Author's Note: It's been a LONG time and I apologize. I also must say that this chapter's being looked over but I wanted to post this version anyway. I just want to make sure you guys know I'm still here, because I'm going on a trip soon and have finals and might be away again for a bit (BREAK! TRIP! YES!). Hope you're all doing well, and I urge you to read and review!
Chapter Twenty- Six: Changes in Wonderland
"I've figured it out," Dad whispered, as Dudley was entering the kitchen. It was a few days before Harry's seventeenth birthday, when apparently the protection would leave Number Four and they'd all be doomed. (At least, that's what Harry implied. And being that Harry knew quite a deal more about this stuff than Dad, Dudley was keener on his opinion at the moment.) Today was the day when they were to leave. But from the look on Dad's face, Dudley had a guess that he wasn't going anywhere soon. Mum was staring at Dad blankly.
"Figured what out?" Dudley asked carelessly, looking around the kitchen and spotting pancakes atop the stove. "Cool!" he exclaimed and Petunia smiled, hurrying up from the table to serve him. It seemed whatever Vernon was about to reveal wasn't of that much interest to her.
Dad cleared his throat, as though to draw back the attention to himself. "It is a plot."
"What's a plot?" asked Dudley, sitting down at the table beside him.
"A plot to get the house!"
"Dad…" Dudley said slowly. "Dad… Harry all ready told you the Lord Whatever doesn't need our house—"
"Oh! Don't I know it!?" Vernon said, as though all of a sudden, he was very familiar with the dark wizard and all of his plans. "The Lord Thing doesn't want it, he does."
"He who?" Petunia asked, fixing Dudley's plate and carrying it over to him.
"The boy!" Vernon answered.
"Harry?" Dudley asked, and began to eat his pancakes. The sugar-free syrup actually tasted better to him. The lack of butter was another story, but he'd learned to deal with it.
"Yes, Harry! He wants our house, not the others, him. He fed us that Lord Thing story to make us think it was all this huge commotion, when really, all he wants is this house!A perfect plan, I must say, very cheeky and well-put together for such an ingrate. I was up all night thinking about it, and I've decided that's the reason. There's no war—"
" Vernon—"
"--absolutely no Lord, and Harry just wants to do his mishmash magic on the deeds to our house so he can get what he's always wanted!" He narrowed his eyes. "Property!"
Dudley nearly choked on his food due to either disbelief or laughter. Or both. 'Property,' he thought, in that same angry way and almost laughed again. He pounded his chest and tried to look as though he didn't think it was a strange idea in the least.
"Well," Petunia sighed, sitting back down at the table and taking a sip of coffee. "That could be true."
"Maybe," Dudley muttered, taking another bite of pancakes. Petunia patted his arm. Dudley looked up at her, and noticed she was hiding a smile behind her hand.
"Of course it's true!" Vernon boomed. "And we're not going anywhere today. I'm telling him that."
Dudley sighed, and got up to put his plate in the sink. They'd spent the whole of yesterday packing all of their suitcases in the car again. If they had to unpack everything for what would probably be the millionth time, Dudley felt he might go insane. He didn't know what to think about this, but it would be awfully hard to convince Dad otherwise. Once Dad had a thought in his head like this, it was nearly impossible to get it out. Who knows? Maybe Harry did want the house. But Dudley sort of doubted it.
"More pancakes, Dinkydums?" Petunia asked. "We need to build you up for today—"
"Did you just hear me?" Vernon burst out. "We're going nowhere! Nowhere, I say!"
"No thanks, Mum," Dudley said nonchalantly, and opened the china cabinet, fixing a cup of tea.
"Are you sure, sweetie?"
"Nowhere!" Vernon continued.
Making like he was about to drink from the teacup, Dudley swaggered out of the room and up the stairs. Once he'd gotten to Harry's bedroom, he set the cup down in front of the door and got ready for the day. He took a nice, hot shower and shaved. Then he dressed in his baggy khakis, a white collared shirt, his silver chain necklace, and his leather jacket. He shuffled back into the kitchen just in time for round two.
"Not in my life will I see that boy inherit this house!" Vernon was yelling. Petunia had her back to him, at the sink as usual. "Every scrap I've earned has gone into the upkeep, and if anyone's getting it, it's Dudders—"
Dudley made a face, crossing the kitchen. He didn't want this house. If he had to live here all his life, on Privet Drive, he'd only remember the terrible things he'd done—it was an okay looking house, but frankly, it was sort of pink inside and too perfect for Dudley's taste. Plus, why would he want to hang around Little Whinging anymore? "Harry can have it if he wants it so bad," he muttered.
Petunia's shoulders clenched.
"Why, Dudley!" Dad exclaimed. "Don't say that! You've earned this house as much as I have, son! Besides, you'll be with us at least five more years—"
Dudley paused and widened his eyes. "Five more…" he trailed off. He'd never thought about his future in length, but he certainly had expected that by the end of his time at Smeltings, when all of his studies were over, he'd be somewhere away from Number Four. Someplace he could be alone. He'd never imagined himself living with mates, or a wife, or kids, but he'd really never thought he'd still be with Mum and Dad when he was… He closed his eyes. 'I'm seventeen now…eighteen, nineteen… so, twenty… one? Twenty-two?' He tried to keep his voice calm. "Why would I…uh… be here, then, Dad?"
