7. DRILLS AND MAGIC DON'T MIX
"Wands? What wands?" asked Neville. He followed Dudley as he turned and raced back up the stairs.
"I didn't know Muggles used wands," gasped Neville at the top of the stairs. Together they sprinted along the corridor back towards Vernon Dursley's office.
In between breaths, Dudley tried to explain about the Ministry of Magic investigations. "...and Mr Weasley thinks my dad's involved -- which is insane," he said. "No way would my dad break the law. And no way would he get involved with m-- with you know what!"
"So you think someone's trying to set him up?" asked Neville.
"No idea."
They swung round the corner and skidded to a halt just in time to avoid colliding with Fleur and Harry, who were standing outside the door of Vernon Dursley's office watching Mr Weasley who was kneeling down beside the door tapping at the lock with his wand.
"Oh thank goodness!" exclaimed Fleur and her face broke into a smile that might have made Dudley think she was genuinely pleased to see him. If he hadn't known how ridiculous that idea was. "Dudley is 'ere. 'E will know what to do!"
"You don't have a key, do you?" asked Harry.
Dudley shook his head. "What are you doing? When I didn't see you, I thought you must have gone by now. Surely you don't still think it's my dad behind this?"
Mr Weasley laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. "Actually, we've only just arrived. The spell last night didn't take us to Grunnings -- in fact we ended up in a completely different country. It was lucky Fleur here could speak the language."
"France, then?" asked Dudley, looking at Fleur. She nodded.
"It seems zat zee wands are being assembled in France and then dispatched 'ere to Grunnings," Fleur explained. "Dudley your father is zee only Grunnings employee to 'ave a close wizard relative. 'E would 'ave zee opportunity to make zee contacts. To visit Knockturn Alley, for example. You must see why we 'ave to investigate."
Dudley sighed. He did see. He still thought the Ministry of Magic was on the wrong track, but he could understand why they'd come to the conclusions they had.
"I 'ope we can still be friends, Dudley, after zees," said Fleur.
Dudley looked up and was startled to see that she was gazing pleadingly at him with those soft blue eyes. Did she really mean that, he wondered. He couldn't think why else she would say it, but it put him on his guard. We'll see, he thought, whether she really wants to know me when all this is over. He turned away from Fleur and knelt down next to Mr Weasley, examining the lock. "Can't you use Alohomora again?" he asked.
"We tried that," said Mr Weasley. "But there seems to be some kind of countercharm in place. Someone's made sure this door can't be opened by magic!"
Dudley, Harry and Neville took turns to run at the door, hoping to break it open that way, but it wasn't as easy as it looked on TV. They were soon rubbing their bruised arms and swearing under their breath while the office door remained as secure as ever.
They didn't notice the heavy footfalls on the corridor. If they'd heard the sound of breathing coming closer, they might have imagined it was the puffing of a winded rhinosceros. Just as Dudley was steeling himself for another run at the door, Mr Dursley rounded the corner, slightly flushed from the glass of brandy he'd taken in Harold Grunning's office.
"What's this?" He caught sight of Harry and Mr Weasley and his expression changed from surprise to one of alarm, while his voice dripped pure, ice-cold contempt. "So what is this? A ruddy infestation?"
Mr Weasley stepped forward. "I'm here on Ministry business," he said and began explaining how Mr Dursley appeared to be mixed up in the criminal activities he was investigating. However, it was difficult to tell how much of it Vernon Dursley was taking in as he turned from pink to purple in a matter of seconds and started breathing more loudly than ever. Mr Weasley noticed this and paused with a look of concern on his face. "Now I don't want you to worry. I wouldn't be surprised to find there's a simple explanation for how these wands--"
He didn't get any further. "Wands?" Vernon Dursley bellowed and a dangerous glint came into his eye. "You come to my office looking for wands? Do I look like ruddy Tinkerbell to you, pal?"
An efficient click of heels heralded the appearance of a tall elegant woman with an armful of orange files. Behind her, Petunia Dursley was carrying the rest of the files.
"'Ere eez your typing, Mr Dursley," the tall woman was saying. At that moment, she noticed Dudley and froze, her tortoise-neck very straight, a trapped expression in her eyes.
