"Caw! Caw! Caw!"
Dudley Dursley looked with bloodshot eyes at the shrieking bird-horse monster next to him, calling out like a damnable rooster. Strutting around and shrieking, it'd probably wake up half the house if not for the sound-proofing charms on those walls
"I get it, it's morning, now go to sleep!" Dudley groaned at the infernal creature, but it ignored him.
From there, everything went to hell.
"Filth! Mudblood scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the bed I once rested in!"
"I don't like this raggedy old mattress, either." Dudley snapped back at the annoying portrait of the ugly woman. "Now shut it, or I'll take a knife out the kitchen and do some 'restoration' on your ugly face!"
Of course, this threat had no bearing on the portrait, who he learned was named 'Walburga', who kept shrieking unceasingly even as Dudley tried burying his head into his pillow. It took a specific type of narcissist to put a picture of herself in her own bedroom. At that point, she should've just used a mirror.
She had another portrait downstairs as well, but at least that one was covered up.
Then, as the final nail in his coffin, a soft, rhythmic thumping began sounding out, coming from the room, right next to him.
"No, no, not again! It's four in the morning for Chrissake!" Dudley groaned, throwing an old book at the wall.
But that doesn't stop the thumping, with it only intensifying in response.
It had only been a few hours since his unceremonious induction into the Wizarding World, and Dudley was already starting to regret his life decisions. Between Harry's friends who loathed him, the Weasleys who hated him and the other wizards who disdained him, he was definitely entering the magical world at a disadvantage.
Fortunately, Tonks still seemed to be okay with him, despite last night, but she'd said she'd be off at work for the next few days, so he wouldn't be seeing much of her.
That led him to his current predicament.
Dudley could swear that Sirius had taken a perverse pleasure to assigning him to this room, his dead mother's bedroom. Being decrepit and barren, aside from a bed, the portrait of the old hag and this annoying bird-freak, Buckbeak, the room stunk of old lady and a mixture of bird and horse dung. With feathers and half-eaten rats on the floor, Dudley knew his new roommate was quite lacking in table etiquette.
Moreover, the room was 'conveniently' placed just adjacent to the room of the married Weasleys and the sound-proofing charm only worked one-way. After a night sleeping next to them, Dudley finally understood how someone could have six kids.
They'd been thumping on the other side of the wall for the better part of an hour, making Dudley wonder just what kind of magic Potion Arthur was on. It had finally stopped at around eleven at night, allowing him a moment's peace and quiet, but now it had returned in full force.
"Don't they realize their kids are in the house?" Dudley groaned as he finally decided to get up and face the day.
Getting changed up in a hurry, Dudley tossed some feed into Bacon's cage, stroking his shell as he yawned out. The tiny turtle, who hadn't dared come out of shell in terror of the giant 'hippogriff', shivered a bit in recognition.
In the past, Dudley might have thrown a hissy fit over being put in this pathetic excuse for a room, but one thing being attacked by Dementors did quite well was to put things into perspective. There was a time when Dudley believed there was nothing worse than not getting everything he wanted. Now, he was well aware that there were much, much worse things in the world.
From the brief, and reluctant, tour that Sirius had given him yesterday, Dudley learned that despite being a two-storey house on the outside, Grimmauld place actually had four floors on this inside, with an additional ground floor, basement and attic to boot. Ignoring just how screwed-up the physics had to be for that to work out, 'Dudley's room' was on the third floor. Actually, it wasn't even Dudley's room, it was the bird-horse's room, and he was just 'sharing' it.
Decrepit as it was, Grimmauld place truly was a mansion. There were over a dozen bedrooms and countless other rooms from drawing rooms, bathrooms, book rooms… Sirius even claimed there was a dungeon in the basement, though Dudley hoped he was joking.
Leaving his room, Dudley didn't dare to explore, having been told that there were countless curses and dark creatures lurking in the shadows. All of which would likely see a muggleborn like himself as a perfect target.
Heading down to the kitchen as quietly as he could, he saw that it was empty, just as he liked it. Digging around in the pantry, Dudley avoided any ingredients he couldn't identify and figured he'd just fix himself up some eggs and bacon. His tongue twitched out of his mouth at the thought of it.
