Dudley Dursley and the Wizarding War Chapter 9 - Side Stories, a harry potter fanfic

Dudley and Hermione

Dudley found Hermione alone early one morning, finishing off her Potions homework for Snape. He had been woken up by Ron's snoring and failed to get back to sleep. Deciding it would be a good idea to do his too, while he could copy, he pulled his own out of his bag. He had barely written the title. "A review on Skele-Grow and its Uses in Medicine" when he felt Hermione's gaze on him.

"Can we talk?" Hermione said.

"Sure, what about?"

"Neville"

Dudley paled. Other than telling everyone about Neville's bravery, he had tried to keep things to himself—keep them bottled up. The potion from Luna's father had kept the nightmares at bay, but when he wasn't busy, thoughts of what happened in June still entered his mind. He doubted he would ever forget the sight of the masked, jeering Death Eaters or Neville's screams.

"He was my best friend," Hermione said quietly. "I can't believe he's gone."

Dudley didn't know what to say. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. He considered whether he should pat Hermione on the shoulder or something, but that felt rather feeble.

"How have you coped?" she asked.

"I …" Dudley began, then hesitated. "I try to stay busy," he said, finally. "And try not to think about it. It's easier—here, you know, with Ron and Ginny and Luna. I find I think about what happens less and less."

Hermione nodded. "I hoped my vacation would take my mind off it. It was tough … I had to go through the motions of being perfectly normal the entire time. I was putting on a happy face for my parents, swimming, relaxing on the beach when I just wanted to be alone."

"You didn't tell …"

"No," Hermione said. "I don't want them to worry, or take me from Hogwarts."

Dudley nodded. "I told mine that Voldemort is back, but I didn't tell them what happened. They wouldn't understand."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each thinking about Neville. Dudley didn't feel any survivor's guilt at what had happened—he realized that there was nothing to be done. He felt lucky—very lucky to be alive. If it hadn't been for Lockhart … He felt sad, rather than guilty. Sad that his friend was gone and sad that last year, things had been quite tense between them both.

"I'm gonna miss him," Dudley said, breaking the silence.

"Me too," Hermione said. "You know, he really was a talented wizard. Becoming the Triwizard Champion really motivated him."

"Yeah, he was outperforming everyone."

"He felt he had a lot to prove," Hermione said.

"Well, he proved it," Dudley said.

They fell silent again, Dudley felt like he should say something, but what, he didn't know. He had never been good at this emotional help type of thing. None of his friends had ever really needed comforting before and, other than with Luna, he had never really spoke much about his thoughts and feelings. Ron and Dean were good friends, but they weren't the sort of friends to open up to.

Ron came down, looking cheerful despite the early hour.

"What are you grinning at?" Dudley asked, glancing up at his friend.

"Quidditch" Ron said, sitting down on a spare seat.

"Oh yeah," Dudley had forgotten than Lockhart had arranged for free tickets for Ron to take Cho to see the Tornadoes versus the Wimbourne Wasps.

Mrs. Weasley hadn't been too happy. She felt certain they were going to be attacked by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. In the end, Ron had written to Lockhart for extra tickets so that Bill and Fleur could accompany them. Only then had she reluctantly agreed.

"Aurors are going to be there too," Bill had assured her.

That had been announced as another security measure by Madame Bones. With the quidditch league starting, a team of Aurors would attend each match. This had been discussed in depth by the Order of the Phoenix during a meeting—Mad-Eye Moody had been of the opinion that keeping the Aurors tied down providing security stopped them from searching out Voldemort and Dudley thought that made sense. But, if the quidditch season was to go ahead, then there needed to be tight security. It seemed a tough job, being Minister for Magic. He wondered if Madame Bones' defensive approach would be enough to secure her the votes needed to be made the permanent Minister.

Ron's Date

"This is so cool!" Cho said, as they appeared out of the fire grate at "The Drunken Beater", the tavern at the Tornado's stadium.

"I thought you had seen the Tornadoes play before?" Ron asked, brushing ash off his robes.

