A/N: Please note that this is adapted from a short written for the QLFC several weeks ago. It is modified slightly to suite the circumstances (and expand the story itself), but just in case anyone is struck by some unexpected deja vu :) Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Time's A-Changing
"Never do that to me again."
"Oh, it wasn't so bad."
"No. No, it was. Please, never do that again."
Biting back a smile, Harry Potter tucked his chin. He couldn't help himself; the urge to smile had been sitting with him all day. All morning, and ever since he'd met Dudley Dursley at King's Cross Station.
It was pure chance. The purest of chances, perhaps, but maybe fate had a hand in it. What else could have urged Harry to take the train to work that morning rather than Apparate? What other forces could have urged Dudley to happen upon him there right at that moment?
King's Cross had been a sea of mayhem and madness. The shroud of train smoke hung thickly in the air, the riot of voices and echoed of toots a discordant melody that was at once jarring and somehow pleasing to the ear. Harry had long ago learned to ignore the glances Muggles turned his way as he strode along the platform, robes billowing around him, but ignorance had been entirely impossible when one such Muggle stopped before him.
So big.
So tall.
Taller, even, than he had been before, if possible.
Pausing in step, Harry could only blink up at his cousin as he blocked his way. The sounds of the station around him seemed to fade away into a distant echo and all that remained was his cousin's awkward, heavy breathing. He stared as his eyes locked with Harry's for a moment before darting away.
To say Harry was surprised to see him would have been a gross understatement.
The silence could have stretched forever, and likely did for a good portion of it. Only when a particularly loud blast of a whistle sounded could Harry shake himself from his stupor. "Dudley," he said. And then nothing.
He hadn't seen his cousin in years. Decades, even. Whatever relationship they could have had was long since lost when they were little more than teenagers. Contact was absent, a moment spared to meet in person not afforded, and whatever hopes Harry might've held that they could bridge the gap that stretched between them had long ago dissolved. Until that moment, it was.
Dudley was older. Bigger, yes, but there was more than that about him. His hair was receding slightly, the wrinkles of age beginning to touch his brow, but it was more than that, too. The difference lay in his eyes, in his gaze, in the way he would dart that gaze aside before dragging it back to Harry and the utter absence of malice, distaste, or even condescension. There was…
Was that desperation? Maybe even a plea? Harry almost couldn't recognise it for its unexpectedness.
"Harry," Dudley said, and his voice was far deeper than Harry had ever heard it before. "I didn't think I'd - I mean, I didn't know I would meet you here."
Harry blinked. He should have been leaving to go to work. He should have offered his cousin — his long-unseen and all but forgotten cousin — a word, an apology, and maybe even a promise that they would meet at a later date. But he didn't. He couldn't. Words rose from within him and blurted out before he considered them.
"We're not technically meeting."
"But we've met."
"By accident."
"A lucky accident."
Harry raised an eyebrow. Never in his life had he expected to be associated with luck in Dudley's eyes. Another whistle tooted and somewhere from over his shoulder a child screeched in indignant fury about some perceived slight. "Is it really?"
Dudley's eyes wouldn't stop flickering. Away, then back again. Then away and back. Finally, he seemed to settle for staring at Harry's shoulder, and if he paled slightly further, the surprising wanness of his cheeks almost greyed; Harry couldn't blame him. The Dursley's had always instinctively flinched before a pair of Wizarding robes.
"I need your help," was all Dudley said. "It's about my daughter."
That was it, and Harry knew he wouldn't be going to work that day.
Apparating with a Muggle was a novel experience for him. Apparating with Dudley of all Muggles was even stranger. When they arrived at Hogsmeade, a flurry of snow kicking up around his feet, Harry almost forgot to reach towards his cousin as he staggered and gagged with the instinctive urge of every first-timer.
"You get used to it," Harry said, patting Dudley on the shoulder. And if that wasn't awkward…
"I don't think I ever want to," Dudley said, his shoulders shuddering with heavy breaths as he bent double, hands on his knees. His ragged gasps blew plumes of smoke into the winter air, sinking briefly to curl towards his shoes before dissipating. As Harry bent slightly at his side, peering at him sidelong, he saw Dudley squeeze his eyes closed for a long moment, his cheeks paling impossibly further, before he opened them once more.
For a long time, they waited. Then Dudley straightened and Harry withdrew the distinctly awkward hand resting upon his shoulder. "You didn't hurl. Good on you."
Dudley glanced towards him, his lips tugging down on both sides. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"About which part?"
"All of it. The - the -" Dudley waved a hand vaguely in the air in a gesture that Harry could only deem encompassing of the Apparation. "The thing. The jumpy, teleport-y -"
"Apparation?"
