Dudley woke to the distant sound of shouting. He mumbled and turned over in his bed, vaguely remembering that it wasn't his own bed at home. In the room next door, a growl of, "What's this racket, then?" came muffled through the wall.
The magical cuckcoo clock said it was half-past seven. Groaning at the early hour, Dudley flopped back onto his pillow and knew he couldn't sleep anymore. Not when he was in a house full of wizards.
It was odd thinking the word wizards without fear. Dudley still felt suspicious towards magical people but this lot seemed ok, mostly. Especially Astrid. She was really nice.
A slamming door reverberated through the house, then all was quiet downstairs. Dudley got up and pulled on some jeans and a shirt from his case. Then, thinking it wouldn't hurt to look nice, he checked his hair in the mirror.
He gasped. A his hair was a bright, obnoxious green! In horror, he ran his fingers through it, wondering what happened. He couldn't leave the room looking like this.
Frantically, he rummaged through his pack for a hat. Finding a blue cap his father had given him, he shoved it on and looked in the mirror again.
His hair was no longer green. But his nose! It was gigantic! It must be eight inches long! Dudley felt for it…but it wasn't there on his face. In the mirror he looked like he was picking his nose, but he could only feel his normal nose on his face.
Then he got it. Magical mirror. Makes you look funny.
He scoffed and left the room, resolving never to look in that mirror again. Lot of good it did him.
Pausing on the staircase, Dudley considered looking in on his parents before going down, but thought better of it. His father was shouting more complaints about magic and wizards. Perhaps a year or two ago, Dudley would have felt the same way, but lately things had changed. Ever since Harry had saved him from those horrible creatures two summers ago, he had realized that maybe some wizards were good and some were bad, like normal people. After all, complaining did no good here. It would just offend the people trying to protect them.
When he entered the kitchen, Mr. Lemming and Dedalus were sitting at the table with cups of coffee and Mrs. Lemming was starting to prepare some breakfast with her wand. Several pieces of bacon flopped onto the griddle and a pitcher of orange juice was stirring itself. Dudley tried not to stare. Mrs. Lemming sighed, turned around, and jumped.
"Oh! Good, you're up! Breakfast will be ready soon, if you want to have a seat. You look hungry."
Finally, something Dudley could understand. Food.
He smiled and sat down while Mrs. Lemming placed a plate of muffins in front of him. Mr. Lemming wished him a good morning, in his gruff, gray way, while Dedalus stood, removed his hat, and bowed low. Dudley nodded to both of them before sitting. Muffled grumbles of his father sounded down the stairs.
"Hope your parents are getting on alright," Mr. Lemming said worriedly. "Maybe they're having trouble with the toilet? I suppose they're not used to dealing with enchantments gone awry."
"The toilet is enchanted?" Dudley said.
"Well, not on purpose. I don't know how it got that way, actually. But it does have a tendency to shout insults up your arse when you sit down," Mr. Lemming admitted sheepishly. Dudley tried very hard not to let orange juice spray out his nose while he held back laughter. "And sometimes it may squirt you when you flush. But only if he insults it back."
A mental image of his father returning rude comments to a toilet and subsequently receiving a large squirt of his own poo popped into Dudley's head.
"Maybe I should go check on them…" Mr. Lemming suggested.
"No, don't bother. He'll need some time to cool off after something like that," Dudley said, chuckling under his breath as he buttered a muffin.
The kitchen was a friendly place, though not as spotless as his mother's. The cabinets were painted a cheery yellow, and a row of flowers decorated the window box. Dudley thought it was a rather comfortable place, made a home by the smell of frying bacon and warm blueberries.
Just as things were starting to look rather familiar, a fluffy, gray object rocketed through the window and landed on the table. Dudley jumped back in alarm, but Mr. Lemming just reached for the newspaper attached to the owl's leg. Dudley looked nervously at the door, hoping his father didn't come in just yet. He hated owls.
Mr. Lemming placed a strange silver coin in the pouch of the leg of the owl and it took flight, zooming right out the window again. Then the man leaned back in his seat, opening the paper.
"Argh. This paper was hardly reliable even before the Death Eaters started running it."
"Death Eaters?" Dudley said. "Those are the people that are after us, right?"
He peered at Dudley over the top of his silver, rectangular spectacles.
