoyed trading duties on who collected which. That morning it was Dudley's turn to care for the owls that flew in through the kitchen window and perched on the sill, while Harry trotted to the front hall to see if any Muggle mail had been slipped through the slot in the front door.
When Harry returned, both boys sat down at the kitchen table and pooled what they had retrieved. Dudley sorted the mail into stacks depending on who the letter was addressed to. As always, he ended up with three stacks: one for Aunt Lily, one for Uncle James, and one for junk mail. He was about to sit back and admire his nice, neat stacks when he noticed that there was one letter left over. Picking it up he was surprised to see that it did not fall into any of the three usual categories. It was addressed to Harry.
"Hey, Dudley, what's that?" Harry asked, coming up from behind Dudley.
Speechless, Dudley held up the letter so that his cousin could see the address. For a moment both boys stared blankly at the letter. Then Dudley turned it over and they both stared at the crest on the back of the envelope for a bit.
"Where's yours?" Harry finally asked, his voice somewhat choked.
"Wasn't one," Dudley said simply, shaking his head.
Harry frowned for a moment, then snatched the letter away from his cousin. "Well, I'm not going if you're not going, and that's that. Come on, help me get rid of this before Mum and Dad wake up."
They scrambled off and it was not long before the letter was nothing more than a pile of ashes in the living room fireplace. It turned out to be in the nick of time, as just then Dudley's Aunt Lily came down the stairs.
"Good morning, boys," she called out from the kitchen.
"'Lo, Mum." "'Morning, Aunt Lily," they chimed.
Movement stilled in the kitchen and Aunt Lily poked her head into the living room, frowning at the children. "What are you two up to? What did you do?"
"Nothing, Mum. We were just trying to get the fire started, that's all," Harry said as he smiled brightly at his mother.
Dudley thought that Aunt Lily did not seem to quite believe Harry's explanation. It was not until she had withdrawn back to the kitchen that he finally relaxed and started breathing again.
The next day there was another letter. Both boys stared at it as it lay innocently on the table. Then they look up at each other. "How'd they know?" Harry worried.
Dudley gave his cousin a scornful look. "What do you think? Magic!"
"Oh. All right..."
Sensing that it might not be a good idea to dispose of the second letter in the same manner as the first, they rushed outside and buried the letter under Aunt Lily's roses. It was Harry's idea to get rid of it that way and though he went along with it, Dudley made the cynical remark that the way their luck was going, there would be a bush growing from it the next day, with little letters growing out from where the flowers should be. Harry commented that it was entirely possible – magical things had a way of... acting up.
Dudley and Harry both carefully avoided the garden for the rest of the day, instead spending their time in their room where they played with the new deck of Exploding Snap cards that Harry had received for his birthday.
Both boys became nervous when Uncle James made commented during dinner that evening that Hogwarts' letters would be going out soon and it was only a matter of time before the owls got down the list to their home. Aunt Lily had been close to tears when she heard this, upset that her little boys were already so grown up. Though he of course sympathized with his aunt, Dudley was grateful for her making a scene as it drew the attention of both grownups away from the guilty looks that he and Harry were sharing.
Despite having had a hard time falling asleep the night before, the boys awoke earlier than usual the next morning. The previous night had been spent anxiously awaiting day, both boys dreading the coming of the morning post. Dudley's eyes snapped open a little after six, and he was not surprised to see the glowing green of Harry's open eyes across the room. They both threw back their light summer covers and raced downstairsÊto await the owls, being careful to not make any noise that might wake the grownups.
There was a sinking in Dudley's heart as he watched an owl drop yet another letter with the Hogwarts seal. Harry immediately snatched the letter away from the owl, holding it with only his thumb and forefinger as if it was something nasty, while Dudley set about chasing the owl away. Slamming the window closed behind the unwelcome bird, Dudley turned to see that Harry had already begun tearing the letter into little pieces and washing them down the sink. Both boys watched as the last of the cream colored parchment swirled down the drain before letting out a sigh of relief. Then they rushed outside to make sure that the letter from the day before had not sprouted into a letter bush.
It had not. They patted each other's backs and went back inside for breakfast.
As it was, they were quite lucky about the whole thing. Every day the boys made sure to get up before both adults, rush downstairs, and depose of the unwanted letters that arrived at six o'clock each morning. Over two weeks had passed when, one evening after dinner, Uncle James and Aunt Lily were talking softly in the lounge, thinking both boys to be playing upstairs in their room instead of lurking around the corner on the stairs, listening.