The eggs were… green, but otherwise they tasted alright, Dudley supposed. At least the bacon was real bacon. Once breakfast was out of the way, he figured he'd go out for a decent run to wake up, then pop back in for his first magic lesson at 7 O'clock.
Stretching out his arms, Dudley made his way to the front door, about to open when a voice called out from behind him.
"Going somewhere, are we?" The voice asked.
Dudley stiffened up, turning around and whipping his wand in the voice's direction, only to find that it was Sirius, his magic teacher to-be.
When Dumbledore had first nominated him, both Dudley and Sirius had protested, but eventually, buckled. From the old man's words, Sirius was once a top student, with near-perfect O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Plus, he was the only person who hung around enough to give Dudley immersive private lessons.
He'd gotten Sirius on board by explaining that teaching Dudley would be a good way to make him more presentable for Harry's case. After all, if they were arguing that Dudley was a wizard, it wouldn't be believable for him to only have one spell under his belt.
Still, they didn't have to like each other.
"Don't sneak up on a man like that!"
"Or what? You'll cast Lumos on me?" Sirius teased.
Dudley scrunched up his face, but he couldn't refute that. Despite trying out a few other spells, Lumos was the only one he could cast reliably.
"What're you doing up anyways?"
"Keeping an eye on you." Sirius responded. "Dumbledore might trust you to keep your word, but I sure as hell don't. If you're thinking about pulling a vanishing act, I'd advise you didn't. Now answer my question."
"I'm going on a run."
"I'll come with you."
"Aren't you an international fugitive or something? I doubt you could leave even if you wanted." Dudley taunted.
"If it's just around the block, it'll be alright."
Dudley frowned. Sirius was pretty much the spitting image of his wanted poster. They wouldn't get so far as a block without getting spotted.
He was just about to raise this point when Sirius's body started shrinking and twisting. It looked sort of like Tonks's little tricks, but much more advanced as he suddenly turned into a large, bear-sized dog.
At this point, Dudley was too sleepy to be astonished but he figured taking out a dog on a run wouldn't be all that suspicious. Sure, a dog as big as Sirius would turn some heads, but he doubted if anyone would suspect who he was.
"Well alright then, you can tag along. If you can keep up that is."
Dudley broke into a quick sprint the moment he cleared the door, challenging Sirius to match him. To his surprise the big dog was able to keep pace with him quite easily.
Grinning widely, Dudley decided to up the speed, wanting to test just how fast Sirius could go. A good race was just what he needed to get the heart pumping.
He and Sirius bolted down the block, past dozens of homes, a few bars and a church. No matter how fast he ran, Sirius kept a tidy pace with him, amazing Dudley with his speed. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer and he turned down an alley, stopping to catch his breath.
"You're fast!" Dudley gasped out.
Sirius just pointed his snout to the sky haughtily, baring his sharp teeth in a grin. Dudley flashed a grin himself, vowing to beat the black dog in a race someday soon.
By the time he and Sirius had returned to the house, it was already 6 and the earliest risers of the house had awoken. Dudley noticed an immediate deflation in Sirius's happiness the moment they entered the house, but he rushed away before Dudley could ask what that was about.
In the kitchen, Molly was fixing up breakfast for Harry and his friends, while most of the adult Order members were hastily grabbing some food as they rushed off to work.
"Wotcher, Dudley. Have to run but I hope it all goes well on your first magic lesson!" Tonks cried out, giving Dudley a little wave before bursting out the door.
Her words brought the attention of the others his way, all of them looking at Dudley with contempt. Fred and George had mischievous grins on their faces, even 'generously' pulling up a chair for him, making Dudley grateful that he'd already eaten. Even if that sausage was the most delicious on the planet, he wouldn't dare eat it.
"Don't be late for your lesson." Sirius grumbled from behind, grabbing up a plate of food and heading upstairs.
Harry opened his mouth to talk to him, but Sirius didn't stick around for long, rushing up to his room. That left Dudley in the doorway, unsure whether to follow suit and flee or to stand his ground.
"So, Dudley, how was your sleep?" Lupin asked awkwardly, trying to break the silence.
