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Harry Potter and the Psychic Serpent
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Chapter Two
Training Dudley
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The next morning Harry got up even earlier than usual, dressing in shorts, a singlet, and trainers. He drank two glasses of water before running but did not eat anything. At first he felt fine, his feet pounding on the sidewalk as he passed house after house, the lawns dewy and moist-smelling. But after a short distance he was winded, unused to the pace he was attempting. He pushed on, nonetheless, until he reached the park about a half-mile from the house, before turning around and running half-heartedly back, feeling every moment as though his heart would burst.
He finally arrived back at number four, Privet Drive, sweat running down his face and his legs wobbling with every step, as if he'd just learned to walk. He staggered up the stairs to the bathroom, collapsing in a heap in the corner of the shower stall while the water beat down on him.
For the next week he didn't get much done in the garden; running in the morning had him all done in, and he felt like he was dragging himself around the rest of the day. By Saturday his aunt and uncle were complaining about how slowly the work was going and Harry didn't blame them; if he were moving any slower he thought he'd be going backwards.
"Sorry," he said at dinner, barely able to keep his head from falling on his plate. "I've been trying to build up my stamina by running in the mornings. I only started, so I'm not really there yet. But I'll work over the weekend too, don't worry…"
He was startled by a light coming into his aunt's eyes. "Is that what you've been doing? Running!" He could virtually see little wheels in her head spinning around. "In that case, you have another job—unpaid, I might add. You can be Dudley's trainer!"
Dudley looked up from his celery sticks and lettuce; the rest of them had pork chops, potatoes and buttered beans. Harry and Dudley eyed each other, equally horrified.
"But Mum—"
"But Aunt Petunia—"
"But nothing!" his aunt declared. "You start tomorrow!"
Harry and Dudley both grimaced, glaring warily at each other. There'd been an uneasy detente in the house since Harry's return, but that didn't mean they wanted to do things together, especially running every morning. Harry had been getting better and better every morning. That day he had run back and forth to the park twice, keeping a good steady pace and feeling more energized at the start of his work day than winded. He had also learned about warming up and warming down before and after running from a report on the evening news, and he wasn't cramping up now, as he had on his third day out.
The next morning he knocked on Dudley's door after he had dressed. There was no answer. Harry turned the knob and entered.
Dudley was still in bed, fast asleep. Harry looked around his room; it was a dream for any fifteen-year-old boy. He had two televisions and video recorders, a state-of-the-art stereo system, a computer with a twenty-inch screen and about a hundred computer games. He had every CD he wanted, every video he wanted (some, Harry noted, were very racy) and there wasn't a book in sight. After he searched through Dudley's dresser for something he could wear, as well as trainers and socks, he shook Dudley roughly.
"Wake up, you! Your mum wants us to go running, so we're going running!" Harry never wasted his breath being polite to Dudley, as he did with his aunt and uncle; that was just for self-preservation. Dudley rolled over and opened his eyes, alarmed. He closed them again, covering his head with the pillow.
"Geroff! Go away! This is a nightmare!"
Harry pulled the pillow off his face and threw back the covers. He put his face an inch from Dudley's and tried to sound like a drill sergeant he'd seen in an American movie about the army.
"Get up, you git! You are going running!"
Dudley tried to swat him away but Harry was too fast; he sprang across the room, jogging lightly in place near the door.
"If you want to whomp me you'll have to catch me!"
Dudley grunted and reluctantly pulled on the clothes Harry threw at him and tied his trainers. Harry ran out the door and down the steps, feeling the entire staircase shudder as Dudley furiously followed him. Harry opened the front door and sprinted down the front walk, Dudley following after he'd shut the door.
After he'd passed a couple of houses, Harry realized he wasn't hearing another set of footsteps behind him anymore. He turned, jogging in place again to keep up his heartrate, and saw that Dudley was standing in front of the house next door to number four, his head in the vicinity of his knees, panting and already dripping with sweat.
Harry jogged back to Dudley, hopping beside him, waiting silently. After a couple of minutes, Dudley straightened and Harry nodded, still jogging in place.
"Right, then," he said to Dudley. "Ready to go on?" Dudley nodded grimly, no longer attempting to whomp Harry, seemingly determined to do anything his cousin could do. And possibly considering his chances with Julia in September.
