Ch. 1
As his father pulled out of the drive and onto the street, Dudley turned to glance out the rear window. As he watched, the house he had spent his entire life in got smaller and smaller, until finally, his father, following the strange little wizard's directions, turned off Privet Drive, and his house disappeared entirely.
For possibly the first time in his life, Dudley experienced an astounding moment of introspection, wondering what would happen to them. If they would disappear just as their house had.
His life, as he had known it, was over. Actually, as he thought about it, his life had changed last summer when he and Harry had been attacked by those … things. Those Dementors. For the first time, he had been the victim, not the attacker. For the first time, he understood what Harry lived with everyday.
Because in that moment, he was Harry. Harry as a baby with the echo of his mother's dying scream ringing in his ears. Harry, who had silently taken their abuse everyday for ten years. Harry, struggling to learn who he really was. Watching his friend die. Watching his godfather die. Watching his mentor die. Waiting for the day when he would die.
In that moment, Dudley had seen himself through Harry's eyes and realized what a horrible person he had become. He couldn't go back and change the past, but in the last year, he had tried to be a better person. And yet, here he was, once again leaving Harry behind like he didn't matter.
Despite the evidence to the contrary, Dudley wasn't stupid. He had seen that Lord Voldemort guy through Harry's memories when that Dementor had attacked him. He had also paid attention when Harry explained to them why they had to leave. Lord Voldemort wanted Harry dead. No, he wanted Harry destroyed.
He had heard how those witches and wizards talked about Lord Voldemort on the few occasions over the years when they had spoken with his parents. He was so horrible that these people, who were much more experienced than Harry, were afraid to even speak his name.
Harry was barely seventeen. Your biggest concern at seventeen should be that pesky acne that won't go away or whether the girl you like likes you back. You shouldn't have to worry about a dark wizard hunting you down.
Flanked by his mother on one side, and the witch Harry had introduced as Hestia Jones, on the other, Dudley turned to the witch. "Ms. Jones?"
Vigilantly scanning their surroundings for threats, she spared him a glance, "Please call me Hestia."
"Hestia, then. What's going to happen to Harry? Will he be sent to a safe house, too?" Dudley's concern for his cousin was obvious and softened Hestia's opinion toward him. It was disgraceful the way these people had treated Harry Potter. The boy, however, seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and was at least concerned about Harry.
"As we explained earlier, in just a few more minutes, we will leave the car, and Dedalus and I will disapparate with you to a safe location. If everything works out according to plan, at the precise moment we disapparate, Harry Potter will leave your house with his guard, also en route to a safe location."
"Yes, but what then? Will he be hidden away until that Lord Vol…"
"DON'T SPEAK THAT NAME," Hestia shouted. Taking a calming breath, she continued, "I'm very sorry to have yelled at you, boy, but we do not speak his name. You may call him He Who Must Not Be Named. And as to your questions, I cannot answer that here. It isn't safe."
"One Minute!" a voice shrieked. Everyone in the car jumped at the interruption.
Studying the surroundings, Mr. Diggle directed his father to pull the car into the bordering park. Dudley had played in this park when he was younger. Actually not that long ago, he beat up another boy in this park. He barely recognized it in the humid oppression of the dark July night. It was eerie. Sinister.
"You want me to just abandon my car?!" his father blustered, his face mottling red with his outrage.
"I would think, sir," Mr. Diggle replied stiffly, "that your life would be much more valuable to you than you car."
Faced with such calm disdain, his father quickly lost his bluster.
As they disembarked from the car, Hestia stepped in between Dudley and his mother, as Mr. Diggle walked over to his father and grabbed his elbow. His father glanced at his arm, and Dudley could tell he was considering shaking off the other man's touch.
"Now," Hestia said as she took hold of Dudley and his mother in a similar manner, "when we disapparate, you will feel a slight tug. It is very important," she continued, leveling a stare at his father, "that you NOT pull away. Should you attempt to do so, you could lose a body part or two."
At that dire warning, Dudley's father immediately quieted.
"Five Seconds!" the disembodied voice shrieked again.
Both witch and wizard tightened their grips. "Three, two, …." Hestia turned on the spot, and Dudley felt as though he was being pulled through a straw.
