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Hedwig was the bearer of bad news that evening to Sophie. Well, it looks like our plan has backfired. Today said in no uncertain terms that he did not like Herione. It looks like I'm going to be taking Hermione to the party instead. It was a great idea, Sophie, it just . . . wasn't meant to be, I guess. And by the way: I'll be staying at Privet Drive for my entire Christmas holiday, so I'll get a nice visit with you all. The next day, he received this reply: Don't worry Harry, I understand completely. I just received an owl from Ron asking me if he could act as my escort to the party. He practically begged me, so I couldn't say no. I can't pretend that I'm not disappointed, though. I wanted someone else to ask me . . . but what can you do? Oh well, we tried, right? Delighted to hear you'll be staying here at Privet Drive! Can't wait to see you next week!
Love, Sophie.
*** It was the strangest feeling: Harry sat on the half empty Hogwarts Express, heading back towards the Dursleys at a time when he was used to celebrating being away from them-- Christmas. He reluctantly stepped out of the train and back into the Muggle world, the weather bitterly cold and the faces of the passer-bys focused and unfriendly. He scanned the crowds hoping against hope that Imelda and Roger had come to take him back. But scanning the crowds he found no one-- not a single soul that he knew. Exasperated, he parked his case at a bench underneath the sign "Platform 9", took a seat and waited . . . and waited. Nearly two hours had passed by the time he realized that someone was talking to him. It was Aunt Petunia, face rigid and cross as usual. "Get up, you lazy loafer, let's get going! I haven't all day!" Wordlessly, Harry stood up and with his suitcase in one hand, Hedwig's case in the other, followed her through the crowds out of Kings Cross Station and towards where she had parked the car. Harry knew better than to ask where the rest of the family was-- any questions posed by Harry were viewed by Petunia as disrespectful and rude. They arrived at Privet Drive and Harry was stunned to find that the Dursley's living room looked . . .festive. There was a large Christmas tree covered from top to bottom in sparkly ornaments, piles and piles of meticulously wrapped packages lay beneath it and the house just smelled of . . . well, of Christmas. Of course, it was no Hogwarts, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. "Don't see why you need to bring that ruddy bird with you everywhere you go-" Petunia was muttering angrily as Harry trekked upstairs. Dudley came out of his room and- Harry had to do a double take! Dudley looked . . . thinner. It wasn't a drastic change or anything, but it still took Harry by surprise! There was a shape to his face now, one of his chins had disappeared completely- "What are you staring at," Dudley challenged. "Y-you . . . look really good, Dudley." Harry winced somewhat, expecting a violent reaction from Dudley for even speaking to him. But instead, Dudley just looked walked past Harry and muttered "thanks." Harry went into his room and sat on his bed in complete shock. "Thanks?!?" Dudley never even said 'thanks' to his parents let alone to him! You must have heard him wrong, Harry. No way that Dudley actually told you thanks. . . When Petunia called for dinner, Harry was careful with everything he said to the Dursleys-Dudley in particular! That small gesture of civility had really scared Harry! After dinner (which Harry was sure to compliment Petunia on) he washed down the dishes and tidied up the kitchen before venturing into the living room. Dudley sat alone in his usual spot, feet on the coffee table, watching some silly sitcom. Harry walked quietly to the furthest chair away from him and took a seat. They watched the television in silence for a good deal of the evening. Then Dudley spoke. "You have your own telly at school?" It was so unexpected that Harry at first thought that he'd simply been imagining it. But when Dudley repeated the question, Harry just about had a heart attack. Dudley Dursely was talking to him? He managed to find his voice. "N-no. No television there." "That must be boring." "N-no," Harry could have told his cousin that a lot of wizards have never even touched a television set, but he decided it a lot safer to simply say, "there's other stuff to do." "Like what?" There wasn't exactly an overwhelming interest in Dudley's tone, but that wasn't the point! Dudley was carrying on a conversation with Harry! One that didn't involve screaming the words "git" or "prat"! And what really blew Harry's mind, was that Dudley was asking questions about Hogwarts-- a place that was never talked about in the house! Why was Dudley doing this? Harry was still trying to keep his cool. "Oh, well. . . there's a really popular sport everyone gets into-it's like a huge rivalry between all the houses." Dudley didn't say anything right away, but then he said "And?" And? He wants to know more? "Er . . . w-well, on weekends we get to go visit a nearby village with lots of shops and sweet shops and the like." Harry smiled at the thought of Hogsmeade. "I have some friends who are going to be opening up a joke shop there soon-and there's this drink they have called "butterbeer" that is absolutely brilliant." Harry sensed that he was perhaps saying too much, so he quickly stopped. After another long silence, Dudley said "cool." COOL?!? Dudley Dursley thought that something to do with the wizarding world was cool? Oh no, I must be hallucinating! There's no way that he's actually saying these things! And just like that, it was over. Dudley got up from his chair and walked up the stairs for his room, leaving Harry wondering if he was losing his mind or not. . . The next morning Harry awoke to Aunt Petunia barking at him to cut her bushes back in the garden. He'd wanted to drop by the Banbury's that morning to say hello, but he instead went outside into the freezing cold to pull back Petunia's severely overgrown bushes. "Psst! Harry! Is that you?" Harry looked up to find Sophie peeking at him from overtop the fence-she was on her tiptoes and all Harry could see were her hypnotic brown eyes. Everything inside of him leapt at the sight of her. Which was most odd because that only had ever happened before with Cho. And he definitely didn't like Sophie the way he'd liked Cho . . . right? "Sophie!" He cried, standing up to meet her at the fence. "How are you?" "Brilliant--oh it's so nice to see you again!" "And you." "Come on in! Mum's at work, but Dad has the day off work and we'd love to have you for tea-" "Oh," Harry paused, "Er. . . I'd love to, you know, but I doubt Aunt Petunia would be too happy with me 'spreading my germs' as she calls it." Sophie shook her head. "Oh dear, I dunno how you can stand it, Harry." "That makes two of us. . ." he paused, "Hey, have you noticed