Dudley went crimson, looking over to Molly who was humming as she fried up some eggs.
"It was good." He lied hastily.
"Really? Sure you didn't beat up your pillow?" Redhead junior, Ron, snorted into his milk.
Ron's bushy-haired companion, Hermione, elbowed him in the ribs for that comment, putting on the best smile that she could as she looked at Dudley.
"I'm sure this all really confusing for you. I know that when I transitioned into the Wizarding World, a lot of things didn't make sense. If you need any help…" Hermione paused for a moment, looking to Harry. "I'm sure there's loads of books you can turn to."
Dudley shrugged, figuring that was as good a piece of advice as any of Harry's friends would ever give him.
"Is there any hot water?" Dudley asked, getting quizzical looks from the others. "You know, for a shower." He gestured to his sweat-soaked shirt.
"Oh, that. We don't take hot showers this early in the morning." Lupin explained.
Now it was Dudley's turn to be confused.
"Why not?"
"Kreacher sleeps next to the boiler and…" Lupin paused.
"He doesn't like to be disturbed this early in the morning." Hermione completed, giving everyone else dirty looks.
Dudley had a strange feeling that this rule was her idea, but he was more concerned about something else.
"Who's Kreacher? Another member of the Order?"
"Sort of…" Molly said awkwardly.
"What do you mean sort of?"
"Kreacher is the caretaker of the house." Hermione explained, using the word 'caretaker' extremely critically. "We try not to bother him because he's so old and… disadvantaged."
"Well, where can I find the bloke?" Dudley questioned, figuring he ought to have a chat with this 'Kreacher'.
He liked to do his workouts in the morning, so he'd need to come to an understanding with him. Plus, given the strange expressions on everyone else's faces, Kreacher might be the only person in this house that wasn't Harry's best friend, and that was a major plus in Dudley's eyes.
"I don't think that's a great i-"
"Through that door!"
Fred and George's voices boomed over Hermione's warning and Dudley gave them a nod, heading over to meet this Kreacher.
Entering the indicated room, Dudley first noted the sharp jump in temperature. Most of the cupboard was taken up with an ancient-looking boiler, but there was a little den made up of blankets and rags underneath some pipes. There lay curled up the oddest creature Dudley had ever seen. Kreacher was definitely an accurate name for it.
With a bulbous, snout-like nose, wrinkled-up skin, and white hair growing out of its bat-like ears, the creature definitely wasn't human. As for what it was, Dudley figured it best resembled some sort of RPG-esque goblin.
Then, he recalled a small footnote in A History of Magic, describing it perfectly. A house-elf.
It made sense. The Blacks were a wealthy family and the book had described how elves were often the caretakers of such families. Still, seeing it in person unnerved Dudley.
Even Harry's old cupboard was bigger than the nasty crawlspace the creature had made for itself, and much more hospitable too. Dudley was amazed that the old Kreacher didn't die from the heat.
Seeing its pitiful conditions, even Dudley couldn't muster up the nastiness to scold the elf. While he was a bully, he liked to think he picked fair fights. If a little brat was asking for it, he'd give them a knock on the head, but otherwise he went after the bigger dudes. Beating up on Kreacher was like attacking a crippled old man.
Unfortunately, his foot caught a loose floorboard as he moved to leave, squeaking out noisily and startling Kreacher.
"Bah! Intruders! Mistress, hide behind Kreacher!" The elf cried out, banging his head roughly against the boiler.
A nasty burn formed on his bald forehead, but Kreacher didn't even flinch, looking at Dudley with an animal-like ferocity. Then, the fire in his eyes died down.
"Just another foul cretin, let in by the filth that was discarded by the House of Black. Oh, how my Mistress would ache if she saw her house so perverted."
"What's that?" Dudley questioned.
"Kreacher said nothing." The elf replied, giving a deep bow to Dudley as he manoeuvred through the pipes. "How dare that boy befoul Mistress's house with the garbs of muggles."
Dudley blinked. Did the elf think he hadn't heard him or something? He shrugged, at least he was up and away from the boiler. Now, he could take a shower without worrying about his conscience.
Stepping out of the cupboard, Dudley moved towards the stairs, heading for the bathroom. The wide grins were wiped clean off the twins faces as they saw the casual expression on his face.
