Chapter 38: Wherein Dudley meets an aristocrat during his weekend retreat at a castle in Wales.
Summary: Actually, Dudley meets an aristocrat, Luke Skywalker, and Elizabeth Windsor. Actually.
"Hello! Anyone home?"
Dudley Dursley heard the halloing from the kitchen where he was putting a few protein bars into his knapsack.
"Be right there!" he called out, putting a few water bottles in his bag as well. He was already packed and had his suitcase at the door.
His parents had left for Majorca three days ago. His father was incensed, but his mother quietly slipped him four hundred pounds and a disposable camera. She whispered to him as she gave him one last hug before she left, "Say hello for me, and take me some pictures, alright? And have an absolutely wonderful time, Duddy."
Harry had warned him that he wouldn't be picking him up, and if he could get his hands on some sea-sickness tablets and take them well before travel, it might make things easier. So he had, two hours ago, and now it was time to go be polite to a wizard he hadn't seen in a number of years.
His cousin's father-in-law. His distant uncle.
He was incredibly nervous, though his stomach was settled, thanks to the tablets. He hadn't the best track record encountering wizards. There was the pig's tail, though he perhaps deserved that one. Then there was the insanity of his ever-expanding tongue. And then the dementors, and though he couldn't see them he didn't at all doubt that they existed. He had felt them just fine.
But that was behind him, now. He and Harry had a tentative truce going for the last several years, and in the last six months as Dudley settled in at Uni and Harry went back to finish his interrupted seventh year, they'd corresponded occasionally. It wasn't a great friendship, but it was almost… nice. And it was easier, just easier to be kind when not living at home. Easier not to be thoughtlessly cruel.
Dudley almost didn't tell his parents just who had invited him to stay over New Years, and when he finally did, it didn't go over well. Also, he possibly could have said it better. Mum had been pestering him, though, all through the break as to which friend had asked him, and where exactly he was going, and what their house was like.
He should have talked to her privately, but the point at which he couldn't take it anymore, his father happened to be in the room.
"It's a castle in Wales, okay?" He went to his room after that, but of course they followed him.
His mother was cooing and his father planning his wardrobe, wanting to know how old the castle was, and if it was one of those being let out as a guesthouse, or if his friends, the owners, were peers, or perhaps just landed gentry? And then his mother started daydreaming about him meeting his future wife there and his father was planning to tell him all he didn't know about how to shoot pheasant and play polo and tennis, and then chastising him for not mentioning anything before they had bought Christmas presents for him, and that they should also get something for his host, and then they started reviewing manners as if only quite suddenly now they became important and it was when Dad started in on ugly comparisons with Harry that Dudley just sort of… burst.
"It's Harry, okay? Harry invited me, and I'm going, and that's it." He had meant to say, 'that's it, that's I'll I'm telling you,' but of course that's when the yelling began, and to be quite honest, Dudley's bedroom just wasn't large enough for his parents both to properly have hysterics in it.
His mother was white as a sheet and his father looked apoplectic in his rage and it only took half a second for Dudley to decide which one needed his help. Dudley took a deep breath, took his mother by the hand and led her to his bed so she could lie down for a moment, and then faced off against his father.
Dudley stood between his parents, his shoulders square and never so glad to have turned much of his fat into muscle, though he still wasn't quite there yet, not to where he wanted to be to go out for the rugby team in the spring.
"Dad," he said quietly, in a pause. "Mum's not feeling well. Perhaps you should go downstairs and get her some water."
They both knew that Vernon Dursley was only good for so many trips up the stairs per day, and that if he went downstairs again he wouldn't be back up until after dinner.
His father narrowed his eyes, but left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Sweat had broken out on Dudley's brow and he wiped it away as he took a deep breath and pulled his desk chair up to the side of his bed. When his mother held his hand and pleaded to know everything, he told her. Well, he told her what he knew, which he hardly imagined was everything. But of course she wouldn't know any of Harry's news.
The war was over. He'd avenged his mother's death. He'd nearly died. He was married. He wanted to become a librarian. Someone was giving him a townhouse in London, his godfather's house, who had died a while ago. He was going to receive a knighthood. He and one of his friends had become magical siblings, and it was her castle. She was getting married on the 31st. And then crowned magical queen of England. Yes, he would be staying in the same castle as QEII. Harry had met the Prince of Wales, with whom he was a regular correspondent, thus making Harry… a Peer.
When Dudley told his mother quietly that Harry was going to be made a duke, because of his sister, his mother had a coughing fit. And then a crying fit.
The next day his mother went shopping and returned with several packages which she brought quietly to his room and shut the door.
For Harry as a wedding present, there was a tall crystal vase with a pair of matching candlesticks. For his sister as a combination coronation and wedding gift, there was a wide, low crystal bowl with two matching crystal candelabras.
They were all Waterford.
Dudley blinked, wondering just how much his mother had shelled out.
And there were cards, for which she very carefully discussed what to say and how to say it with him and waited as he wrote them out. She wrapped the presents with him, affixed the cards and then put them all carefully back into the large shopping bag.
"I… don't feel the need," his mother quietly said, once the deed was all done, "to mention any of these details to your father. It would only upset him, I think. Now, does your suit still fit?" He nodded and she continued, "Bring it down and I'll press it before you pack it up. Your father and I will be going to Spain for New Years. He says its for my nerves, but I think we both know it's for his. If you can think of anything you need, anything at all, Dudley, just go and get it and put it on the card, alright?"
He thanked his mother and set to making a list of what he probably should be bringing with him, instead of doing what he normally did - just throw everything in several suitcases and hope for the best.
And then at the last moment his mother had slipped him the camera and several hundred pounds before she left, holding him tightly as his father honked the horn from the driveway.
As he buckled his knapsack and hoisted it on both shoulders, he went out into the hallway, trying to take deep breaths. He forced something like a smile on his face as he came through the kitchen door and into the hallway to see the older, red-headed wizard waiting for him by the front door.
"Sorry to have made you wait, sir," he said, not sounding near as nervous as he felt. He stuck out his hand. "Dudley Dursley, and thank you very much for coming to get me."
A wry smile melted the stern features of the wizard as he took the proffered hand. "Arthur Weasley, and I was happy to do it for Harry. He's helping Hermione remain calm this morning, and then he's on escort duty for Queen Elizabeth in the afternoon. Here, you'll need this. Always have it with you, even if it's not visible, you know." He gestured to his own, which he wore around his neck, but with the tags stuck in the breast pocket of his jacket.
