CHAPTER ONE

Dudley sat bolt upright, panting heavily, screams still echoing in his ears and light flashing in front of his eyes. As his heart slowed to a normal pace, he realized that he was in a dark bedroom, not lying on the ground at King's Cross, and sighed shakily, rubbing his aching head. Just a dream, he thought to himself, and reached out to his sleeping wife to reassure himself.

His hand hit a wall.

Panic choked him, and in his struggle to get out of bed, he fell clumsily to the floor, tangled in the bedsheets. The impact startled him enough that he lay there a moment in shock, and during that time, his eyes adjusted to the gloom. He looked around, frowning at the toys and clothing strewn about the space, and slowly picked himself up. He surmised that the attack had been real, and that Ron and Hermione must have taken him in, because this wasn't Harry's house - though why they wouldn't take him to a hospital, he wasn't sure. At any rate, Ariana was safe at Hogwarts, and he'd get an owl from her in the morning. Padma and the twins were at home, safely guarded by Aurors if there was a need, or else waiting for his return. Something still seemed off, though, and he felt heavy and cramped, so he made his way quietly to the door, deciding to investigate.

He opened it to a very familiar hallway, and gripped the door so tightly in horror that he distantly wondered if it would break. Even dimly lit by a nightlight, there was no mistaking this hall for any other. He moved quietly down it and opened the bathroom to look for something he could use to defend himself. Obviously whoever had taken the time to construct something like this just to play with a Muggle was sick and twisted. Considering the house at Privet Drive had burned down years ago during the war, the only way to remake it so perfectly would be to use someone's memories.

As he rummaged in a drawer, Dudley's hand closed on a curling iron and he lifted it, smothering a slightly hysterical laugh. Look, Ari, he thought to his absent daughter, now I've got a wand. He quickly wrapped the cord round his wrist to keep it out of the way, and as he did, he happened to glance up into the mirror. What he saw made him freeze, the cord slipping from senseless fingers. The face that stared back at him was not the face of a thirty-something father - it was the face of a frightened child.

He stared blankly for several long minutes, until the words time and spell wormed their way into his head. What were those things called? Time changers? But he didn't think it was possible to put someone back in their old body, which meant it had to be an illusion dredged up by his captors. He slowly unwrapped the curling iron cord and placed the whole thing back in the drawer, because it suddenly struck him that whoever had the strength to do this would not be daunted in the least by hairstyling tool. Dudley still couldn't shake the idea that he had somehow traveled back in time, even though he knew that he had to be stuck in an illusion, and mulled it over as he trudged back to a bedroom he hadn't seen in years.

In fact, he was still awake when his mother checked in on him a few hours later.

The door opened quietly and Petunia craned her neck around the door, softly calling, "Wake up, Dudders." When she saw that he was, in fact, awake, she opened the door fully in surprise, then beamed indulgently. "Oh, sweetums, up early because it's your birthday?"

Dudley, feeling more than a little blindsided by this development, was unsure how to proceed. The last time he'd seen his mother had been before the twins had shown magical talent. She'd been a frail, birdlike thing, hair gone white from the stress the war had put on her, and they'd gotten in a row over how she favored the still nonmagical twins over Ariana. Finally, though, he managed a reply that he barely heard, and then she was fussing over him and urging him to get dressed. Feeling rather like he'd been attacked by a small hurricane - had she always done this? - Dudley was herded downstairs into the kitchen, where Vernon was poring over the newspaper and a scrawny, dark-haired boy was making breakfast. This, too, was a jarring sight. Vernon had been dead a couple years now, and Harry, well. He'd just seen Harry, the confident war hero, the Auror. He forced himself not to stare, suddenly aware that it would draw unwanted attention to the small Not Harry. Illusion or not, he fervently wished to avoid that.