Dudley blinked. He knew he'd met this woman before, quite recently, in fact, but he couldn't place her for a moment. Fleur, however, recognised her at once and let out a little gasp of astonishment.
"Madame Bouleau! Since when 'ave you worked at Grunnings?"
Neville's mouth formed a surprised O. "You're Madame Bouleau? The one who sent me a note to send to Dudley?" He shut his mouth guiltily.
"What note?" asked Mr Weasley and Harry together.
"What the devil are you talking about, Neville, lad?" blustered Mr Dursley. "I'd have expected some sense out of you, at least!"
Petunia Dursley hung her head. "It's nothing, really, Vernon," she muttered.
Neville fidgeted unhappily. "I-- I don't remember..."
"It's all right, Neville," Petunia Dursley told him gently. "That note was for me, not Dudley. I found it on the kitchen floor this morning." She looked meaningfully at Mme Bouleau. "I don't suppose we've any choice but to explain, Dominique."
Mme Bouleau nodded, dignified and resigned. "I take full responsibility," she announced. "I 'ave used my position at Grunnings as a cover for zee wand smuggling. I 'ave used ze fact zat Fleur lives in my 'ouse to keep track of zee Ministry's work on zees case."
Fleur gasped. "You 'ave been going through my stuff!"
Mme Bouleau stuck out her chin. "But of course," she said with dignity. "Zat is 'ow it was possible to know about zee Ministry's investigations." Then she added, with a note of pride, "Zat is 'ow I knew I should erase my details from zee list of Grunnings employees."
"There you are then, Weasley," boomed Mr Dursley. "Obviously my family had nothing to do with any of this."
"Oh no, Dominique," said Petunia Dursley, seeming to gather her courage together. "We're both equally responsible. Wasn't that why you sent me the note? To warn me that the Ministry was getting closer to the truth?" She turned to Mr Weasley. "That's why I came here today. I was going to meet Dominique and somehow take the wands home without Vernon knowing about it."
"Look," said Mr Weasley sounding uncharacteristically weary as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "All I need to find out is how these illegal wands are getting into the country."
"I only did it for you, Diddykins!" Petunia Dursley said, taking an imploring step towards her son. "If your father," here she glanced at Vernon Dursley and her eyes became bright with tears, "if your father has to stop work for whatever reason, I wanted to make sure we could alway afford to buy you nice things and keep up with your school fees."
"And I too," said Madame Bouleau, "I 'ave a young nephew who eez due to start at Beauxbatons in the autumn."
There were murmurs of astonishment from Harry and Fleur. Neville simply looked dumbfounded -- he didn't know Mme Bouleau, but he was finding it hard to assimilate the information that nice Mrs Dursley was involved in an international crime ring.
Dudley felt amazement, pure and simple. It was unthinkable that his mother was a criminal. But even more astonishing was the discovery that his mother, of all people, was a witch. It seemed that the same realisation had dawned on his father.
"Ruddy Nora!" exclaimed Vernon Dursley with some heat. "Are Neville and I the only normal people left in the world?" But he reached out for his wife's hand and clasped it protectively between his two meaty hands.
"We will go to prison, of course," said Mme Bouleau calmly. She actually seemed to be relishing the drama.
Mr Weasley frowned and shook his head. "I doubt it."
"But we are to be punished," said Mme Bouleau. She stuck her chin out with a fatalistic air.
"I'm afraid so," said Mr Weasley seriously. "This case has cost a fair bit of time and work for the Ministry, you know. You're both looking at a fairly hefty fine, I should imagine. (Mrs Dursley whimpered) And you'll need to tell us as much as you know about your contacts in France and anywhere else this is going on." He shrugged, looking tired beyond belief. This was evidently one of his least favourite aspects of his job. "This isn't about retribution. The laws are there to keep the wizarding world safe for all of us -- we don't go round crushing people for making a foolish choice once in their lives and I don't think any judge would see you as an ongoing danger to society."
Mrs Dursley was sobbing in her husband's arms. "Oh Vernon, our Duddy's education will be ruined! And it's all my fault."