anything . . . different about Dudley lately?" There was a twinkle in Sophie's eyes. "Ohhhh. You mean the new and approved Dudley Dursley?" "So you've noticed it too?" "Well," she started. "Er . . . wait a sec." Harry watched her turn a garden bucket upside down and stepped on top of it so she could see the whole of Harry's face. "See. . . it all started after you went back to Hogwarts. He came over and he . . . asked me out on a date." "No," Harry oohhed. "Dudley Dursley asked you out on a date?" "Yup. He certainly did. So I sat him down and had a nice chat with him. I told him how very flattered I was as I never really had been asked on a proper date before, but I simply wasn't ready for any kind of relationship at the time. He asked me if I thought that when I was ready for a relationship, would I be ready for one with him." "What did you say?" "I told him the truth. I said to him, 'In all honesty, No, Dudley. I wouldn't.' I told him that we were two very different people-" "You can say that again!" "--- and that if I were ever to want a relationship with someone, it would be someone who shared similar interests and ideas as me-and someone who treated others with the same kind of respect he'd show me.'" Sophie winked. "I threw that in, of course, just to let him know that I did not approve of the way he treated you." Harry blushed. "W-what did he say?" "Well, he took it very well, and I told him that I'd love to be friends, and he said 'of course.'" "Sophie Banbury! You broke Dudley Dursley's heart!" She ignored him, "and anyway, after that . . . well, he started changing. He wasn't into trouble at school near so often as he was before. And when he talks to me, he. . . I know this is going to sound outrageous, but he acts as though he's really interested in how I'm doing!" Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I just can't believe it. . . he actually asked about Hogwarts last night." "No!" "Yes! Unbelievable! If only he knew that the girl he likes is a witch!" They laughed. "Now tomorrow night, everyone's arriving by Floo Powder, Mum's arranging for our house to be added to the network again, and I expect you have devised a way to get out of the Dursley's house?" "I figured I would just tell them that Roger wants me to help with some handiwork about the house. They'll always let me out if it involves my working." Sophie smiled. "Good. See you tomorrow then!" "Of course!" Harry lingered for a moment. . . he'd wanted so very much to ask her who she'd wanted to be her escort, but decided against it. It didn't matter because he didn't like her that way. . . right? * That is precisely what Harry repeated to himself all evening up in his room. He took out the invitation and stared at it absently, his eyes lingering on her name. . . no, he most certainly did not think of Sophie that way . . . The door opened and Harry nearly let out a yelp when Dudley walked in. He quickly put the invitation under his pillow, but not before Dudley spied it. It was rather hard to hide: the glowing letters were turning Harry's pillow purple and pink! "Hey," said Dudley quietly. "Hey." Harry scanned the room quickly for anything he could use in self-defense in case Dudley decided to pounce on him. Dudley was staring at Harry's pillow, his eyebrow raised. "What's that under your pillow?" "Huh? Oh! Er. . . .nothing, just . . . something from school." Dudley took a step forward. "Can. . . I have a look?" "NO!" Harry shouted immediately, and then added quickly, "no, er. . . really, Dudley, it's nothing. It's from Hogwarts." Harry clearly enunciated his school purposefully, hoping to repel him away. But Dudley remained focused. "Really, I'd . . . like to see it." "No, don't think you do, Dudley!" Harry couldn't let Dudley see it! Sophie's name was on it! If he saw the invitation, then he would know that Sophie really wasn't the muggle he thought she was! And who knows what would happen! "Oh come on Harry," said Dudley. And then. . . he took a breath and said the word Harry never in his wildest dreams thought he'd hear from Dudley: "Please?" PLEASE?!? What in the hell had come over that boy! That simple, small word rendered Harry speechless and before he realized it, Dudley had reached under the pillow and pulled out the invitation. Dudley's eyes widened upon seeing the glowing letters. Harry almost thought he saw him mouth the word "wow" but he wasn't sure. Harry winced again and braced for the reaction. . . "Sophie?" Dudley repeated quietly. "She's having a Christmas Party tomorrow?" Harry was mortified. "I didn't get an invitation." "Well," said Harry nervously. "That's the thing, Dudley. You see . . . only, er, a certain sort of people are invited." Dudley blinked. "Only . . . er . . . my sort of people." There was something in Dudley's eyes that seemed to tell Harry he understood this. "From your school," Dudley said. "Yes." Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh hell, Dudley, I wish that I didn't have to be the one to tell you this because . . . I know how fond you are of Sophie and how your Mum is so fond of Mrs Banbury. . . but . . . " he took a breath, "Mrs. Banbury and Sophie are . . ." "They're witches," Dudley finished. Harry stopped and stared at his cousin. "Y-yes." "Yeah. I thought so." "You thought . . . but . . . how?" Dudley looked back down at the invitation, his expression still difficult to decipher. "By accident." Dudley let a mischievous grin slip out, and Harry was at once very interested. "D-Dudley? What did you do?" "Well . . . my bedroom happens to be parallel to Sophie's." Uh oh. "So . . . well, she's been known to leave her curtains open by mistake." "You spy on her?!?" "It was only one time Harry, I swear to God. And she was writing with a quill on a roll of brownish paper. I've only ever known you to do that. And then I saw Mrs. Banbury walk in with this barn owl on her arm, and Sophie put the letter into the owl's beak! And. . . I know that's what your owl does when you want mail delivered. . ." Harry swallowed. "So then. . . you knew she had to be a witch." He nodded. "I was almost positive. I just wanted to hear you say it." "And yet you . . . still fancy her?" He nodded again. "Even though you know what she is?" "I know. . . Mum and Dad would kill me." Harry couldn't help it--he really couldn't! He smiled at Dudley and said, "No-Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would kill me first. Then they'd kill you." It was a tremendous moment. The two cousins looked at each other and . . . laughed! Dudley barreled over and let out great, heaving laughs and Harry threw his head back and grabbed his stomach. Harry spoke the honest truth and they both knew it: for the first time in their lives, they shared something in common! The held a common link! Harry was agog with it all-if this was a dream as it simply had to have been, he glad to be having it! Dudley finally calmed down and