Harry slowed, though he was still literally running rings around Dudley. He would jog forward few houses, jog back to Dudley, stay by his side for another handful of houses until the pace started to frustrate him, sprint forward again, and backtrack once more to be by Dudley's side. When they finally reached the park Dudley wanted to collapse on the grass but Harry wouldn't let him.
"Stretching now," he told him. "Should have done it before we left, but now will do. Otherwise you'll cramp up." He demonstrated for Dudley, who gamely tried all of it, even reaching for his toes. (He wasn't even close.) Harry nodded at him, surprised that he was doing as well as he was. He wouldn't have thought Dudley would be able to do half of what he had, let alone without constant whining.
After the stretching, Harry told him to get up for the run back. Dudley did better this time; he and Harry jogged side by side much of the way back to Privet Drive, though Harry was holding himself back. When they reached the garden gate, Harry told him they had to do warm-down stretches, and Dudley nodded, red-faced and panting, complying without a word. When they rose to enter the house Harry slapped Dudley on the back, giving him a small smile. Dudley gave a tired smile back, but it seemed to be a great effort and ceased quickly as Dudley closed his eyes and staggered up the stairs to the bathroom for a shower. As Harry watched him go, it seemed to him that in the time it had taken them to run to the park and back something had somehow changed between them. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his arm as he walked to the kitchen, turned on the tap, and proceeded to drink with his head half in the sink.
After a week, Dudley was running by Harry's side every morning, though Harry was still going slower than he would have liked and sometimes sprinted ahead and back to Dudley. He usually drank a good deal of water and had some food while Dudley showered, then took his turn in the bathroom. He was so busy working on training Dudley and landscaping seven days a week that his birthday crept up on him.
On the morning of the thirty-first of July Dudley came into Harry's room to wake him instead of the other way around, as was their usual routine. It was a Monday morning, bright and humid, and Harry was particularly tired because he'd stayed up late reading for his History of Magic summer homework, writing a parchment and a half about Dumbledore defeating Grindelwald in 1945.
Harry groaned and looked up at Dudley much as Dudley had done on their first day of training, only to see his pillow coming down on his face. "Oi!" he yelled as Dudley pressed it down on him before worming his way off the bed, falling on the floor with a thud. Dudley threw the pillow onto the bed, laughing.
"You should have seen your face!" he howled. He tossed a package onto the bed. "Happy birthday, Harry." Harry gawped at him from the floor, in shock. He had never received a birthday gift from his cousin. He pulled himself back onto the bed and opened the wrappings, which had concealed a portable tape player and headphones. There was already a tape in it. It was good to go.
Harry smiled at Dudley. "Thanks, Dud." He examined the tape in the player; it was some Goth band. "Goth?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "Just because I'm a wizard?"
Dudley shrugged. "It's all I could think of. It's not new. Neither is the tape player; it's an extra one. I don't need three." Even though Dudley was admitting that he'd made a minimal effort to get him a birthday present Harry appreciated it. It was more than his aunt and uncle had ever done. Just as they were about to leave a sudden flurry of owls came in the window. Harry had sent Hedwig to Sirius several days before with a letter asking about spell books for using snakes in magic. Now she was returning with his present and a card. Harry started to open it, but a medium-sized brown owl flew in with a package unmistakably bearing Hermione's handwriting, followed by Pigwidgeon hauling a package far too large for him and a frightening eagle owl that Harry suspected had brought something from Hagrid, who had given Hedwig to him as his first birthday gift, when he was eleven.
Dudley backed into a corner, alarmed by the four owls but trying to seem composed. Harry took the packages from them, one by one, gave each of them owl treats, and sent them on their way except for Hedwig, who settled into her cage for a nap. Harry tore the paper off Sirius's package first. He set the card up on a shelf and examined the large book in his hands: Sorcerers, Serpents and Snakes by Colleen Colubra. Inside Sirius had inscribed it: "Dear Harry—Happy Fifteenth Birthday! From your godfather". There followed a scrawl wherein Harry could vaguely make out an S and a B, but which was otherwise illegible. Harry started to page through the book, grinning. This seemed like it might have something useful in it. He wanted to start reading it right away but forced himself to move on to Hagrid's package. It had some kind of very sweet-smelling pastry with honey and walnuts in it, which Hagrid identified as a Ukrainian version of baklava. "…not that I'm saying I'm in Ukraine…" Hagrid's note said. Harry smiled. Hagrid was terrible at keeping secrets.