"Hush, Petunia. We don't know that's what's going to happen."
"I'm not really bothered," Dudley assured her. "Smeltings is fine, but if it turned out I had to leave and go to a state school, I could handle that." It'd be a shock transferring to a new school, he knew, especially one with the reputation of Stonewall, but Dudley was pretty sure he could handle any trouble, with or without his little gang.
"I don't suppose you've considered transferring to Hogwarts?" suggested Mr Weasley. "I daresay Professor Dumbledore..."
Dudley went pale. "I don't have to, do I?"
"Course not, son," barked Mr Dursley. "You're a Smeltings man and you'll never have to change schools. Not while there's still breath in my body and meat on my bones!"
But Petunia Dursley was looking anxious. "I'm not so sure, Vernon. His magic -- oh, don't look at me like that, love, we've got to face facts -- his magic is getting stronger and he doesn't really know how to control it. That could be dangerous. Perhaps Hogwarts would be the best choice."
Mr Weasley was quick to notice Dudley's reluctant expression and Vernon Dursley's outraged one. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it," he told them kindly. "It's not like the old days -- Hogwarts or nothing. If Dudley doesn't want to change schools, he doesn't have to. He could take evening or weekend classes to get him up to speed on his magic. It would take a lot of work..."
"And I would be 'appy to 'elp you, Dudley," Fleur added beaming. "I'm sure you would learn fast."
Dudley felt cornered. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone had different expectations of him. He glanced from his dad to his mum, to Neville, Harry and Mr Weasley before turning back to Fleur. She was the worst of all, he thought. Did she ever stop thinking the best of him? Expecting him to be better than he was? "Maybe I don't want any help," he told her nastily. Ignoring the way she went pale and her lip trembled before she looked away, he pointed at Harry. "Maybe I don't want to be like him!"
Harry smiled skeptically at the insult. "Because it's so great being you?"
"No..." began Dudley, feeling defensive. "Yes! I'd rather be me. I'd rather grow up normal, with normal parents and..."
He stopped. Harry didn't need to say a word. Dudley knew he'd said it all himself and somehow that made it even harder to bear. The fact that he wasn't normal. That his family was far from normal. That everything he'd grown up believing about himself and his family was a lie.
"You're going to have more scar than face by the time I'm finished with you," he snarled, taking a step towards Harry. At that moment he blamed his cousin for everything that had gone wrong for him. He'd expected Harry to back down, but he stood his ground. As far as Dudley was concerned there was only one way forward from that point.
He raised his fist.
"What d'you think you're playing at, Dudders?" roared Vernon Dursley.
"Harry, don't," said Mr Weasley apprehensively.
Neither Dudley nor Harry took any notice. All Dudley could hear was the sound of his own pulse roaring in his ears. All he could feel was the way his skin prickled with a sudden rush of adrenaline. All he was aware of was Harry.
Instinctively Harry reached for his wand. Dudley grabbed his wrist and gripped it hard.
"Oh no you don't--"
He stumbled back a step as Harry twisted his arm free and glared back threateningly. Dudley snorted contemptuously, to make it clear to Harry that his cousin didn't have a hope of winning a non-magical fight. He didn't feel quite as confident as he pretended to be, though. Harry had managed to free himself with less of a struggle than he'd expected. Even if he was still shorter and lighter than Dudley, he was fast. They were more evenly matched than they'd ever been before.
As Harry stuck out his jaw aggressively, Dudley noticed again, briefly, the haunted look behind the glasses. Harry hadn't just grown a year older, he'd also grown several years wiser while he'd been away at that strange school of his. What strange and terrible things had he seen, what had he learned that had caused so much of a change in his cousin? Harry had always been independent and proud. Now that was tinged with a recklessness that made him a dangerous opponent. The safest thing, Dudley knew from experience, was to finish him as quickly and decisively as possible. Without warning, he punched Harry in the stomach. Hard.
Dudley stepped back, swaggering a little as Harry bent double in pain. He was so sure it was over, he didn't even notice how quickly Harry recovered. He didn't know anything about it until Harry's fist made contact with his eye.