wiped a tear from his eye. He still couldn't look at his cousin in the eye, but he was now able to say what he meant. "It's been hell, you know. These past three months you've been gone, I've had to keep this secret to myself. . . just glad it's out." "Listen," said Harry, "Er . . . you and I . . . we haven't exactly been what I would call friends." "Not in the slightest," Dudley nodded. Harry did not want to ruin the moment, and it was such a complicated situation so instead of gushing on about feelings, he said "and there's . . . so much between us, namely your Mum and Dad, but . . .this is good. Just talking. Not feeling obligated to have a relationship, but . . . just talking." Dudley finally was able to look at his cousin. "Yes. Talking is good." He paused, "and . . . since I found out what Sophie was and realized that I've fallen for a girl who is just like someone I've spent most of my life hating . . ." he took a breath. "I owe you an apology." Harry's mouth fell. "N-no, Dudley-" "Oh just shut up Harry, because I'm not gonna say this again, all right? I've been getting myself ready for this for the past two months and you're not gonna ruin it." He took another breath. "I'm sorry." Harry wanted to say a million different things. (and yes, 'It's about time you bloody prat", "you have the nerve after what you did to me" and "you ruined my life, go eat slugs for all I care" were all amongst his choices.) But he knew that no words were the best words. Besides. . . the most amazing thing had started to happen . . . Harry was feeling compassion for the bugger. And then, just when Harry thought that no more surprises were possible, Dudley said to Harry, "So. . . er, do you think Sophie would mind if I came to her party tomorrow?" Harry cleared his throat. "Oh! Er, well, I dunno Dudley. You do realize that the only mugg-er, I mean, non-magical people would be yourself and Mr. Banbury." "Obviously, yeah." "A-and you're okay with that?" "Yeah. It sounds like . . ." Dudley searched for the right word, "it sounds like fun." "Fun," Harry repeated, still trying to believe he was talking to the same person he'd grown up with. "But, you know, you're the one who is invited. I doubt you'll want your. . . what's that word you use? "Muggle" cousin around . . ." Dudley did have a point. He was looking forward to spending time with his friends. . . but with the given change of events . . . "I'm sure Sophie will be delighted to have you come." ** When Harry told Sophie everything that had happened the night before, Sophie was every bit as stunned as Harry. She said that there was no reason why he couldn't come, but she was more concerned with how Harry would handle it than anything else. Harry told her not to worry. With all the blackmail Harry now had on him, there was no way Dudley was going to cause any problems with him around. Dudley had told his parents that he and Harry had been invited to the a Christmas Party at the Banbury's for the evening. Vernon and Petunia seemed apprehensive to let Harry go along, but Dudley insisted and they, of course, ceded. Harry had pulled out his best black trousers and a charcoal gray jumper he rather liked. He was never impressed with what he saw in the mirror, but admitted that tonight he wasn't entirely hopeless looking. Dudley had spent an incredibly long time getting ready. He came down in dressy black trousers and a dressy deep maroon shirt, with his shoes shined to the finish. It didn't look like the same Dudley any more than it sounded like him. Harry met Dudley at the bottom stair and all Dudley said to him was, "So when are you going to get rid of those bloody ridiculous glasses?" They left the house together and Harry smiled. "I happen to like these bloody ridiculous glasses. Oh, wait here." Harry looked anxiously out into the street. "I told Hermione to meet me here at exactly five minutes till." "You told Hermy who?" "Hermione-she's my date for tonight." Dudley let out a grunt. "Soooooo. Harry's got a little girlfriend, does he?" "No, it's not like that." "Let me guess-- she's one of your best friends, right?" "Well, she is!" "Right." "--actually, tonight was a set up to get her and my other best friend together. The plan didn't exactly work out, though. So I'm her date--where is she?" And just as the words left his lips, a car came driving up the block. Sure enough, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were driving and as it pulled to a stop, Hermione jumped out of the back seat. "Be back around eleven, Mum! Bye Dad!" The Grangers drove away and Hermione hurried to Harry's side, shivering in her black overcoat. They gave each other a hug. "Sorry-- Mum and Dad had a hell of a time finding this place." She made a very obvious point of looking Harry up and down. "Wow! Harry! You look fantastic!" Harry blushed and, sensing his unease, Hermione quickly added lightheartedly, "Didn't think you had it in you!" "Oh s-stop it, Hermione. And of course you're lovely as always-er, H-Hermione, I'd like you to meet . . . my cousin." Hermione's eyes grew wide staring at the smiling blonde boy in front of her. "This," she said in disbelief, "is Dudley?" Harry realized that Hermione, along with everyone else at Hogwarts, knew Dudley as his insufferable, bully of a cousin. He gave her a look that said 'its okay'. "Dudley, this is Hermione." Dudley raised his eyebrow, "Sorry? Did you say Herm. . ." "Herm-eye-oh-nee," she said phonetically. Don't worry, no one ever gets it right." They shook hands. " Can we get inside? Before I die of frost bite?" Harry took her arm and the three knocked on the Banbury's door. Sophie flung the door open, all smiles. She looked positively . . . "Wow," Dudley whispered in Harry's ear. Wow indeed! Sophie was wearing a dress that was hopelessly muggle: spaghetti straps, soft pink and it flared gently at her knee. Her hair was pinned up intricately with pretty silver pins. Harry's voice caught in his throat. "Hi," he said as easily as possible, and Sophie greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. She smells so sweet . . . "And you too, Dudley, wonderful to see you." She gave Dudley a peck on the cheek also, and then looked at Harry again-a twinkle forming in her eye similar to Hermione's. "Looking suave tonight, Harry!" "Doesn't he?" Hermione piped up, "I told him that too! And Sophie, I love your dress." "Oh! Thanks! You know that muggle store Zara, right? Here let me take your coat . . ." Sophie and Hermione embraced like long lost sisters and Sophie took her coat from her . . . And when Harry saw Hermione, well, talk about being rendered speechless. It was the Yule Ball all over again, only this time she wasn't hiding beneath those dress robes. Standing before him was a Hermione who was a mere ghost of the little girl he'd known before. She was wearing a long black dress that seemed to fit in all the right places just as the sun always seemed to hit