"I'm worried, James," Aunt Lily said quietly. "It's halfway through August and there still haven't been any Hogwarts letters." She paused and stole a glance towards the door to the room before turning her attention back to her husband. "Not even just one."
Uncle James frowned, and shook his head. "Doesn't make sense. We know that at least one of the boys has magic – how else do those kids who've been bullying Harry keep on ending up on the school roof? And there was the time that Mrs. Eddils' boy grew a tail." He smirked slightly, "I think they might be taking after me."
Aunt Lily frowned at him and hit him lightly on the arm. "Don't encourage them. It's bad enough that some of the other children bully Harry, I don't need them to be troublemakers as well. What do you think, though? About the letters?"
"I don't know," Uncle James said with a sigh, "I suppose I could ask McGonagall or Dumbledore about it. Maybe they're having problems with getting all of the letters out on time..."
Aunt Lily nodded grimly and rose from her seat. Dudley and Harry exchanged looks and rushed as quickly and as silently as they could up the stairs to their shared room, desperate to avoid being caught eavesdropping. Aunt Lily was not nearly as forgiving as Uncle James when it came to rule breaking.
"Do you think we should tell them?" Harry asked nervously. "Dumbledore will tell them about all the letters, and then they'll know that we've been getting rid of them." Both boys had grown up listening to stories about Albus Dumbledore, the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and knew that they would be hard pressed to pull a fast one on the old man.
Dudley eyed his cousin. "You know, getting rid of the letters was your idea in first place."
"Yeah, but I didn't know that they'd just keep on coming. And I still don't want to go if you aren't going too," Harry said stubbornly. "What if we just wait until your letter comes? Think that would be okay?"
"Hate to break it to you, Harry, but I don't think I'm going to get a letter," Dudley said with a shrug of his shoulders. "We might as well face it – you're a wizard and I'm a Muggle and I'm not going to Hogwarts with you." He tried not to sound bitter about it, but it was hard not to feel upset when you knew that your cousin, who was not only your closest friend in the entire world but also your foster brother, would be learning how to do magic while you were stuck at home learning boring old English and maths.
"We'll think of something," Harry said optimistically, though they both knew it was a lost cause.
The next day, Dudley had an idea. Before Harry could dispose of the newest letter, he plucked it from his cousin's hands. "Hey," protested Harry, "I was going to burn that."
"You're starting to repeat yourself," was Dudley's reply.
"Give it back, Dudley."
"Wait, I want to try something. Maybe they keep on sending them because you haven't opened one. Let's try opening this one, reading it, and then burning it. Maybe then they'll stop," Dudley explained.
Harry frowned. "Oh, and how do they know we haven't opened them? That's really silly."
"Magic," Dudley said simply, slightly frustrated that his cousin kept on forgetting that aspect of their lives.
"Oh, right. Okay then, give it here. It's my letter, I'm going to open it," Harry said, holding out a hand. Dudley placed the folded bit of parchment in the proffered hand with a flourish, then leaned over to watch as Harry tore the seal.
"'Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased to...' blah blah blah..." Harry's eyes skimmed over the letter, taking in what it said. They lit up brightly when he reached the end of it.
"What?" asked Dudley, suspicious of the look on Harry's face.
"I have to tell them whether I'll be coming by August thirty-first," Harry said happily as he walked into the living room, placed the letter in the fireplace, and set it alight.
"So? We're still going to keep on getting letters until then, so it doesn't help us any. Every day that another letter comes here is another chance for Aunt Lily or Uncle James to find out what's going on," Dudley said grumpily as he trailed after the smaller boy.
"Yeah, but they won't keep coming if I write back to say I won't be coming," Harry said gleefully as he watched the last of the letter turn to ash. "We can write it right now and have it sent out before Mum and Dad are up." Dudley made a frustrated sound, and Harry turned to look at his cousin. "What?"
"How can you not want to go?" Dudley asked in desperation, his voice keen with wanting. "Why do you want to stay here and learn maths and Shakespeare and– and– and the wonders of western Europe? When you could be learning magic?!" He sniffed loudly, and Harry saw that tears were running down his cheeks.
Harry watched his cousin with wide eyes, surprised. "You really want to go, don't you," he said softly, obviously shocked by the other boy's reaction. "Maybe... maybe we could send you, and you could pretend to be me. I wouldn't mind, really," he said quickly, wanting to make his friend happy.