Dudley retaliated, but Harry was matching him blow for blow and as Dudley's damaged eye began to close up he was at the disadvantage of being unable to judge the speed and distance of Harry's fists at any given moment. He felt his posture become more defensive than aggressive. Not Harry, he told himself, still scarcely able to believe it could be happening. I can't let Harry, of all people, beat me. It was ridiculous. Dudley didn't know whether he was more angry at himself or at his cousin. He hit out blindly and Harry went flying backwards. He hit the wall.
"You used magic!" protested Harry, picking himself up.
"I didn't!" But had he, Dudley wondered? It was one thing to magically -- and accidentally -- throw a plate of poached egg across the room. But what about people? Harry seemed to be unhurt, which was lucky, but Dudley understood now exactly why his parents hated magic so much. It wasn't a gift. It was a curse. An uncontrollable curse.
Harry wasn't listening. "Fine. If that's how you want it. He reached for his wand.
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Mr Weasley, deftly catching the wand as it flew out of Harry's hand, while Mr Dursley rugby-tackled his son to the floor.
"That's enough of that ruddy nonsense," he grunted, puffing hard. "I didn't bring you to Grunnings to play silly buggers."
"I won," said Harry fiercely. "And I didn't use magic!"
He'd certainly come out of it with slightly less damage. Dudley knew he'd been overconfident. Careless. He hadn't been prepared for the weight behind Harry's blows. He knew Harry had filled out over the past year but Dudley was so much in the habit of thinking of his cousin as a wimp that he'd underestimated him. That, he now recognised, was a habit he could no longer afford. He touched his eye experimentally and winced. It only took glance at his mother's horrified expression to know that the eye looked as bad as it felt. No, Harry certainly wasn't a puny weakling any more.
Mr Weasley wasn't impressed. "If you call it winning when you're reduced to bashing the living daylights out of one another," he said grimly.
To Mr Weasley it had probably sounded like Harry was gloating, but Dudley knew it was a victory that his cousin had waited for all his life. On another occasion, he might even have managed to scrape together enough sportsmanship to feel grudgingly pleased for Harry. If he hadn't been in so much pain. If he hadn't been feeling so depressed.
"What am I going to do?" he said, almost to himself.
"There are lots of things you can change about who you are, Dudley," said Mr Weasley. "Being a wizard, well, you're stuck with that whether you like it or not." He took out a magically-chilled handkerchief and held it to Dudley's eye.
Suddenly it struck Dudley as strange that Mr Weasley was trying to comfort him. Surely, he thought, someone else would have been at the front of the queue to do that. And, given the choice, Dudley knew he would have preferred that. "Where's Fleur?" he asked.
"Fleur's gone," said Mr Weasley. "Left before you and Harry started laying into one another." He pursed his lips thoughtfully as he looked into space. Dudley shuffled guiltily, remembering how he'd spoken to her. If Mr Weasley blamed him for upsetting Fleur, he wished he would just yell at him rather than pretending nothing was wrong. But when Mr Weasley finally turned to him, his tone was the same one he might have used to ask Mr Dursley how Muggle locks worked. "Does that surprise you?"
Dudley didn't reply. An old memory was sidling its way out of some shadowy corner of his mind. The memory of another, much earlier, encounter with magic and what had happened as a result of that meeting. If he'd ever in his life deserved to be wearing a pig's tail, this, he thought, was surely that moment.
In the aftermath of the fight, Mr Weasley and Mr Dursley had finally found some common ground. They were both agreed that they should send the lads out of the way while they decided what course of action to take.
"I'll need to ask you both a few questions," Mr Weasley told Petunia Dursley and Dominique Bouleau before he turned to Dudley, Harry and Neville. "No need for you boys to hang around here getting bored."
"Too right. Take yourselves off for an hour or so," grunted Vernon Dursley. He pushed a few notes into Dudley's hand. "Get something to eat, go for a walk, play on the space invaders, just keep yourselves out of trouble. I'll see you in the canteen at five. It'll give us some time to sort this ruddy mess out." He produced the keys to his office. "Best go into my office, Weasley. I'll open the door. The _normal_ way."
