Posted 10/3/2015

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Seventy-Five - Predator and Prey

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They had spent the last two days constantly on the move. Mr. and Mrs. Grant, as their travelling companions had introduced themselves as, had insisted on staying together, arguing that their tails were looking for two, not a family of four on a boring sightseeing trip around the country.

Dudley still had his reservations about the Grants. Growing up with magic-hating parents and a freak of a cousin who, as Dudley had learned after Harry's true nature had come out, could have snapped at any moment and done something to Dudley or his family – he remembered the incident with Aunt Marge in vivid detail – that they would have been helpless against, Dudley felt justified in not welcoming the presence of magical folk. However, he had survived over ten years with Harry constantly around, and not once that Dudley could remember had he been seriously injured. Since the Grants were trying to pass as Muggles, it was highly unlikely they would do anything too magical around Dudley or Sarah.

Dudley knew he wasn't exceptionally smart, but he wasn't stupid either. The Grants were magical; if worst came to worst, the Grants stood a better chance of fighting threats from their world. They might not need luck to survive a confrontation, and they probably knew better than Dudley what a threat from their world looked like in the first place.

The first day of travelling with the Grants, Sarah had kept quiet and close to Dudley, casting nervous glances at their companions. Dudley knew that feeling – to her, witches and wizards were an unknown. That night, he had done his best to calm her down as best as he could by explaining that, whether he liked them or not, the Grants were beneficial for the time being, and asked her to trust him as the closest to an expert on magicals as she could hope to find.

It had been an awkward night, trying as best as he could to answer her questions. After he had confided in her months before, they had avoided talking about that other, hidden world as much as they could. Sarah had probably been rightfully scared, knowing about a potential danger she would be completely helpless against; Dudley hadn't been keen on talking about it either. Meeting the Grants had changed that.

Sarah had asked about Dudley's interactions with magic, and he had answered as best as he could, telling her about Harry setting a snake on him and inflating Aunt Marge, about meeting the giant man who had threatened Dudley's family and actually put some spell on Dudley, about Harry's friends accidentally destroying the living room and that accursed sweet that had taken forever to sort out. Reluctantly, he had also told her the entire story about the beasts's attack before his fifth year at Smeltings and how Harry had saved him.

In the end, Sarah had decided to trust his judgement, but she hadn't opened up much to the Grants.

Having the couple around did have another advantage – whereas Dudley and Sarah had been pressed for money most of the time, staying in cheap places and occasionally even taking shifts sleeping during train rides, the Grants were quite willing to pay for decent hotels. Having a working shower and a real bed did go a long way to lighten the mood and getting some much-needed rest.

The bus came to a stop, bringing Dudley out of his thoughts. Looking out of the window, he saw a street of brick houses and people hurrying past. He hoped they'd arrive soon enough; there was only so much acting like a family he could do in a single day, especially considering the general nervousness of his travelling group.

Mr. Grant looked on stoically, but his wife fidgeted in her seat, uncomfortable about Muggle transports. Having seen her trying to blend in with the crowd, Dudley considered it a good choice nonetheless to avoid walking among Muggles as much as possible. Magicals were apparently unaccustomed to large crowds.

Sarah in the seat next to him sent Dudley a shaky, tired smile that he returned. Maybe they should use the big city to escape the Grants after all?

"Shouldn't be long," Mr. Grant grumbled.

The bus started moving again, and Dudley stared back out of the window, thinking about his lot in life. Instead of eagerly awaiting a package from home, he'd spent this Easter with Sarah and the Grants. If someone had told him a year ago he'd be used to sharing a room with a pretty girl, he'd have laughed at them. If someone had told him he'd be one the run from wizards and their war, he'd have laughed as well.

It was times like these – holidays and his birthday – that really brought home how much his life had changed. He would never get presents from his parents again. He wouldn't get letters; he wouldn't get annoyed calls. He wouldn't get to see his parents alive again. Being an orphan sucked, and not for the first time, he felt bad about his past treatment of Harry. At least Dudley had had some years with his parents; all Harry had gotten were half-truths and scorn.