"Why, you'll have your internship at Grunnings! They've just been waiting for you to come along. If I can sell such big orders in my age, think of how many you'll make! You're a Dursley! We're going to keep the family involved there, and before they know it, it'll be good as ours! Your sons will work there, and—"
"Grunnings?" Dudley sputtered. 'Drills? He wants me to sell drills like him?' Why had no one ever told him this? If there was anything in the world Dudley hated, it was the idea of wearing a stupid navy blue suit like his dad, putting on a tie, and going off to sell drills every day. Dudley had always imagined himself doing something cool. Not quite fighting crime, but… something awesome. Particularly something that came easy to him. And sales? Sales most likely had to do with numbers. And talking to people. Talking to businessmen? Having meaningful conversations with people he cared something for was only a recent development. But people he didn't care for? Dudley cringed. He hated numbers. He hated talking to people. He couldn't work at Grunnings!
Thank God Vernon was a horrible judge of emotion, because he didn't seem to notice the look of both disgust and fear on Dudley's face. "It's a great commute, Dudders, and soon enough, when you're driving, we can carpool together—there's a great little bakery near work, I've brought buns home every once in a while, maybe you remember—we can go at break, and we can take lunch together—"
Dudley was beginning to feel very stifled. Drills? Living on Privet Drive forever? Did this mean he was going to be married, with ties, and responsibilities, in a boring house? What about leaving Surrey, and proving he wasn't such a prick after all? What about meeting new people who didn't know him back in the day? What about impressing pretty girls? What about more sex? So far, the only good thing about working for Grunnings sounded like the doughnut shop. And even so, he was still on a strict diet, so he wouldn't even get to eat very many doughnuts!
--"And if Harry takes this house, it will ruin everything," Vernon was saying.
"What kind of sandwich do you want, Duddykins?" Petunia asked loudly. "I'm making dinners for the road—"
"The road? I told you we're not going!" Vernon said.
Petunia wrung her hands. " Vernon, please, we're all set—"
"What meat do we got?" Dudley asked.
"We have roast beef, roast turkey, chicken, liver—I could make you a nice fried egg sandwich—"
"We aren't going!" Vernon stated.
"Wait… what were the last three?"
Petunia paused with the fridge open. "Liver, egg, and chicken—"
"No, not those. What else?"
"We're don't need dinners for the road!' Vernon announced.
" Turkey, or beef—or perhaps some nice bacon?"
"I think roast beef," Dudley said; before he had a meltdown, he wanted to be sure he picked the right sandwich. "Could I have turkey on that, too?"
"Of course, sweetpea—"
"And do we have cheese?"
"You can check—"
"No!" Vernon shouted. "Don't fall for Harry's tricks!"
Dudley found a block of strong havarti in the refrigerator and passed it to his mother. He'd never had coffee before, but he figured today was a good day to start, and poured himself a large mug from the pot near the microwave.
"Mustard on your sandwich, Dudders?"
"Sure," he shrugged.
"I told you—" Vernon began.
"Mayonaisse?" she asked.
"Why not?" Dudley replied.
"WE ARE NOT—" Vernon went on, the vein pulsing in his neck.
" Vernon, you should calm down," Petunia smiled. "What would you like on your sandwich?"
"DAMN IT! Isn't anyone else worried!?" Vernon bellowed. His face was pink. Soon it would be purple; Dudley knew it.
'Yeah, but maybe for better reasons,' Dudley thought grumpily, taking a swig of coffee. There was no way in hell he was going to carpool to work with Dad and spend his life kissing Mr. Mason's ass. Dad seemed to love working at Grunning's, but Dudley certainly did not want that to be his future.
What seemed like hours passed. Vernon kept going on about Dudley's perfect future, which Harry was "obviously" ruining "even at this very moment".
"Where is that boy anyway?" Vernon grumbled. He stalked over to the stairs. "OI! YOU!"
Dudley sighed and set his coffee cup in the sink. Petunia kept wringing her hands, having packed their dinners. "He's just nervous," she whispered. Dudley turned around, thinking she was speaking to him, but she was looking away, so he said nothing.
Vernon paced back to the kitchen, and then yelled for Harry again. Finally, Harry came down the stairway and stood in the doorway.
"You took your time," grumbled Vernon. "Well, SIT!"
Harry looked a little aggravated.
"Please?"
Harry sighed and sat down.
"I've figured it out," Vernon said. 'Oh fuck,' Dudley thought knowing what was coming, but his thoughts were with his throwaway future selling drills. Unknowingly, he followed Vernon as he began to pace. It seemed the right thing to do. Wringing her hands, Petunia did the same, after Dudley. Dudley knew that Mum was worried for the same reason he was—Dad.
Harry was watching quietly in interest as Vernon presented his case, but his facial expression grew more and more dull all the time. "You want the house."
"The house?" Harry demanded. "What house?"