"Didn't you see Kreacher?" They asked in unison.
"Yeah, I did, he's up by the way." Dudley said, starting up the stairs.
At that moment, the cupboard door swung open once more, revealing a grouchy Kreacher grumbling and dragging his feet, a shiny red burn adorning his head. The others frowned, before Hermione gasped, looking up at Dudley in disgust.
"Did you seriously beat up a helpless old elf for a shower!" She hissed.
"What? No?" Dudley defended.
"Oh right, and I reckon he just banged his own head like that." Ron jeered.
"Yeah, that's right."
"That's low." Fred scorned.
"Real low." George chorused.
Harry didn't even seem the slightest bit surprised, not saying a word.
"Forget it." Dudley sighed, continuing up the stairs.
With how much Harry had corrupted their view of him, it wouldn't matter what he said. He'd never assumed that fitting in with Harry's friends would be easy, but he never reckoned it would be this hard.
Well, there were plenty of people at Hogwarts. He could just be friends with somebody else. One thing Dad had always taught Dudley was that when you found the 'right sort of folks' you didn't need to worry about making friends. What did he care if a bunch of poor buggers hated his guts?
Getting changed into another set of clothes after his shower, Dudley checked the time, finding it was a minute to his lesson. Perfect timing.
Climbing up the stairs to Sirius's room, he noticed there was another room opposite to it, the door sparkly clean and polished. It was marked by a sign reading: "Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black".
He was rather surprised to see this sign still here, as Sirius seemed pretty determined to purge the house of anything containing a hint of the name 'Black'.
"My brother." A voice called out from behind him. "He was a misguided fool if ever there was one, but not a horrible bloke. At least, not as far as my family went."
"Was?"
"He died in the war. Before you were born, I reckon. He was barely 18."
Dudley sucked in a breath.
"That's rough."
"He was fighting for the wrong side; it was bound to happen." Sirius noted with a shrug.
But Dudley could see there was more than that. Regulus's room had survived destruction for a reason.
"Come on, no use reminiscing, let's start your lesson."
Entering Sirius's room, Dudley felt at home for the first time since he'd come to Grimmauld Place. The walls were plastered almost completely with massive pictures of motorcycles and bikini-clad girls. Barbi Benton, Jean Bell, Norma Bauer… Dudley had to accede to one thing, Sirius had good taste in models.
"Like what you see?" Sirius asked with a grin.
"My Dad's got a collection like this, in the garage, just behind the tool pad. Nowhere near as good as yours though." Dudley said, nodding in approval.
"I'd never have taken Vernon for that sort."
"You knew my dad?"
"We met… once." Sirius noted, plopping down on his bed. He gave a side-eye at once of his photos as he continued. "I was Lily and James's plus one at their wedding. Growing up here, I was their only friend who knew anything about muggles. We even chatted about motorcycles for a bit before he realized I was 'of a freakish sort' and ran off."
Dudley's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He couldn't imagine a wizard holding a decent conversation with his dad about anything. In fact, didn't his dad hat motorcycles? Maybe that was the reason why...
"That's him then? Harry's dad?" Dudley asked, walking over to the photo of a laughing James Potter, in throng with Sirius and two others.
He was the spitting image of Harry, save for a haughtiness in his eyes that almost reminded Dudley of himself.
Sirius smiled briefly, looking at the photo.
"Yes, that was James."
"Then, the one next to him has got to be you… and that's Lupin over there. Who's the bloke on the far right?" Dudley asked, seeing a strange, mousy man over in the corner.
He looked a bit detached from the rest of the group, looking up at them in reverence. Almost like a servant or a fanboy. Dudley had loads of those, especially after he'd made boxing champion. Boys who wanted to use his muscles and his reputation to protect themselves from other bullies.
"Let's not get distracted." Sirius snapped, flipping the picture upside-down and gesturing for Dudley to take a seat at his desk.
Dudley quirked a brow, reminding himself to check-up on that later before taking a seat as indicated.
"So, what do you know about magic?" Sirius asked.