The wizard handed him a lanyard with a bunch of passes on one end. Dudley thanked him even as he looked at it. There were two heavy, paperboard tags, one flashing red and purple with the letters VIP in yellow, and the other had his name and a variety of other bits of information on it. Residence Area: The Curtain. Residence Block: 2nd floor, 8 East. Length of Residence: 31/12/9_-02/1/0_. Coronation Seat: VIP Family Row 8, Seat 4. And on the other side, a crest with a green dragon rampant over two crossed white roses on a black field with a crown and a sword on top of the shield. The lanyard was a ribbon that had words printed on it. The words didn't move, but the fireworks going off behind them did. 'By the Grace of Almighty God and the Will of Queen Elizabeth II for the Coronation of Her Royal Majesty Hermione, Queen Regent of Avalon, Viscountess Black, Knight of the Order of Merlin.'
Dudley just stared at it for a long time.
The wizard cleared his throat and it knocked Dudley out of his trance. He put the lanyard over his head and picked up his suitcase in one hand and his bag of presents in the other.
"Ready?"
Dudley nodded as the wizard reached out to firmly take his upper arm.
"Deep breath!"
And then Dudley's insides were flip flopped with his outsides, then his outsides were turned back around beyond his insides and he came all back together, staggering, in a cordoned off area full of people coming and going and queueing up and popping in and out of existence.
His guide took his suitcase and led him to a short line where he showed his credentials even as he greeted by name almost every single person they passed. His guide was chattering on about how he would show him his room, and the salon set aside for his use, his and a few other guests of the Curtain, and then he'd show him about a bit until he got his bearings, make sure he had earplugs for the ceremony, and then leave him be to explore and have fun.
Dudley focused on taking deep breaths and feeling the firm ground beneath his feet as he walked alongside. His palms were sweaty and he was so glad Harry had suggested the sea-sickness pills. What a god-send. And he had enough for the trip back, too.
There were big marquee tents everywhere and the wide open festival space was teeming with people, even at nine in the morning, people who looked like they'd been there for hours already.
"We're passing the medi-tent here, and so if anything happens when you're outside the castle, just come over here and tell them you're a muggle and they'll give you appropriate care." Mr. Weasley (Uncle Arthur? Maybe not unless he suggests it.) pointed out the large tent with the standard red cross symbol, but made out of wands. Of course it was made out of wands.
"Now, we're coming in at the back of the castle, here. It's not much to look at from the outside, not like Hogwarts, but inside it's quite roomy. Expansion spells, you know. Permanent ones, powered by the ley lines and ancient runes, likely. Quite good work. Very stable. Apparently they're going to put in a rose garden. That'll be impressive when it happens. That's Viktor's family, of course-"
(Viktor? Who's Viktor?)
"-They're in roses, in a big way, in Bulgaria."
(Bulgaria? Isn't that… in eastern Europe, somewhere? East, but before you hit Russia? And what does Bulgaria have to do with the price of tea in China?)
"-Now, this low building, this is called Concordia and the Coronation will happen just here on the steps, and you'll be seated in that section over there. This dividing line, and this wall here, if you don't have your VIP pass, you can't get past it, so don't forget it. Now this little squat tower at the back here, this is The Curtain, and it's the main part of the castle. Yes, quite small. Well, small on the outside. It's bigger on the inside."
Dudley was reminded of Dr. Who's police box time machine, but didn't mention anything out of habit. That's the sort of magical thinking that gave his father hives, but it's nice to know it existed for real, at least in part. Maybe there were no such things as time machines, but it would be wicked cool to have an entire house inside a police call box.
"Right, so you'll be sharing the Yellow Salon which is right around here, with the Berhe family and the Jacksons, both muggle families with magical children, friends of Her Majesty, the children, I mean. Now, once I settle you in upstairs, I'll wait for you down here in this salon and then show you around a bit. Now, let's head up."
Dudley took the shallow grand stairs with ease and was hiding his total enthusiasm for being in, essentially, the TARDIS Castle. Which, of course, would be in Wales. There was a lot he was quite excited to tell his Mum about when he got home, and he'd only just got here.
"Breakfast starts at six and goes till nine, it's a buffet, and lunch is as well, from eleven til two, and the dinner is generally at eight, and it's formal dress for dinner, but today there will be a reception instead, directly after the coronation, and then an ongoing party till Merlin-knows-when. Meals will typically be in the Great Hall we passed through downstairs, but you'll be invited to the VIP reception tonight, so that will be all inside the Enclosure, here, and in the Great Hall and the center Courtyard of Concordia, which is climate controlled. Very nice. I'll show that to you a bit later."
Dudley was listening intensely, not sure he would get a second chance at any of this information. Harry had said he would catch up with him at breakfast tomorrow, if he hadn't beforehand at the reception that night, and there was a whole day to explore, but Dudley didn't want to miss out on anything essential.
"Now, you're eight east, I think, yes, alright, though of course all the names are on the rooms. Oh, this is nice. You'll have a nice view of the circus from here. Right, here's your suite. In you go. So, I'll leave you to it in just a moment, but let me show you around a bit. There's no indoor plumbing in the castle - I know, it was a bit of a shock to us, too - but the ancient systems are pretty good, if elf-intensive."
The older man kindly showed him how the toilet and bath worked, warned him not to put anything he didn't want crushed out the windows, how to call an elf, and then did so, and introduced him to Trip, who was actually Harry's personal elf, who would also be looking after Dudley.
"I'll give you these now. They're water plugs for your ears. You'll need them for the coronation, but not all of it, so make sure you keep them in a handy pocket for that time. Can't understand the merfolk without them and trust me, you don't want to try. These North Atlantic Merfolk are nothing like those Mediterranean Sirens. Anyway. You can give any presents you want distributed to Trip and he'll put them in the right place, and you can ask him for whatever you need now or later. So, take some time to freshen up and get your bearings, and then I'll see you in the Yellow Salon downstairs when you're ready."
Dudley reached out a hand and shook the older man's, thanking him and promising not to be long.
And then Dudley was left alone in a magnificent suite in an ancient magical castle with… a house elf. The long ears, he thought, were more like sheep's ears and less like, you know, Elrond. Also, it… he... was short. Really short. Hobbit short. (Another book he discovered only in college.) And… wearing a pillowcase. An embroidered pillowcase. He didn't catch the crest, and he didn't want to stare, but it was very detailed work.
Tolkien had made no mention of any of this.
"Er, hello," he said.
"Good morning, sir. How may Trip be of service, sir?"
"Um, are you really Harry's elf?" He hadn't mentioned. Though why he would have, Dudley wasn't certain. It's not like he was a show-off.
"Trip has the great honor to serve The Pendragon's blood brother," the tiny elf said, referring to himself in the third person, which was, you know, odd. But then, Dudley was having a conversation with a mythical being in an embroidered pillowcase, and that was, you know, odd. And no amount of recent fantasy reading had prepared him for it.
Then Dudley snapped out of it. "Right. So." He put the bag of gifts on the bed and took them all out and sorted them into piles. "Um, if you could get this stack of gifts and put them in Harry and Ginny's room, and then this stack is for Her Majesty. Um, of Avalon, I mean, not Queen Elizabeth the Second, and so if you could put those wherever presents for her are being collected, th- that would be great."