"That wouldn't work," Dudley said with a shake of his head. "Aunt Lily wouldn't go for it at all, and you know it." He fell silent, thinking, and after a few minutes said slowly, "But... that's actually a pretty good idea. I bet we could fake my letter. You know, write one that looks just like one of yours, or take one of yours and change it so that it says my name."
"Now I wish we hadn't burned today's letter," said Harry with a moan.
"What do you mean, 'we'? You were the one who couldn't wait to set fire to it. You're a regular pyromaniac," Dudley huffed, crossing his arms.
"Shut up," sulked Harry, shoving Dudley backwards as he stood up out of the crouch he had been in in order to access the fireplace. Dudley let out an exclamation and shoved Harry back. By the time that James came down the stairs in a rush to get to work on time, he found both boys lying on the floor of the lounge, out of breath and laughing hard.
It was not until two days later that they were able to implement their plan. Dudley felt that they should be able to give the adults letters from both of them at the same time, if for no other reason than to distract Aunt Lily enough that she wouldn't notice that one of the letters wasn't real. He was not nearly as afraid of his uncle finding out; it was his experience that Uncle James found just about any example of rule breaking to be something he should support.
Once they had two letters, it was up to Dudley to fix it so that one of the letters addressed him instead of Harry. As much as Harry had wanted to be the one to change the letters, he admitted sadly that Dudley's handwriting was neater, making him a better candidate for such mischief. Armed with an eraser he had received from Uncle Sirius years before (guaranteed to erase anything – pencil, crayon, quill, spaghetti sauce...), he chose one of the letters and carefully removed Harry's name from both the envelope and the letter inside. Then, after choosing the ink that he felt best matched that used by the school from the wide range of novelty colored inks the two boys owned (most of them from Uncle Remus, though Uncle Peter had contributed the Invisible ink), he dipped his quill and slowly printed his name into the blank spaces.
When they stood back to look at both of the letters after Dudley had finished, it was Harry who remarked, "You know, I think the one you did looks better. Mum will probably think that we faked mine if she catches on at all."
"Uncle Sirius did say that I have the hand of a counterfeiter," said Dudley matter-of-factly, though he wasn't sure whether this was something he should be proud of. Aunt Lily had yelled at Uncle Sirius after he had said it. Come to think of it, Aunt Lily tended to be upset by just about everything that the uncles thought was fun...
"We'll give 'em to her and Dad at breakfast," Harry said happily, "and then we'll both go off together and learn magic."
Uncle James was overjoyed to find out that both boys would be going to Hogwarts come September first. Dudley supposed that Aunt Lily was happy also, but it was hard to tell for all the tears. Squirming in his seat, Harry asked shyly if they might be able to write their own letters of acceptance, and Uncle James had laughed and said of course, it would teach them responsibility. Dudley supposed Uncle James agreed because he was trying to get into his wife's good graces, since everyone in the house knew that Aunt Lily was big on responsibility. He grinned at Harry. If the adults did not write the letters, then that would mean no one would find out that Dudley was not actually supposed to go to the school.
Since the boys had been destroying letters for several weeks before arriving upon a solution to their problem, it was already the end of August when they finally made it to London for the requisite trip to Diagon Alley to pick up school supplies. As Aunt Lily rushed from shop to shop, acquiring books, robes, cauldrons and more for them, both boys found themselves abandoned in Ollivander's wand shop with the explicit instruction to buy themselves wands, and that they were not to use the Galleons that had been given to them for anything else, which caused Dudley to sulk momentarily, as he had been staring enviously at the racing brooms in the window of the Quidditch store earlier.
Standing there in the cluttered little shop, watching as Mr. Ollivander had Harry try out different wands, Dudley realized that he had hit upon a snag in their plan. The wands reacted to Harry because he had magic. But Dudley did not have any magic. How could he get a wand? Mr. Ollivander would not let him simply pick a wand; the old craftsman firmly believed that "the wand chooses the wizard."
A sense of impending doom hung over Dudley as he took a step forward once the wand that had "chosen" Harry was safely stowed away in its box and place on the counter.
"Ah, Mr. Dursley," said Mr. Ollivander, "a pleasure to meet you at last. I am glad to see you here. There were some that felt you might never feel the need for a wand." Dudley translated this from grown-up speak into something he could understand, and realized that Mr. Ollivander was saying that a lot of people thought Dudley was just a Muggle. Which, he realized with a sinking feeling in his chest, he was.