"I have, doesn't mean I'm not going to find going here again cool," Cho said, indignantly.

There was a pop and Fleur arrived from the fire between them. "I ate zis" she muttered, quickly dusting off her robes. She always looked disgruntled at floo network travel.

Bill was looking alert, glancing around. "Right," he said, briskly. "Remember, no walking off alone—Dumbledore doesn't think Voldemort will start targeting quidditch and major events yet, but you never know."

"I am surprised eet ees still going ahead," Fleur said. "Eeet seems foolish to keep going with ze quidditch."

"Mum says Madame Bones wants to keep morale up," Cho said. Her mum was very high up at the Ministry. "If the quidditch season was canceled, people might start to panic."

"Yeah, well, maybe people panicking is better than presenting a nice, fat target for You-Know-Who," Bill said, darkly. "I can't see the quidditch season lasting longer."

"Then let's enjoy it while it's on," Ron said. "Come on—I can smell hotdogs …" he moved towards the stand, only for Bill to grab him by the back of his robes.

"Bill! Gerrof!" he spluttered.

Cho giggled, she couldn't help herself. She giggled more as Ron blushed.

"I just said not to go wondering off," Bill said. "Do I need to hold your hand?"

"Don't you dare!" Ron said, darkly.

"Then don't wander off," Bill grinned. "Mum would already be holding your hand."

"Ok, fine," Ron said, grumpily. "Can we all go and get hotdogs, then?" hei stomach gave a loud rumble.

"Ok," said Bill. He took the lead with Fleur slipping in to the rear.

"This is so embarrassing," Ron muttered. "Being herded everywhere."

"Better than not coming," Cho said, brightly. "Cheer up, we'll be in the stadium soon. Should be a good match." She slipped his hand into his and gave it a squeeze. "Make Suzuki should be playing—will be great to see her in action."

Ron brightened up as they spoke about quidditch. Bill ordered a hotdog each and shepherded them towards the stadium. It was smaller than the one used in the quidditch world cup with a capacity of 7,000.

At the entrance, a group of wizards wearing yellow vests over the robes were checking everyone's ticket. Behind them was a grumpy looking wizard holding a secrecy sensor.

"Where are the Aurors?" Ron asked, glancing around as if he expected to see them lurking behind a tree.

Cho looked around too. She couldn't see any sign of them, though, she now noticed, that the crowd of people waiting to go into the stadium weren't in the usual buoyant, festive, cheerful mood of quidditch players. Everyone was staying close to each other, as if Voldemort might appear to hunt down stragglers.

There were fewer people here than usual, too, she realized. It seemed the threat of Voldemort was keeping many people at home.

"The Aurors will be undercover," Bill explained in a low tone. "Keeping an eye on things."

They handed their tickets to the wizard at the front who inspected them, then proceeded to the security desk where the second wizard seemed to take great delight in giving them a prod with his secrecy sensor.

"Git," Ron said, rubbing his backside. "Quite what he thinks I'm going to be smuggling in there…"

Cho laughed. She had noticed that the wizard tended to give wizards more of an inspection than wizards. She and Fleur had merely had a quick once other, whereas Bill and Ron had both been poked and prodded considerably.

They took their seats near the back. Lockhart had gotten them prime tickets and they relaxed, eating their hotdogs while the rest of the crowd filed in. Bill remained alert, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"Did you check out the new Spell Sisters song yet?" Cho asked.

"Huh? Oh … yeah … yeah, it was great," Ron said.

Bill turned away from his surveillance of the crowd. "I thought you said it sounded like a cat full of kneazles being tortured?"

"Ron!" Cho gave him a punch on the arm. "If you don't like it, why don't you just say you don't like it instead of pretending."

"Well … you know … I thought …"

"If you keep saying you like the music I lend you, I'll end up buying you their music or shirts or tickets for their shows for your birthday … which you will hate!"

"I thought you'd be annoyed," Ron said.

"Why would I be annoyed at you for liking different music than me?" Cho asked. She felt annoyed with Ron for thinking that.

"Dunno," Ron said.