"Of course, boy. They're You-Know-Who's followers. His inner circle," said Dedalus.
"You-Know-Who? That Voldemort guy?"
There came a loud clatter and a squeak. Dedalus had fallen off his chair at the same time Mrs. Lemming had dropped a plate. Everyone stared at him.
"What are you on about, saying the name in here?" Mr. Lemming said gruffly. Dudley felt frozen. He didn't realize he had done something wrong.
"You don't say the name, lad," said Dedalus, clutching his hat to his heart. "No one says the name. Call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Mrs. Lemming brought out her wand and caused the broken plate to repair itself and jump back into her hands.
"I'm sorry…I didn't know. Harry always calls him V—I mean, he always says the name."
"Well, that all fine for Mr. Potter," scoffed Mr. Lemming, straightening his spectacles. "He's bleeding Harry Potter, I mean. He and Dumbledore were never scared of the name, but the rest of us are, so don't you go saying that in our house."
"Sorry," Dudley apologized shamefully.
"It's alright, dear," Mrs. Lemming said, throwing her husband a don't-be-so-harsh look and placing a few strips of bacon on his plate. "We just weren't expecting it. No harm done."
"Why is everyone so scared of the name?" Dudley asked. He was starting to feel so confused that he wondered if he would ever understand what was going on anymore.
"You weren't there the first time, but last time You-Know-Who was gaining power, things were very bad," Mr. Lemming explained. "Not just for wizards, but muggles too. Dark times then, just like now. You never knew who was on your side and who wasn't. Death Eaters terrorized the streets. Dementors roamed wherever they pleased."
Dudley shuddered. He was starting to understand what that must have been like.
"And then, You-Know-Who decided to go after your aunt and uncle and cousin. No idea why, but he killed Lily and James just like all those other innocent people. And then, strange thing, he went after your cousin, Harry. He was only a baby, but the curse didn't work on him. I guess it went wrong or something, cause the next thing we knew, You-Know-Who was gone and all his followers had made a run for it. Little baby Harry was sent to live with you lot and everything was good again. Except that it wasn't permanent, because he's back, and things are getting bad again."
"What does You-Know-Who want?" Dudley asked.
"Power, control," Mr. Lemming replied. "And wizard-supremacy. He thinks that if you're not a pureblood—a wizard born from all magical ancestors—then you're scum. Muggle-borns and muggles are second class to him."
"That's stupid," Dudley said indignantly. Just because he didn't have a silly little magic wand to play with didn't mean he wasn't as good as anyone else.
"But a whole lot of people agree with him, Dudley. And that's why you're in danger. All muggles are, really, but your family especially because you're tied to the one person who has ever survived a run in with You-Know-Who. Several times, by the sound of it," Mr. Lemming added, draining the rest of his coffee. "That cousin of yours can really put up a fight."
Dudley though about all the times he had beat Harry up when they were little. It was hard to imagine that skinny little boy growing up to take on the most evil wizard to ever live. No wonder everyone thought Harry was so cool.
"But how is this protection? I mean, if this You-Know-Who guy is as powerful as everyone thinks, why can't he find us here right out in the open?"
"Trust me boy, it may seem like we're out in the open, but there are extremely powerful charms set on this place. No one can come within a hundred feet without our consent," Dedalus Diggle squeaked. "On top of that, we apparated here. No one can trace that. You could be anywhere."
Just then, Dudley's parents entered the kitchen. Mr. Dursley looked extremely put out for one who had only woken up an hour ago. Dudley noticed his hair was slightly wet. Mrs. Dursley looked jumpy, but placated to see her son being fed.
Hestia soon followed and the kitchen was starting to feel claustrophobic. Mrs. Lemming kept throwing worried glances out the window, expecting to see something. Just as Dudley was about to leave for somewhere a little less crowded, Mrs. Lemming approached him with another plate.
"Dudley, I wonder if you could do a favor for me. You see, Astrid is a bit mad at me and her father this morning, and she ran off without eating anything. I wonder if you would mind taking this to her?" She held out the plate bearing a muffin, some bacon, and an apple. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to talk to me, but she wouldn't mind seeing you. She's probably in the garden shed out back. Do you mind?"
Dudley rather wanted to refuse. He had no idea how to talk to an upset girl. But his mouth said yes, his hands took the plate, and his feet walked off to find Astrid.