The bus stopped once more, and Mr. Grant got to his feet, the others following suit. Once off the bus, they set off down the street.

"So," Mrs. Grant tried, smiling shakily, "are you two, err, looking forward to the hotel?"

Sarah tensed, still not comfortable with the magical couple around, but nodded.

"Yeah," Dudley replied. "Yeah, should be fine, I guess. We've been walking all day, so..." He shrugged. "And dinner, of course."

"This is the one," Mr. Grant announced, stopping in front of an iron gate to a small court.

They checked in, Dudley staying close to Mr. Grant in case the older man needed help with anything. His wife and Sarah hung back, standing around awkwardly.

"So," the receptionist asked, glancing at the group with a thin smile, "two bedrooms under Grant?"

Something about the man's look seemed off to Dudley. In the months on the run, he'd learned to pick up on subtle cues, and his instincts told him the man wasn't entirely convinced of their cover story of a family on vacation. If the glance at Sarah and Mrs. Grant were anything to go by, they were the weak spot in their lie – those two didn't look the least bit familiar with each other.

"Yeah," Dudley spoke up, throwing a small wave at Sarah in, "hoping to clear the air, eh, Dad? Thanks for letting me bring Sarah along. Must've been hard convincing Mum."

Mr. Grant blinked, but seemed to have caught on. "Ah," he sighed, "she'll have to get used to it."

With another small lie of fetching their bags from their car sometime later after a bit of rest, they left for their rooms, Dudley and Sarah sharing what turned out to be a two-bed room. Unpacking was as quickly done as usual – neither had much, both usually sleeping in their underwear. Putting aside the hatchet Dudley had stolen a few weeks ago after an incident with a rather nasty landlord, he handed Sarah the toiletries and settled down with a bag of crackers.

A nap later, they left for a dinner spent in stilted small talk. The Grants, as Dudley and Sarah had found out, were reluctant to share anything, which left few topics anyone felt comfortable discussing that wouldn't have revealed their lies. They couldn't talk about magic, obviously, but their respective adventures were similarly out if they wanted to be seen as a family – or a family with a girlfriend tagging along. Mrs. Grant seemed uncomfortable about the role in that particular cover story while Sarah seemed oddly happy about being referred to as Dudley's girlfriend.

Then again, Dudley thought as he finished his piece of chocolate cake, it wasn't that far from the truth. They were an item, sort of, and even if it had been about comfort, about feeling alive, he couldn't deny that they had learned to get along quite well and certainly a lot better than most of the couples Dudley had seen at school. Over the weeks of their journey, Sarah and he had come to depend on each other quite a lot and had outgrown the desperate need for comfort, both emotional and physical.

Was that how relationships worked? Dudley pushed that thought aside. He'd have to consider it some other time, he decided.

Once the dinner was finished, they retreated to their rooms once more.

"What a day," Sarah sighed once the door was closed, and threw herself on the bed.

Dudley chuckled, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Tell me about it."

"Girlfriend, eh?" Sarah asked, humour in her voice.

Dudley laughed. "Well, we had to think of something. You and Mrs. Grant nearly gave us away."

"I don't like..." Sarah began, drifting off as she frowned. "No, like isn't the right word. It's not about like or dislike, is it? It's just... you know, them. Trust, maybe. Yeah, trust. 'Mr. and Mrs. Grant.' What with them being... that... you never know what they're hiding."

Dudley sat down next to her, pulling his shoes off. "Well, they're not after us our we wouldn't be here any more. They seem to be on the run from someone. And it's not like we have much choice anyway."

They stayed silent for a bit before Sarah chuckled. "At least we've got a shower."

"And the bed's nice," Dudley added, humming.

She sent him a glance. "Oho, something on your mind?" she teased, sitting up.