"Wands? What wands?" asked Neville. He followed Dudley as he turned and raced back up the stairs.
"I didn't know Muggles used wands," gasped Neville at the top of the stairs. Together they sprinted along the corridor back towards Vernon Dursley's office.
In between breaths, Dudley tried to explain about the Ministry of Magic investigations. "...and Mr Weasley thinks my dad's involved -- which is insane," he said. "No way would my dad break the law. And no way would he get involved with m-- with you know what!"
"So you think someone's trying to set him up?" asked Neville.
"No idea."
They swung round the corner and skidded to a halt just in time to avoid colliding with Fleur and Harry, who were standing outside the door of Vernon Dursley's office watching Mr Weasley who was kneeling down beside the door tapping at the lock with his wand.
"Oh thank goodness!" exclaimed Fleur and her face broke into a smile that might have made Dudley think she was genuinely pleased to see him. If he hadn't known how ridiculous that idea was. "Dudley is 'ere. 'E will know what to do!"
"You don't have a key, do you?" asked Harry.
Dudley shook his head. "What are you doing? When I didn't see you, I thought you must have gone by now. Surely you don't still think it's my dad behind this?"
Mr Weasley laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. "Actually, we've only just arrived. The spell last night didn't take us to Grunnings -- in fact we ended up in a completely different country. It was lucky Fleur here could speak the language."
"France, then?" asked Dudley, looking at Fleur. She nodded.
"It seems zat zee wands are being assembled in France and then dispatched 'ere to Grunnings," Fleur explained. "Dudley your father is zee only Grunnings employee to 'ave a close wizard relative. 'E would 'ave zee opportunity to make zee contacts. To visit Knockturn Alley, for example. You must see why we 'ave to investigate."
Dudley sighed. He did see. He still thought the Ministry of Magic was on the wrong track, but he could understand why they'd come to the conclusions they had.
"I 'ope we can still be friends, Dudley, after zees," said Fleur.
Dudley looked up and was startled to see that she was gazing pleadingly at him with those soft blue eyes. Did she really mean that, he wondered. He couldn't think why else she would say it, but it put him on his guard. We'll see, he thought, whether she really wants to know me when all this is over. He turned away from Fleur and knelt down next to Mr Weasley, examining the lock. "Can't you use Alohomora again?" he asked.
"We tried that," said Mr Weasley. "But there seems to be some kind of countercharm in place. Someone's made sure this door can't be opened by magic!"
Dudley, Harry and Neville took turns to run at the door, hoping to break it open that way, but it wasn't as easy as it looked on TV. They were soon rubbing their bruised arms and swearing under their breath while the office door remained as secure as ever.
They didn't notice the heavy footfalls on the corridor. If they'd heard the sound of breathing coming closer, they might have imagined it was the puffing of a winded rhinosceros. Just as Dudley was steeling himself for another run at the door, Mr Dursley rounded the corner, slightly flushed from the glass of brandy he'd taken in Harold Grunning's office.
"What's this?" He caught sight of Harry and Mr Weasley and his expression changed from surprise to one of alarm, while his voice dripped pure, ice-cold contempt. "So what is this? A ruddy infestation?"
Mr Weasley stepped forward. "I'm here on Ministry business," he said and began explaining how Mr Dursley appeared to be mixed up in the criminal activities he was investigating. However, it was difficult to tell how much of it Vernon Dursley was taking in as he turned from pink to purple in a matter of seconds and started breathing more loudly than ever. Mr Weasley noticed this and paused with a look of concern on his face. "Now I don't want you to worry. I wouldn't be surprised to find there's a simple explanation for how these wands--"
He didn't get any further. "Wands?" Vernon Dursley bellowed and a dangerous glint came into his eye. "You come to my office looking for wands? Do I look like ruddy Tinkerbell to you, pal?"
An efficient click of heels heralded the appearance of a tall elegant woman with an armful of orange files. Behind her, Petunia Dursley was carrying the rest of the files.
"'Ere eez your typing, Mr Dursley," the tall woman was saying. At that moment, she noticed Dudley and froze, her tortoise-neck very straight, a trapped expression in her eyes.