her hair in all the right places. It scooped low in the front, showing off her creamy skin and her soft, sun kissed tendrils climbed luxuriantly down her back. Hermione was obviously aware of Harry's shock, so she merely kept on conversing with Sophie. "Impressive, Harry," Dudley was whispering. Harry gave him a look that warned 'shut up'! A loud boom sounded from the fireplace and the familiar green smoke rose into the air. Dudley had suppressed a scream and Harry turned to him, "It's okay. It's called "floo powder". Lots of our kind travel using it-- inexpensive and easy, although I don't particularly like it." "What, they just poof -- appear in fireplaces just like that?" Dudley's mouth was hanging open as he saw four people step out of the fireplace and start to wipe the soot off their cloaks. "Well . . . it is magic, Dudley." Speaking of magic-- the Banbury's living room was absolutely swimming in it. Gone was the semblance of their living room. Instead it had been transformed into a large room that was bathed in soft, warm light, snow framed the windowpanes even though no snow had fallen yet, and a gorgeous crystalline chandelier hung in mid air, rainbow reflections bouncing off the walls. In the corner of the room was the Banbury's enormous Christmas tree-- which was also covered with snow-- and red stockings, stuffed full with stocking stuffers, hung across the mantle place. Happy, festive music mingled in with the gentle chatter between the friends who had already arrived, and the periodic "Ahhs!" when someone new came in through the fireplace. "And who is that," said Dudley upon the latest puff of green smoke. A pretty girl in a deep navy blue dress was running her fingers through her siren red hair. Harry smiled. "That is Ginny Weasley. . ." he paused. "Oh. . . er . . . Dudley, you've actually met her before. . ." "No, I would remember meeting her--" Harry was suddenly worried. The Weasleys hadn't exactly left a good impression with Dudley when they'd last met. Fred and George had cast a spell which made his tongue swell to frightening proportions and it was quite a task for Mr. Weasley to put it right. "Them!" Dudley cried as Fred and George came out after Ron (Angelina Johnson had arrived with Fred and Padma Patil came with George.) "Hiya Harry!" said Ron gleefully upon sighting his friend and came swiftly to his side, the Weasleys close behind. "All right? Any--" his voice trailed and he stared at Dudley in complete disbelief. George had begun to shout 'what the hell is he doing here' but seeing the look in Harry's eye, he held his tongue. "You all remember Dudley, of course?" said Harry pleasantly. "Of course," said Ron, throwing Harry a 'what the hell' kind of look. "Hello," Dudley said, with much difficulty to sound as civil as possible. "And hello to all of you." Harry turned around to see Imelda Banbury standing next to him, dressed in that favorite lavender dress of hers, with Roger at her side. The dress looked different, however-- it hung as it hadn't before. Indeed, Imelda was looking quite thin and there was a tiredness about her eyes that was very noticeable. Her hair wasn't it's usual, soft, floppy self, but was much straighter and shorter. In short: she looked as though she'd had a very rough past few months. Harry was determined not to show Imelda that he noticed the change, and threw her a hug. "It's so good to see you," he said. "And you," she said and then took her hand to his face. "Let me look at you." She smiled upon his face-- her eyes staring at him just long enough to make Harry a bit uneasy what with all his friends watching. "Yes, yes," she said, "all grown up already." "It's only been three months!" She shrugged. "Has it? It feels like an eternity." She turned to Dudley and the Weasley clan. "And . . . I do not believe I know all of you." Sophie cut in, "I've only just been meeting them as well. This is Angelina Johnson, Padma Patil and Colin Creevey. And of course you know the Weasleys already, and Dudley." "Dudley," she repeated, "I don't remember his name on your guest list-- but I am glad you decided to come, my boy." Dudley smiled. "You've done wonders with the place, Mrs Banbury." "No, credit goes to my little Sophie, not me." Poor Imelda, thought Harry. She even sounds tired. As though she's really a million miles away. Harry could only guess how hectic life was at the Ministry now that the Lestranges had escaped. If he'd had to deal with cleaning up Cornelius Fudge's mess, he'd look just as shattered as Imelda did. Sophie stuck to Ron as her escort, although Ron did look rather helpless as to exactly what he was supposed to do. What really humiliated him was when Dudley had to finally go and get Sophie a drink after Ron had failed to get her several hints about it. Hermione and the Weasleys were both stunned at the news of the unexpected metamorphosis of Dudley Dursley. Fred and George still didn't seem entirely convinced, but all of them had to admit that it was a vast improvement. And Harry even admitted that it was rather fun watching Dudley's wide-eyed wonderment at everything he saw: from the hanging chandelier to the snow on the window panes to the conversation that he listened to, filled with words he'd never heard before. And when Seamus arrived (the last one to arrive actually) with Hufflepuff Hannah Abbot, Dudley was at once convinced that kids were kids-- whether wizarding or muggle-- because Seamus made the announcement that now the real party could start as he had brought a bountiful supply of Butterbeer. The kids roared in excitement and there was a rush for the delectable drink. Harry watched happily as Dudley took his first sip, his eyes went wild with excitement, and he chugged the rest of it down. Dudley had found a talking partner in Dean Thomas as Dudley's favorite football team was Liverpool, and the two had a terrific time going back and forth over the reasons why Fulham was pants compared to Liverpool or vice-versa. "Having fun, my dear?" Imelda was talking to Harry once again and he smiled. "Absolutely." Imelda took her fingers and brushed Harry's hair away from his eyes. Her voice was hushed. "So very like your mother." Harry snapped to attention. "My mother? You knew my mother?" Imelda's smile was tired, and her voice distant. "Yes. . .we all knew your mother. People say you look like your father, but I see your mother-- you have that innocent beauty she had. . ." Imelda was a million miles away. "We went to school together, did I ever tell you?" "No." Harry was hanging on every word. "Yes. . . I admit that she and I were not the best of friends. . . I suppose I though myself better than she. . ." "Oh," said Harry, remembering his mother was muggle born. "Is that because of who your family was?" "When we are young, we never see things clearly," she said quietly. "It is only with time that we see the entire picture and realize how important that