He blushed, rubbing his head nervously. "I didn't mean –"

"No?" she interrupted, pouting a bit, but couldn't stop herself from laughing after a few short moments. Leaning over, she sighed once more.

"You know," she said, wrapping her arms around him, "it's downright weird. This is the most normal our lives have been in months. Here we are, in a nice hotel, eating properly, that I could almost forget why we're doing this. For a moment, for a short moment, I thought, 'Yeah, this is it. Here I am, on a trip with my boyfriend.' And then I remember. It's Easter, and..." She fell silent, burying her face in his shirt.

Dudley awkwardly patted her back as she sobbed into his shirt. She didn't have to continue; Dudley could guess what upset her. The last time she had been like that had been on David's birthday, and Dudley had been glad he didn't have any siblings he would have to mourn in addition to his parents. Too many days of the year would already be painful reminders of his loss.

After a while, she had calmed down and turned her head to the side, away from him. "Why?" she asked, moving away from him. "Why us? It's just... It doesn't make sense."

"Terrible misfortune, that's all," Dudley told her, wiping a stray tear from her face.

She caught his hand. "I keep thinking," she mumbled, swallowing, "that I shouldn't enjoy this." Dudley made to say something, but she squeezed his hand. "I know it's wrong to think or feel that way, but here I am."

"It's just the day, I guess," Dudley sighed. "It's my first Easter holiday without... It's hard. I hadn't thought much about it before, but... Ehh.

"Easter. When I was younger," Dudley continued, glancing to the side, "I loved it. It meant presents for me, so of course I loved it. Never really thought much about it, but I was a jerk back then. Looking back –"

"I can't imagine you being a jerk," Sarah told him, smiling softly.

"Ah, no, I was. Harry'd have lots of stories to tell. Only, I doubt he would."

Dudley frowned. Piers had occasionally said how much his sister annoyed him. In a strange sense, Harry had been the closest to a brother he had had, as little as they had liked each other. It made Dudley wonder how things might have been if they hadn't been at odds so much.

"Neither do you," Sarah pointed out.

"Well, I'm not proud of who I was. Not anymore, I mean. It's," he hesitated. "It's complicated."

Sarah seemed to have picked up on Dudley's mood. She nodded, looking around the room until her eyes found the second bed.

Biting her lip as she usually did when she had to decide, she made up her mind before long. "Evan," she spoke up with a slightly pleading tone in her voice, "I don't want to sleep alone tonight. Think we – ?"

"Sure," Dudley laughed. "You think I'd have said no?"

Smiling in relief, she leaned over, kissing his cheek. After only a moment of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck. As she kissed him properly, he sank back, slowly pulling her down with him. When they broke apart, there was a glimmer in her eyes. Dudley guessed her smile was mirrored on his face. His hands found their way under her shirt, eliciting a giggle from her.

Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, "Your hands are cold." He managed to steal a quick peck before she broke their kiss once more to prop herself and look down on him. She bit her lip again, and Dudley thought he could see her inner struggle reflected on her face. He'd seen that particular fight often enough to know how it would end and couldn't stop the grin spreading on his face.

"Oh, hush you," she chided, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"You want me," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

She ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. Their faces were close enough that he could feel her breath. "You sure about that?" she asked, tilting her head in amusement. "Shouldn't that be my line?"

"You want me," he repeated, nodding slightly.

Leaning even closer so that their noses were only an inch apart, she whispered, "And what'll you do 'bout that?"

"Well," Dudley breathed, resisting the urge to pull her in for a kiss and lose their little game, "I –"

The door flew open. Sarah jumped, stumbling as she got entangled in the sheets; Dudley hit his head on the wall.

"Isn't that sweet?" a growling voice announced from the doorway.

Dudley rolled off the bed and took cover behind it, joined by Sarah, who was still struggling with the covers.