The urge to jerk out of her grasp and escape the confinement was overwhelming, but Dudley forced himself to relax his body. He definitely liked all his body parts where they were, thank you very much. After what felt like an eternity, but in actuality was only seconds, they were standing in a dark, quiet garden behind a small cottage. His shaking legs giving out, Dudley landed on his bottom in a flower bed. He quickly dropped his head between his upraised knees, hoping not to vomit. The smell of the sweet mint he must have landed on helped settle his stomach.
After a few measured breaths, he felt immensely better, and surveyed his surroundings. Although it was dark out, the moon provided enough illumination to make out the garden surrounded by an iron fence. He was sitting in mulch and he could feel the evening dew seeping through his trousers. Great, now he was running for his life in wet trousers. His mother stood a few feet away. Her face was pasty and her eyes glassy, but she managed to keep her feet, grasping the delicate iron fence for support.
Mere moments later, his father and Mr. Diggle appeared. Unlike Dudley who had at least managed to land on his feet before sinking to the ground, Vernon Dursley landed on his backside, appearing to have been pushed away by Mr. Diggle.
"Of all the … I never…these people…."
Ignoring his father's ranting, Mr. Diggle approached Hestia. "Now I know how Dung felt when he tried to apparate with those stolen cast iron cauldrons," he mumbled. "We must begin preparations for the next leg of the journey," he said more clearly to the group.
"Excuse me," Dudley interrupted, "but where are we?"
"This is my home," Hestia answered. "However, this is just a brief stop for us. You shall be continuing on to the next destination momentarily."
"What do you mean 'you'? Aren't you coming with us?" It was the first time his mother had spoken since they left the house. Dudley understood her concern. As strange as he found these people, he at least recognized the protection they offered. The idea of traveling on without them terrified him.
"Well, you have to come with us. You are supposed to protect us," his father stated with his never ending air of self-importance. "Figures you can't trust these people to do the job they're given," he muttered.
Ignoring his father, Hestia replied to his mother, "No, we won't be continuing on with you. We must stay here. However, when you reach your destination, you will be met by other members of the Order. They will escort you to the safe house."
"Will Harry be meeting us there?" Dudley again attempted to find out what was going to happen to his cousin.
"Like you, Harry will travel to more than one location before arriving at his final destination. In order to protect Harry, only a few people know where he will actually end up, and we are not among them. I'm very sorry, but I cannot tell you where he will be. Now…"
"But…," Dudley interrupted her.
"No buts. Harry Potter is the heart of our cause. Just accept that his safety is the Order's top priority. Now, the watering can behind you is actually a portkey. In five minutes, it will activate. When that happens, you all must be touching it. You will experience a similar sensation to apparition, but it will be easier this time, as you know what to expect. Faster than you can blink, you'll be at your next stop."
"Just a minute," his father's brusque voice started again, "what about my job, Dudley's school? How long are we going to be gone? I have a very important job, you know, I can't just disappear!" His father was beginning to wear on Dudley's nerves. Did he not understand the danger they were in? Then he realized that no, his father did not understand. Unlike Dudley, he had never actually experienced the reality of dark magic. For Vernon, it was just an abstract idea. At least his mother seemed to comprehend that the dark wizard who had killed Harry's parents, and countless others, was now after Harry, and possibly them.
"Actually, sir, you can. Those things have already been taken care of. Kingsley has already arranged for you to have an extended leave of absence. After a few well placed charms, your superiors agreed that you were due a vacation." She did not add that they had, in fact, seemed quite pleased that he would be gone. "Dudley, we've contacted your school and explained that you have decided not to continue on with your education." For the first time since this nightmare had started, he allowed himself a little smile. No more school. "As far as the muggles know," she continued, "you will be traveling the Continent."
"It's time," Dedalus interjected. "Hurry now, you must take hold of the portkey."
"Crackpots," his father muttered, even as he lumbered toward the watering can. "What do they think is going to happen, we're going to fly away in a rusty old watering can? Hah!"
Dudley could see the skin around Hestia's eyes and mouth tightening with her frown. He could only imagine that at any moment, she was going to pull out her wand and turn his father into a toad or something.
"Dad," Dudley interrupted as he grabbed hold of the spout on the watering can, "we traveled to this garden in who knows where from the park down the street from the house in the blink of an eye. We've seen people appear in our fireplace. That professor guy who came to talk to you about Harry made stuff appear out of thin air. At this point, do you really doubt what they're telling you?!"
As he reached for the handle on the watering can, Vernon Dursley looked at his son. He had never actually heard this tone from Dudley before.
