Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction and am not making a profit, monetary or otherwise, through the writing of it.
A/N: Written for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy 365 prompts challenge, Getting lost. This does feature bullying and is from Dudley's point of view.
"Get lost, creep," Dudley said, pushing his cousin aside as he walked down the hallway.
He had no real reason for it. It wasn't like Harry had been in the way. He'd actually had to go out of his way to shove the other boy and felt a momentary touch of guilt when Harry's shoulder slammed into the wall, making Harry wince. He immediately pushed the guilt aside, like he'd pushed Harry. It wasn't like he'd get in trouble for it. His parents would probably praise him, or punish Harry for being in their 'poor Dudder's way'. It was pathetic. He was pathetic, but so was Harry and so were his parents.
Harry never fought back. Sure, he lost his temper from time to time, but he never really did anything other than "accidental" magic. Dudley shuddered as he remembered the time he'd been given a pig's tail by the giant who'd come to collect Harry when they'd been eleven. He still had nightmares about it.
He wasn't exactly jealous of Harry. The thought of magic made him feel sick inside. He didn't know how Harry could stand it and wondered what it felt like. Was it like electricity? Did it feel any differently than the feel of his pulse beneath his fingertips? How did it work? All questions that could have asked Harry, if he dared. He didn't dare, though, not with the way his parents treated the very idea of magic, like it was tainted or something. Like Harry was tainted.
"'M trying to," Harry muttered, rubbing at his shoulder and glaring at Dudley.
"Try harder," Dudley said, sneering, hating the funny way his gut twisted at the thought that Harry really would succeed at 'getting lost' one day.
"Whatever," Harry said, keeping close to the wall, as though he was trying to sink into it.
For a moment, Dudley wondered if his cousin could sink into the wall, getting lost within the foundations of the house, if Harry could haunt him from there.
Harry eyed Dudley warily. The look made Dudley's stomach sink, but he merely glared menacingly at his smaller cousin. He could break the boy in half if he wanted to; it wouldn't be hard, but the thought of Harry haunting him from within the walls of the house made him turn away and walk down the hallway, down the stairs and outside, where he could lose himself in things that he knew and understood - a fist sinking deep into a belly, splitting lips, bruising fair, sun-freckled skin of boys who knew no such thing as magic and who couldn't haunt him from beyond the grave.