is." Harry wasn't too sure what she was trying to say, but he agreed nonetheless. After one last look, she smiled and walked away. "Hey," said Sophie coming up beside him with Ron. She was holding onto a half empty bottle of butterbeer and nodded towards her mother, "she looks terrible, doesn't she." "I didn't want to say anything, but . . . yeah." Sophie grimaced. "The change was all very sudden-- very drastic. I think that everything going on with the ministry has really hit her hard." "My dad as well," said Ron glumly. "Fudge is in a panic over what to do about the Lestrange's escape." "He should have listened to Dumbledore," said Harry. "he warned him that something like this would happen." "Something like what?" said Dudley happily, joining the conversation. Sophie gave him a warm smile, "that we'd run out of butterbeer so early in the evening! Seamus should have known to bring more!" "Oh, it's bloody fantastic, this stuff!" Dudley had most obviously had more than he should have: his face was turning bright red and his voice was quite loud. "They need to sell this stuff in our stores! Make a bloody fortune, it would!" "Hey," said Ron, "anyone seen Hermione?" Harry shook his head. "Hmph. Some escort you are, Harry," said Ron. Sophie's face brightened and she threw a wink at Harry. "Er. . . actually Ron, I think I sent her to help my Dad with something out back-- would you mind checking to see if they have everything under control? Please?" Ron didn't protest and promptly left for the back garden. Harry and Sophie smiled at him as he left. "See?" She said, "He just dropped everything. I don't care what you say, Harry, the boy is obviously smitten." "I'll say," Dudley spoke up, "his eyes have been on nothing else all night. What, he's trying' to prove to the world he doesn't fancy her?" They nodded. "The silly sod. He's doin' a right sloppy job of it." "I wish he'd just get over his pride and admit it. . ." "He'd better hurry," said Dudley, looking irritated that his butterbeer bottle was now bone-dry. "Someone's gonna snatch up a looker like her sooner or later. That reminds me, Harry, you will give her my phone number if Ron ever moves on to someone else." Sophie snickered. "Men. Muggle or Wizard, they're still the same." * The party gradually fell to a close-- it was well after midnight when the last guests left the Banbury's. Hermione's parents had come at half past eleven and she'd given Harry a bear hug and a 'thank you' for what she called a 'wonderful evening.' The Weasleys filed out and soon after them, Harry and Dudley decided to embark on that treacherously long jaunt home. "I'll tell ya one thing, Harry," said Dudley as they walked through the slumbering Dursley household and climbed up the staircase, "Hogwarts must not be all that bad when you've got talent like that there..." "Dudley," said Harry warningly. "... I mean, there's Sophie for one thing, that Ginny-- too bad she's a Weasley. They all think I'm evil-- dunno, maybe I am. And of course, there's your 'not-a-girlfriend'..." "I mean it," he said again, trying to blow over the fact that Hermione's appearance had disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. Dudley laughed and opened the door to his room. "Night, cousin." He shut the door and then swung it open quickly again, just enough to reveal his still red face. "By the way-- Happy Christmas." The door slammed shut quickly leaving Harry alone. "Happy Christmas," he whispered quietly in the hall. He walked into his room, a smile still on his face, wondering if in the morning Dudley would return to his former terror and hoping against hope he wouldn't-- it was nice having a friend so nearby. Chapter Eleven: The Christmas Presents Christmas morning in the Dursley household was. . . strange. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, of course, said nothing to Harry at all. Dudley, however, was speaking quite freely, unwrapping his cornucopia of presents as though he were on autopilot, not bothering to oooh or aahhhh over any of them. "oh yeah Mum, it was a lovely party. Lots of friends from Sophie's school were there. Mrs. Banbury is still looking horrible--" "Oh it must be the weather--" "-- and of course she wanted me to tell you hello. We had a good time, didn't we Harry?" Harry didn't want Dudley to include him in the conversation, but nodded anyway. Dudley's hands paused over a small, badly wrapped gift. He looked up at Harry and Harry blushed. If there was one person who could have done without another present, it was Dudley Dursely. But that morning something inside of Harry compelled him to search through what meager possessions he'd brought with him and give Dudley a present. Harry hoped, that if Dudley really had changed, he would understand that this gift which was being given out of pure goodness of heart, was worth infinitely more than his parents' gifts that were really given only because it was expected. Dudley slowly unwrapped the silver paper and stared for a long time at the contents of the box. It was the quill he had purchased in Hogmeade that he'd first intended to give Sophie-- but given the changing circumstances, he wanted to see what Dudley would make of receiving such a gift. Dudley held the long, delicate, gold and deep violet quill in his hand. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were staring at it, mouths open: it really was a beautiful quill. Finally, Dudley spoke. "Harry. . . you realize I won't be able to make heads or tails of it. I've terrible penmanship." "Then you can just keep it on your desk, if you like." "You," said Vernon. "You gave Dudley that!" "Of all the preposterous things!" Petunia shrieked. "What will Dudley do with a quill? You didn't get it from any of your stores, did you? If so, Dudley will be giving it right back--" "Like hell, I will! This is better than any of those crap presents you've been giving me." The Dursleys shrieked. Harry beamed: Dudley had changed. "Dudders! We spend good money on those! Look, it's play station2 and--" "I already have that, you know mum. And what the bleeding hell am I supposed to do with this?" he said, holding up a flashlight wrapped in a red bow. "A flashlight? I mean, are the two of you that flipping mental? What the hell do I care? This is the best present I've had in years," he said holding up the quill. "And it's not because it's anything cool or trendy or expensive--" Actually, it was, thought Harry. . . "--it's because he gave it to me because he wanted to. You two just give me presents because you know bloody well I'll raise Cain if you don't." "Dudley Dursely! Don't talk to your mother that way--" "And you should talk?" said Dudley. "After the way you talk to Harry? How can you have the gall to lecture me on my manners when you've been flipping Adolf Hitler to him his whole life." Dudley stood up, his face twisted in anger. "Come on Harry, let's go for a walk. Get out of this