Change of Heart
Dudley Dursley couldn't sleep. Ashamed as he was to admit, he couldn't help but feel worried for the freak.
He said they weren't safe in Privet Drive. That the other freaks would come for him and his parents, the same way they finished off Harry's parents.
Well, that was settled. Here they were, in a new home, supposedly safe from You-Know-Who or whatever it was.
Unable to lay down, Dudley sat up, throwing the covers off. He softly padded over to the window at the head of his bed and lifted the glass panes.
The house wasn't in the middle of nowhere – he could see the dark red tiles of the other houses nearby. But it was certainly less populated than Privet Drive. A soft breeze played through the fringes of his blonde hair as he gazed up towards the starless night sky.
A sudden clap of thunder demanded his attention. He peered out suspiciously – the sky wasn't cloudy at all – where did thunderstorms come from?
His eyes widened as he realized it probably wasn't thunder- after all, thunders weren't supposed to be red and green. Far away to the east sky there was a shower of red and green sparks, and Dudley shivered. Somehow, he didn't think those were cheery fireworks.
Over the last few months, Dudley had realized how little he knew of the other world, even though it seemed his cousin was very much at the center of it. After all, the M- word was banned in the Dursley household and mum shivered with distaste and fury every time Harry's name was so much as whispered.
But Dudley had been hearing a lot of things. Hestia Jones seemed to have an endless supply of stories – the few times he had been able to sit with her and the other little man – Dedalus Diggle, was it? – it seemed his freakish cousin has quite a reputation as a troublemaker as well as the savior.
Dudley closed the window and walked over to the large mahogany door. After pressing his ears against it and listening earnestly, he could still hear nothing but his father's grunts and snores.
He cautiously gripped the knob and turned it, wincing when it made a slight whirring noise, and tip-toed out into the hallway. Two doors to his left were his parents, and on the opposite side was the washroom and a spare room. The stairs led down to the ground level, were the freaks – no, wizards – were supposed to be.
Dudley craned his neck out as he descended the stairs, hoping very much the little curly haired witch was awake, as she very often was.
Sure enough, he could see the kitchen light was on. Low voices murmured through the slightly ajar door.
'' I tell you, lad is up to something. '' Diggle said excitedly. Dudley could almost envision his little pointed hat wobbling on his head as he spoke.
'' I am a little worried about the Weasleys though. Arthur, bless his heart, refused to put up those vile Undesirable posters outside his little office. Yaxley put a nasty hex on him – Arthur still has trouble walking.''
Dudley frowned. The name Weasley seemed to ring a bell. Was it one of Harry's freaky friends?
Not freaks. Wizards.
''The youngest is in trouble too –'' Hestia continued – '' She and Longbottom apparently transfigured every snake symbol in the dungeons to lions that now roar every time someone says m-mudblood.''
Dudley shook his head. What is a mudblood? Why is there a dungeon in a school?
The door flung open with such force that Dudley yelped and took several steps back, staring down at the wand held at his throat. He looked up to the little wizard and hissed –
'' What is wrong with you lot? Its m-me, Dudley!''
''Ah, sorry. We thought we heard someone. '' Diggle shook his head, lowering his wand , much to Dudley's relief.
''Terrible days, my boy. '' Hestia tutted, ushering him into the kitchen.
There was a pot of tea on the table surrounded by several floral tea cups – mum would lose her mind if she saw the freaks using her precious crockery, Dudley thought- a tin of biscuits and a plate of yesterday's walnut cake on the table. Apparently, Diggle and Jones had been awake for quite a while.
''You couldn't sleep? '' Hestia Jones asked kindly, pushing a slice of cake towards him.
Dudley mumbled something affirmative, but didn't attack the cake immediately as he might have once had.
After a few minutes of silence, Dudley decided to swallow his pride and ask some questions.
''So…umm...about this , uh, war thing?'' He started hesitantly.
''Yes?'' Diggle prompted.
''Any….news?''
''Ah, I'm afraid the news is not to be trusted. The Daily Prophet has mostly been printing rubbish ever since the Triwizard Tournament, and the Quibbler tries hard enough but there's no real news. '' Diggle said sagely, pointing towards the crumpled newspaper and dog-eared magazine at the end of the table.
Dudley spent the rest of the night hearing all sorts of odds and ends about the wizarding world from Diggle and Jones, who seemed to be immensely pleased at his apparent interest about his cousin. By the time he crawled into his bed at the brink of dawn, his head swimming with information about the ministry and Hogwarts and You-know-who and Harry Potter, he had reached a decision.
Harry wasn't a freak.
And another, much harder decision.
His parents were wrong.