"So!" Vernon boomed cheerily, lowering his paper, "Eleven! Our Dudley is growing up, eh?" He gestured to Dudley, and Petunia, who still had her guiding hands on his shoulders, pressed a wet, lipstick-y kiss to the side of his face before taking her seat at the table. Feeling more strange by the second, Dudley moved to stand beside his father, who tousled his hair with a chuckle. "All right, have a look," he said, and it took a moment for Dudley to realize that he was talking about the mountain of presents. Dudley stared at them with barely concealed horror.

Harry, bringing breakfast to the table, looked at him curiously, then sat down and began to devour his bacon like it had personally wronged him. Petunia and Vernon, noting his hesitation, exchanged a worried look that Dudley saw reflected in the picture frame across the room. Moving as if in a dream, he went to the presents and picked up the first parcel, turning it over in his pudgy hands and wondering what on Earth was going on. The phone rang, then, and Petunia went to answer it, and with Harry and Vernon watching with varying degrees of wariness, Dudley began to open his presents for the second time. None of them were particularly interesting to a man in his thirties, but they were a veritable treasure trove to a child - a racing bike, a VCR, video games. He realized, as he unwrapped a gold wristwatch, that he had no idea how his parents could afford so many gifts. Oh, sure, there were a few from other people, but the majority weren't. The most expensive ones, it seemed, had been bought by the Dursleys.

Petunia returned, looking worried and angry, and Dudley happily left the presents alone in favor of listening in. "Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head in Harry's direction, and all at once, Dudley remembered exactly how things had gone on this particular birthday. The memory was eerily clear in a way it really shouldn't have been, considering it had been twenty-six years.

"We could phone Marge," Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." Dudley glanced discreetly at Harry, who looked torn between hope and resignation, and decided that illusion or not, he couldn't let things continue as they were.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," Petunia snapped, growing more irate by the moment. Seeing Harry open his mouth - "You could just leave me here." - Dudley chose that moment to interrupt.

"Let's take him with us," he said, just barely remembering to grunt it out as if he were annoyed. Three heads whipped round to stare at him in shock, and he put on what he hoped was a belligerent face. "He can't stay here or in the car, so let him come to the zoo." He tried to speak as if that were the end of the matter, and turned back to the presents before they could shake their disbelief. From the corner of his eye, he could see Harry's mouth hanging open in surprise.

"D-Dudley, dear," Petunia crooned, getting hold of herself and putting an arm around his shoulders, "you're such a sweet, good boy. I know you don't really want him to come with us, I'm sure we can find someone to watch him so your day with Piers isn't ruined-"

Piers. Dudley had completely forgotten about him. "I don't really want to see Piers," he blurted before he could think better of it. He added, lamely, "He's, er, a giant prat. Harry can come instead."

Another stunned silence fell over the room, and Dudley gathered up the discarded wrappings, slipping out of his mother's grasp to throw it away. Praying fervently that he hadn't just screwed himself, he gathered what items he could easily hold and left the kitchen, taking the toys upstairs to forget about them. Behind him, he heard Petunia murmur, "They must've had a fight. I'll go call Mrs. Polkiss, let her know." As she walked away, Vernon warned Harry to behave and not do anything Strange or Unnatural, and Dudley huffed a laugh. He set his gifts down in the smallest bedroom, then stared at it, frowning, before returning downstairs to bring everything else up. The racing bike was banished to the garden for the time being, and, finally, he sat down to eat his cooling breakfast. Vernon and Petunia had, by then, disappeared from the kitchen, and Harry was at the sink, the sleeves of his too-large t-shirt rolled up as far as he could get them, scrubbing furiously at the dirty dishes. Dudley picked at his food, frowning again.

It had taken Harry several years to stop looking as if he wanted to hex him on sight, for all that they'd gotten in touch after the war and their children grew up as playmates. If it hadn't been for his marriage to Padma - and the look on his cousin's face at the wedding had been priceless - they probably wouldn't have become so friendly at all, and even now it was awkward to be around each other for long. If this wasn't an illusion, and Dudley had to admit that it seemed too elaborate for that, then he had a chance to correct some of his wrongs early. It would be stupid to waste it.