place before I really loose my temper!" Petunia and Vernon were staring at Harry, murder in their eyes, and Harry simply followed his cousin, the both of them grabbing their coats of the coat rack and walking out into the frigid December air. It was very quiet between them for the longest time. Finally, after they had rounded off Privet Drive onto Martin Close, Harry said, "Thank you for all that back there." "Oh that? Please. It's nothing those old fogies don't know already." Dudley dug into his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. "Ciggie?" Harry shook his head and they kept walking. "Hey, thanks for the quill. It's wicked." He let out a puff of smoke that lingered in the air thickly. "Sorry I didn't get you anything." That's twice in the past two days that Dudley Dursley has apologized! "Don't mention it." His cigarette butt glowed red as he took another puff. "I try so hard to piss Mum and Dad off, you know? To have them yell or slam me down or do something to show that they understand I'm not their little eleven year old bundle of joy. That I'm really their fifteen-year-old troublemaking ass. But. . . they really don't care. I could probably blow up all of London, and Mum would still pinch my cheeks and tell me I was just absolutely bloody perfect. The psychopath." Harry smiled. "I seem to have no trouble pissing them off." "Well they have to take it out one someone, I suppose." He shook his head. "Wish they'd just croak, the both of 'em." "Ah, you don't mean that." "Don't I?" "No," said Harry seriously. "I mean it. Remember-- my parents are dead. I wouldn't want that for anyone. Even if your parents are the Dursleys." He paused. "Maybe a couple broken bones, a long term illness even-- but not immediate death, no. Never." Dudley laughed. "Pub?" he asked as they crossed the High street. Harry nodded, and the two ducked inside the tiny, comfortable pub, taking shelter from the bitter cold. They were the only patrons (except for a man slumped over the bar) and they sat at the hard wood chairs, ordering a coke each. "Blech," said Dudley, cringing as he drank his. "I'd give anything for a butterbeer right now. So. . ." he said slowly. "Speaking of. . . all that." "All what?" "Your parents. You know what I've always wondered is. . . where did you get that scar from. I know that somehow it's tied in with your parents. I mean, I know that they were killed by someone, some kind of crazy lunatic, I've caught bits and pieces over the years, but . . I've never heard the real story about it. I mean, hell Harry, it's flipping unreal, that scar." "You really want to know?" "Absolutely." So, taking a sip from his drink, he leaned forward in his chair and told him. Everything. About the student named Tom Riddle who became Lord Voldemort. About his parents being forced into hiding and his mother giving her life for his. He explained how that spell had made Harry impenetrable by Voldemort's death curse, giving him only the scar on his forehead. He told him in detail about Voldemort's painful, half existence, living as a parasite, drinking unicorn blood-- and then the nightmare of last year when he returned to full power. Of watching Cedric die. And then of course, he gave the story of Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Dudley had nearly finished his pack of cigarettes by the time Harry had finished. "H-Harry. . ." he whispered. "My God. It doesn't sound possible. It sounds like . . . like a movie or a book or something." "Believe me, it's no book. It's my life." "And this whole area has been protected from Dark Wizards our whole life? That should make you feel relieved! Knowing that Vandermart can't just barge in and take you." "Yeah. . . but up until this past week, there was nothing I hated more than coming here." Dudley kept his stare on his cousin-a flicker in his blue eyes. "I. . . had no idea. I dunno what I thought you did at your school, but. . . Jesus, Harry!" And then he smiled. "That old scum Vandermart-- shown up three times by a kid in school! Ha! Some all powerful wizard he is, eh Harry?" Harry smiled slightly, but there was no way he could make Dudley understand just how powerful Voldemort really was. They finally started on their jaunt back home, Harry listening quietly as Dudley rambled on and on about school, how much a waste of time he thought it to be, and everything else in the world that really ticked him off. "Wow Dudley, is there anything in the world you do like?" asked Harry as they rounded onto Privet drive once more. "Yeah," he said in a much more softer tone. "And she's standin' right there." Harry looked up to see Sophie walking towards them briskly, her face bright red from the cold, smile wide. "Hey you two! Where have you been all day? We've got presents for you, you know!" She linked both her arms through theirs and walked them towards number three. "And I want to thank you both-- I adored your presents. Harry, the writing journal was absolutely beautiful. And Dudley," she wiggled her fingers, showing off a simple, small silver band. "it's a gorgeous ring, really. You've good taste, you know." Harry couldn't see him, but he was sure Dudley was turning pink. Inside the house, Imelda was busy setting down cups of tea on the coffee table, a tray of shortbread awaiting them. "Merry Christmas boys," came that soft voice that just seemed to make Harry's heart break into pieces. "Merry Christmas Mrs. Banbury," said Dudley respectfully. She greeted him with a hug and then to Harry, she embraced him-- once again letting her fingers play with his hair as she had the night before. Harry wasn't particularly comfortable with this and found himself letting him free from her hug, still smiling. "Please, help yourself to the biscuits, you three. We called earlier, but you'd left-- where have you been?" "Oh, out and about," said Harry. "Just talking." "Ah. How wonderful to see you two are so close. It's such an important thing-- family. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my own dear sister . . ." her voice trailed off and Sophie stared at her expectantly. Harry well remembered Sophie telling him that Imelda rarely ever mentioned her late sister, and when she did it was an extremely awkward thing. Dudley was apparently ignorant of this and asked, innocently, "Really? What was she like?" Imelda was quiet. "I admit-- I never truly knew her." And then she looked over her shoulder. "Roger?" Roger appeared, carrying four gift-wrapped boxes and handing them over to the boys. "Merry Christmas." They both let out a surprised cry and gave each other a fiendish smile before ripping open the wrappings. "Easy, there!" Sophie was laughing. Dudley was holding a shirt with the Liverpool Football club logo on it, and a matching cap. "Actually I need this! All my other shirts are a bit too baggy, really-- this looks just right." Harry, however, was in a state of shock. Sophie had gift-wrapped a very top of the line broomstick slip cover to keep his firebolt inside of specifically-- the lined cover even had the Firebolt insignia on it. But it was Imelda's gift that had left him speechless: a gold ring. Not just any gold ring-- but one that looked as thought it were a wedding band. Yes. . . he was certain it was a wedding band. And he was almost certain of whose it was . . . "Yes Harry," Imelda said almost as if she were reading his thoughts, "it was your mother's wedding ring." "My mothers'," he whispered, holding it up in his trembling hands. "B-but how d-did you ever--" "I've been with the ministry for many years. There is, in the department of special investigations, a sort of vault, if you will. Every piece of evidence in every case we have investigated is tagged and marked and kept under lock and key. Of course, the Lily and James Potter case is amongst the many. I have been fighting, ever since I moved here, to convince Fudge that this should rightly belong to you, and at long last he agreed." Dudley and Sophie's eyes were focused on him, but Harry was only vaguely aware of them. He was staring at the lightweight piece of gold in his palm, transfixed. "Her fingers were so tiny," he breathed, his vision blurring with the tears forming his eyes. He felt his chest tighten up and he clenched his fists, holding the ring firmly in his grasp. He closed his eyes, willing the tears not to come, but a single tear had found its way out and was falling down his cheek alone. No, this is too much to take . . . "Thank you," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I. . . I 'm sorry Mrs. Banbury, I don't mean to be rude, but . . . I have to go." He stood up, not making eye contact with any of them. He bolted for the door, barely hearing Dudley calling after him 'Hey! Wait up!' He ran to number four, dashed upstairs and threw himself on the bed. And he let the rest of the tears come-- silent, yet plentiful just the same. He stared at the ring-- his mothers ring-- something she had once worn . . . something she'd been wearing when Voldemort had murdered her . . . something that was amongst her most cherished possessions. . . and now he had it. * Dudley had been even more understanding than Harry would have ever thought to give him credit for: he never brought up the ring with Harry. All he did, after Harry had finally let himself out of his room again, was say "All right?" Harry had nodded, and that had been the end of it. And that was exactly what Harry had wanted. The Christmas holidays were ending, and soon Harry was packing up his suitcase to head back to Hogwarts. Only this time it was different. He didn't want to stay at Privet Drive, yet he couldn't quiet the nagging feeling that he was going to . . . miss Dudley Dursley. It was a new emotion-- this affection for his cousin-- and it was a confusing one. He wasn't sure how to deal with it, and on the morning of his departure, he didn't know what to say to Dudley. Fortunately, he didn't have to. Dudley had a way of saying exactly what they both were feeling without having to come right out with it. "Bloody lucky bastard, you are. Gettin' out of this deathtrap. Don't reckon they'd let me in with you, eh?" Harry snickered and picked up his suitcase, walking towards where Dudley stood in his doorway. "Erm, no, don't reckon they would." Harry paused-- just six months ago Dudley would have thought such talk completely absurd, and now there he stood saying it! "Dudley-- you know, this is kind of--" "I know," said Dudley, obviously feeling just as awkward about this new. . . stage of their relationship. "And remember? We agreed, you and I, that talking is good." "Yeah," he said nodding. "Talking is good." He paused. "Er. . . did we agree that writing was good as well?" Dudley laughed. "Mum and Dad would fly into a spastic rage if I started receiving letters from you. So . . . in that case, yes. Writing is good as well!" They both laughed just as Aunt Petunia appeared, her face cold and eyes pure venom. "Let's get going, then, I've things to do today." She disappeared down the stairs and Dudley stuck his tongue out at her. Harry shook his head. "Have fun," he said as he slowly left to follow her. Dudley nodded. "Right. And by the way, while you're at school you might want look into contacts or something-- get rid of those bloody ridiculous glasses--" "I like these bloody ridiculous glasses, thank you." They smiled at each other and held their stare. Finally, Harry simply punched his shoulder playfully and then headed down the stairs after his Aunt. *** Ron and Hermione couldn't believe any of what Harry told them. The New and Improved Dudley Dursley just didn't seem possible to any of them. Harry of course understood their skepticism, and after so many years of complete brutality, Harry was still admittedly a bit skeptical. However he was welcome to a shot at some sort of friendship with him-- and that fortnight at Privet Drive had been a fantastic start. The time bonding with Dudley, if that is the right word, was great-- but Harry was most definitely ever so happy to be back at Hogwarts. To be home. Harry felt as though it had been years since he'd seen Sirius, and was bursting with anticipation to see him again the next day in class, as he was with Hagrid as well-- yes, even Professor McGonagall. Walking into their first class the next day, Potions, Harry felt on top of the world being back into the swing of things again. That is until he head a voice say "Good Morning, Class," that was most definitely not Professor Warwick's. Harry spun around in his seat to find Professor Snape gliding towards the front of the classroom, his old scowl firmly in place and menacing voice still as chilling as ever. The rest of the class held similar confused countenances-- even the Slytherins. It was most definitely a rude awakening: expecting to see the stunning Professor Warwick in her gorgeous robes, and instead being met with stern faced, ill humored Snape. Harry's mouth was agape in surprise. Professor Snape must have been aware of the cumulative shock of the classroom because before diving into the lesson he decided to furnish them with an explanation. "Professor Warwick was called away most unexpectedly during the Christmas Holidays due to personal matters, and though I was not slated to return until Spring, I was of course most willing to take the reigns once more. I do hope everyone enjoyed their holiday as we are now back to work. I see Professor Warwick did cover most of the material, however it does appear there will still be some catching up we will need to do. At this point I would suggest you allot yourselves an extra hour of potions homework every night so that we may catch up to where we need to be." Harry saw Ron and Hermione's faces fall, as indeed the rest of the classes had at the news. A double whammy: The return of Snape and extra potions homework. Harry