"Well, I've read through most of Harry's first-year books: The Standard Book of Spells, Magical Theory, A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration…"
"Boring!" Sirius interrupted fake-yawning loudly. "I was talking about spells. What kinds of spells have you tried? Which ones worked, which didn't? Or don't tell me you've only bothered with Lumos?"
"I've tried most of the basic ones. Lumos, Wingardium Leviosa, Reparo… but I haven't gotten any results from anything but the first one."
"Show me."
Dudley blinked. He'd expected Sirius to give him some sort of boring slog through 'magical theory' and 'quantum wand-waving' or something, not to just have him jump right into the material.
Still, he didn't fight it. He much preferred hands-on learning anyhow.
Pointing his wand at a pillow that Sirius had thrown out on the ground, Dudley took in a deep breath.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Making the appropriate wand movements, Dudley marvelled as he saw the pillow twitch, shakily hovering an inch above the ground before collapsing back down. He pumped his fist triumphantly.
"That's it?" Sirius asked, rolling his eyes. "When I was your age, I could do that without a wand."
"Cut me some slack! I only just got a wand last night." Dudley complained.
Sirius frowned.
"You haven't been using Harry's?"
"Like he'd ever let me!" Dudley snorted. "I've been mostly swinging around an old stick, just trying to get the movements right for when I've got a real wand."
"Harry hasn't been helping you with the incantations, either?" Sirius asked again, his expression going stranger.
Dudley shook his head.
"You haven't got a pronunciation guide or anything?"
Another shake of his head.
"You've never learned Latin?"
"Alright, I get it, I'm a failure." Dudley snapped. "Let me guess, sixteen-year-old Sirius spoke fluent Latin, knew a hundred spells and could pronounce them all perfectly."
"Actually, yes." Sirius acceded. "But…" He stared at Dudley oddly. "Are you sure you've never learned magic before? Nothing at all? Not even overhearing Harry in his room?"
"Why would I bother? I didn't have magic back then. Or if I did, I didn't know about it."
Sirius furrowed his brow.
"Try that again but strain the 'o' a bit more." He advised, narrowing his eyes.
Dudley shrugged, feeling that Sirius was acting odd, but he'd take any advice at this point.
"Wingardium Leviosa," He incanted. It even felt a bit more natural, rolling off his tongue, but not quite right.
To his amazement, Sirius's simple tip worked wonders, as the pillow came to a slow rise. It was still shaking as it did, but now, it didn't stop at only one inch, rising higher and higher until it made it a foot off the ground before collapsing back down.
"I did it!" Dudley cried out, but Sirius wasn't smiling.
"Try it once more, but drop the strain on the 'a'. More like 'Leviosa'." Sirius counselled.
Dudley nodded, feeling his heart speeding up at the prospect of success.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
This time, the pillow's rise wasn't shaky or wobbled, rising up into the air fluidly and smoothly without so much a twitch. Dudley watched with awe as it did, pushing it higher and higher with his wand until it bumped the ceiling. His jaw hung open.
He'd done it. Was this the advantage of having a teacher?
Looking down at Sirius, he almost felt the urge to hug the bedraggled man. But he still didn't look happy.
"Did I do something wrong?"
His gray eyes looked conflicted.
"No…" He finally said. "But you didn't do anything right either. Most people get a grasp on spells on their first try, as long as they know the movements and pronunciation. You need to work on your Latin when you've got the chance."
Nodding in agreement, Dudley rubbed his sore wrist, before he moved on to the next spell excitedly, hoping to cram in as much as he could in his limited time with Sirius.
Dudley's first official magic lesson stretched all the way to noon, when Molly had finally called him and Sirius down for lunch. He'd been a little cross at first, but once the 'magic high' wore off, he realized just how tired he was.
Not physically, but more mentally. It was sort of like the feeling you got after a long math exam, that sort of strain from several hours of intent concentration. His tongue was also sore, having made sounds he'd never even imagined before. He could do with some good grub.
Lunch was awkward. Apparently, shortly after Dudley had left, Hermione had asked Kreacher about his wound and the elf had admitted it had been an accident in his own little insane way. As such, her and the Weasleys all seemingly felt guilty for hopping to conclusions.