"- magicky thing." Dudley swallowed thickly, audibly, and Harry thought he might actually vomit at that moment. He didn't take an instinctive step backwards, but it was a near thing. "Christ, I think I'm going to -"
"Don't worry about it," Harry said, and his hand rose to Dudley's shoulder once more. Awkward or not, he couldn't help but at least try to be supportive. "You'll get used to it."
"I will?"
"You will."
"Christ…"
Harry pressed his lips together, biting back on the words he longed to say. There would be time for that. Time to impress upon Dudley the wonder of his daughter's magical nature. Time to show him that magic wasn't all that bad. It was a good thing that Muggleborn students were informed several months ahead of the rest of their cohort that they were accepted into a magical school, Harry thought. It gave them more time to adjust. And that adjustment would start with a trip to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Where are we?"
At Dudley's words, Harry instinctively glanced towards him once more. Then, in a mimic of Dudley's slow, turning gaze, he drew his own around himself.
Hogsmeade Station. It was empty, barren even, as it had so rarely been on Harry's previous visits. The length of the platform was heaped with snow, the long, wooden benches with their ornate, curling arms icily slick. The lamp posts peered with thin, orange light upon them, upon the platform beneath, upon the length of empty railroad tracks that likely wouldn't see another set of wheels until the students of the nearby school returned from their winter break.
All of it was familiar. Even years later, nearly nineteen whole years later, Harry knew it all. Right there, the little hut of a building that had never seen a train attendant in all of the six years that Harry had been a student himself. A little further along, the iron-wrought fence and gate that lined the platform's length. Further still was the point that he'd seen Hagrid in his first year, a tall, looming figure striding from the semi-darkness of evening and bellowing to the First Years as he beckoned them.
First years. That had been James the previous year. This coming autumn it would be Al. His little Albus… even the thought of the quietest of his children leaving home was more than a little daunting.
"Where the bloody hell are we?" Dudley asked in a repeat of his question.
Turning his gaze back to the cousin who had once shunned him for his magic, for his everything, Harry smiled. Dudley appeared horrified, and likely due to more than the Apparation. Apparently, his past week had been something of a rollercoaster ride. How strange it was to think of the changes being wrought upon Dudley's life; Harry hadn't even known Dudley had a daughter.
"This is Hogsmeade Station," he explained.
Dudley glanced at him sidelong. "Which is?"
"Near Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts? That school that -"
"The school your daughter will be attending."
Dudley swallowed again, just as thickly and just as loudly. His breath was wavering as he drew it deeply, and Harry didn't think it was for the cold. His heavy coat was certainly thick enough, almost as though he'd been expecting a long, cold trip north. "Deirdre will really be…"
Harry's hand squeezed on Dudley's shoulder. Deidre… He hadn't even known her name. "She'll be alright, Dudley."
"She's really a…"
"She'll be taken care of."
"I can't believe she's a…"
Another squeeze. "She'll be alright." Then, because it felt necessary: "You all will be."
When Dudley glanced towards Harry this time, there was something else to his gaze. Something a little mournful, a little terrified, and something else that was almost hopeful. Harry could understand that, at least in part. He'd felt the same sort of thing when James, was feeling it already with Al.
"She will be," Dudley finally said. Or croaked, more correctly. Harry doubted he was capable of more than that.
Patting his hand on Dudley's shoulder — awkward; it was still awkward — he dropped his arms to his sides and started off down the length of the platform. "Come on, Dudley. I'll show you around. Hogwarts has always had the offer of opening its doors to parents to have a look around. And the Headmistress would certainly allow you the chance to see your daughter's new school."
Dudley's heavy footsteps followed on his tail, but Harry didn't need the sound to know his cousin would follow. He drew a deep breath of Hogsmeade air, gaze tipping upwards, and it was with a smile touching his lips that he heard Dudley's mutter behind him. "A magical Headmistress at a magical school… Christ help me…"
Harry smiled as Dudley fell into step at his side. "If it's any consolation, my Al is starting next year, too."
"Your Al?"
"Albus," Harry clarified. "My second eldest. Maybe Deidre might like to meet him? I've got a niece, she'll be starting at the same time, too."
"A niece?"
"It helps to have kids the same age as them starting with them. Especially for Muggleborns. My friend, she's a Muggleborn –"
"Your friend?"
Dudley was parroting. Harry couldn't help but smile up at his admittedly towering cousin. The clap of his hand on his shoulder was less awkward this time. "Dudley. I think we need to have a long talk."
Dudley's face crumpled just slightly, and he nodded with more enthusiasm than Harry had ever seen him. "Please," he said, and the single word came out slightly choked.
They strode, side-by-side, towards the school, and Harry was left to marvel at the turn of events his day had abruptly taken.
You never know, he thought to himself. Maybe Deidre, Al, and Rose can even be friends?
A/N: I know this is a slow build to actually talking about my beloved quartet, but bear with me! I'm just setting the foundations!