managed to not loose any points from Gryffindor during that first lesson, which was a relief to him considering Snape's usual compulsion to do so. Perhaps if he just kept extra quiet in class, the two of them could have a relatively peaceful term. There was even a glimmer of hope in Harry that, given the miraculous change in Dudley, perhaps the same could happen with Snape! After all, last year Dumbledore had said that they were all on the same side now, right? Right! Walking into Potions the next day, Harry was feeling decidedly more confident about Snape's return. He even went so far as to give Snape a smile and amicable nod as he took his seat. Snape had merely stared at him and then returned his attention to his lesson plan. The minute the rest of the class had assembled, Snape wasted no time in proving to Harry just how wrong he was. "Mr. Potter, since you seem to be in a particularly cheerful disposition this morning, I thought perhaps you might share with us by way of reminder what the basic points of the Garvarian Theory are since we will be building upon this basic theory in the next lesson." Harry blinked. "The G-Garvarian Theory? Actually, Professor Warwick didn't cover that. We didn't get that far." "Of course you didn't, however it was covered in the homework I assigned last night, that is of course provided you actually did your homework last night." "But Sir, I thought that you said we had until Friday to read those chapters--" "Miss Granger, of course you read the assigned chapters, did you not?" "Y-yes, but it wasn't--" "Then would you please provide the answer for the rest of the class as Mr. Potter seems inept to do so." Hermione blinked and gave Harry a sympathetic look. "The Garvarian Theory, developed by the 4th century Balkan sorcerer Ulysees P. Garvarian is the still controversial belief that all potions regardless of their complexity have their true greatness weighted by the "y" variable, time, in the standard potions formula a + b x y = x." Harry was grimacing on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "He's baaaaack," said Ron good naturedly, knowing that how fuming mad Harry was. Harry shook his head. "Whatever. I'm not gonna loose sleep over the fact that he's still as much a jerk as he's always been." The sight of Sirius provided an immediate relief to Harry. Professor Grave gave a quick, inconspicuous wink over his glasses to Harry as he found his seat which somehow made Harry smile, even though he certainly hadn't felt like it. "For the next month," said Professor Gray, "this class, your history of Magic class and your Potions class will all be focusing on a special curriculum that is geared at preparing you for your upcoming class trip. You might want to take notes on this, as we'll be talking about nothing else for the next four weeks of your life! As you have probably memorized by now, the class trip will be making three stops: The Bermuda Triangle, Stonehenge and The Caledonian Forest. Therefore, we will be focusing on learning about dark arts activity and history in these three places-- your history class will be focusing on the magical history of these places, and your potions class will be focusing on potions composed of ingredients found only in these places. All of course, a reminder that this trip isn't going to be a leisure one, contrary to popular belief . . ." he smiled at the class, "although it will come close, I promise you." The class eventually dismissed and, as Harry had hoped, Professor Gray called out, "Mr. Potter, might I have a word with you?" They waited until the class was empty and then embraced each other heartily. Sirius took off his glasses and beamed at him. "So glad you're back, my boy. You must tell me all about your holiday with the Dursleys. I can only imagine the horrible nightmare it must have been." "Oh Sirius, you will never believe what's happened!" He took a seat on the edge of Sirius' desk. "My cousin Dudley? He's . . . he's a completely different person! I know this sounds crazy, but . . . he's changed! He's always been downright violent if ever I mentioned Hogwarts or anything to do with our kind and all of a sudden he started asking me questions! And . . . being nice to me! Defending me in front of my Aunt and Uncle!" Sirius' eyes were wide. "But . . . why?" "Well," said Harry eagerly, "as it turns out, he's in love with the girl next door! For the past three months he'd been undergoing this massive shift in character to become the sort of person she'd like! You wouldn't even recognize him Sirius, he's lost weight and doesn't wear that horrible frown on his face all because of this girl. A girl who just so happens to be a witch!" "No!" "Yes! He found out quite by accident and that was all it took to sober him up, I suppose! He realized that he was head over heels in love with one of our kind! So when I came to visit his attitude was quite different!" Sirius' face was alight with intrigue. "Who's the girl? Do I know her family?" "Er--probably! Sophie Banbury-Imelda Banbury's daughter? She works for the Ministry." "Oh yes," said Sirius in a drawn out voice, "Imelda Banbury's daughter? Isn't she a muggle?" "No. She's a witch-- she actually takes classes here via corresponance. " "Of all people for Dudley to fall for--a Imelda Banbury's daughter." Sirius shook his head, still looking thoughtful. "Tell me--how is Imelda these days?" "Oh, all right I suppose . . . dunno, she's been acting really depressed lately. She looks like she's under a lot of stress . . . she's just so different. Sophie says it has to do with everything going on at the Ministry." "I should think so," said Sirius, "especially because it was the Lestranges who escaped." "Sorry? Why does that especially matter?" "What, she never told you who her sister is? Her sister is Delphine Lestrange." Harry's mouth fell. "What? But I thought her sister was . . . dead." "Can you blame her for saying so? It was such a disgrace to the Arlington's-- that's Imelda's family name." His voice grew quiet. "Besides, anyone in Azkaban is as good as dead. . . you have no idea, Harry." "So . . . with Delphine Lestrange freed from Azkaban . . . " Harry shook his head. "Oh my goodness, poor Imelda. No wonder she looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. Sophie never told me about any of that-" "Sophie probably doesn't know," said Sirius plainly. And then there was a twinkle in his eye. "And you sure seem to know an awful lot about this Sophie girl . . ." he leaned close to his Godson. "Are you sure that maybe you and Dudley don't have something else in common? Namely, this intriguing girl next door?" Harry laughed at the accusation. "Oh Sirius, you don't know what you're talking about. Sophie is a friend, that's all! She's . . . she's like a sister, really!" Sirius didn't argue, but kept the same grin. Inside Harry was in a panic: He'd just said precisely what Ron had said about Hermione.