That said, it wasn't like they were lining up to be buddy-buddy with him either. Dudley acknowledged that he and Harry had a past, and Harry resented him for it. His mates wouldn't be good friends if they didn't back him up on that. This kind of begrudging acceptance was all Dudley wanted.
After lunch, Dudley got to work. Part of his deal with Dumbledore was to help around Grimmauld Place while he wasn't learning magic. With his dad working in construction, Dudley knew his way around a refit better than most of the others put together. Scrounging together what equipment the Order had, he made his first assessment on the house.
"Alright, this whole wall's going to have to go down here, and we're gonna need a drywall patch, a couple studs to replace the rotted ones and some new wallpaper." Dudley assessed the main wall of the Drawing Room. "We're also going a couple sets of diagonals and a new top plate, as well as a whole hell of a lot of tools to fix this up."
The wizards all looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. Dudley groaned.
"Alright, I'll make up a list and you can take it to a hardware store." He said, starting with what few tools, he already had to get to work. At least this was something he could do right.
Just like that, Dudley began finding his own place in the strange wizarding household of number 12 Grimmauld Place. The 'clean-up squad' as he liked to call it, had now split into two groups. There were the magic-wranglers, dealing with curses, bewitched items and all that jazz; and then there were the real fixers, making sure the house actually looked nice.
Dudley had made sure to get Hermione and Sirius on his team, as they were the only ones who had the foggiest idea what to do with 'muggle tools' and together, the trio had gotten a lot of work in. A mixture of magic and 'good old elbow-grease'—as his dad would say—got what Dudley originally thought would be a month-long job done in only six days.
The trio worked surprisingly well together. Sirius would rip out the old, rotten junk, Hermione would keep the foundation stable, and Dudley would slip in and put in the replacement parts.
Outside of fixing up the house, Sirius and Dudley had begun to grudgingly get on. After all, they were the 'prisoners' of the house, both shackled around the ankles to this place.
Their daily runs through the neighbourhood, served as decent bonding. When the rest of the Order had found out, they'd been hopping mad, claiming Sirius was risking everything, but Dudley had managed to convince them there was nothing wrong with a boy taking his dog out for a run.
After their runs, Dudley would have magic lessons upstairs, construction work in the Drawing Room and then they'd go down to the basement for Potions and Herbology lessons. He'd even given Sirius a few of the 'adult magazines' he'd packed in his trunk, straight from his dad's stash, figuring he'd appreciate some of the familiar models, sans clothing.
They were by no means friends at this point, or even friendly, but it was better than being enemies.
As a symbol of their growing tolerance for one another, Sirius had even let him move into Regulus's old room. He claimed that it was only because that made it 'easier to keep an eye on him', but it was more than that.
Having a new room had pros and cons. While the much-needed sleep was a major boon to Dudley's magic lesson, it came with the return of his nightmares and his phantom aches. He didn't dare talk about them to the others in the Order, terrified that when the nightmares disappeared, his magic would too. If troubled nights were the sole cost, he needed to bear to be a wizard, he'd do so proudly.
Tonks had swung by on the afternoon of Day 3, helping take out a murderous ghoul, before taking Dudley out for a flying lesson. Apparently, Flying was required learning for all first years, so he needed to be decent at it. He'd learned that despite her clumsiness, Tonks was actually a former beater for the Hufflepuff Quidditch—a kind of wizard rugby—team.
Dudley had dug up an old broom from the Black family stores and enjoyed a wild night of zipping through the London skies. It wasn't anything fast, but it was fun.
He had also gotten a lot of progress in magically-speaking. Much to his surprise, his strongest subject was actually Potions, even though he was rubbish at chemistry. This was quickly followed by Charms as well as the offensive portion of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
That said, he had his flaws too. Defensive magic was a big one, with Dudley struggling with Countercurses quite a bit. Transfigurations was also tricky, since Dudley's mind struggled to grasp how a pen could turn into a hedgehog. Herbology was even worse, and he'd killed half the plants that the Order had procured in the first lesson. He'd always had a black thumb — working in the gardens with his mum — but it seemed that magic had served to amplify that.
As for the theory-based courses like History of Magic and Astronomy, to his surprise, it was actually Hermione who volunteered to teach him those since Sirius had been rubbish at them in school.