Dudley jumped a little when the elf snapped his fingers and the presents disappeared.
"Would sir like Trip to unpack for him? Press flat sir's dress robes?"
"Uh, yes. Thank you. Just the case, not my knapsack."
Dudley watched with round eyes as his case floated up and open, all his clothes floated out, and without touching anything, the tiny elf in an embroidered and pressed pillowcase sorted all his things and put them away in about a minute and a half. The clothes he pressed while putting them in their place, either folded at the top shelf of the wardrobe, or hung neatly along the inside on pegs. There was no rail, and no hangers. The other items in the case were neatly lined up on the dressing table.
"Any clothes sir would like laundered, sir might leave on the bottom of the wardrobe," Trip pointed out and Dudley noticed that this elf (wearing a pillowcase, really hard to get over, the pillowcase) was more polite than most people he knew.
"Thank you, that's very kind."
"Does sir require anything further at this time?"
"Um, Trip, do you happen to know who Viktor is?" When Mr. Weasley said the name, he seemed to say it in that way that supposed everyone knew and so it made it so very awkward to ask.
Trip raised a single eyebrow. "Yes, sir."
Dudley waited. Nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. "Um, could you tell me?"
"Master Krum, Lord of Cair Paravel, Stronghold of the Northwestern Crossing, and The Pendragon's mate. This is the only Viktor Trip knows."
Dudley's eyes blew wide, and he blushed bright red. Because that had been on the invitation, now that he thought about it. Or had it? Dudley would look again later. "Right. Thank you. That's all, I think."
Trip bowed his head briefly, then disappeared with a little pop.
Dudley exhaled loudly and took a minute to just be embarrassed quite alone and without anyone to mock him. After he pulled himself together he used the facilities and sorted out his smaller day bag, a little messenger bag thing with some water and some protein bars, his camera and seventy-five pounds and went to head down to the Yellow Salon.
When he walked in there was an odd sort of tension in the air, but he couldn't be sure. There were certainly a lot of people in the room. Well, it was time to make friends.
"Hello," he said brightly to the room in general, after coming in and closing the door. "I'm Dudley."
And everyone's sense of general manners kicked in and the adults came over and shook his hand one by one. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, and their sons Tommy and Timmy, clearly twins. Mrs. Berhe and her daughter Elsbet, who were apparently waiting on Mr. Berhe and son Negash. And finally a very well dressed man about his own age named Draco Malfoy. Mr. Weasley looked like he wanted to rush them out, but Dudley wanted to stay and get to know these people a bit - he'd discovered it was a lot easier to do in the first moments if you went and took advantage of them, rather than trying to recreate it all later on.
Orientation at Uni had been quite eye-opening.
So when little Elsbet tugged on his sleeve, he crouched down to her level and smiled.
"Are you a wizard?" she asked with the sort of candor one can always count on from children.
Dudley shook his head and grinned. "'Fraid not. Sorry."
"My brother's a wizard. But I don't think I'm a witch. I've never made anything funny happen. Have you ever made anything funny happen?"
Dudley shook his head again. "Nope. Nothing."
The little girl sighed. "Isn't it terrible?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Dudley said affably, shifting a little bit in his squat to get more comfortable. "Lots of things normal folk like us can do that wizards just don't care much about. Like sports. They've only got one big sport, and sure, they play it on brooms and that's pretty cool. But what about football? Rugby? Baseball? Basketball? Lacroix? Hockey? Volleyball? What about golf and skiing and tennis and cricket?"
The little girl's eyes rounded. "You mean Negash can't play Little League anymore?"
Dudley shrugged, not remembering who Negash was, but getting her point. Probably her missing brother. "In the summers, maybe, but not at Hogwarts. I don't know about you, but I want to go out for Rugby this spring at Uni and if I were a wizard, I probably wouldn't have the chance to do that."
Elsbet turned back to her mother. "Mummy, if I'm not a witch, can I have tennis lessons?"
"What a good idea!" Mrs. Berhe responded and when Elsbet looked away for a moment Dudley grinned to see her mother mouth the words 'thank you!' at him with a look of abject relief on her face.
Across the room, one of the twins looked up to his mother and asked, "Mum, can I have golf lessons?"
"Yes," was the firm response. "Excellent idea. I'll book them as soon as we get back home, dear."
Mr. Jackson changed the subject. "Now, how do you know Hermione and Viktor?"
Dudley stood up and was surprised to have Elsbet put her small hand in his. He grinned down at her briefly. "I'm cousins with her blood brother."
"Harry Potter?" asked the posh looking man in a posh sounding accent who had introduced himself as Draco Malfoy.
Elsbet was bouncing up and down. "Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? Order of Merlin First Class? Savior of the Wizarding World? He's gonna be a knight! And a duke! And a librarian!"
Both of Dudley's brows were sky-high. It was true, of course… just… a little... overwhelming. "Um, black hair, glasses, scar on his forehead?"
"Yup, that's Harry," one of the twins said from across the room.
"Uh, yeah," Dudley agreed. "I'm cousins with the Harry Potter."
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and made motions to leave, but Dudley was having fun chatting, and if they could just change the subject again it would be perfect.
"Um, you know, Mr. Weasley, uh, thank you so much for bringing me here and getting me settled. I've got my earplugs, I know how to call Harry's elf, and I know where the meditent is, and I can explore the rest on my own, later. If you have something else you need to do, please go ahead. Don't worry about me." He grinned and held out his hand to shake the older man's, one last time. "Thank you again," he said.
"Well, I'll leave you be then. I'm sure if you have any further questions, you can ask Lord Malfoy." His smile was tense and he was much different from the happy, burbling man who had brought him into the castle. Either something bad had happened while Dudley was out of sight, or Mr. Weasley really didn't like Draco - Lord? - Malfoy.
Dudley's eyes darted to the well-dressed white haired aristocrat. It was the first aristocrat he'd ever actually met. He looked it. Effortlessly elegant, sort of thing. He had a green knit turtleneck on, under a tweed sport coat and brown trousers and short brown boots and was standing there casually with his hands in his pockets. Like Mr. Weasley, Lord Malfoy had his lanyard around his neck, but the tags in the breast pocket of his coat. It seemed to be the done thing, if you happened to be wearing a coat with appropriate pockets.
Into the tension Mr. Weasley left in his wake, the door opened again and a dark-skinned man who looked every inch a professor down to the horn-rimmed glasses walked in with a little boy in tow who shared his serious and studious demeanor. (Lanyard around his neck, tags in breast pocket of tweed jacket. Now Dudley was on full alert and ready to make a survey of how many people wore it this way, and what their relative ages were. It seemed funny at first, but maybe this was a high-brow country thing?)