Decision made, he got to his feet, and Harry looked at up in mild alarm. Putting back on the belligerent face, Dudley said, "Finish up my breakfast, Harry, I don't want it." And he elbowed the smaller boy away from the sink as gently as he could before taking up the washing himself.

"I-" Harry started, but fell into a frustrated silence, unable to think of anything to say.

"Go on," Dudley said gruffly. "Don't make yourself sick, I won't clean that up." He could feel his cousin hover uncertainly behind him, then move away, and when Dudley glanced back, Harry was shooting wary looks at the door between bites of fried egg. It seemed that for the moment, he'd chosen to count his blessings, thinking that if he could finish fast enough, no one would suspect anything.

So focused was Dudley on keeping an eye on Harry that he was astonished to find that the dishes were suddenly clean and neatly put away. While he stared, perplexed, Harry shuffled up behind him and attempted to regain control of the sink so he could take care of his now-empty plate and silverware. Dudley obliged, then took the dishes once they'd been washed and quickly dried them before putting them away. When it was done, they stood in awkward silence a moment before Harry blurted, "Why are you being nice?"

Without thinking, Dudley replied, "Because it's not right, the way they - we - treat you." Harry stared at him. Before either could say anything else, though, Petunia returned. She hesitated, and Dudley stepped towards her to save her the trouble. She smiled at him and straightened his hair.

"Mrs. Polkiss is bringing over your presents that she and Piers got you, and then we'll be on our way to the zoo, sweetums," she said. "Why don't you go play with your new things?"

Dudley, seeing his opportunity, decided that he could probably get away with one more thing before the zoo trip. He gazed up at his mother with every shread of wide-eyed innocence he could dredge up. "Mum, I've been thinking." He heard Harry snort quietly in spite of himself, and had to struggle not to grin. Even he could admit his younger self hadn't been fond of the exercise. "Can't Harry sleep in the spare bedroom? I don't like anything in there and I want my new things to go in the cupboard. It's-" he struggled momentarily to come up with something slightly believable, "it's easier to reach, and it has a latch." It was pathetic, but he'd never been much good at lying. Fortunately, his mother had never been much good at resisting him. Though if I'm being honest, he thought sourly, that was probably because I'd throw a fit if I didn't get my way.

Petunia looked like she'd swallowed a lemon, but when he let his lower lip tremble ominously, she released a smile that was more of a grimace. "Yes," she said after a moment, sounding falsely cheery. "Yes of course. Anything for you, my darling." To Harry, she snapped, "Get your things upstairs in five minutes or you'll be sleeping in the garden shed."

Shooting Dudley a look of pure disbelief, Harry darted out of the kitchen before she could change her mind. Dudley made himself beam at his mother before escaping upstairs himself.

They made it to the zoo with only minor casualties; Vernon shouted at the traffic, then shouted at Harry after the boy made a poorly timed comment about flying motorcycles, then shouted about the price of parking. The boys - Dudley reflecting on how strange it was to be back in that age group - spent most of their time trailing behind the adults, who were trying rather desperately to get Dudley excited about the animals. Honestly, he couldn't even remember why his younger self had wanted to go to the zoo in the first place, but he obligingly looked at every exhibit they passed. Harry, on the other hand, was staring at everything, head swiveling round sometimes so sharply that Dudley half worried that it'd come right off. When they stopped for ice cream, Dudley ordered two and gave one to Harry, and the lady in the van cooed over what a sweet boy he was, which made his parents immediately puff themselves up in pride and forget their annoyance at Harry having anything nice.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. Dudley kept an eye on his cousin and made sure to keep a reasonable distance away, because while he didn't remember exactly how the snake had got out, he knew that if it happened again, Harry would be locked up for a very long time.

He felt, afterwards, that he should have realized they wouldn't be so lucky.