A man unlike any Dudley had ever seen stepped into the room. He was large with grey hair, wearing what appeared to be a heavy overcoat of some dark fur that looked quite tight. His face looked too rough, and the hunched posture made him seem ready to jump at any moment.

"Isn't that sweet?" the man repeated.

"Leave!" Dudley ordered despite his fear.

"How brave," the man mocked, an amused glint in his eye. His grin revealed sharp teeth. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" He closed the door with a claw-like left hand. In the other, Dudley noticed, the man held a wand. This did nothing to calm him down.

"Leave!" Dudley repeated, louder this time and with more confidence than he felt.

"You did say that, yes," the man replied in a bored tone. "But I've just come in, why rush out already, eh? Why leave when the fun's not even begun? Now then," he said, baring his teeth once more, "who do we have here?" He paused, straightening up to get a better look.

"The other two," he told them, "they won't come to help you." Once more he grinned, causing Sarah to shudder and a cold shiver to run down Dudley's back. Did that mean the Grants were already dead? "They were expected. They were planned. They're why we're here. They're why they brought me – to track them down. And they're why I'm here and not there. Don't trust me, eh? The other two we're supposed to bring in, but no one said anything about you two."

Dudley eyed the man carefully, unsure of what to do. Who was this man? What was he capable of? He'd said something about tracking the other two down. Did that mean it had nothing to do with Sarah of him? Something else registered in Dudley's mind – the intruder had spoken about them being here for the Grants, so he wasn't alone. These were the one's the Grants were running away from.

"You have what you wanted," Dudley tried. "The other two, we just ran into each other, that's all."

"Awfully quick to sell your friends out," the intruder spat, honest disgust flashing over his face.

"They're not our friends," Dudley insisted. The man tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

Sarah recovered enough to nod jerkily at Dudley's side.

The intruder glanced at her for a second before fixing Dudley with an unblinking, inhuman stare. "Delicious little thing," he growled, licking his lips.

"Stay away from us," Dudley hissed, anger bubbling in his chest, but the man just chuckled maliciously and took another step closer. "You've got what you came for, so leave us be!"

A sky-blue spell flashed across the room, hitting the wall behind Dudley – whatever it had been caused a sizzling noise and the smell of something burnt.

"So who do we have here, eh? You reek of sweat and filth," the intruder hissed, pulling a face. "One of their little Mudblood friends perhaps? Not many left of those. No? Still not remembering your names?"

Somewhere in another room, something crashed.

"Putting up a fight, the two?" the man jeered and spat, "Pathetic. So, if not Mudbloods, what do we have here? Could be Muggles?"

Sarah's breath hitched, and the man seemed to have picked up on it.

"It is," the man cheered with a feral grin. "A pair of Muggles is what Fenrir's found himself."

Sarah almost threw herself behind Dudley, but he took little notice of it. His eyes were locked on the intruder, and he was thinking. Fenrir. He'd heard that name somewhere before. He knew the name meant something, and he desperately hoped it would come to him before it was too late.

Then again, he thought with a grim sense of dejection, as long as that man didn't come closer, there was very little Dudley could do anyway. That wizard would have him down before Dudley would get anywhere close enough to actually do anything.

Fenrir. He knew he'd heard the name before, but where? Or rather, Dudley realized, who could have said it? There really was only one person Dudley had ever heard talking about that other world at any length – Harry.

And just like that, Dudley remembered the talk they had over ten months ago. Dudley had foolishly boasted about his willingness to face the dangers of Harry's world, only to be painfully reminded just how unprepared he truly was. Manic wizards and witches, giants and –

Werewolves. Fenrir Greyback riling up his kind, the werewolves.

"You're Fenrir Greyback," Dudley said, somewhat surprised at his realization.

The intruder blinked, sniffing the air. "You've heard of me," he stated, and he seemed intrigued at a mere Muggle knowing his name.