Mr. Ollivander began taking boxes down from the shelves and passing the wands from inside them on to Dudley to test, just as he had with Harry. Dudley was surprised by the variety of wands that could be found in those little boxes. He had always thought that all wands pretty much looked the same, but now he saw that that could not have been farther from the truth. The wood that made up each wand came in a large range of shades and hues, and they all had different textures. Some of the wands even had elaborately carved handles, with dragons, unicorns, and other magical creatures.
After several minutes of Dudley testing wands, Mr. Ollivander became a bit irritated. Finally he whirled into the back of the shop, insisting that he was sure he had just the thing back there. Putting his most recent failure down on the counter, Dudley began to raise his hand to rub his eyes, when he heard something. Surprised, he glanced at Harry, "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what? No one said anything, Dudley," Harry snapped. It was obvious that he had realized the problem with Dudley "choosing" a wand, and was being to grow nervous – and scared, namely because his mind was beginning to come up with what his mother would do to them when she discovered their charade.
"No, it wasn't someone talking... I could have sworn that I heard music from over there– there it goes again!" This time Dudley was sure he had heard music coming from a box sitting on a low shelf behind the counter at the front of the store. Dudley sneezed as he crouched down next to the shelf. There was a lot of dust here; if Aunt Lily had seen it, she would have had a fit. His hand went out, wandered back and forth for a moment as he tried to pinpoint which box the singing he heard was coming from, then finally came to rest on a ratty cardboard box, very plain when compared to many of the other boxes that surrounded it. Dudley worried the box out from where it was wedged in, careful not to let any of the other boxes fall down or out, and straightened with his prize.
Harry's eyes were large and round. "I don't think you should be messing around back there, Dudley. We might get in trouble, and then what will Mum say? She might not let us look inside Quality Quidditch Supplies."
"Just a minute, I want to see why this box is singing," said Dudley, waving Harry's worry aside.
"But there isn't any singing," Harry stressed, frustrated. "I can't hear any–" He broke off with a yelp as Mr. Ollivander walked back into the front of the shop, arms full of several boxes of wands. Spying Dudley behind the counter, he carefully set down the boxes that he was carrying, and gestured for the boy to come forward. Still holding the box he had taken from the shelf, Dudley stepped out from behind the counter and into the light that streamed in through the windows at the front of the shop. Eyes alighting on the box clasped in Dudley's hands, Mr. Ollivander quickly sucked in his breath in surprise.
"Where, might I ask," said Mr. Ollivander, "did you find that box?"
Nervous that he may have made a mistake, Dudley shifted from foot to foot. "On the low shelf behind the counter," he answered, gesturing ineffectually back towards where he had just come from. "I wanted to know why it makes music."
"Music?"
Dudley's head gave a short, sure nod. "Yes, it's– well, it was singing. It's stopped now."
Mr. Ollivander's eyebrows rose high on his forehead, and he blinked owlishly. "Really now. Why don't you take the wand out and try it? You might find yourself surprised."
With an air of patience – Dudley knew that no wand he swished would respond, wands never did anything for Muggles –Êhe lifted the cover off the box and took out the wand that lay inside. It was smooth and pale colored, with just a hint of red to the tone, and very plain in design. Grasping it firmly by the handle, Dudley raised the wand, and dragged it down and across through the air quickly.
The tip of the wand erupted with a shower of tiny, amber colored sparks that twinkled in the sunlight as they fell down to the floor, where they disappeared on contact.
"Well, Mr. Dursley, it would seem that we have found your wand. Curious, though, very curious..." said Mr. Ollivander. Dudley, still amazed by the wand's reaction, was busy returning it to the box it had come from, and did not notice Mr. Ollivander's words.
Harry, however, did. "Excuse me sir," he piped up, "but what's curious about Dudley's wand?"
Taking the box from Dudley's hands, Mr. Ollivander gave Harry a strange look. "I remember ever wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. As it happens, the phoenix that gave the feather that makes up the core of your friend's wand gave only one other feather. Just one."
"So? I bet that happens all the time," persisted Harry, who was trying to sound annoyed. In truth, he was in awe of Mr. Ollivander's ability to remember such minute, insignificant details.
"Ah, that is true, Mr. Potter. Not all that common, but true, certainly. The curious thing is not the phoenix that gave the feathers, but recipient of the other wand. I say that it is curious that Mr. Dursley should have that wand, when its brother gave him the scar on his forehead."
Hands immediately going up to feel the lighting bolt that he knew to be on his forehead, the one mark of the event that killed both of his parents, Dudley gasped in surprise. "You mean, the only other wand to have a feather from that phoenix was...?"