After a brief moment of introductions (facilitated by Elsbet, "Daddy! This is Harry Potter's Cousin and I'm going to have tennis lessons!") Lord Malfoy herded them out and brought them back to the Great Hall. He introduced its purpose and function, reminded them when the meals were served and which ones were informal, and pointed out that if dinner was too late for the children, they could request dinner earlier in their rooms for them, from their elf. Then he brought them over to a tiny little old-style drawing that was moving about, like some sort of animation.
"As of now, this castle has only one magical portrait. This one is a thousand years old. It's subjects are Helga Hufflepuff-"
At this the two little wizards were like hounds on point. It was kind of cute, actually.
"-Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. And Her Royal Highness, Princess Maria, the last of the Pendragons for a very long time. She's the one bearing Excalibur. They can speak to you, but unless you speak Latin, or Snake, it's no good."
"I speak a bit of Latin. Well, usually I read it." the professor said, and then addressed the portrait after a moment of thought. "Salvete omnes. Solomon Berhe nomen meum. Annuntio vobis salvete a Oxford University."
Dudley watched with wide eyes as a cacophony of happy voices answered back and there was a bit of a dialogue that went on for some moments. Eventually the professor shrugged.
"Well, that's the extent of my conversational Latin. Not much, really, but fascinating, really quite."
Lord Malfoy led them out to the long, low Romanesque building with the Romanesque name and pointed out that the back rooms along this side were all spa-like bath, and that if they hadn't brought bathing suits, they could ask their elves and something would be managed. He led them through and into the courtyard which smelled amazing, full of fruit trees in bloom, even in December, and told them they were free to explore the entire complex, but that they would find the third floor of the Curtain, any guest rooms other than their own, and these two rooms locked, as those were private spaces. He brought them through some gaming room at the front of the building, and then onto the steps on the other side from where they'd begun.
"For the coronation, we'll all be seated over here. Remember to put your earplugs in by ten after four. Sunset is only minutes after. You don't want to hear mermish out of water. And for the wedding at three, we'll all be gathering in the Great Hall a quarter til the hour."
He led them down the main aisle formed by bright purple folding chairs. Thousands and thousands of bright purple folding chairs.
It was quiet for a while, and quite a long walk.
Mrs. Berhe broke the silence. "How do you know Viktor and Hermione, Lord Malfoy?"
Dudley heard his quiet response. Somehow it seemed sad, though that didn't make sense.
"I'm her other brother."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know she had two."
"Until recently, she didn't have any," he pointed out. Moments later they were out of the field of purple chairs and he showed them with a sweeping gesture. "Over here we have the quidditch pitch, there'll be one exhibition game a day, and Viktor will be playing at tomorrow's, with his team, the Inferi. Today's game starts at ten, so you'll have time to see it and still do plenty of other things, if you like. Over here we have the stage, and there will be a variety of things offered there. Gentler music in the morning, one play a day, and rather louder and more raucous music in the evening. It's Wyrd Sisters tonight and Accio Heelstrike and Murepent tomorrow. And over here we have the circus tents and market tents and displays. There is a Gringott's outpost for you to exchange money, though I understand some of the merchants are just taking British Pounds Sterling today. There's a few souvenir kiosks and the souvenirs are all quite good. Ginny Potter organized those," he said, with a look in Dudley's direction. "There are t-shirts in house colors, too," he said, with a look at the young wizards.
The boys in the group all started petitioning their parents to go watch quidditch and started angling to do so in an unsupervised manner.
"Do you think it would be safe, Lord Malfoy?" Mrs. Berhe asked, and all the parents looked to him for guidance.
"Very likely," he answered, and Dudley noticed that it wasn't a simple yes. "There are plainclothes aurors everywhere, and security is quite tight. I'm sure they'll be alright for a few hours."
"Right," said Mrs. Jackson. "I want you back for lunch in the Great Hall at twelve sharp. If you're so much as two minutes late, I'll send you directly to bed after the coronation. Is that understood?"
The twins stared wide-eyed at their mum and nodded. "But we don't have a watch," one of them said quietly.
"Then you ask someone for the time," she said quite clearly, and Dudley was a little in awe of her. He had no idea parenting could look like this.
"I've got a watch," the other little wizard replied, who was still looking hopefully at his parents.
"Same rules," the academic said. "Meet us for lunch at Noon, even if the game isn't over yet, and stay with your friends."
"Wait!" Mrs. Jackson said to her twins. "Now, just because Negash has the watch doesn't mean it's all his responsibility to remember. It's yours, too. Now, off you go. Be good and have fun."
All three were off like shots toward the sports area.
"There's also some interesting display areas and subscription kiosks over with the other merchants," Lord Malfoy pointed out after all the little boys had gone. "If you've never been inside A Wanderlust tent, you should try it."
Elsbet, who was still holding on to Dudley's hand, tugged him around a bit and closer to the well-dressed aristocrat. "Lord Malfoy?" she started, and her little girl voice - she couldn't be older than seven - was possibly one of the most endearing things Dudley had ever heard. Then again, he hadn't heard so many endearing things in his life.
"Yes, Miss Berhe? How can I help you?"
"Will you hold my hand and swing me with Dudley?"
Was that subtle panic flitting across his face?
Dudley looked over to Mrs. Berhe for permission. She only shrugged and grinned a little. He looked over to the aristocrat and grinned a little, himself. He looked back over to the set of parents who were all watching with interest as if it were a television program. "We could make our way over to the merchant tents?" he suggested as he saw Lord Malfoy take the girl's hand out of the corner of his eye. He didn't get any disagreement to his suggestion and so he and the blond man walked in front, every two steps swinging a small child between them who was not so much walking as doing highly assisted hops and shrieking in happiness, with parents walking behind. He thought he could hear Mrs. Berhe ask Mrs. Jackson what it was like to have twin boys, though he didn't hear the answer.
"So," Dudley said, trying to make some conversation as they walked past crowds who blissfully got out of their way, which was probably the happily shrieking seven-year-old playing harbinger for them. "Did you go to school with Harry or was he a few years behind you?"
"Same year. Different house."
"House?" Dudley asked. Of course there were houses at Smeltings, but they didn't mean anything. Not really. But the way Lord Malfoy had said it, well… He wondered if he was just going to be filled with basic questions every time someone magical spoke with him. Well, probably, come to think of it.
Lord Malfoy gave him a speculative look. "The four houses define the life of the students. We weren't friends, though that's changing now."
The way he said it made it seem like there was actually quite a lot behind that, though Dudley could only think of his own situation. "Yeah, growing up together, we weren't friends either, though that's changing now." After a moment of relative quiet, as quiet as one can be surrounded by loud people and a small child shrieking next to you, Dudley changed the subject. "So, I'm glad he got married and has that chance at happiness. Do you know his wife, Ginny?"
"Oh yes," Lord Malfoy said. "A year below us, same House as Potter and- well, Harry and Hermione. Distantly related, as well."
"Yes, apparently we are, too. Fourteenth cousins or something."
A blond eyebrow rose. "Really? I wonder which side. We're third cousins, through our mothers."