Dudley didn't answer. He knew finally who and what he was dealing with. All the clues fell into place. So he really was dealing with a feral beast and not just a deranged human. A werewolf. But Dudley's situation had improved slightly – he knew who he was dealing with. He thought about everything he knew about werewolves. Ferocious beasts that transformed during the full moon. How long had it been since the last full moon? A while, Dudley realized, barely resisting a groan. Weak to silver, the stories said, and an exceptional sense of smell and possibly hearing. Likely stronger than humans, possibly in both forms. People became a werewolf by being bitten.

Yet Greyback didn't seem wolfish and more like a beast-like man. Was that how werewolves looked without the transformation?

What to do? Dudley thought back to his boxing lessons. He now knew his foe to somewhat, but he didn't have a clear plan yet. Greyback had a wand and apparently also knew how to use one. That made him very dangerous, and Dudley greatly disliked the idea of having to deal with whatever magic Greyback had. But he was also a werewolf, which was another kind of danger, and neither side could be expected to let Dudley and Sarah go. So they would either be killed – and looking at the werewolf, that seemed a likely outcome – end up as prisoners of Harry's enemies. Dudley liked neither option, which meant they'd have to fight their way out.

Still not sure which side he'd rather face, Dudley used the cover of the bed and pulled the knife from its place in his boot to put it on the ground inches from Sarah's hand. At least one of their weapons was unsheathed now, he thought as he got to his feet, walking out from behind the bed.

"Yeah," he replied, trying to buy himself some time. Should he try for the hatchet in the corner? But no, too little time for that, too little time! By the time he'd have it, the werewolf would already start magicking things. "Yeah, I've heard about you. Not much, but yeah."

Saying that, Dudley calmed down a bit.

Greyback sniffed the air, frowning.

Dudley couldn't help a small smile. So the werewolf seemed to have smelled that Dudley wasn't as scared as before. That was probably a first. But this, Dudley told himself, was just another boxing match. He knew what he was dealing with, which meant he could try finding some way to use it to his advantage. As he shuffled sideways, he paid attention to the small space behind the curtains. Moonlight shone brightly, but the thick curtains blocked it.

Greyback was a werewolf. Was it a full moon? If so, why hadn't he transformed? Or did he have to see the light of the full moon? Was that something Dudley could use? Unless the stories were wrong, the transformation wasn't just painful and against the will, it also took time. Given what he knew, that seemed like a weakness to Dudley. Could he force Greyback to transform and attack the werewolf mid-transformation?

But that was a lot of guesswork. He'd need the full moon, find a way to make Greyback see the light – assuming that caused the transformation – and hope that it did take as much time as the movies always showed.

He needed to make a move soon before the werewolf did.

"And now you're probably wondering, 'Where could that stinking Muggle have heard of me?' Am I right?"

"Travelling with witches," Greyback leered. "You think I'm stupid?"

Dudley chuckled, delighted at keeping the beast talking and even more that Greyback had guessed wrong.

Greyback snarled, apparently having picked up on Dudley's amusement.

Just another boxer, Dudley reminded himself. He'd fought with bigger boys before, even if none of his enemies had ever been a wizard or a werewolf before. Between the two of them, Dudley decided, he'd rather take his chances with the former in close quarters. He sagged, his mind made up. Just another boxing match.

His body reacted. Dudley jumped, his left flying.

Greyback had been prepared and ducked the blow with ease – so much for the human form not having inhuman reflexes – but at least now they were toe-to-toe. With his body covering his right, he tried a hook, but again, the werewolf twisted out of the way, this time with a thrilled, mad grin.

Acting on pure instinct, Dudley threw himself backwards; instead of a crushing blow to his side, Greyback's punch merely glanced off. A sharp pain shot through Dudley from the point of impact. Inhuman strength in human form or was the werewolf just very strong?

Greyback brought his right hand down, and all Dudley could think about was avoiding whatever magic would be thrown his way. His knees gave way as he dropped forward.