Ringing up the two wands on the antiquated cash register that sat on the counter, Mr. Ollivander smiled at the two boys. "I am sure," he said, "that we can expect great things from you, Mr. Dursley. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, despite all the terrible things he did, was a great wizard."
Shivers running down his spine, Dudley quickly fumbled the coins that Aunt Lily had given him earlier out of his pocket and paid for the two wands. "Thanks... I think," he said. Then both he and Harry grabbed the boxes which contained their respective wands and hurried out of the store, leaving the strange, moon-eyed wizard behind.
As soon as they were outside in the street in front of the shop, Harry turned to Dudley, his eyes wide with wonder. "How did it...? How could it...?"
Just as confused as his cousin, Dudley shook his head and shrugged. "I have no idea. It shouldn't have worked. We both know I don't have any magic –ÊI can't have a wand! It's really weird."
"What should we do?" Harry asked, worried. It was obvious that he felt they might just be getting in too deep. Tricking parents was one thing, but tricking high precision magical items like wands? That was something entirely different and Dudley was with Harry in not liking how serious their spur of the moment decision of forging the letter was fast becoming. Sure, he wanted to go with Harry and learn magic, but...
"What should you two troublemakers do about what?" asked a warm voice, and both boys jumped up, surprised, as Aunt Lily came up from behind them. Gulping, Dudley crossed his fingers behind his back as he turned to smile nervously at his aunt. He hoped that she had not heard anything besides Harry's final question.
"We were wondering where we should go now that we've got our wands, Aunt Lily," Dudley lied smoothly. Harry gave his cousin a nervous look – Lily Potter had always been adamant with her boys about not lying to anyone, and if she caught Dudley... But there was no reason to worry. Lily laughed at Dudley's hopeful statement and asked pleasantly to see the boys' wands. As he worried the lid off of his wand box, Dudley decided against telling his aunt what Mr. Ollivander had said about his wand's "curious" history. Aunt Lily oo-ed and ah-ed over the wands, smiling at the boys and, to their mutual disgust, hugging them each in turn. It was not that they did not like getting hugged by Lily, it was just that they felt it should not be done to them in broad daylight on a public street. They were, after all, eleven.
"Can we go to the Quidditch store and look at the racing brooms now?" Harry asked his mother hopefully once their wands had been returned to their respective boxes. She laughed, saying something about Harry being "just like his father," and said that yes, they could go look at brooms.
"Just as well I didn't go with you to Ollivander's," she added as they walked down the street towards Quality Quidditch Supplies, "he would have gone all funny and told you all about the day I bought my own wand."
Their curiosity piqued by a story they had not heard before, both boys promptly began begging her to relate it to them as they walked down the street. All thought of Dudley's wand and its singing box flying like scattered butterflies from their minds as Aunt Lily related to them her first visit to Diagon Alley when she was little.
The next day saw both boys, Aunt Lily, and Uncle Peter at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Uncle James had wanted to come, as had Uncle Sirius, but they had something important to do for work that they could not get out of. Uncle Remus had wanted to come also, but after Aunt Lily had talked to him in the fire that morning and seen what he looked like, she had obdurately refused to let him. Both boys were sad to hear that the night before had been bad for their adopted uncle and that he would not be joining them. They contented themselves with Uncle Peter, who was not as risky as James and Sirius and didn't know as many useless facts as Remus, but was special in his own, funny way.
Standing on the platform with Aunt Lily and Uncle Peter, Dudley felt the nervousness about what he was doing welling up within him again. He was surprised when Harry, who was standing next to him, grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, grinning at him. Dudley stared at his cousin, then smiled back. No matter what happened, they were in this together to the very end.
Making their goodbyes with Aunt Lily, they decided that maybe it would be okay just this once to allow hugging in public. Special circumstances and all. Though maybe Aunt Lily took it just a little too far when she kissed each boy on the cheek. Uncle Peter controlled himself though, and simply shook their hands after he had lifted their trunks onto the train. As soon as his hand had been released, Harry, who had always been more scared about going to new and different places, gave his adopted uncle a hug.
Taking a deep breath and grabbing his cousin's hand again, Dudley stepped onto the Hogwart's Express with Harry.
It's over! Maybe now the boys will stop bugging me to "Write more on our story, Auntie M.E.!" For some reason they like to appear as eight-year-olds in my head, which is terrible because they're absolutely adorable.
While I have no intention of turning this into an epic (as it threatened to do the entire time I was writing it), I will write short chapters following it up if enough of an interest is expressed. Which means at least three people asking for it, so don't expect anything.