Dudley met his father's eyes. He didn't know what to make of the questions he saw there, but at the moment, he had more pressing concerns. Like, oh, the dark wizard tracking them down and killing them all.
Just as his mother reached for the smaller handle on the back of the watering can, it began to glow a muted blue. The metal warmed under his hand. As he felt himself spinning out of control, he heard Hestia murmur "Good luck."
Yet again, Dudley landed in a pile of cushy, moist vegetation. This time, he believed it was moss. He sincerely hoped that wherever they ended up, there would be clean clothes.
Turning his head, he saw that his parents had landed on either side of him. His father's landing being accompanied by a resounding "oomph."
"What's so wrong with a bloody car, I ask you." Dudley groaned as his father's complaining immediately started back up.
Dudley remained on his back, ignoring his father, hoping that this was all actually a bad dream and he would wake up any moment. When that didn't work, he opened his eyes. Wherever they were, it was dark here, too. The night sky, with its twinkling of bright stars, broke through the tall canopy of trees. Hmmm, must be in a forest this time.
"Vernon," his mother's quavery whisper broke through his mental meanderings. His father was still mumbling away about magic and modern modes of transportation. Dudley thought he heard grumblings about toadstools. "Vernon," she whispered again, her voice rising an octave, "there's someone in the trees."
"What?" His father turned to his mother, then looked in the direction her shaking finger pointed. Dudley sat up so quickly, he almost fell over again, turning to see what held their attention. Silence descended as they watched two dark figures emerge from behind the surrounding trees.
In a move Dudley had not known his father was capable of, Vernon Dursley placed himself in front of his wife and son. As the figures got closer, he could see they each held wands. When they were about three yards away, he heard each quietly mutter "lumos."
Suddenly, their small area filled with the light which was emitted from the tips of their wands. Dudley could see that it did indeed appear as if they were in a small clearing in a forest.
The taller of the two figures lowered her hood. Not a figure. A woman. A beautiful woman, with flowing blond hair. Her skin was so luminescent that Dudley was surprised she did not light up the clearing without the help of her wand. Dudley felt his mouth fall open. His father must have had the same reaction because his mother reached out to pinch his arm.
"You are ze Dursleys, non?" The shorter of the pair had posed the question, providing Dudley the impetus he needed to pull his gaze from the vision in front of him. He now looked at a short, plump, balding man. Despite the palpable tension in the clearing, the man had a very pleasant manner.
This time, his mother poked his father, rather harshly, in the arm. "Yes," he sputtered as he managed to look away from the vision. "Yes, we are. And who might you be, sir?"
Dudley sincerely hoped the answer to that question wasn't the wizard who's going to kill you.
"I am Auguste Delacour, but you must call me Gus. This is my wife, Appolline." Madame Delacour gave a graceful nod of her head. "Our daughter Fleur is marrying Bill Weasley," he said as if that explained everything.
Seeing three blank faces, he explained further, "Bill. Ron's older brother?" Still nothing. "You know ze Weasley's, n'est pas?"
"Of course we don't know any Weasleys!" his father blustered. "Some of your lot I suppose…" his father's voice trailed off. Dudley imagined that he was recalling the same thing that had just occurred to Dudley. The man who had appeared through the fireplace. The one who had nearly destroyed their parlor. "Wait, Weasley, did you say?"
By this time, his mother was pulling on his father's shirtsleeve. "The redheaded man. Remember. Harry spends a lot of time at their house," she reminded him.
Hearing the exchange, Gus nodded, as if that settled everything. "Bon. We must go. We cannot linger here. Our home is just through the forest here. You will be staying with us until is it safe for you to go home."
As he reached down to offer Dudley a hand up, Dudley couldn't stop himself from asking, "We're walking, right?"
Hearing the piteous note in his voice, Madame Delacour smiled. "Oui, we shall walk. It is not far." Dudley forced himself not to react to the melodious quality of her voice.
As everyone gained their feet, the Delacours started off through the trees. No one spoke for several minutes. "Where are we exactly?" his father huffed, struggling to keep up. Dudley guessed that right about now his father would have been more than happy for a magical mode of transporation.
"In just a moment," Gus replied, "you shall see the lights from our home. We have a small estate outside of Mont Saint-Aignan."
"F-france?" Dudley stuttered. "We're in France? But we were just in Hestia's garden, then moments later we're in France?" Ok, from their accents, they were obviously French, but Dudley had never imagined that could magically travel to France.