Dudley stopped pacing and watched with an open mouth, fully engrossed in what Harry would say. As like the old days, there was still a bit of amusement in the Harry Vs. Dad spectacle. Sometimes it was better than telly. And Dudley figured if any episode was going to be dramatic, it would be this one.
"This house!" Vernon yelled, lifting up his hands. "OUR HOUSE!" He yammered again about the price of houses, and the stocks, or some bloody things, as Dudley looked to Harry's ever-raising eyebrows.
"Are you out of your mind?" his slight cousin demanded, the eyebrows at an unbeatable high. "A plot to get this house? Are you actually as stupid as you look?"
Dudley's eyes narrowed. Crazy, yes—but stupid, no. He knew Dad gave Harry a lot of shit, but it hadn't much to do with being stupid. Still, Dudley felt for Harry—everyone shouting at him and going off for what seemed to Dudley like a dumb reason. After all, Harry kept explaining that he was trying to help. He felt himself zoning out as Dad and Harry launched into one of their debates that he and Mum never had the will to jump into. Harry and Dad seemed to have the same technique when it came to these moments—one-upping and shouting. A lot.
"People are disappearing and dying and he's behind it—Voldemort. I've told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs—they're caused by Dementors, and if you can't remember what they are, ask your son!"
Dudley felt a chill. He'd been sure he'd felt a Dementor last Christmas holiday, but he hadn't been sure. But now, it seemed Harry was saying there were more than just the ones they'd encountered here in Little Whinging. Inadvertently, he raised his hands to his mouth—'cover your mouth, Dudley, cover your mouth'—but quickly stopped when he saw that all eyes were now upon him. "There are… more of them?"
"More?" laughed Harry. "More than the two that attacked us, you mean?"
'No,' thought Dudley,' more than the ones in this neighborhood!' but he didn't feel like getting into that at the moment. He didn't need Dad asking him if he was loopy, he didn't need Mum asking him about walking Clarice home, and he didn't want Harry giving him that You-Are-So-Annoying look.
Blah blah, Harry went on another spiel about doom and despair. Dudley got it—they would die. Or be mutilated like victims in the movies Piers liked so much. But the thing was, Dudley wasn't going to be a victim. He was going to do what he had to do to stay safe. He looked at Harry.
Dad kept arguing, but it just seemed so trivial.
"Don't you understand?" Harry declared loudly. "THEY WILL TORTURE AND KILL YOU LIKE THEY DID MY PARENTS!"
That was it. This was done and over. Dudley wasn't going to let this go on any longer. "Dad—Dad, I'm going with these Order people," he said firmly.
Harry looked surprised. " Dudley, for the first time in your life, you're talking sense."
Dudley didn't know whether or not to take this as a compliment. After all, he and Harry were basically strangers now—how did Harry know if this was the first time he'd made sense?! Other people seemed to understand what he was saying: Clarice, Mrs. Ryan, Piers (sometimes), Sarah… So why was Harry acting like Dudley had somehow done something out of the ordinary?
It was apparent that the tea hadn't worked on Harry. Or maybe, he just didn't care. Dudley didn't blame him, but it was going to take awhile to voice what he'd been feeling. He'd have to tell Harry sorry for sure in the van, before they went into hiding. That was the goal. But Harry didn't have to make it so hard by making smart-assed comments all the time!
"They'll be here in about five minutes," Harry said stuffily, and left before any of them could say a thing.
Vernon took a deep breath. "Little snot," he muttered.
Dudley wanted to argue in favor of Harry, but he stayed silent. What followed was the longest five minutes of his life. At the five minute mark, they all looked at the door expectantly, as though the wizards would burst in right on cue. However, when this did not happen, Vernon made a sort of angry noise in the back of his throat.
"If there's one thing I hate," he said at six minutes after two o'clock," it's late arrivals. Slobs!"
Dudley sighed and drummed his finger on the countertop.
"Honestly, son!" Vernon snapped. "I'm trying to think!"
Petunia patted Dudley's arm and shrugged.
All three of them jumped when the doorbell rang. Vernon looked at Petunia. Petunia looked at Dudley. Dudley felt awkward so he stared at the tea cozy.
" Vernon, the door!" hissed Petunia through clenched teeth. It seemed her good mood had dissipated.
Dudley felt like the only normal one. Which in turn made him feel very strange.
"Why should I get the door?" Vernon shouted.
Dudley closed his eyes. "Dad…" He wanted to tell him not to yell at Mum for something as stupid as getting the door, but he decided against it. That would only add more drama. "Let me," he said gruffly, feeling a bit angry that these adults were acting so childish. But he heard Harry's footsteps coming down the stairs. Make Harry do it, he thought strangely.
Two brightly-cloaked people entered the kitchen, a man and a woman.
As usual, Dudley got a twinge of fear and felt stupid as he wondered if they'd give him a pig tail or poisoned sweets. All this wizard business had completely fucked with his head. He hoped Harry was happy. He stood closer to Mum. The man was wearing a purple top hat.
Queer, he thought and then caught himself. Everyone was yammering at each other. Dad was now more flustered than angry. Mum was quiet. Harry looked amused, or something. The wizards seemed pretty damn jolly.