One moment, he was staring intently at a lizard and trying not to worry about the cage thing, and the next, Petunia was grabbing Vernon's arm and hissing, "Vernon! That stupid boy is talking to a snake. People are starting to stare, make him stop it this instant!" There was a strange note of fear in her voice, and Dudley stowed that away to think about later.

He trailed after Vernon, the two of them making a beeline for Harry, who was obliviously chatting with a very familiar boa constrictor. Dudley arrived in time to hear Harry utter a series of complicated hissing noises before Vernon grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck. He was red-faced and gearing up for a good rant when Dudley purposely trod on his own shoelaces and tripped into him. Vernon dropped Harry, the glass on the cage disappeared, and Dudley stared up from where he'd fallen to the floor as Vernon toppled into the cage. The boa constrictor took his leave, politely slithering around the large man in its former home, and paused only to hiss at Harry before serenely making his way to the door, snapping playfully at the heels of panicking zoo patrons. Harry and Dudley exchanged a horrified look, then turned to stare at Vernon, who'd gotten to his feet and was now beating his fist on the pristine glass of the cage, roaring angrily.

The zoo director apologized to them personally, offering tea, but Vernon, newly freed from the cage and bristling with anger, completely ignored him in favor of hauling everyone to the car. The drive home was uncomfortably silent, and when they arrived, Vernon banished Harry to the cupboard, only to get angrier when he was reminded that Harry had relocated. He collapsed on the sofa in wordless rage, Petunia hurrying to fetch him a brandy, and Harry fled upstairs. Dudley deemed it safest to follow, and spent the rest of the afternoon helping Harry attempt to quietly clean the room up. They didn't speak much, but by the time dinner was ready, they'd managed to clear up most of the useless junk.

Things continued in this fashion until July. Harry still had to do chores, but Dudley helped when he could get away with it, and when Harry inevitably got yelled at for something, they'd hide in Harry's new room and play video games. Dudley didn't dare push his parents too far, not when Harry's Hogwarts letter would be arriving soon, and he was wary of trying too hard to be nice to Harry, who was intensely suspicious of him. But until summer break began, he did his best to see that Harry was left alone at school, and they slowly entered into an uneasy alliance.

By early July, it was abundantly clear to Dudley that he was not, in fact, living in an illusion. Padma had gotten him several books on magical theory when they first started dating, and he knew enough to surmise that no one would go to this much trouble for him, of all people. Something this elaborate would take multiple people, all with an outstanding grasp on charms, and he doubted that many wizards would have an understanding of Little Whinging intimate enough to recreate it. The hows and whys of his apparent time travel weighed heavily on his mind, however, and because he expected things to be much the same as they had the first time around, it came as quite a shock when they didn't.

He was in the kitchen with Harry eating cereal, the both of them pretending they couldn't smell the clothing Petunia was dyeing on the stove, when the doorbell rang. Vernon shouted from a distant corner of the house, and Dudley got to his feet before Petunia could order Harry to the door. "I'll get it," he said, and slipped out of the room. He was pretty sure this was the day the letter came, but when he looked down at the mail in front of the door, he didn't see parchment. He picked it up anyway, then, on a hunch, stood on his toes to look through the peephole. Seeing a pointed hat, he opened the door.

There was a witch on the front step - except that it wasn't just any witch. It was Minerva McGonagall. He'd only met her once or twice, and then only because she was Headmistress in his time, but there was no mistaking her, though she was younger and stronger. Dudley swallowed, then realized he was staring and said, "Er, may I help you?"

"I believe so," she said, with an air of faint amusement, as though she was used to seeing gobsmacked expressions on people's faces. "Are your parents at home?"

"Yes," Dudley said, then quickly jerked the door open fully and stepped aside. "Please, er, come in." She inclined her head, then entered the house in a graceful swish of robes, and he shut the door behind her before hurrying to the kitchen. "Mum, someone's here to see you and dad," he said, a little breathlessly, and sat at the table as McGonagall swept in. Petunia looked up, then shrieked. Harry jumped, startled, and Vernon came barrelling downstairs, arriving in the kitchen with a glob of shaving cream stuck to his cheek.