Dudley blinked. He knew he'd met this woman before, quite recently, in fact, but he couldn't place her for a moment. Fleur, however, recognised her at once and let out a little gasp of astonishment.
"Madame Bouleau! Since when 'ave you worked at Grunnings?"
Neville's mouth formed a surprised O. "You're Madame Bouleau? The one who sent me a note to send to Dudley?" He shut his mouth guiltily.
"What note?" asked Mr Weasley and Harry together.
"What the devil are you talking about, Neville, lad?" blustered Mr Dursley. "I'd have expected some sense out of you, at least!"
Petunia Dursley hung her head. "It's nothing, really, Vernon," she muttered.
Neville fidgeted unhappily. "I-- I don't remember..."
"It's all right, Neville," Petunia Dursley told him gently. "That note was for me, not Dudley. I found it on the kitchen floor this morning." She looked meaningfully at Mme Bouleau. "I don't suppose we've any choice but to explain, Dominique."
Mme Bouleau nodded, dignified and resigned. "I take full responsibility," she announced. "I 'ave used my position at Grunnings as a cover for zee wand smuggling. I 'ave used ze fact zat Fleur lives in my 'ouse to keep track of zee Ministry's work on zees case."
Fleur gasped. "You 'ave been going through my stuff!"
Mme Bouleau stuck out her chin. "But of course," she said with dignity. "Zat is 'ow it was possible to know about zee Ministry's investigations." Then she added, with a note of pride, "Zat is 'ow I knew I should erase my details from zee list of Grunnings employees."
"There you are then, Weasley," boomed Mr Dursley. "Obviously my family had nothing to do with any of this."
"Oh no, Dominique," said Petunia Dursley, seeming to gather her courage together. "We're both equally responsible. Wasn't that why you sent me the note? To warn me that the Ministry was getting closer to the truth?" She turned to Mr Weasley. "That's why I came here today. I was going to meet Dominique and somehow take the wands home without Vernon knowing about it."
"Look," said Mr Weasley sounding uncharacteristically weary as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "All I need to find out is how these illegal wands are getting into the country."
"I only did it for you, Diddykins!" Petunia Dursley said, taking an imploring step towards her son. "If your father," here she glanced at Vernon Dursley and her eyes became bright with tears, "if your father has to stop work for whatever reason, I wanted to make sure we could alway afford to buy you nice things and keep up with your school fees."
"And I too," said Madame Bouleau, "I 'ave a young nephew who eez due to start at Beauxbatons in the autumn."
There were murmurs of astonishment from Harry and Fleur. Neville simply looked dumbfounded -- he didn't know Mme Bouleau, but he was finding it hard to assimilate the information that nice Mrs Dursley was involved in an international crime ring.
Dudley felt amazement, pure and simple. It was unthinkable that his mother was a criminal. But even more astonishing was the discovery that his mother, of all people, was a witch. It seemed that the same realisation had dawned on his father.
"Ruddy Nora!" exclaimed Vernon Dursley with some heat. "Are Neville and I the only normal people left in the world?" But he reached out for his wife's hand and clasped it protectively between his two meaty hands.
"We will go to prison, of course," said Mme Bouleau calmly. She actually seemed to be relishing the drama.
Mr Weasley frowned and shook his head. "I doubt it."
"But we are to be punished," said Mme Bouleau. She stuck her chin out with a fatalistic air.
"I'm afraid so," said Mr Weasley seriously. "This case has cost a fair bit of time and work for the Ministry, you know. You're both looking at a fairly hefty fine, I should imagine. (Mrs Dursley whimpered) And you'll need to tell us as much as you know about your contacts in France and anywhere else this is going on." He shrugged, looking tired beyond belief. This was evidently one of his least favourite aspects of his job. "This isn't about retribution. The laws are there to keep the wizarding world safe for all of us -- we don't go round crushing people for making a foolish choice once in their lives and I don't think any judge would see you as an ongoing danger to society."
Mrs Dursley was sobbing in her husband's arms. "Oh Vernon, our Duddy's education will be ruined! And it's all my fault."