"Oui, dear boy. You are in France." Appolline's voice held a trace of a laugh in it. "I daresay that over the coming months, you will see all manner of things that you had never dreamt of."
Reaching the edge of the treeline, the Delacours stopped, holding out their arms, signaling the Dursleys to stop also. They slowly surveyed the surroundings. Dudley could only imagine that they were checking to make sure there were no unexpected visitors. Dudley could see the lights in the distance.
"D'accord," Gus murmured. "Let us hurry." And he rushed across the grass as quickly as his short legs could carry him. By this point, Dudley could hear his father wheezing behind him.
As they got closer, Dudley realized that his was no small estate. A square three story structure loomed in front of them. Their house on Privet Drive would have fit in a corner. It was clear that they were approaching the rear of the home.
Madame Delacour was the first to reach the iron fence that surrounded a large garden. Opening the gate, she ushered them all through. Leading the way through rosebushes with blooms of various colors, vines spiraling up trellises, and past what Dudley could only assume was an herb garden, she finally made her way to a door. "Welcome to our home. I hope you will be comfortable here."
The door opened up into a large country kitchen. At least, Dudley thought it was a kitchen. There was a huge fireplace taking up half of one wall, tall as it was wide, an old fashioned wood burning stove stood against another wall. At least from the look of the sink, they had running water, although it, too, was old fashioned. Where was the refrigerator, the microwave? The room was dominated by the long wooden trestle table sitting in the middle of the floor. Across from the entrance they had come through, was an opening he assumed led to the rest of the house. There also appeared to be a stairway in the corner.
He heard his mother, the Queen of Clean, emit a small moan as she surveyed the kitchen.
Madame Delacour must have heard it, too. "We know it is not what you are used to. However, electric devices do not work here. They are not compatible with magic. Why would we need them though."
Why, indeed, Dudley thought. How in the world were they supposed to stay here indefinitely? What would he do without television?
Completely overwhelmed and out of bluster, his father pulled a chair from the trestle table and sank into it, elbows in the table, his head falling into his hands. His mother sat beside him, a look of nervous panic on her face.
"Maman, Papa!" A small girl came flying into the room, her long blond hair trailing behind her. As she threw herself into her mother's waiting arms, Dudley noticed that she looked a great deal like her mother. In a few years, she too, would be a stunning beauty.
Turning the girl toward them, Madame Delacour introduced her. "This is our youngest daughter, Gabrielle." Gabrielle made a slight curtsy as she looked over their guests. When her gaze landed on Dudley, she ran over to him. Having no experience with little girls, Dudley was flabbergasted by her forthrightness.
"You are Harry's cousin, non? He saved my life. When I grow up, I am going to marry him." At the earnest look on her face, Dudley felt himself smiling. This was just surreal. He had been poofed into thin air, whirled across the Channel and half of France by a rusty watering can, and now this slip of a girl was announcing her intentions to marry his cousin. Suddenly he sobered, wondering is his cousin would even live to have that kind of opportunity.
"I hope you get the chance to," he replied, with all seriousness.
"Come," she tugged on his hand, "I shall show you to your room."
"Gabrielle," her mother interrupted, "pas maintenant. Joue en ton chambre, s'il te plait."
"Mais, Maman," she whined.
"Maintenant." Madam Delacour had not raised her voice, but it was obvious that she had not made a request.
After a last petulant look at her mother, Gabrielle slumped from the kitchen, dragging her feet.
"Now," Madame Delacour started, turning back to them, "you shall stay here with us until we hear it is safe for you to return home. We understand how difficult it must be for you to leave your home, and we would like for you to make yourselves at home here. If there is something you need, please let us know and we shall do our best to acquire it for you. We have very little experience with muggles, so this will be a learning experience for all of us. We have two house elves. You shall be introduced to them shortly." His mother started at that. She, like he, must be imagining what a house elf was. "They shall be instructed to follow your orders while you are here. Understand that a house elf is required to follow his or her master's order, so please do not abuse this trust. We will all do our best to speak English while you are here. The countryside is inhabited by many magical families, including the adjoining estate. You shall meet them over time. Dudley, there are several children around your age, so hopefully, you will not be so bored here.
"We shall be leaving to attend Fleur and Bill's wedding in a few days time. I regret that we must leave so soon after your arrival, but it could not be helped. We thought it would be better for everyone to bring you here immediately. While we are gone, additional members of the Order shall be here to watch over you."