Next he opened Ron's. After setting another card up on the shelf above his desk he found a cake sent by Ron's mother, a box of Honeydukes sweets, a belt with two entwined snakes for a buckle, and a narrow holster attached to it for his wand. Sirius has been talking, Harry thought. He noticed that there was another card and a small bundle in the bottom of the Weasley parcel. The card was from Ginny, saying simply, "Happy Birthday, Harry. Love, Ginny." He opened the accompanying paper-wrapped lump and found a small amulet on a silver-colored chain. The amulet was shaped like a basilisk, and it had small glowing green eyes. He smiled and immediately put it around his neck. Dudley took the card and read it, raising his brows at Harry.
"Love, Ginny, huh?"
Harry grimaced, not feeling up to explaining Ginny and the basilisk to Dudley. Finally, he opened Hermione's package, which he could already tell—no surprise there—was another book. Sirius had definitely been talking, for it was a thick text on the care and feeding of snakes. As Harry opened the card, a photograph fluttered to the floor. Harry read the card while Dudley stooped to pick up the photo.
Dear Harry,
Happy Birthday! I hope you find this useful. Sirius said you might. Here's another photo, this time on Corfu. Now we're off to Bulgaria. Sirius will accompany us, posing as our dog. It seemed like the best plan of action. Mum is still a bit alarmed whenever he becomes human again; I think she prefers his canine form. Hope to see you in Diagon Alley! I'll say hello to Viktor for you. Thinking of you.
Love from Hermione
Harry smiled at the thought of Hermione's parents coping with Sirius changing into a large black dog and back as the mood struck him. Her parents weren't in the least bit magical; they were dentists, but they had accepted their daughter's status as a witch with equanimity.
Dudley was holding the photograph he'd picked up from the floor. Harry could see that on the back of the photo that Hermione had written Happy Birthday Harry, With Love From Hermione. Dudley's jaw hung open stupidly. He swallowed. "Is she your girlfriend?"
Harry sighed; he'd had to contend with that question for much of the previous year, when it had even been reported as fact in the wizarding newspaper The Daily Prophet. "No, we're just friends. She's one of my two best friends. Boy, people think just because a girl and boy are friends…"
"She's not a girl," Dudley interrupted.
Harry frowned at him. What was in the picture, anyway? Dudley was holding it very tightly; his knuckles were white. "Of course she's a girl, what are you on about?"
"Nope," Dudley insisted. "She's a woman." He handed the photo to Harry, and now it was Harry's turn to let his jaw drop.
Hermione was alone in the pnoto instead of with her parents. She was on a sunny beach, leaning back on her hands for support, with one tanned leg extended straight out, the other one bent. All she wore was a black crocheted bikini. It was a very small black crocheted bikini. Harry was floored. Hermione had so much—skin. She wore dark glasses again, as in the Parthenon picture, but she wasn't smiling; she seemed rather serious. Harry felt his mouth go dry.
From what seemed like a million miles away, Harry heard Dudley's voice say, "Are you sure she's not your girlfriend?" Harry was startled. He placed the photo on the shelf carefully, beside the other one.
"Yeah," he croaked; his voice had almost finished changing, but not quite. Dudley shook his head, turning to go.
"Idiot," he heard his cousin mutter as he left the room. Harry fingered the basilisk around his neck and again examined the picture of Hermione on the beach, her glowing skin, her hair a riot of shining curls, brown touched by gold, unmistakably now a woman and no longer a girl. He thought of her going to Bulgaria, and suddenly he understood Ron's annoyance with Viktor Krum.
After he and Dudley went running Dudley let him have the first shower. Harry was taking the day off from gardening. He sat down to skim the books from Sirius and Hermione, letting Dudley try some of the Every Flavor Beans Ron had sent. Dudley was fine when he got blueberry, treacle tart and even fish and chips, but recoiled when he got one that tasted unmistakably like furniture polish.