"What's happened?" he demanded, then caught sight of McGonagall and turned a strange, pasty color. The shaving cream slid gently down his slack face and splattered on the floor.

The witch merely raised an eyebrow before producing two thick envelopes from a pocket. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, my name is Minerva McGonagall. I am Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I have come to personally deliver these." She handed the envelopes to Harry and Dudley, both of whom were in a state of shock.

"This- this can't be right," Dudley whispered, staring down at his, but just like Harry's, it was addressed to the very room he slept in.

Mr. D. Dursley

The Second Largest Bedroom

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

"I can assure you, Mr. Dursley," McGonagall said, voice surprisingly gentle, "there is no mistake."

Harry, meanwhile, had opened his letter and begun to read. "Hang on," he said. "What does this mean?" He looked up at the Deputy Headmistress with wide, uncertain eyes. "I - we're - magic?"

"You are both wizards, yes." She eyed them, then gave Petunia a stern look. "You haven't told them about Hogwarts? I can't say I'm surprised that your boy doesn't know, but you kept Harry's heritage from him?" The small boy looked from one woman to the other, eyes still huge as saucers, and Dudley forced himself to open his own letter, hands shaking. He skimmed the acceptance letter and focused on the supply list, committing it to memory in case the letters were taken away.

"We swore," Vernon said, voice rising dangerously with every word, "when we took him we'd put a stop to that rubbish, swore we'd stamp it out of him! And now he's infected our son-!" He cut off abruptly, face purpling as he strugged to speak, and McGonagall tucked her wand away.

"I see," she said, and looked again at Petunia. "I suppose you feel the same?" The other woman turned and shut the stove off.

"I did," she whispered. "I did. But now..." She trailed off helplessly.

"Er, ma'am," Dudley spoke up, drawing the attention away from his parents, "how are we to pay for all these things? And - and attending?" He knew, of course, but he wanted to keep everyone focused. He shoved his own bubbling emotions to the back, knowing that he could examine them later.

McGonagall looked at him in surprise, then smiled thinly. "Attendance is free to all, Mr. Dursley, and we give a small allowance to Muggleborns like yourself for supplies. You have an account at Gringotts - our bank - and I've the key with me."

"What's a Muggleborn?" Harry interrupted, and Dudley realized belatedly that he'd be expected to ask these questions too.

"A Muggle is a non-magical person," the witch explained patiently. "A Muggleborn is a witch or wizard born to two non-magical people. Now, I have a great deal to explain to all of you, but first I need at least one parent to consent to you boys attending." She looked at Vernon and raised her eyebrows, then, ignoring the rude gesture he made, looked to Petunia. After a long, tense moment, Dudley's mother nodded sharply, as if it pained her to do so. McGonagall produced a piece of parchment and a fountain pen, and Petunia signed it without bothering to read what it said.

"Excellent," McGonagall said dryly, and turned to the boys. "Shall we move to the sitting room? Good." She waved her wand at Vernon as she led them out, and as the kitchen door closed behind him, they heard him begin to shout. McGonagall perched on the armchair while Harry and Dudley took up the sofa, then said, "I have a great deal to explain, then. I thought I might tell Mr. Potter in private, but I think it would benefit you both to hear what I have to say."

She told them about Harry's parents, explaining in greater detail once she realized just how much Harry didn't know. She went over Harry's fame, and how there were classes on penmanship and etiquette they could take so they wouldn't feel lost in the Wizarding world. McGonagall was very patient, answering every question without hesitation, and a few minutes into the discussion, Petunia drifted in to sit on the other side of Dudley. She didn't ask any questions of her own, but the Deputy Headmistress made a point of assurring her that Dudley would be well taken care of. Finally, she arranged a date to take the three of them into Diagon Alley for shopping, and after polite farewells, left. Petunia quietly ushered the boys upstairs, then went to the room she shared with Vernon and shut the door.