Cho tried not to roll her eyes. She found it amazing how Ron could manage to be so hopeless sometimes. But then, she supposed, this was the first time he had had a girlfriend, so he was bound to be a bit unsure of what to do and eager to please.

She glanced at him. He could be thoughtful sometimes—getting tickets for the quidditch match had been a really great present, so she decided to forgive him for his occasional idiocy.

She gave his hand another squeeze and was rewarded by a grin.

"Welcome to the first match of the new quidditch season!" a voice called suddenly.

Cho hadn't noticed the match was due to begin. She applauded along with the rest of the crowd. The stadium was barely even a quarter full. On the plus side, they had plenty of room.

First the announcer announced the Wimbourne Wasps players. She stood up and waved her Tornadoes flag.

"In goal - O'Leary!"

"Boooooo!" Cho cried, waving her flag.

"The beaters - Gibbs and Schneider"

"Booooo!" she didn't noticed Ron giving her a funny look.

"The chasers - Selwyn, Flint and Kozlov!"

"Booooooo!" she booed loud, trying to be heard over the small knot of cheering Wimbourne Wasps fans below.

"And finally, the seeker-Donovan Diggle!"

"Boooooo!"

"Do you always boo the opposing team?" Ron asked, as she sat down again.

"Of course, a bit of booing never hurt anyone!"

"Now, let's give it up for the home The Tutshill Tornadoes!"

Cho cheered louder than anyone. She had loved the Tornadoes since she was a kid. She waved her flag hard, barely noticing as it caught Ron in the face.

"In goal - Svensson!"

"Yes! Go on Svenny!" Cho cheered, jumping up and down.

"The beaters - also known as the Batting Brothers - Smith and Smith!"

"Go get 'em!" Cho cheered. "Best beaters in the league!"

"And the Tornadoes all-star lineup of chasers-we have Garcia, Parkinson and Mako Suzuki!"

Cho jumped up and down cheering as the team did a lap of the pitch, Mako Suzuki at the front. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail which flew out behind her. She didn't acknowledge the crowd whereas some of the other players-especally Garcia, waved or winked or even high-fived nearby fans.

She sat down again, grinning broadly.

"I never knew you were such an obsessive fan," Ron said.

"Love it!" Cho said. "I'd love to play for the Tornadoes one day, that's my dream."

"Yeah ... yeah, it would be cool," Ron said. They settled down to watch the game.

Augusta Longbottom

Augusta regretted the way she had treated Neville. She had loved the boy dearly-he was her grandson after all, but she had always been too strict with him. She realized that now. Constantly comparing him to his auror father and trying to force him to improve rather than encourage him to do so had been a mistake. She wished she had realized that before he had been murdered. He had died a true Gryffindor and a true hero. His performance in the Triwizard Tournament was as good as any and Augusta was proud to call Neville her grandson.

She stared at the photos on the wall. Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Lestrange-each had been responsible for torturing her son into insanity. The fourth was a hand-drawn picture of a bald man with serpentine features-Lord Voldemort. She kept the photos up as a reminded of who she was going to kill.

The Death Eaters had taken far too much from her now. First her son and his wife, who she had loved like a daughter, now her grandson. They would pay. They would all pay. She had joined the Order of the Phoenix expecting that Albus Dumbledore would take the fight to Lord Voldemort, but he seemed to be playing it cautious-research and spying and guarding, rather than carrying out an outright attack.

Well, she wasn't going to wait for Dumbledore to make the first move. The first chance she got. She was going to strike. She may be old, but she was far from feeble. Augusta knew that she was a skilled witch-more skilled than most people realized. Her skill lay in transfiguration, just like her close friend Minerva McGonagall. She had to admit that Minerva was a touch better than her. In the week's since the murder of Neville, however, Augusta had been practicing a new spell. One she hadn't used before and one, she hoped, she would only have to use four times.

She raised her wand, pointing it at the sneering, jeering image of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Avada kedavra!" she said, forcibly.