"Well, this is goodbye, then, boy," Dad said suddenly, and walked forward, as though to give Harry a handshake.
Dudley was utterly lost. Why the Hell would Dad say 'bye' now? What a mental case.
He looked to Mum with questioning eyes. "Ready, Diddy?" she asked. Dudley said nothing for a moment; Harry was surely coming! Harry was going to hide with them, they were family, and Harry was going to go into to hiding with them, and Dudley would tell him 'sorry' and he'd tell Harry about Clarice, and Piers too. He wondered what Harry would think about Piers being gay. Probably laugh. Harry hated Piers—he hated Piers worst of any of Dudley's friends because Piers was smart, too, for the most part. Though lately, Dudley didn't think Piers was being so intelligent. He wondered if Harry would be satisfied. He wanted to ask Harry if Harry remembered going to the bus stop, and holding hands. He wanted to tell Harry he never meant to act so disgusting; gross, as Clarice would say. He was going to tell Harry about the diet, and about Colin Bard, and Dennis.
Harry was coming with them! He had to! It was all planned!
Dudley shot Harry a look of intense worry. Harry merely raised his eyebrows.
"Come along, then," said Dad, obviously nearing the end of his rope. Dad bustled out ahead of Mum and Dudley.
"I don't understand," Dudley shrugged, wondering why they all did this to him! It was as though they all planned things and didn't care to tell him—no one had asked him if he wanted to leave school, after all! If this had happened ten years ago, Dudley would be screaming and throwing toys by now.
Mum looked up. "What don't you understand, popkin?"
Dudley pointed at Harry. "Why isn't he coming with us?"
"What?" It was either Mum or Dad. Dudley didn't care.
"Why isn't he coming with us?"
"Well… he doesn't want to. You don't want to, do you?" he asked Harry.
"Not in the slightest," Harry said bitterly.
"There you are. Now come on. We're off," Vernon declared. He marched out of the room. When no one followed, he came back. "WHAT NOW?"
Dudley was really confused now. If Harry wasn't coming with them, then where would he hide? Dudley imagined Harry sleeping under a bridge, hiding from Lord Thing, and for some reason, this made him feel very sad. Harry had saved his life. Harry had also been magic, and if Harry hadn't have been magic, Dudley would have never gotten a Dementoid to show him how much he'd fucked up.
"But where's he going to go?" Dudley asked, knowing he sounded like he always did. Harry was even sending him the You're-So-Annoying look.
"But surely you know where your nephew is going?" the wizard-lady asked, looking around at Dudley and his family. Dudley looked at Mum.
"Certainly we know!" Vernon said. "He's off with some of your lot, isn't he? Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry."
Dudley didn't care. Someone was going to explain this, and now. And if Harry wasn't coming with them, then… did this mean he'd have to tell Harry now? In front of everyone?
"Off with some of our lot?" the lady snapped.
Dudley wondered if Dad saying that was like calling Piers a poufter. He was just going to keep his mouth shut. He'd only just started learned what was appropriate to call gays. Would it be wizards next?
"It's fine," said Harry, acting all adult-like. Dudley had the urge to kick him. Lightly, yes of course, but just enough to make him realize he was in this family, too. "It doesn't matter, honestly."
"Doesn't matter?" the lady asked rudely. "Don't these people realize what you've been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?"
These people? thought Dudley, and looked to his cousin. What was Lord Voldemort? Maybe Harry really would die. What—
"Er—no, they don't," said Harry. "They think I'm a waste of space, actually, but I'm used to—"
Dudley felt a wave of some sort of emotion come over him. Before, he hadn't been able to form the words, but he'd heard them so clearly. He'd planned it so wonderfully. But now, he wasn't even thinking, and he blurted something out before he could perfect it:
"I don't think you're a waste of space!"
His own voice had never so sounded strange. Harry seemed to think the same thing. He stared at Dudley with a look of uttermost shock. Dudley, aware that all eyes were on him, went bright red. Stupid, he thought. Mental case, definitely. Bleeding wimp. He wondered if it was too late to take it back. But he did not want to take it back!
"Well…er…thanks, Dudley." Harry also looked bewildered. It was the most emotive set of words they'd ever exchanged. Usually, they were screaming at each other or pretending the other was absent.
Dudley shrugged, feeling like his ears were burning off. He stared at his feet. "You saved my life," he said quietly.
"Not really. It was your soul the dementor would have taken." Harry's voice was also quiet. Dudley hadn't imagined this being so exceedingly uncomfortable. He longed to say more, to act normally, to cuff his cousin on the shoulder and act like they'd been friends forever. Or even just ask him more questions. Tell him to quit taking it all so seriously. But the words had gone away as quickly as they'd come. Dudley was never one for impressive speeches.
However, Mum seemed impressed. She grasped him and burst into tears, cradling him as though he was two years of age. "Such a lovely boy… saying thank you!" she wailed.
Jesus, thought Dudley, patting her back, mortified.
"But he hasn't said thank you at all!" said the wizard woman, who seemed to get irritated as often as Dad. "He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!"
"Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like 'I love you'," said Harry. Dudley rolled his eyes, but his cousin was right.
Dad appeared in the doorway again, looking at them like they were all crazy. "Are we going or not?" Dad did not like emotions.
Harry and The People exchanged goodbyes, and then Dudley had an idea. He stepped out of Mum's grasp and stood in front of Harry, holding out his hand.
Harry looked surprised. "Blimey, Dudley, did the dementors blow a different personality into you?"
"Dunno," Dudley said lightly. I've always had the same personality, he thought, just used all the bad parts. "See you, Harry."
Finally, Harry took his hand and shook it. Dudley marveled at how small his cousin's hand was. As usual, he used his firm grip but took care not to crush it ( Coach White had forbidden him from shaking his hand by the end of the school year). "Yeah… maybe. Take care, Big D."
Big D. Not Dudders or Duddy or whale. Big D. Like Dudley's friends addressed him. A sort of mutual understanding of the importance of this change on Harry's part passed between them.
Dudley felt his lips twinge into what was almost a smile, but then he cleared his throat gruffly and turned away, making sure to walk away aggressively as though he'd just made progress on kicking someone's ass. He was satisfied with the way he and Harry had dealt with each other. Not too much talking, and hardly any emotional stuff. That was good. He wanted Harry to know he cared, but he did not want Harry thinking he worshipped him or anything. He crossed the room, past the umbrella rack they'd convinced Petunia they didn't need to bring, and past the wall of portraits. Fake smiles in every single one. God. Did Dad really think Dudley wanted to live on Privet Drive forever?
Once outside, he gave a last look back at Number Four and then turned away, slogging across the gravel driveway.
Mum came out of the house seconds later, flipping her feathered blonde hair. She was clutching her handbag and had a hand over her mouth, like she did before she started to cry. But Dudley didn't get it—she'd all ready cried. She wasn't very well going to cry again over his apology, was she? He stared at her as she approached him.
"Come along, Mum," he said deeply, but gently.
All of a sudden, she burst anew into sobs, but quiet sobs.
"Oh good Lord," muttered Vernon in a sad sort of way, and then turned back to the wizards. "See? See how much this event has stressed my wife?"
"Don't know if I'd call that stress," remarked the woman sourly. "More like insanity—"
"What?" barked Vernon.
Dudley ignored them and held out his massive, solid arm. Wordlessly, Mum slipped under it and held him tightly. He had no idea what she was on about now, but it was okay.
"Let's get going, friends!" said the man cheerfully, so cheerful that Vernon looked daggers at him as he unlocked the car. They did a last check on their belongings, and, with Mum still crying quietly, they started getting into the van.
A voice from across the driveway broke the awkward silence: "Are you going on holiday?"
The three Dursleys turned abruptly to the right. There stood the famed Mrs. Next-Door and what must have been her grandchild, a small baby-like kid ( Dudley decided). Mrs. Next-Door had never actually made contact like this. There had been the occasional "hello", the "How's little Dudley and that other boy?" that was generally an avoided topic for obvious reasons… but never a direct inquiry about their life. Petunia stiffened considerably. Mrs. Next-Door was her nemesis. Mrs. Next-Door was her idol.
Dudley and Vernon did not speak. This was not their moment.
Sniffing a bit, Petunia held her head up high and nodded. "Yes," she said dramatically and loudly," yes, yes we are. Somewhere very exotic—"
The wizards looked bewildered.
Vernon and Dudley nodded smugly at Mrs. Next-Door, playing along. This was almost as exciting as pretending to worship Mr. Mason!
"Lucky!" the woman groaned. "No hols for me this summer. I've got to take care of Nancy here!"
Petunia's mouth was open in amazement. This was more information than she'd ever been able to scrounge together, coming to her in less than a minute.
"Not only does my daughter drop off Nancy on me, but she also expects me to send her money for her chav boyfriend's gambling addiction!"
"Really?" Petunia asked, her eyes lighting up immensely. It must have been like discovering a new religion for her, or something.
"We'd better go," said the wizard, but no one could possibly understand how important this was for Petunia.
"Yes, yes, don't like me keep you," said Mrs. Next-door. "But when you get back, please come over for a cuppa. We can talk." She smiled, in that fake way Mum did when she wanted to know something.
Mum smiled back in the same way and gave a little wave of her fingers. Dudley could tell her mood had improved considerably. Vernon waved, too. Dudley nodded. With that exchange, they piled into the family van.
The man in the purple hat was in the middle of Dudley and Petunia, and the woman sat up front with Dad. "I fear we have not properly introduced ourselves!" the man said. "I am Dedalus, and this is Hestia."
Vernon almost swerved into a ditch. "You're what?"
"Dedalus. And Hestia!" the man said brightly. He must not have realized he had an incredibly idiotic name. Oh well.
There was a silence.
" Dudley," Dudley offered in a low voice. "This is Mu—uhm, Petunia, and this is Vernon."
"At least someone in this family has a personality," Hestia said darkly. "Turn here."
Vernon did so, gritting his teeth.