This was no boxing match. No punch was forbidden, and no matter how fast he could twist his upper body, the werewolf was still relying on his legs for a stable stance.

Dudley's blow with his left to the kneecap glanced off, but barely, and from his position at the feet of Greyback, Dudley was still in close range of the werewolf who had no proper footing. Dudley jumped up, his right delivering an uppercut to Greyback's crotch, but it didn't seem to have worked - Greyback's clothes had absorbed too much force.

A powerful claw ripped Dudley off the ground. For a brief moment, Dudley was face to face with a snarling Greyback and saw something moving behind the werewolf; then, the world was thrown aside. As if time had slowed down, Dudley saw Sarah leap onto Greyback, the knife in her hand coming down. Walls flew past until Dudley's leg caught on something solid. His body was violently pulled down and hit a cloud of white. Bouncing off of the bed, he fell to the ground, aching all over, but his eyes flew to the raging werewolf.

In his wild thrashings, Sarah had let go of the knife – the knife she had sunken into Greyback's neck – and was holding on for dear life.

Dudley jumped to his feet; Greyback reacting inhumanly fast by lowering his right hand, a shower of sparks shot from the wand in it. Just then, Sarah's hand brushed the wand.

The air was rent apart by a shock wave. Greyback howled in pain, Sarah loosing her grip and flying to the side.

And just then Dudley impacted with the werewolf, lifting the enemy off his feet.

Dudley stumbled over his feet and fell to the ground, watching Greyback sail through the air, hand bleeding, and smash into the outer wall and crush a table with his weight.

With a clatter, the knife fell on the ground between them, having come loose in the tumble, it seemed.

Prickling pain on his face told Dudley that he wasn't dead yet. His right knee buckling in pain, he pushed all other thoughts apart from his next steps out of his mind. He jumped on the knife just as Greyback rose to his full height with a furious roar.

Dudley put every bit of strength and determination into the thrust, doing his best to aim for where he assumed even beasts were vulnerable – their lower abdomen and, if he was particularly lucky and the thrust would carry on, the chest.

Inches away from connecting, Dudley was stopped. A claw-like, inhumanly strong hand grasped his and pulled it to the side. The other hand came crashing down on Dudley's back just as a knee came up; caught between the blow and a hard place, Dudley was sure the sickening crunch was from a few broken ribs. Light as air, he was flung across the room once more, watching helplessly as Greyback ripped the curtains back with a manic smile and a shudder. In the light of the moon, his features shifted, subtle at first as his clothes became even tighter.

And from the side, Sarah rushed at the werewolf with a bronze lamp. Ears ringing, Dudley smashed into something solid and spiky that gave way. Splinters flew around him, and he realized he had to have hit the wooden standard lamp in the corner.

With a lazy swipe mid-transformation, the werewolf sent Sarah flying just as Dudley was half across the room again, blinking away the blood in his eyes. The moonlight reflected on the steel of the knife at Greyback's feet – paws. A human mind might have fought to catch the attack, but a wolf's? For the second time, Dudley's fingers closed around the handle to deliver a hopefully fatal blow.

The wolf jumped just fast enough that yet another attack glanced off, this time barely scratching the monster. Dudley's momentum carried him past and into the wall, scraping the fingers over the wallpaper as the knife hit stone.

But Dudley didn't care or think any more; in a moment of weakness, he rolled sideways to lean against the wall, only to see not the glowing eyes of the werewolf, but its rear. The human-sized beast jumped across the room at a ghostly-pale, bleeding Sarah.

She fell back as the beast jumped, rags of clothes hanging off of the body. Though her upper half was blocked from view, Dudley could see the base of the broken lamp behind her leg and it's shaft –

The werewolf howled deafeningly; something snapped.

The corners of his vision darkening, Dudley struggled to his feet, his eyes never leaving the opponent.