The Wandmaker

Ollivander glanced up in surprise as the door to his shop rang. It was a little earlier in the year for Hogwarts students-they usually arrived closer to the end of the holidays. But, still, there was the occasional customer who needed a new wand or wanted a wand repairing or even needed some assistance in wand lore. Three people entered-an overweight man in his 50s with curly black hair streaked with grey, a no-nonsense looking woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, and a short little girl with long brown hair who had a very sullen expression on her face.

"First time at Hogwarts?" Ollivander asked, sidling out from behind his desk and approaching the girl. "I don't recognise you," he said, glancing up at the girl's parents. "Muggles? I remember every face of every customer and every wand I've ever sold."

"Erm, yeah ... that's right," the man said in a Yorkshire accent. "Daisy here got a letter, saying she had to collect a wand? Unbelieveable ... I had no idea."

Ollivander nodded. He was used to muggle customers by now."

"Let's see, where's my tape ..." he said, turning to his desk.

He didn't see the man lock the door, or the woman give a wave of her wand to shut the shop's curtains.

Ollivander rummaged around in his desk and finally found his measuring tape. "Here we are," he said, standing up. "Now, let's ..." he trailed off. Each of the customers, including the girl, had their wands pointed at his chest.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before shooting his wand towards the pocket of his robes. He was too slow.

"Imperio!" the fat man said, and Ollivander knew no more.

Voldemort

"You have done well, Lucius," Voldemort said, softly as he eyed his prize. Mr. Ollivander was stood in front of his throne, his eyes blank. Lucius was stood by him-the effects of the polyjuice potion was wearing off now. though he was still overweight, the long blond hair was back. Beside him, the woman was turning into the short, squat form of Alecto Carrow and beside her, with a face lime thunder, Amycus Carrow's cruel face was on the body of the little muggle girl as the potion wore off.

"The imperious charm will last?" he asked.

"It will my lord," said Lucius, bowing. "I am skilled in its use."

"Good," said Voldemort.

"And you brought his stock of wands?"

Alecto Carrow opened the bag she had been holding. It was full of wand boxes.

"You have done well," Voldemort said again. "Now, send in the escapees from Azkaban," Voldemort said. "It is time they acquired a wand to replace the ones the Ministry snapped upon their arrest, iff they are to serve me."

Once his Death Eaters had left, he stared at Ollivander. He would be left under the imperious curse, Voldemort decided. Once his Death Eaters had found new wands, he would send Ollivander and his wands back to the shop to carry out his duties there. Ollivander disappearing would be too suspicious. Besides, having a pair of eyes in Diagon Alley and someone to monitor new witches and wizards would be useful too. He would also have Ollivander note down any mudbloods who entered, a list of names for when he finally took control.

Dumbledore's Plot

"You want me to withdraw?" Arthur said, his eyebrows raising.

Dumbledore nodded. "You aren't going to win," he said bluntly. "All you are going to do is take votes away from Madame Bones. How many votes do you think you will get?"

"Around 5," Arthur said.

"Nowhere near enough to win, but those 5 votes could help Madame Bones win."

Arthur nodded, seeing the sense in that. "So you want me to tell them to vote for Madame Bones?"

"I am going to suggest that you and Madame Bones work together," Dumbledore said. "I fear that Yaxley may win, and we can't have that. I also do not wish to see Dolores Umbridge or Gilderoy Lockhart as Minister for Magic. Which leaves either yourself or Madame Bones, and forgive me, Arthur, but Madame Bones has by far the best chance of winning."

"I understand," Arthur said.

"I will get in touch with Madame Bones, I am sure she will see the need for collaboration," said Dumbledore. "It is imperative that we keep Yaxley away from the Ministership. I am sure with the votes from your supporters, Madame Bones will have enough to win."

Lavender Brown

Lavender tied her long brown hair in a ponytail as she stood in her backyard. She had spent most of the summer grieving over Neville. She hadn't realised how much she had cared for him until he was gone. Today, she decided, would be the end of grieving. Today was the day to get ready to fight back. Dudley had already said that she could join his group of friend's practice sessions next year, but why not get a start now.