Dudley looked out the window. It seemed strange that they were leaving Privet Drive with wizards—and that they had no idea when they'd be back. Dudley scanned the neighborhood, memories flooding his mind with each house, with each yard. When the van passed Number One, Dudley's shoulders grew rigid. Clarice Ryan was standing in the driveway with a tall, lanky bloke. Was that him? They were laughing and talking. She did not look up. Dudley wondered if she'd ask where he was. When they passed the turn street for Piers' house, it was almost too much...
"So! Dudley!" said the man, who seemed to be trying very hard to be happy. Dudley jumped and tore his eyes away from the window. "Do you—" he paused. "Rats. I haven't taken a refresher course in Muggle Studies in ages! Do you still have rugby, son?"
Weird, Dudley thought. "Yeah, 'course we do."
"DON'T CALL MY SON A MUGGLE!" Vernon shouted, veering off the lane.
Hestia grabbed his arm. "You'll kill us!"
"No, he always drives like that," Dudley said matter-of-factly. "It's okay." He turned to Dedalus. "We have rugby," he affirmed.
"Brilliant!" Dedalus said, as though he'd just gotten Dudley to do a trick. These wizards were strange. "Do you play?"
"No," Dudley said.
Dedalus' entire face seemed to sag with disappointment. "Oh! Er—uhm… Bollucks," he whispered. "Gripping sport, isn't it?" he said weakly.
" Rugby?" asked Dudley.
"Yes! Wouldn't you say?"
"I don't follow it," Dudley answered.
"You don't follow—Hestia, what's it mean, he doesn't follow rugby? I didn't know you could follow—"
"Honestly," snapped Hestia. "It means he doesn't have an interest in it! And there are other things besides rugby, surely you remember something else to talk about?"
Dudley and Petunia stared at her.
"I… I don't…" Dedalus struggled.
Hestia sighed and turned around. "So, Dudley, how do you like school?"
"SCHOOL!" burst out Dedalus. "I forgot about that one."
Dudley felt very odd. "It's fine."
"He was made champion boxer! Two years in a row," Vernon said proudly.
"Boxing? That must be a new one. I don't recall it. What's boxing?" Dedalus said in interest.
Vernon almost crashed the car. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT BOXING IS?"
"Goodness, man!" screamed Hestia.
"No, I fear I don't! What do you do?" he questioned Dudley.
Dudley had to think about that. He often bragged about it, but never really thought very hard about what it was about. "Well, you've got to hit your opponent. You've got to overcome him, see? Knock him down, then you win. You've got to prove you're the best. There's… uh, there's like, a few styles. I guess I'm a slugger, more of a steady fighter, coach says. Blows from up close. Jabs, punches to the skull." He felt like he had been talking for a long time, so he stopped.
"Ah!" Dedalus said excitedly. "How grand! I don't understand at all!"
"Oh," Dudley replied, staring at the man. "Uh…"
"He'd make a good beater, wouldn't he, Hestia?" Dedalus questioned. He turned back to Dudley. "If you were given the proper equipment, do you believe you could whack a ball out of midair?"
Dudley blinked. "What?"
"Maybe too strapping of a lad for a broom, though. You could patrol the fields. You seem to have a good beater's arm—"
"A what?" Dudley asked. Did this bloke say beater?
"Don't you know of Quidditch?"
"Huh?"
Petunia looked horrified. "Nothing, Duddy—"
Dedalus smiled, though, and jabbed Dudley in his firm gut with an elbow.
Dudley had no idea what anyone was talking about, so he was silent for the rest of the trip, which was good because everyone else seemed to have run out of words, too. Hestia would tell Vernon to turn right or left every once in a while. Soon, they were on a desolate little highway, passing a forest to their left. Dudley had no idea where they were. This was the point in the movies Piers liked in which someone got killed.
"Go off the road," said Hestia.
"What?" Vernon said sharply.
"Off the road. We're going to those woods."
"Rubbish," Dad declared. "The woods." He gave a false laugh.
"I'm serious. That's where the designated spot is! We'll leave the car there, and someone from the Ministry will pick it up later. We'll apparate—"
"Tomfoolery," Vernon said. "I won't have it."
"Pull over," Hestia said. "This is the spot!"
"Lies!"
" VERNON!"
All eyes went to Petunia. Dad screeched to a halt at the side of the road.
Mum took a deep breath. "Just do what they say," she whispered.
There was an ominous tension for a moment, and then Vernon nodded. "Yes, Pet," he said agreeably, and drove the van into the meadow.
--
It had taken a lot of persuading to make Dad leave the van, but now they were standing in a clearing, staring at what appeared to be a large, old sock.
"So, we have to touch that thing?" Mum asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Sadly, yes. Who was in charge of this portkey?" Hestia wanted to know, regarding the sock with utter dislike.
"Seems like something Bagman would find amusing," Dedalus shrugged.
"I guess that's not the point though," Hestia went on. "Yes, we have to touch it." She bent down, making a face, and picked it up gingerly, holding it out between them. "Grab onto it as tightly as you can, and don't be afraid—"
"Afraid of what?" Dudley muttered, feeling afraid all ready.