"Not sure, though its definitely through our mothers, who were sisters. Um, I mean, Harry and me. Um, so, I've never met Hermione. What's she like?"
Lord Malfoy sighed, though that could have just been Elsbet, as it also corresponded to hauling her in the air. "She's ridiculously intelligent, she has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met, and she's braver than I ever imagined anyone could be. She's got old eyes, a backbone of tempered steel, and I never want to be on the opposite side of her in war again."
Dudley glanced at him quickly and just as quickly looked away again. Right. War. He'd forgotten.
"So… you… were…" Oh, God, he should probably not have said anything at all.
"A death eater. You know who they were?"
Dudley silently nodded and swung a happily shrieking Elsbet.
"Stupidest decision I ever made in my life. Never blindly follow your parents, Mr. Dursley. Always think for yourself, even if it means you have to go live on the streets."
And they swung a happily shrieking Elsbet.
"I… yeah. My dad's not too keen that I'm here, but he's not always right. In fact, I'm not sure he ever has been, really."
And they swung a happily shrieking Elsbet.
"I know quite what you mean. I'm sure my father is rolling in his grave right now, though my mother is quite proud of me, so there is that."
Dudley let out a little huff of laughter. "Yeah. I don't think Mum will ever forgive herself for… well, certain things. But she's glad I came. She helped me to organize a few things. You know, for coming here."
"Life is full of regrets, but we must live the life we have now. I'm certain that's what Hermione would tell us. Or possibly Viktor."
"Tell me about him," Dudley said, grasping at a subject change.
"What do you already know?" his companion asked as Elsbet flew through the air.
"Er, nothing, really," Dudley responded. Trip's words had slipped through his mind as other more important things pushed them to the side, like when to put in earplugs and when to be ready for the wedding.
"Professional athlete - of our one sport - top of his game, just transferred to a local team, he'd been on a Bulgarian side since he was sixteen. Possibly he's the only one here more famous than Harry Potter, and that includes Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, and Her Majesty Queen Hermione. Large man. Physically intimidating. Introverted. His family grows the most expensive magical flowers on the market, and if you haven't already noticed the white roses all over the castle, you will soon. They have a calming effect. They renamed that Roman structure after the rose. He's a good match for Hermione. He can keep up with her intellectually and he's quite a powerful wizard, despite being known primarily as an athlete. And the poor sod's head over heels in love with her. We all met him when he studied at Hogwarts for a year. They dated then, and he started courting her after the war. They're the most patently romantic couple I've ever witnessed, including in theatre. If it weren't so utterly genuine it might be galling.
"You should consider a subscription to the Quibbler, and the Daily Quibble, by the way. Better newspapers than the Prophet, more reliable, you know, but it would keep you up to date. And I believe they do a Muggle posting, wrapped and sent through your mail. You wouldn't get the quidditch news, but it's a small price to pay to avoid the biased reporting of the Prophet. Though the adverts are still good."
And by the time they got to the merchant tents, Elsbet was riding Dudley's shoulders and Draco was idly, somehow, making bubbles float out of the tip of his wand and wafting them generally in her direction. The two had moved on and were chatting about Draco's lack of experience as a vintner, and Dudley's lack of direction at University.
"Well, I hadn't thought to go into agro, though it is about as far as one could get from my father's business, and that is rather attractive. He manages a drill factory. I can't imagine duller work. But I've got a friend who's in it and she was telling me all about some of the different innovations, the computers and technology, and she says there's going to be a huge war in the future - I think she means metaphorically speaking, not a literal war - about organic versus chem and genetic mods, you know?"
"That sounds fascinating," Draco said, not knowing what the hell Harry's cousin just said, but feeling as if it might behoove him to find out. "And what do you know about these two sides of the metaphorical war?"
Draco listened in what he was determined not to show was rapt attention, though it certainly was. Innovation and vineyards did not exactly go hand-in-hand, not when one could get away with doing things the same way they'd been done since the French Revolution, which was roughly the last time the Malfoys did any innovating - and hadn't those journals proven interesting reading.
And his manager was talking about retiring. Apparently running things with no direction at all for twenty years had been the end of enough. Draco had negotiated for Francois to stay on for another three years until he could secure a replacement, and possibly one who could learn from him, but Draco had been at a loss, squib vintners being rather thin on the ground. He'd begun advertising, but there were no responses at all in three months of advertising. None.
Well, he'd been at a loss until now.
Hiding his happiness was easy enough, but sadly Elsbet's bubbles took on a decidedly rainbow hue. Draco decided that was acceptable. After all, there was no one particularly perceptive around him.
When Dudley - or simply Dee, as Draco had been invited to address him - told him what was involved with changing his major once something had caught his eye, it was apparently quite easy, Draco was more confident in asking his next question.
"Could you see yourself in agro?" he asked, using the man's clipped way of saying it.
Dee waxed philosophical for a moment and then came down with a tentative yes. "But it's a bit late to get a decent internship for over the summer, which would be instrumental in figuring out if I could really do it, and I know a lot of intern places tend to hire the interns they like, if there are openings."
Draco decided to just do it. "Do you speak French?"
"Not… well," was Dee's pained response.
"Think you can fix that in the next five months?"
"If… I… needed to," was Dee's hedged reply.
"Well, if you do decide to change your major and can speak at least broken French with a focus on words used at a vineyard, I could arrange a summer internship. You'd have to be keen, but if you were, it could work."
"I can learn French, that's not a problem," Dee said all in a rush, still holding on to Elsbet's feet that dangled in front of his chest.
"We can work out the details later, but why don't you stay an extra day, after the festival? I'll take you the morning of the third on a tour of the vineyards."
"I… That would be awesome, thank you, Draco. Um, but you don't think Her Majesty would mind? I mean, me staying another night?"
Draco shook his head. "No, it'll be fine. I'll square it away with her."
"Um, this might be too personal, so, you know, just tell me it's none of my business, and that's fine, right? But, um, how are you Her Majesty's brother? You said she didn't have any until recently?"
Draco smirked. "It's fine. The rest of the wizarding world knows. I don't see why you shouldn't. Some rather horrific things happened during the war. As a way to atone, my mother adopted Hermione as her heir. I had already inherited from my father, and in our world a man can only hold one active lineage, whereas a woman can hold any number. And I'm an only child. And everyone else in Mother's family had died or been disinherited. So Hermione became the Viscountess and Heir of Black. You following so far?"
Dee nodded and Draco was aware that a few others in the crowds were also quietly listening in, including Mr. Jackson and Mrs. Berhe. Ostensibly they were looking at souvenirs, and the sixth year students staffing the kiosk who had scowled upon seeing him were rather more interested now.
"So," Draco continued, "in the process of registering this, and discovering her full lineage, it was also discovered that she was the Pendragon Scion."
"I'm sorry, the Pendragon what?"