All in all, he'd been doing quite well. Sirius even joked that he'd probably not get his butt kicked by a first-year now. He was still a year or two behind on the content he needed for fifth year, but he'd learned from Hermione that the start of each year was mostly review of past years, which would give him some time to catch up.
Despite her original distance, Hermione and Dudley had bonded over 'muggle stuff'— as Sirius put it —in a way only two muggleborns could.
Whether it was films, music or even football — much to his shock, he'd learned Hermione was a die-hard Newcastle fan — they would often chat about things the others knew nothing about. He also learned from her — much to his shock — that Wizards didn't have dentists or dental care, just opting to replace their teeth when they rotted. But more than that, they didn't have, or use, the internet, TV, or any kind of centralized network technologies.
Honestly, Dudley struggled to understand how a society could be so backwards, especially considering that the muggles who lived literally next-door had all of that. Then, he discovered the reason. Magic and technology couldn't co-exist.
He'd learned this on Day 2 at the old house, when he discovered that his new laptop didn't work at all in Grimmauld Place, though it worked the minute he got far enough away. Losing his computer was a major bummer, but it also explained how muggles hadn't found the wizarding world yet. He'd had to buy an analog watch and some other ancient technologies from a retro store around the corner, but they were hardly a replacement for his higher tech gadgets. Still, Dudley planned on figuring out how to get around that little restriction sooner or later. Electronics were too useful a tool to be cut off from.
His fourth and most shocking relationship he'd forged at Grimmauld Place had actually been with his former roommate, Buckbeak. While he'd already moved out of the hippogriff's room, Dudley swung by every once in a while, to feed the giant bird-horse.
Honestly, he felt bad for the creature. From his Magical Creatures lesson with Sirius, he learned that Hippogriffs were accustomed to flying dozens of miles each day, living in large, open spaces. In comparison, this tiny house really was nothing.
Moreover, unlike Dudley or even Sirius who could leave the house for short periods, Buckbeak couldn't. After all, if even a single person spotted the giant creature, their hideout would be exposed.
So, Dudley would swing by everyone in a while, feeding him some rats or bugs that he'd scrape out of the walls. Buckbeak much preferred the live food to the chicken he was normally fed.
While most of the Order still didn't trust Dudley to be alone outside, he had a pretty free rein as long as he was with someone. For a while, he really felt like just another member.
He'd chat with Tonks about Auror work, listen to Bill's story on spelunking in King Solomon's Mines and on occasion, Moody would tell brutal stories about the first war. Other than the Order Members he'd met, one or two would slip in and out including an old woman who he'd learned was a teacher at Hogwarts. There was something eerily familiar about that woman, but Dudley couldn't quite peg where he'd seen her.
Of course, not everyone had accepted Dudley into the house with open arms. He was still trying to get the pink out of his hair after Fred and George spiked his shampoo with quick-acting magic hair dye. Ron had also joined in on his elder brothers' pranks, throwing his demonic little owl into Dudley's room and locking it shut.
Then there was the littlest Weasley. His relationship with Tonks had helped to smooth things over with Ginny, but she'd still threatened to curse him to oblivion if he dared mess with Harry or any of her brothers.
As for Harry… he couldn't really gauge Harry's reaction to him. The two had barely interacted since they'd been thrown here together. A few words swapped over supper was the closest they'd get to talking.
They each stayed in their lanes and were happy to do so.
The days passed by quickly and his first week at Grimmauld Place was coming to an end. With Harry's trial date approaching, the risks Dudley would soon be facing became more evident.
He'd been reading the Daily Prophet—the wizard newspaper—recently, and he was getting an idea of just what it meant to stick up for Harry. Outside the four walls of Grimmauld Place, his cousin was a far less popular bloke. The Government, the press, the rich old families, the Death Eaters… it seemed like Harry had pissed off just about every powerful wizard in England.
Then again, he was right. Somehow, Dudley just knew that. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, whatever you wanted to call him… he was back, and ignorance wasn't going to solve that.
Dudley had already received the Order's support, so there was no turning back anymore. It was time to face the music.
Opening his eyes on the morning of the twelfth of August, Dudley sucked in a breath. The day had come.