"Hush, Petunia. We don't know that's what's going to happen."
"I'm not really bothered," Dudley assured her. "Smeltings is fine, but if it turned out I had to leave and go to a state school, I could handle that." It'd be a shock transferring to a new school, he knew, especially one with the reputation of Stonewall, but Dudley was pretty sure he could handle any trouble, with or without his little gang.
"I don't suppose you've considered transferring to Hogwarts?" suggested Mr Weasley. "I daresay Professor Dumbledore..."
Dudley went pale. "I don't have to, do I?"
"Course not, son," barked Mr Dursley. "You're a Smeltings man and you'll never have to change schools. Not while there's still breath in my body and meat on my bones!"
But Petunia Dursley was looking anxious. "I'm not so sure, Vernon. His magic -- oh, don't look at me like that, love, we've got to face facts -- his magic is getting stronger and he doesn't really know how to control it. That could be dangerous. Perhaps Hogwarts would be the best choice."
Mr Weasley was quick to notice Dudley's reluctant expression and Vernon Dursley's outraged one. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it," he told them kindly. "It's not like the old days -- Hogwarts or nothing. If Dudley doesn't want to change schools, he doesn't have to. He could take evening or weekend classes to get him up to speed on his magic. It would take a lot of work..."
"And I would be 'appy to 'elp you, Dudley," Fleur added beaming. "I'm sure you would learn fast."
Dudley felt cornered. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone had different expectations of him. He glanced from his dad to his mum, to Neville, Harry and Mr Weasley before turning back to Fleur. She was the worst of all, he thought. Did she ever stop thinking the best of him? Expecting him to be better than he was? "Maybe I don't want any help," he told her nastily. Ignoring the way she went pale and her lip trembled before she looked away, he pointed at Harry. "Maybe I don't want to be like him!"
Harry smiled skeptically at the insult. "Because it's so great being you?"
"No..." began Dudley, feeling defensive. "Yes! I'd rather be me. I'd rather grow up normal, with normal parents and..."
He stopped. Harry didn't need to say a word. Dudley knew he'd said it all himself and somehow that made it even harder to bear. The fact that he wasn't normal. That his family was far from normal. That everything he'd grown up believing about himself and his family was a lie.
"You're going to have more scar than face by the time I'm finished with you," he snarled, taking a step towards Harry. At that moment he blamed his cousin for everything that had gone wrong for him. He'd expected Harry to back down, but he stood his ground. As far as Dudley was concerned there was only one way forward from that point.
He raised his fist.
"What d'you think you're playing at, Dudders?" roared Vernon Dursley.
"Harry, don't," said Mr Weasley apprehensively.
Neither Dudley nor Harry took any notice. All Dudley could hear was the sound of his own pulse roaring in his ears. All he could feel was the way his skin prickled with a sudden rush of adrenaline. All he was aware of was Harry.
Instinctively Harry reached for his wand. Dudley grabbed his wrist and gripped it hard.
"Oh no you don't--"
He stumbled back a step as Harry twisted his arm free and glared back threateningly. Dudley snorted contemptuously, to make it clear to Harry that his cousin didn't have a hope of winning a non-magical fight. He didn't feel quite as confident as he pretended to be, though. Harry had managed to free himself with less of a struggle than he'd expected. Even if he was still shorter and lighter than Dudley, he was fast. They were more evenly matched than they'd ever been before.
As Harry stuck out his jaw aggressively, Dudley noticed again, briefly, the haunted look behind the glasses. Harry hadn't just grown a year older, he'd also grown several years wiser while he'd been away at that strange school of his. What strange and terrible things had he seen, what had he learned that had caused so much of a change in his cousin? Harry had always been independent and proud. Now that was tinged with a recklessness that made him a dangerous opponent. The safest thing, Dudley knew from experience, was to finish him as quickly and decisively as possible. Without warning, he punched Harry in the stomach. Hard.
Dudley stepped back, swaggering a little as Harry bent double in pain. He was so sure it was over, he didn't even notice how quickly Harry recovered. He didn't know anything about it until Harry's fist made contact with his eye.