"Scion. It means the last of the line. And due to rather archaic but important rules of inheritance, she could accept both lineages or neither, but not one or the other. You still with me?"
"This is better than East Enders," Dee breathed.
Having no idea what he was referencing, Draco took the comment to be agreement and moved on.
"Due to other magical circumstances set in place a thousand years ago by her predecessor, the Queen was alerted that the Scion had appeared, summoned her, and Hermione became Queen Regent of Avalon right then, took vows of fealty, everything. My mother witnessed it. So this coronation festival is when she gets crowned, and publicly declares those vows, and then does the Seating ritual which is entirely magical. I gather nothing like it has happened in the world since the last Pendragon did it a thousand years ago, so that should be interesting.
"But to your original question, Hermione and I weren't friends in school. Quite the opposite, in fact. But when she accepted my mother's repayment of the debt of honor owed to her by our house… she responded with characteristic kindness, and offered me the proverbial olive branch. I took it. Our friendship has grown and she has declared us siblings."
"Wow," Dee said, squatting down to let Elsbet off his shoulders and back into her mother's care. Draco was aware that he was rolling his shoulders and stretching a bit, but his gaze was turned away to give him a moment of privacy. "So, wait. What happens if someone else finds out they're a Pendragon and they have maybe a better claim, or something?"
"Hermione has the choice to recognize them as members of the house, or not. That's the joy of being the Head of a House. And as a woman, she names her own heirs, and she has that right. No one can contest it. And as for being the Pendragon Regent, that's actually up to the Monarch of the Isles. And that's already happened. And if there had been many to choose from, I think Hermione still would have been chosen. She's intelligent, brave, and kind. She'll make an excellent queen."
"Sounds intimidating," Dee said, walking on from the souvenir kiosk and at Draco's urging, right past the Daily Prophet kiosk to the Quibbler and Daily Quibble kiosk and Interview Booth.
"Also quite true," Draco finally answered. "If you do nothing else today, for Merlin's sake, take out a subscription in one or both of these papers, would you? You are woefully uninformed."
Dee laughed at that, and Draco was glad the man saw it as the gentle teasing it was. He waited patiently as Dee was sorted and the explicit instructions as to different addresses at different times was managed.
"Good morning, Lord Malfoy. Won't you introduce me to your friend?" said the pleasantest voice he could imagine, after having stepped out of the Interview Booth and thanking the last person who'd consented to an interview.
She was looking quite lovely in formal silver robes over a lavender suit with those beautiful dragonhide heels and a jaunty little peaked hat that looked only vaguely reminiscent of a standard witch's hat. Her hair was partially braided and pulled back, and Draco had an inkling that she also smelled excellent.
She had last night.
Draco turned his attention more fully to her and finally stopped producing bubbles for Elsbet who was standing between himself and Dee, and stowed his wand. He stepped toward her and reached out his hand and when she offered her own, he kissed it and then turned back to his new friends and tucked her left hand into the crook of his right arm.
It felt very good there.
He made the introductions of Dee, the Jacksons, the Berhes, and then turned to Luna.
"And this is Miss Lovegood, Editor-in-Chief of these two news outlets, and Advisor to the Queen."
Conversation flowed on, but Draco nipped it in the bud before too long. Luna had work to do. And in fact, Mrs. Berhe was the next person she invited to an interview, little Elsbet going along to sit on her lap while it happened.
Dudley surreptitiously looked at his watch and privately wondered if the boys were going to be able to make it. It was 11:59 AM, and they had until 12:01 PM. Shrugging, he wandered over to another guest and introduced himself, and thus he met Charlie, who worked in Eastern Europe with dragons, (DRAGONS? DRAGONS!) and Bill and his wife Fleur, who were both cursebreakers, Bill having worked previously in Egypt, and Fleur having only two field experiences so far, both in Britain.
It was a bit too soon to boast about his upcoming internship, but Dudley didn't mind at all introducing himself as an agro major, as he would shortly be.
He wasn't sure when the boys had made it back, or if they had done so under deadline, but he was very aware that they were there presently when Harry walked down the sweeping and dramatic staircase, because they shouted his name and dragged him across the hall to meet their parents.
It was sort of charming, and Dudley didn't try to hide his smirk. He sat down to lunch with his new acquaintances and had just a delightful time chatting. Bill and Charlie were two of the hands-down coolest men he'd ever met and Fleur had a wicked sense of humor. She was also blindingly beautiful, but that didn't phase Dudley much. It went without saying that blindingly beautiful women (to say nothing of being married as well) were so far out of his league as to be in the land of ridiculous notions, so he was quite comfortable, really.
If conversation hadn't been about dragons in Romania and ancient tombs in Egypt it might have been all too easy to end up staring at the facial scar that the older brother had - four rents right across his face, and how he'd managed to keep his eyes was probably a miracle of wizard medicine, or something. When conversation lulled a bit, Dudley asked the inevitable question.
"So, how do you know Viktor and Hermione?"
"I don't," Charlie the Dragon Keeper was quick to answer, as his mouth was empty. "Sheer, dumb luck I'm here, mate. Never even seen him play. Happy to come though. Don't get me wrong."
Dudley gave him a confused look and Fleur enlightened him.
"It is their family, you see, the Weasleys. They are all here. The youngest, Ginny, she is married to Harry, your cousin. The oldest, Bill, is married to me, and I am Viktor's friend. Her Majesty has been very close to the family ever since school, and particularly during the war. Oh! Here is Viktor now, coming in from outside," Fleur Weasley commented with only a glance of her eyes and a little tilt of her head.
Three large men had just walked through the door and they were all obviously related. A father and sons, probably.
"Um, which is Viktor?" Dudley asked, betting that it probably wasn't the oldest, but what did he know?
"Gregor-Viktor-Gregor," Fleur answered in a sing-song voice that Dudley didn't really understand at first. "Father, Son, Nephew."
Right. Guy in the middle. Got it.
Dudley didn't want to be rude and staring, but he was also very curious about the main players of the drama in which he found himself. But he also couldn't help but notice that Viktor had a good build for rugby, really, the kind of build Dudley was trying to go for, though at this point he would likely never have the man's height. Dudley would be stuck forever at five foot and ten and a half inches. A half an inch shorter than Harry. But at least he did have muscles, now.
"The man's bloody huge to be a seeker. Don't know how he does it," Charlie murmured under his breath so likely only Dudley could hear.
It was a good segue, and Dudley took it, asking how the game of quidditch worked. He'd hoped to catch at least one of the exhibition games during the festival, and now that he'd bought one of the beautiful specialty programmes, he knew when everything was due to start. Of course there were other things in there, glossy photos, including a close up of King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, but he hadn't had much of an opportunity to really look at anyone or anything in it, though perhaps he should before the wedding, so he could pick out the bride at a glance and not embarrass himself. Because would she be wearing white? God only knew.
Well, Fleur might, actually, but the conversation wasn't there, yet.
