Dudley Dursley had nearly choked on a spoonful of applesauce when he caught sight of a large tawny owl tapping its talons impatiently against his dining room window. That's what he deserved, he thought ruefully, for snagging a bit of his infant daughter's breakfast as he fed her before his morning commute. When he had first heard the infernal noise, he had assumed it was that ruddy neighbor kid again, who was always coming over, using the back entrance, to sell something-or-other for a school fundraiser. Instead, he was greeted with a sight that he hadn't been privy to since his childhood. A sight that could only mean, well, Harry.

Trembling as he recalled letters shooting from fireplaces and sliding through mail slots, Dudley opened the window and took the gold and scarlet-embossed envelope. The only words on the front read "Mr. Dudley Dursley, 546 Wondell Rd, Muggle Britain." That strange word, now a distant memory from many years ago-what did it mean again? Dudley could never remember the few details of the wizarding world that Harry had been obligated to share with his family when they were both boys. Often Dudley wished that he had paid a little more to the words Harry had said and a little less to the food that had constantly been sitting in front of him.

Dudley opened the envelope with trepidation. To his surprise, two silvery-blue, ethereal blurs of light burst from within its depths. As he watched, they each transformed, one into what seemed to be a horse, and the other…a stag? The figures, each only about a foot high, galloped in midair first towards each other and then together into the distance, eventually fading into mist before disappearing completely. Dudley shook his head frantically. Oh, how he wished he could convince himself that it was just a trick of the light! He plunged his hand into the envelope and pulled out the letter it contained as fast as he could. He began to read the ornate (expensive-looking!) piece of parchment:

Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley

Request the honor of your presence

As they are joined in glorious matrimony

On the evening of July 31st, at 5 o'clock

At The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon.

The ceremony will be followed by a reception.

Send your response promptly, and please, feed the owl who delivered this message to you.

A period of rest might be owed to it as well.

Thank you.

A note was scribbled near the bottom of the invitation.

Dudley - Sorry that I couldn't include a plus one. I had to get approval from the Minister of Magic in order to invite you, and he only agreed because he knows that you are well aware of the existence of magic. As I wasn't sure how much of your knowledge you have shared with Verona, I wasn't able to convince him to allow her to come as well. It's strange; really, from his strict behavior one almost wouldn't realize that he and I are close personal friends. Regardless, I hope that you can make it. –Harry.

Dudley didn't see this as a problem at all. Due to a fear of insane asylums and (he shuddered at the thought) threats of divorce, Dudley had never been able to bring himself to telling his wife, Verona, the truth about his cousin. Her and Harry had met, of course, at Dudley and Verona's wedding two years prior, which now that Dudley thought about it, had been the last time he had laid eyes on his cousin.

Harry's arm had been around his guest, a red-haired, spirited-looking girl. Had that been (Dudley squinted to read the name again) Ginevra? He wasn't sure. The entire day had been a blur of well-wishers and white linen. He did remember, though, that when Harry answered Verona's inquiry as to his profession with "Police Officer," the girl had let out a quiet giggle before biting her lip culpably. And when Verona had directed the same question to her, she had briefly coughed before saying "Professional athlete. Er…soccer." When he, Dudley, had asked what position she played, she simply had said "Oh, you know, all sorts," before flashing the newlyweds a brilliant smile and walking away on Harry's arm.

Later, Verona had admitted to Dudley that she had found the interaction to be quite strange. In response, Dudley had assured her that if she knew Harry like he did, she would have understood. Indeed, she would, yet, it was still a risk that Dudley was unprepared to take.

Now, Dudley placed the invitation back on the table and resolved that he would have to attend. It was only polite, wasn't it? After Harry had attended Dudley's wedding despite the horrible bullying that he had suffered at his hands as a boy? There really, thought Dudley, was no proper way that he could get out of this one.

Exactly 7 months later, Dudley impatiently looked at his watch as he paced the foyer of his house. Although he had been told that one of Harry's other guests would collect him and take him to the wedding, he had no idea when to expect them, or what they looked like. Around 1 p.m., he answered the door and was quite surprised to see Dedalus Diggle on his front step, looking quite as spry as he had the last time the two had seen each other nearly 10 years ago.

"Young Mr. Dursley," the old wizard said as he swept off his top hat. "What a wonderful pleasure it is to see you again on this extraordinarily happy day! Now, if you are quite prepared for us to depart, follow me, and let's make haste!"

Dudley was actually quite pleased that Dedalus was his accompanier; the two had formed, if not a friendship, than an amicable alliance during Dudley's and his parents' year in hiding. Observing Dudley's boredom, Dedalus had taken to teaching Dudley how to play a few wizard board games, ignoring Dudley's late father's insistences that his son not be exposed to any sort magic. Dudley smiled as he remembered him and Dedalus sharing a chuckle as strict old Hestia had goo squirted in her eye by a marble in a game called, of all things, Gobstones.