Dudley retaliated, but Harry was matching him blow for blow and as Dudley's damaged eye began to close up he was at the disadvantage of being unable to judge the speed and distance of Harry's fists at any given moment. He felt his posture become more defensive than aggressive. Not Harry, he told himself, still scarcely able to believe it could be happening. I can't let Harry, of all people, beat me. It was ridiculous. Dudley didn't know whether he was more angry at himself or at his cousin. He hit out blindly and Harry went flying backwards. He hit the wall.
"You used magic!" protested Harry, picking himself up.
"I didn't!" But had he, Dudley wondered? It was one thing to magically -- and accidentally -- throw a plate of poached egg across the room. But what about people? Harry seemed to be unhurt, which was lucky, but Dudley understood now exactly why his parents hated magic so much. It wasn't a gift. It was a curse. An uncontrollable curse.
Harry wasn't listening. "Fine. If that's how you want it. He reached for his wand.
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Mr Weasley, deftly catching the wand as it flew out of Harry's hand, while Mr Dursley rugby-tackled his son to the floor.
"That's enough of that ruddy nonsense," he grunted, puffing hard. "I didn't bring you to Grunnings to play silly buggers."
"I won," said Harry fiercely. "And I didn't use magic!"
He'd certainly come out of it with slightly less damage. Dudley knew he'd been overconfident. Careless. He hadn't been prepared for the weight behind Harry's blows. He knew Harry had filled out over the past year but Dudley was so much in the habit of thinking of his cousin as a wimp that he'd underestimated him. That, he now recognised, was a habit he could no longer afford. He touched his eye experimentally and winced. It only took glance at his mother's horrified expression to know that the eye looked as bad as it felt. No, Harry certainly wasn't a puny weakling any more.
Mr Weasley wasn't impressed. "If you call it winning when you're reduced to bashing the living daylights out of one another," he said grimly.
To Mr Weasley it had probably sounded like Harry was gloating, but Dudley knew it was a victory that his cousin had waited for all his life. On another occasion, he might even have managed to scrape together enough sportsmanship to feel grudgingly pleased for Harry. If he hadn't been in so much pain. If he hadn't been feeling so depressed.
"What am I going to do?" he said, almost to himself.
"There are lots of things you can change about who you are, Dudley," said Mr Weasley. "Being a wizard, well, you're stuck with that whether you like it or not." He took out a magically-chilled handkerchief and held it to Dudley's eye.
Suddenly it struck Dudley as strange that Mr Weasley was trying to comfort him. Surely, he thought, someone else would have been at the front of the queue to do that. And, given the choice, Dudley knew he would have preferred that. "Where's Fleur?" he asked.
"Fleur's gone," said Mr Weasley. "Left before you and Harry started laying into one another." He pursed his lips thoughtfully as he looked into space. Dudley shuffled guiltily, remembering how he'd spoken to her. If Mr Weasley blamed him for upsetting Fleur, he wished he would just yell at him rather than pretending nothing was wrong. But when Mr Weasley finally turned to him, his tone was the same one he might have used to ask Mr Dursley how Muggle locks worked. "Does that surprise you?"
Dudley didn't reply. An old memory was sidling its way out of some shadowy corner of his mind. The memory of another, much earlier, encounter with magic and what had happened as a result of that meeting. If he'd ever in his life deserved to be wearing a pig's tail, this, he thought, was surely that moment.
In the aftermath of the fight, Mr Weasley and Mr Dursley had finally found some common ground. They were both agreed that they should send the lads out of the way while they decided what course of action to take.
"I'll need to ask you both a few questions," Mr Weasley told Petunia Dursley and Dominique Bouleau before he turned to Dudley, Harry and Neville. "No need for you boys to hang around here getting bored."
"Too right. Take yourselves off for an hour or so," grunted Vernon Dursley. He pushed a few notes into Dudley's hand. "Get something to eat, go for a walk, play on the space invaders, just keep yourselves out of trouble. I'll see you in the canteen at five. It'll give us some time to sort this ruddy mess out." He produced the keys to his office. "Best go into my office, Weasley. I'll open the door. The _normal_ way."