And then they were discussing what they wanted to see after lunch and frankly Dudley hadn't made any plans. When Fleur announced that she very much wanted to see the French circus that was present only today, the small group generally decided it was a brilliant plan and so after lunch was finished and everyone had an opportunity to nip back to their rooms and refresh themselves with the facilities they wandered out together and Dudley thought about what he'd already done and seen.
Along with the programme, he'd gotten the requisite souvenir for his mother - a little snow globe with Excalibur stuck in a stone - and for himself a bright red t-shirt that proclaimed 'I WAS THERE' on the back, with the date, and on the front was a shield with a green dragon rampant on a black field with white roses crossed underneath, and oddly, the dragon was holding a little roundish thing that Dudley couldn't figure out what it was until he showed Charlie and Bill and Fleur, and they pointed out it was the pot from Harry's shield, because they're blood siblings, probably. Fleur pointed out that the white roses were Viktor's family's emblem; their family's shield had only the image of crossed white roses on a field of green. And then Bill pointed out that the background of the shield was black probably because Her Majesty was the Heir of Black, and their shield was just entirely sable without any device.
Dudley double checked the sheild on his tag, and yup. There it was. A tiny pot in the dragon's claws.
Dudley had also gotten the recommended newspaper subscriptions, and that all together was quite a haul, he thought, for only seventy-five pounds. Lord Malfoy assured him that all the vendors would be present throughout the festival, so now that he'd had a good look at everything, he had an idea of what he wanted to do with the rest of his money. He'd brought another hundred fifty pounds with him this afternoon, though whether or not he'd spend any of it would remain to be seen. There wasn't much time before they had to go back and get ready for the wedding. But he'd also taken a couple of really great shots he thought, one of the castle from far away with all those purple chairs set up, and he was glad he got a passing normal person to take a picture of him with Lord Malfoy, Elsbet (on his shoulders still, at that point), the Berhes and the Jacksons. He did the same on the way to the circus, got someone normal looking to snap a picture of him, Charlie, Bill, and Fleur, and this was the sort of thing he'd had in mind, really, if he could manage it for the pictures. Dudley didn't want to take pictures of magical things, because where could he get that developed? But people, and the place. And, well, maybe one or two of a mermaid or a centaur or something, because couldn't that be passed off in development as crazy carnival stuff? Probably.
Dudley was knocked out of his musings by someone coming up to the people who were walking just a little in front of them and sharing the latest on-dit of news.
"Did you hear? Breaking news at the Quibbler Kiosk! Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth just gave the Potters and Malfoy duchies! Duke and Duchess Black Pendragon, that's the Potters, and Duke Black Malfoy. The Quibbler's really on top of this! Can you believe it?"
Charlie looked at Bill, who shrugged, and then at Fleur, who gave an elegant little shake of the head, then over at Dudley, who nodded. Not that he knew about Her Majesty's other brother, Lord Malfoy, getting a dukedom, but he'd known about Harry's. Anyway, he changed the subject and asked for more details about life in a dragon reserve and how exactly one takes that sort of occupational path.
And then Dudley discovered that there was actually no such thing as a wizarding university, which just went to show that half his recent reading was totally wrong. There were internships of a sort, and mastery studies, but they were all individual and very intense work.
Which might mean that if he did take an internship with Malfoy's vineyards that he might have the best of both worlds, really. A University education and an intense internship, and also he'd come out with a fluency in French, which could be helpful in the rest of life, maybe.
Hmm. And he was walking beside a native francophone. This was an opportunity not to be missed, perhaps.
In a lull, Dudley brought it up. "So, I'm starting to improve my French, which is, well, it's quite crap, really, and I was wondering if it would be alright… I mean, could I write to you?" He looked from Bill to Fleur, and then to Bill again, and then to Fleur. "I don't know anyone else who speaks French," he explained.
Fleur smiled widely. "Of course!" And then she spoke a flurry of French he had no hope, absolutely no hope of following.
"Yeah, I missed all of that, sorry," he admitted with a pained look on his face that caused Charlie to slap him on the back while the red head laughed.
"Why the sudden interest in French?" Bill asked, and if Dudley wasn't mistaken, there was something in his tone.
"I'm going out for an internship in France this summer. And if I can't improve my language skills this semester I'll just miss out and I don't want that."
"You should hire a tutor. That's what Viktor did when he went home. Three years of intense study and he was fluent. You can do it too, Dee, if you want it badly enough."
Dudley was nodding. "I want this." He decided to talk with his mother and possibly save some of the money she had given him, just in case. Dudley had no idea how much tutors would cost, but surely there were desperate graduate students who needed money for the pub?
He pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper he carried with him just about anywhere and quickly wrote down her address, which did not strike him as the sort of address the Royal Mail delivered to. Then he asked.
"Oh, non, non. Have you no owl?"
His dad would flip. Utterly flip. Totally and completely flip.
Unless he could hide it?
"Uh, no."
"You know," Charlie pointed out. "There are very small owls, not much bigger than song birds, really, and they can be very discreet. Not good for large packages, but letters are fine. I think they're selling them at a kiosk over there. They're perfect for muggle relatives, really. Muggles keep small birds, don't they?"
"Yeees," Dudley answered slowly. Normal people kept, like, budgerigars and things. Maybe the odd parrot, for the serious bird lover. Normal people, Dudley was certain, did not keep miniature birds of prey in the home.
"Dead easy to keep, you know, so long as you give them time at night to hunt and don't work them too hard. Bit of fresh water and keep the cage open for them, kind of thing. And the odd bit of bacon or sausage, you know, to show that you care. If you're up for it, we should see what they've got now. They might sell out," Charlie said, and quite reasonably, Dudley thought.
"Catch up with us at the circus. We'll be there until 2:30," Bill said.
"2:15," Fleur corrected, looking askance at her husband.
"Right, 2:15," he amended, still grinning.
So Charlie and Dudley veered off sharply to the left and headed over to the merchant kiosk section which was thankfully quite nearby.
"I've never owned a pet before," Dudley admitted.
Charlie gave him the rundown on everything he needed to know generally about pets and specifically about mail-trained owls. Which was more than Dudley would have imagined.
With an owl this small, and particularly over long distances (anything over 100 miles), he'd need to fold and roll the message just so and then tie the message to the thong on the owl's leg so it could hunt on delivery.
He'd want to get an owl who would bond with him.
He could pay for a lot of extras, security charms and the like, but it really wasn't necessary. Charlie would do some of the basic ones for him if he found one he liked.
And then they were there and it only took a few minutes of waiting before they were at the head of the queue and able to look at the different animals - there were a lot of different kinds, including snakes - but all the owls were tiny little things, adorable really. There were half a dozen left and apparently going fast, though he'd already heard while they were waiting in the queue that they'd be getting in more in the next days.
One in particular caught his eye. It was about the size of a parakeet, but brown and white with such very specific markings of those colors that it made him think of, well, a Jedi's robes, honestly.