She opened the book on dueling that she had mail-ordered and began to read the first page "An introduction to dueling stances" there were a number of different ones, all suiting a variety of different styles and magic uses. She decided she would practice the "Nowak Technique" first. She sat down on the grass and began to read.

"Invented by the master Polish duelist, Lena Nowak in the 1980s, the Nowak Technique is a modern stance for the modern duelist allowing for quick mobility, focusing on speed and athleticism over defensive spells and favoring quick and rapid curses and countercharms to overwhelm its foes"

Lavender thought it seemed up her alley. She did ballet in her spare time and was surprisingly speedy and flexible. She was sure she could make this stance work. Once she had mastered the basics, she would start on her spell work. She was determined to get better at her dueling, so that when the time came to fight, she could get revenge on Voldemort for what he did to Neville.

Tracey Davies

"The Ministry should be rounding them all up," Mr. Davies said, throwing his copy of the Daily Prophet down on the table in disgust. "Not faffing around with all this defensive nonsense!"

Tracey ignored him as she ate her cereal. Her dad always loved a rant during breakfast, no matter what the subject.

Her brother, Roger, chuckled. "Like I've been doing at Hogwarts," he said. "I've beaten that Death-Eater-loving git, Malfoy up so many times."

"Yeah, he's dad was always a tosser, too," Mr. Davies said. "Give his kid … what's his name?"

"Draco," supplied Roger.

"Yeah, Draco—give him a right hook from me," Mr. Davies said.

Tracey sighed. She loved her brother dearly, but he could be a git sometimes. She didn't like Draco Malfoy at all, but he was her classmate and sometimes, when not talking nonsense about pure bloods and hating muggles, he could actually be quite funny, and she wished Roger and his friends would leave him alone. Instead, ever since Dudley Dursley had gone public about Draco's father being a Death Eater, Roger and his gang had made it their goal to make Malfoy's life a misery.

"The Ministry needs more people like you, Rog," Mr. Davies said. "Someone who will actually take the right to the Death Eaters. Why … if I was still with the Aurors …" he trailed off.

Tracey tried not to roll her eyes. Her father's time with the aurors had been brief and had come to an end when he was caught forcing a false confession from someone. He now worked as a freelance repairer of magical objects.

She finished off her cereal and headed back to her room, leaving her dad complaining to her brother about how the Ministry should be run.

On her bed were the posters she was working on. Each bore the image of a wand casting a hex at a dark mark. It wasn't animated yet, charms wasn't her best subject, but once she got back to school she would get Daphne to animate it with a spell. Below the image were the words Slytherins Against Death Eaters. It was the next step in her plans for the group that she, Daphne and the Carrow twins had formed towards the end of last year. The four would stick these up all over school to show everyone else that not every Slytherin was a wannabe Death Eater.

She picked up her quill, sat down on her bed and gazed somewhat dreamily at her bedroom wall where another picture was hung. Perhaps by doing this, she would also manage to convince Dudley Dursley to get rid of that weird Luna Lovegood girl and go out with her instead. She had had a crush on Dudley ever since he had risked his life to go after Slytherin's monster in his second year. Those feelings had grown when he spent much of his third year dieting and getting into shape. He had returned to school in his fourth year, tall, burly but not the obese blob he had been and quite handsome with his thick blond hair. Even better, he had been one of the Triwizard Champions AND had just escaped from Voldemort.

Why he insisted on going out with the weirdo Luna was beyond her. Maybe S.A.D would be her way to winning the heart of Dudley. Her gaze lingered on the pictures on her wall. There were five of them, each drawn by herself and each showing Dudley. She was a good artist and had drew Dudley and Lockhart firing spells at a basilisk, Dudley emerging from the lake with Tracey in his arms instead of Luna, Dudley dueling Lord Voldemort (his robes torn and hanging off, revealing an imagined and exaggerated muscular body), Dudley hunched over a book in class looking more intelligent and thoughtful than he was and, finally, her and Dudley kissing under some mistletoe.

This would be the year, she decided, when she would make Dudley hers.