Today, Dedalus led Dudley on a long walk to an abandoned cornfield, where to Dudley's surprise Dedalus pulled a contraption that looked a little like an old fashioned broom from inside his long, bulky cloak. Dudley vaguely remembered Harry carrying one that looked a bit like it when the family once picked him up from King's Cross station, but with shame he realized that this was yet another mystery that he had never asked Harry about.

"Well then, time to be off, Mr. Dursley," said Dedalus. "If you will kindly climb on behind me, there we go, and take a tight hold of my waist. All set? Okay. Here we go!"

With a start, the broom, Dedalus, and Dudley all began to rise slowly into the air. Dudley clutched the small wizard's back with all his might as he watched the ground, and eventually the treetops, grow smaller beneath him.

"Won't-won't people see us?" He asked, his knuckles turning white.

"Nothing at all to worry about on that regard!" Dedalus chimed. "By the time we are over any Muggle dwellings, we will be so high in the air we will surely be mistaken for a large, oddly formed bird."

"Sorry, Mr. Diggle, but what does that Mug-Mugwump-Mubble-whatever word mean again?"

"Muggle? Why, Mr. Dursley, that's you, of course!"

So, together they soared across the British countryside for the better part of three hours, Dudley occasionally feeling as though he was about to lose his breakfast all over the other "Muggles" going about their daily lives thousands of feet below.

A little while after they had landed, Dudley stared up at the seemingly unbalanced, precariously tipping house that stood in front of him, blinking in the harsh light of the sun as he tried to catch sight of the house's top turret. Dedalus had gone into the house a few minutes prior, warning Dudley to remain outside and muttering something about a strange clock, dishes that washed themselves and the fact that Dudley had already undergone "too much of a shock for an entire Muggle lifetime." Through a window, Dudley could see a few red haired people moving inside, already dressed for the wedding. A tall, long-nosed man caught sight of Dudley standing in the garden.

"Oi, Dedalus!" The red-head called into the house. "You didn't tell us you'd left Harry's cousin standing outside!"

A few seconds later the front door burst open and the same man hurried out, his formal vest flapping open in the wind as he thrust out his hand and said, "Nice to see you again. I'm Ron." Dudley looked around himself in shock, sure that the man in front of him was mistaking him for someone else.

"We-we've met?" He asked with genuine surprise.

"Well-yeah." Ron grinned sheepishly. "Remember when your fireplace was destroyed and you received a few very unwelcome visitors into your living room?"

Dudley roared with laughter. Yes, he remembered it all right. His father had been angry enough to blow up a building of his own. Then he remembered what had happened next-he had bitten a single toffee and felt his tongue swell to such great girth that it practically choked him. At this memory, Dudley abruptly stopped laughing and made a mental note not to eat any sweets at this wedding unless he saw another guest eat it as well. Ron, who had turned eager at Dudley's laughter, noticed this change in Harry's cousin's expression.

"Right, then. Sorry about that, mate. Anyway, all in the past, right?" Dudley nodded.

"We're all glad you could make it," Ron plowed on. "After all, I guess you're my family's guest just as much as you are Harry's, right?" Dudley looked up in confusion, but before he could ask the question that had suddenly sprang to his lips, a woman with curly brown hair stuck her head out of a (could it really be the fourth floor?) window.

"Ron!" she called with urgency. "There you are, I've looked everywhere! Please, go make sure that Harry has got his tie done properly, he is simply hopeless at doing it with magic and I'm already helping Ginny plait her hair! Oh, there is still so much to be done!" With one last wring of her hands, the girl disappeared from the window.

Ron looked back at Dudley and gestured towards the window from which the girl had made her plea. "Women, eh?" He said. Dudley could tell that the voice with which Ron had said this last bit was meant to sound exasperated, but it contained obvious notes of adoration and contentment. "You're married, right? Listen, sorry that she couldn't come as well; we just couldn't risk breaching the International Statute of Secrecy, what with Harry's new promotion and whatnot. 'Course, I don't think I'd last a minute in the Muggle world without Hermione by my side, so I feel for you mate. Anyway, gotta go, you heard the woman. Let's talk more later."

With a final friendly slap on the arm, Ron was gone. Just as soon as the front door slammed behind him, it opened again to reveal Dedalus, who had now shed his traveling cloak and sported long robes of deep purple. "Ready to claim our seats, Dudley?" He asked conversationally. "I do hope that treacle tart is served for dinner, don't you?"