While his father looked like he would protest, he was still too out of breath from their jaunt to do more than shake his head. His mother was still surveying the incredibly outdated kitchen with, what was now, mild shock and dismay. Dudley doubted she had even listened to a word Madame Delacour had said.
"D'accord. I am sure you are all very tired after your harrowing journey today. First we shall give you a brief tour of ze house so you may find us if you need something. Then I shall show you to your rooms. We have prepared rooms for you on ze zird floor to give you some privacy while you are here. However," she continued, eyeing his still slightly wheezing father, "should you wish to have rooms on zee second floor zat can be arranged."
So saying, she stood up and led the way out of the kitchen into a hallway illuminated by old fashioned wall sconces. Dudley and his parents obediently followed, sheer weariness overwhelming any questions or defiance. Gus trotted along behind them. On either side of the hallway, she pointed out various rooms, dining room, parlor, sitting room, morning room, music room, library. It seemed there was a room for everything. Dudley didn't even bother to look in them. Finally, they came to the base of the main staircase.
As they ascended, Dudley barely glanced at the portraits lining the wall. He would have who knew how long to explore the house in depth. His mother, however, in her typical nosey fashion, was perusing the Delacours antecedents.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" Dudley plowed into his mother's back as she froze on the staircase. Gus stopped himself before running into Dudley. From the top of the stairs Madame Delacour looked down on them, surprise etched in her ethereal features.
His father, who had been laboriously climbing the stairs beside his mother, whirled toward her, looking for whatever would have drawn such a scream from her. "What in bloody hell is wrong now?!"
"It… it moved," his mother stuttered, one hand pointing at a painting of a man dressed in clothes that looked very old to Dudley. Maybe if he'd paid more attention in history, he might have an idea of when the man lived, as it was though, he didn't really care at this point.
"Petunia, it's a painting. The lighting is so poor in this blasted place, and we've had a long day." His father reasoned, looking at his mother.
"Eeeeeee. It moved again!"
"Bien sur!" Mr. Delacour said from behind him. "Zey are enchanted paintings. Zese are our ancestors. Zis gentleman here is Frederic Delacour. Frederic was almost burned as a witch in 1653. Little did zey know that zey had captured an actual wizard," Gus quipped.
"Bonjour, Frederic," Gus addressed the painting.
The man in the painting slid his gaze from Dudley's mother to Gus. More than a little startled, Dudley skittered away from the painting, almost catapulting himself down the stairs. His mother uttered another muffled little shriek, and his father, whose face had started to return to its normal mottled shade, turned purple in shock and fear.
"Auguste," the painting acknowledged in a haughty tenor. "Q'est-ce qui se passe?"
Dudley heard a muffled thump above him. It was his mother. She had finally reached her limit. The moving, talking painting had pushed her over the edge. Thankfully, when she had passed out, she had simply sunk to the stairs instead of plummeting down them.
Madame Delacour rushed down to her. Gus pushed past him to reach her. His father stood there immobile transfixed by the painting. Seemingly unable to process what he had seen and heard.
"My dear lady," Gus uttered worriedly, patting her hand as she recovered from her swoon.
While concerned about her guest, Madame Delacour was a little less accommodating. "You will doubtless see many zings during your tenure here which will come as a shock or surprise. However, nothing in zis house will harm you. We have been apprised of your … feelings with regards to magic. But in time, you will become accustomed to it."
"Ze paintings are simply paintings," Gus tried to reassure them. "Zey have simply been enchanted with the memories of ze subject to make them more life-like. After you have recovered from your journey, you should take ze time to speak with zem. Zere's a great deal to be learned from someone who lived in another time."
His father's "harrumph" sounded more like like hell I'll talk to a painting to Dudley. His mother's indrawn breath conveyed the same. After recovering from the initial start, Dudley thought it would be quite interesting to talk to these people. At least it would give him someone to talk to.
"I believe we should just show you to your rooms, so you may rest. Tomorrow, we shall show you ze rest of ze house," Madame Delaour suggested.
"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," his mother replied weakly.
Without further adieu, Dudley was shown to what would be his room for the unforeseeable future. Too exhausted to even remark upon the room itself, he thanked the Delacours, bade goodnight to his parents and collapsed face first onto the bed. Within moments, he fell into a restless sleep, plagued with dreams of the terrifying dark wizard with his reptilian features.