Periodically throughout the day Harry glanced at the photos on his shelf, hoping Hermione was all right and touching the amulet Ginny had sent, silently wishing for Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys to be safe.
At dinner Dudley sounded rather pointed as he asked Harry whether he had had a happy birthday and whether he'd had chance to try out his tape player. "If you want a different tape, just look in my room and take whatever you like," he added.
Harry thanked him and said that he hadn't tried it yet, but he thought he would tomorrow, while he was working in the garden. He didn't know yet quite what was coming. Now Dudley turned to his parents, saying, "So! What did you get Harry for his birthday?"
Harry's Aunt Petunia looked up from her plate, startled. His uncle Vernon stopped with a piece of meat he'd been chewing stuck in his left cheek pouch. They stared at their son as if they'd been hit by the strongest stunning curse there was.
"What?" his dad exploded after a minute, not having moved the half-chewed meat, so it went flying out of his mouth into the middle of the table. He reached for it, picked it up and put it back in his mouth. Harry recoiled, grimacing. "We never get him anything, you know that!"
That wasn't strictly true, Harry thought. For his tenth birthday he'd received a pair of his uncle's old socks and a wire coat hanger.
"Exactly!" Dudley shot back at his father. "What if something had happened to you when I was little, and Harry's parents had taken me in? Would you want them to treat me the way you've treated him all these years?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" said Aunt Petunia. "If anything had happened to us, you've have gone to Aunt Marge."
"That's not the point!" Dudley sputtered. "What if I'd gone to her and she treated me the way you treat Harry?"
"Well, that would never happen, Duds, because she loves you."
"I'm saying 'what if,' you gits!" Dudley exploded at them, shaking his head. His parents goggled at him, perplexed, not understanding the source or content of his teenage rebellion.
"Don't you talk to me that way, young man!" his father yelled, after a moment of shock.
"I'll talk to you any way I damn well please," Dudley informed him, getting up and leaving the room. Harry sat uncomfortably, still chewing a carrot, trying to do it quietly, looking back and forth between his aunt and uncle, who were now glaring at him, clearly blaming him for Dudley's behavior.
"This is all your fault. You've—you've bewitched him! We'll tell that school of yours you're doing magic and you'll be kicked out!" said Aunt Petunia. Harry shook his head innocently, his eyes wide. He knew he wouldn't be kicked out; the Ministry of Magic could perform the Priori Incantatem on his wand and easily ascertain the last spell that had been performed by it. They wouldn't just take the word of a couple of Muggles.
He swallowed his food and excused himself, feeling their eyes boring into his back as he ran down the hall to the staircase. As much as he appreciated Dudley being on his side he'd been treading lightly with his aunt and uncle all summer, and didn't need them blaming him for Dudley's change of heart and accusing him of breaking the law against underage wizards performing magic outside of school.
He went to his room and sat on his bed to read more of Sirius's book when it occurred to him that he hadn't had any birthday cake. When he opened the box on his desk he could smell the rich chocolate and cream emanating from it. He had an idea and crossed the hall to knock on Dudley's door.
"Oi, Dud," he whispered loudly, sticking his head around the door. "Want some cake?"
Dudley was playing a computer game. "Well, okay. But only a small piece. I'm in training, you know."
Harry smiled. "I know." They went into his room and sat on the floor, but suddenly Dudley got up and ran back to his room. He returned with plates, forks and a cake server. Harry was perplexed.
"When they put me on the diet Mum cleaned all of the food out of my room I had stashed there, but she didn't care about this stuff. I have a service for eight." Harry smiled and sliced some cake for them both. "Happy Birthday, Harry," Dudley said with his mouth full.
Harry swallowed a bite of Mrs. Weasley's delicious birthday cake and smiled at his cousin. "You know, Dud, I actually think it is."
They each tucked in two pieces of cake and said goodnight. Harry lay back on the bed with his hands behind his head, gazing across the room at the cards and photos on the shelf, especially the photo of Hermione on the beach. He fingered the amulet around his neck for a moment; somehow, the idea of sleeping with it around his neck didn't bother him the way a shirt did. He took off his glasses and turned out the light. His birthdays were definitely getting better.
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