"All at once now, one, two, three—"
They all reached out and grabbed a piece of the sock, and with that, it seemed the world was turning. Petunia screamed. Dedalus laughed as though being tickled. Vernon yelled obscenities. And as quickly as it had happened, they all collided with a bump on pavement, except for Dedalus and Hestia, who fell neatly to the ground and spent a few moments collecting Dudley and his parents, dusting them off and helping them to their feet.
Vernon was purple, but it seemed he had now taken a vow of silence, for he didn't utter a word. Perhaps he was too furious to do so, which had happened many times before. Petunia wiped off her handbag, and Dudley cracked his back. It seemed they had landed in a simple neighborhood, near a river. A few apartment houses were on either side of the lane. It was unlike any town Dudley had seen in England. He searched the wizards' eyes for answers.
"It's fabricated," Hestia explained, noting Dudley's expression. "The insides of the homes are a lot bigger than they appear, but only if you have the right charm. No one outside of the Ministry and its affiliates know how to get in. Other Muggles live around here, too, but they cannot see us. You'll be safe here."
None of this made an ounce of sense, but the Dursleys followed these two wizards, having to trust them, having no choice. Dad kept breathing very ruggedly, as though he might break into a shouting fit at any given second. 'You'll be safe here,' repeated Dudley in his head. Everyone kept saying that. He followed Hestia and Dedalus to the closest building, a towering stone flat house with a gold letter V on it.
"Whatchu mean it's fab-ricated?" Dudley wanted to know.
Hestia turned around. "There are just some things you have to see to believe, Dudley." With that, she rapped on the front door with her knuckles.
An explosion of noise erupted. Petunia shrieked. Both Dudley and Vernon jumped back. It wasn't until a second later that Dudley realized it was a loud, low, hissing voice.
"WHO DARE BE THE ONE WHO ENTER HERE? DEATHEATERS, DEMONS, DESPERADOS? YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE- THERE IS NOTHING HERE FOR YOU-"
Hestia gripped the door handle and muttered a few words.
"YOU HAVE BETRAYED OUR KIND-"
"Oh for Merlin's sake, what's the code?" hissed Hestia.
"CRETINS!"
Dedalus shrugged.
Hestia glared at him, and then gave another utterance of words that Dudley did not understand. All at ones, the shouting ended as quickly as it had come. The door swung open.
Before Dudley could stop himself, he exclaimed: "What in the fuck?"
Petunia went even paler. "Diddy! Diddy," she said. "Who taught you—I thought you'd stopped—I— Vernon?"
The wizards looked slightly amused.
Reddening, Dudley waited to be read the riot act from Dad. Honestly, it would make sense that he'd get in trouble now that he was better. They hadn't given a damn back at home when he'd been a hooligan, and now, one measly swear word and he was going to get in trouble…
However, it seemed Vernon had not even heard. He was still standing back, staring at the house. Finally, he strode forward. "Brilliant burglar alarm, I must say. I'm never seen one quite like it! Amazing range!"
"Thank you!" Dedalus said happily. "It took me quite a while to design, and as you see, I'd forgotten the password—"
"You made this system?" Vernon demanded, his eyes shining. "You made it?"
"Why, yes, it's a spell—"
Vernon's eyes widened. "That was magic?"
Dedalus nodded. Petunia gripped her handbag, looking whiter, if that was possible.
"Blimey," said Dad weakly, and then fell silent again. Apparently off the hook, Dudley followed the two wizards into the flat.
Dudley stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. As soon as they walked into the foyer, it doubled in size—they were now standing in a room that looked completely unrelated to the flat they'd seen outside, if that made any sense at all. This room was nearly three of the main floor of Number Four, and was filled with people—people like Dedalus and Hestia, in bright cloaks. Some were bustling around, others sitting in huge, leather chairs reading the newspaper.
"Hi there!" exclaimed a dark-skinned woman in a purple cloak, rising from her spot in front of a hearth. All at once, the people in the room turned to face Dudley and his family, all giving smiles and welcoming gestures.
"Harry Potter's family!" said a man.
"Pleased to meet you all! I had the opportunity of meeting your nephew once in the Leaky Cauldron, back when he was a first year! Seems so long ago!" an older woman declared.
As blank as his parents, Dudley turned to Hestia and Dedalus.
"This is the new Muggle-protection league," explained Hestia. "Sometimes it will be busy in the house, like it is now, and sometimes, there will only be two or three of us around. It depends on the DeathEater count, and where Voldemort is. Although this place is unknown to the dark side, we must take all precautions—"
Vernon nodded weakly, looking like he was in a bad nightmare. Dudley thought the house was sort of cool, though. It was messy, first off, and filled with old furniture and paintings that looked like they were pulled out of some weird history movie he'd had to watch in school.
An owl flew by, screeching. Petunia screamed and stepped back.
"I feel the same way," Dedalus said sadly. "After I mistakenly fell asleep in the Owlery once at Hogwarts, I never cared much for the birds."
"Owlery?" Dudley asked, but was cut off by Dad—
"How did our luggage get here all ready?"
Hestia shrugged. "I told you that I put a charm on it."
Dad narrowed his eyes. "That's impossible."
A few of the people in the room paused to listen.