Charlie told him how to hold his hand and warned him about the talons, which pinched a bit, and the attendant brought out the little brown and white Jedi Knight.
"He likes you," Charlie confirmed as the tiny thing hooted at Dudley and then hopped up from his finger to his hand and then up his forearm, hooting all the way. Teeny, tiny hoots.
Adorable hoots.
"Who's a beautiful little bird of prey?" Dudley cooed at him. "You are, yes you are."
"Charm connection," said the attendant. "Comes with purchase, for muggles. Make it easier for your owl to find you again, no matter where you go. Will you be getting him?"
"I think I will," Dudley decided, his father and the hundred fits yet to be thrown, bedamned.
"You'll want a cage. We've got some nice little ones for these little guys. Discreet, you know?"
"Yeah, let's do it," Dudley agreed.
"Right then, I'm going to pass you off to Amanda, here, who is going to cash you out and charm up your owl for you, right?"
"Thanks, mate!" Dudley said, shifting over to the right in front of the young lady in question. He paid and received both his cage and the receipt and then held his arm out for her. The one his brand new mail-trained owl was perched on, hooting teeny, tiny hoots.
"You'll need to name him. I've got to use that in the incantation. I'll need yours, too," she said, ready to write it all down.
"Luke Skywalker," Dudley said, firmly decided.
"Is that his name or your name?"
Dudley couldn't quite keep in the smirk. "That's his name, miss."
She wrote it down, and then his name as well, and then holding the paper in front of her, pulled her wand and did something that made both him and his owl glow, briefly, Sith Red.
Maybe he should have named him Anakin? Nope, too late now.
After he thanked the lady at the kiosk they stepped aside and Charlie pulled his wand. The wizard seemed to think for a minute and then did three things in quick succession, or hell, maybe it was just one thing in three parts. Hard to tell, not knowing Latin, which seemed to be what all magic spells happened in.
"Right, so I did a basic notice-me-not for muggles, which of course won't work on you because you've got the charmed connection with little Mister Skywalker here. Great name for a bird, by the way. Then I did a pretty strong on-my-way charm which will help him to remain undisturbed while he's working, both from larger birds who might be out hunting, as well as wizards who might want to meddle or be idiots. All mail owls have a bit of that, but it never hurts to strengthen it up a bit. Then I did a little tweak on a charm we use with the dragons to get them to nest where we want them to. It'll make his cage seem more like his home. If you ever get a second owl, or have someone replace this little guy, you'll want to have Harry or someone break the charm for you, or just get a new cage, I suppose."
Dudley stuck his hand out and shook Charlie's as he thanked him for all his help.
By the time they'd wandered back to the circus tents, Luke Skywalker was perched on his right shoulder and Dudley was just carrying the smallish cage by his side. At least with the charm against normal people seeing Luke, if his father ever commented, he could just say that he was thinking about getting a parakeet, and a friend had given him the cage in advance. And in truth, he did not yet have a parakeet.
And what Dad didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
And as for having the bird in the dorms… well, they couldn't see him, and there was no rule against having an empty cage in the dorms.
Walking through the tents, Dudley was somewhat distracted. People breathed fire. Someone turned into a snake. There were acrobats and tumblers and someone who could turn into anyone who passed by. And really, nothing was quite as interesting as the world's most adorable owl who was happily hooting in his ear. Teeny hoots. Tiny hoots. Adorable hoots.
Who knew owls could be cute?
Time flew and before long they were heading back so they could all have a moment to change and freshen up before the wedding and then the coronation. By the time he got to his room - it really was a bit of a hike from the castle out to all the entertainments - Dudley had about fifteen minutes to get ready, but that was more than enough. He put Luke in his cage and put both on the desk in his room, next to a nice little spread that hadn't been there before; a small bowl of fruit and a pitcher of water with a glass.
Dudley poured a little of the water into Luke's water dish and was somewhat mesmerized by the piece of cut newspaper on the bottom of the cage.
The adverts were moving.
He blinked and shook his head and got back to business. He changed his clothes quickly and put his dress shoes on and the waterplugs in his pocket, and then remembered to put the lanyard back around his neck. And, hah! He had a breast coat pocket to put the tags in!
He did so, feeling a bit smug.
Next he munched on an apple as he pulled his purchases out of his day bag. T-shirt, snow globe, receipt for Quibbler and Quibble subscriptions - starting tomorrow at breakfast, and that would just be excellent. He folded the t-shirt neatly and put it and the snowglobe in the wardrobe on a shelf, along with the receipts for everything he'd purchased so far. He hung his messenger bag on a peg and put his used clothes on the floor of the wardrobe, slipping his pen and small notebook in an inner coat pocket and his disposable camera in an outer coat pocket. There was a bit of a bulge there, but he wasn't going to a coronation without a camera.
Checking the time, he hurried through a quick trip to the lav and then bid farewell to Luke Skywalker who seemed to be hooting happily in his new home, though Charlie had warned him to keep the cage door open for the bird to come and go as often as possible, and he had.
It was really obvious, when Dudley arrived in the Great Hall, who was a normal person and who was part of the magical culture. Normal people in formal clothes - suits, dresses, normal. Magical people in something like formal clothes, only combined with something like graduation robes and in the most interesting color combinations. Miss Lovegood, whom he'd met earlier, was perhaps the most normal looking of the crowd - her silver overrobe thing could have passed for a stylized trench coat, really. Some of the people looked like they were just wearing extremely fancy pajamas with heeled boots.
"Hey, Big D," he heard off from the side and turned to find Harry standing there looking good in a black suit, except instead of a suit coat, it was sort of one of those graduation robes but with lapels.
Dudley grinned and stuck his arm out. They grabbed each other's hand but then pulled in for a brief hug. "Thanks for the invite, mate. This has been awesome."
"You been doing alright, then? No trouble getting here?" Harry asked, sticking his hands in his trouser pockets.
"Nah, it was super cool. Making friends, having fun. It's been good."
"Yeah?" Harry asked with a wry grin. "Who've you met so far?"
Dudley listed it out.
Harry's eyebrows went up. "You get around."
Dudley shrugged, grinning. "And how's Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, today?"
Harry nodded and laughed a little. "She's great. Pretty fearless. She gave me a moment off for good behavior to come and say hi, but I do have to get back in a tick. So, uh… you wanna get introduced to the Queen? She says she's up for it."
Dudley's eyes went wide. "Do you think we could get our picture taken with her?"
Harry's eyes narrowed, and Dudley didn't rate his chances particularly high. "Gimme the camera."
He handed it over without a word.
Harry held it up and shook it at him once. "Only if you send me a copy, right?"
"Got it," Dudley said with wide eyes. "Deal."
A picture of him and Harry with the Queen of England and the Prince of Wales. His mother was going to expire on the spot. And then show all the neighbors. All of them. Twice.