"You can't do practical spells!" Vernon went on. "That's not how it works—"
"Of course we do practical spells. What did you think magic was for, stupid things like curling our hair and turning princes into frogs?" Hestia demanded.
Vernon looked be at a loss for words. "Well… I just… er—I never knew that—"
"It isn't his fault. I never really explained any of it," Mum said, her lips pursed. "I wanted my family to be purged of the magic my sister had."
"You mean I could have been getting Harry to do my homework with magic all this time?" Dudley asked, half-joking.
However, all of the wizards in the room faced him with solemn expressions.
"Of course not, sonny," said a thin, tall man. "For that would be cheating."
Dudley stared. "Magic's still cheating?!"
"Why wouldn't it be? Homework is something that's best done the old-fashioned way."
All the adults nodded and smiled.
Dudley cringed. Wizards weren't more cracked than normal adults. But they were just as cracked.
-
By evening, Dad had taken another vow of silence and his face was a deep purple shade. Mum wasn't speaking much either, only to Dudley and only in short sentences. Hestia had given up on all of them altogether, but Dedalus had unearthed a muggle magazine and was quizzing Dudley on 'current' events. (Dudley wasn't getting any of the answers right, and wondered if he was even stupider than he'd originally thought until he noticed the magazine had been published in 1976.)
By seven o'clock, most of the other wizards had cleared out, gone on other "missions." Mum, Dad, Dudley, Dedalus and Hestia ate a meal of stew and bread, sitting quietly.
"Petunia, I only met your sister once, but she was just wonderful!" Dedalus said.
Dudley immediately pretended to choke on his food and pounded his chest, but when he had finished this stunt, Mum was still looking narrow-eyed at her plate.
"Perfect Lily," Petunia hissed, poking at her roll.
More silence.
Hestia pulled away from the table and grabbed her plate. "Just so thrilled to have you here," she barked. "It's going so well." She stalked away.
Great, Dudley thought. They're going to kill us in our sleep.
"So, how about that Yoko Ono?" asked Dedalus merrily.
--
The bedrooms were simple—high, oak ceilings, white-sheeted beds, nightstands. It was sort of like living in a hotel. Dudley picked the largest room, on the far side of the house. He unpacked his bag that evening, after dodging questions from Dedalus regarding a 1988 issue of The National Geographic. He put away his clothes in a chest in the room and hid his porn magazines underneath the mattress, lying back on the thick mattress and gazing at the ceiling. He was living in a weird flathouse, surrounded by wizards, and he wasn't even all too paranoid about it. In fact, he was pretty calm. There was something wrong with that.
Dudley grinned and pulled back the blankets. As long as they stopped mentioned Harry, Mum's sister Lily, and her wizard husband, everything would be fine. But as every wizard who'd spoken to them had mentioned all of the above people at least three times in basic conversation, Dudley felt there was no hope for his mother's comfort level. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he'd been cheated out of an aunt and an uncle. He never thought he'd feel this way but, he realised that if he had to pick, those two sounded way more normal than Aunt Marge any day.
Aunt Marge. She'd not been too upset over their "sudden family vacation." In fact, she said she was doing quite well. Some neighbor of hers made nice and they'd been spending their days breeding more dogs and eating whelks and caviar. The thought of that alone made Dudley half-sick.
That first night in hiding, Dudley had a dream about a motorcycle that could fly. It seemed familiar somehow.
--
"Haha!" exclaimed Dedalus, "I'll get your queen, I will!"
Dudley grinned and didn't tell the wizard that this wasn't chess, it was checkers. Mum, being very prepared, had packed some of Dudley's old childhood games, and now, three months into hiding, they were coming in handy. Wizards and witches (as Dudley learned it was appropriate to address the women) seemed fascinated by the muggle board games. "Fancy that!" more than one had said. "They don't move! Isn't that just hilarious?"
Daily activities consisted of getting up, lifting weights, eating breakfast with Mum, Dad, and whatever people who happened to be present, lifting weights again, hanging out in the lounge, listening to music, dinner, Deatheater Drills, supper, and weights. DeathEater drills were just going over code words, fake names, and hiding spots. Dudley had become a very good liar when it came to his name and information. Even Dad had sort-of chortled when Dudley had picked 'Rex' as his fake name. But beyond that, Dad and Mum mostly stayed to themselves. Mum spent her time pouring over baby albums and being weirdly depressed, and Dad hardly spoke to anyone.
Dudley didn't speak much either, but at least he listened to people. He'd met a fair few of people who said they were friends of Harry's. There was a woman named Minerva Mcgonagal, who'd given him a tight handshake and said she hoped he was a better student than his cousin. Dudley had responded with "I really don't think so," which had made the dark-haired woman crack into a smile. She'd only dropped in for awhile, to deliver "Hogwarts information." Also, someone named Bill had said Harry was best friends with his little brother, and admired Dudley's weight set (Petunia seemed very disgruntled that Bill had long hair and an earring, but Dudley thought he was pretty decent.). Several people had regarded Dudley as a monster when he'd been introduced as Harry's cousin, but they soon got over it.
These people were all right, most definitely.