The werewolf staggered as well, backing away from Sarah, retching. As he turned, Dudley could see a wooden shaft protruding from the wolf's chest, part of the lamp, the lower part still pointing out from under Sarah's left arm and her hand still in place to impale the lunging beast upon it.

It seemed to have gone deep into the beast's flesh. Blood splattered everywhere, more than Dudley would have thought possible, but no matter how much Greyback thrashed around, the wooden shaft wouldn't come loose, and the crippling injury didn't magically go away either.

By a strange stroke of luck, Dudley stubbed his toe against something, and a sharp pain shot up. Looking down, Dudley had to laugh – he'd found the hatchet, and he had a good idea of where to put it next. Picking it up had him coughing up blood as well, and his body ached all over, but Dudley managed it. Once he felt the handle in his hand, it seemed as if he'd found a new source of strength.

As if in a dream, he walked over to the injured werewolf who was still fighting with the shaft in his chest. His own strength had become his undoing, and too focused on his pain, he didn't notice Dudley coming over or swinging his arm in a wide arc.

In a mighty strike, Dudley buried the hatchet in the beast's head, but let go immediately. Greyback shivered and thrashed, spewing blood all around.

Then he fell silent and moved no more.

"And stay dead," Dudley mumbled, swaying on his feet. Coughing and snorting, he stared at the fallen enemy in disbelief.

"And stay dead," he repeated, smiling lop-sidedly as he turned to Sarah.

She stared back with wide eyes, her right hand pressed on her shoulder.

Everything else forgotten, Dudley fell to his knees at her side.

Her shirt was drenched in blood, but it didn't seem to come from anywhere. Her left hand was shaking madly, clenched around the lamppost. And through the fingers of her right hand, blood seeped out. Just like that, their victory had turned to defeat, he felt.

Her lip quivered, but whatever she wanted to say, no words came out.

"I-I don't know –" Dudley whimpered. His hands were shaking badly, and he moved them hither and thither, but never touched Sarah. What was he supposed to do? What could he do that wouldn't make it worse?

The door flew open once more, and a blonde girl burst in. "We're fine! Are you – ? What's – ? Is that Greyback?"

Dudley looked up, not caring the slightest who this girl was. "Help us!" he pleaded, only then noticing the strange ringing in his ears.

The girl stared at him, open-mouthed and stunned speechless.

Hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor, and another girl burst in, this one a redhead, her eyes zeroing in on the body of the werewolf in the room.

"Help!" Dudley shouted at the newest arrival, and this one was faster on the uptake.

She fell to her knees, immediately pointing her wand at Sarah to do something. Dudley didn't care – whether it was magic or not, if it helped Sarah, he would accept it without question, not even caring who these girls were.

"Was she bitten?" the redhead asked with worry and concentration written on her face. When Dudley didn't answer right away, she slapped him. "Was she? This is important, Evan, was she bitten?"

"I-I don't know, it-I didn't see it, we were – I don't know."

Sarah coughed, the bleeding intensifying.

"So yes," the redhead stated in such a tone that she might as well have cursed. "We'll have to stop the bleeding, and fast. And do something about the bite. Werewolf bites, what was it? Come on, Hannah, don't just stand there! Werewolf bites, what did that moron say?"

"I-What?" the blonde awoke from her shock, shaking her head with wide eyes.

"Werewolf bites!" the redhead repeated. "What was it?"

"I-Ehm," the blonde stuttered, running a hand through her hair. "Silver."

"No!" Dudley shouted. "It'd kill her!"

"Silver and Dittany!" the redhead replied, her eyes suddenly lighting up. "Hannah – !"

"I'll get it!" the blonde shouted and ran from the room.

"Now then," the redhead said, leaning over to look Sarah in the eye, "listen to me, Sarah. Listen to me! We know how to treat this, we know how to stop the bleeding, okay? But we'll need to look at it, and you'll need to calm down. Evan," she added without averting her eyes from Sarah, "find me some silver."

"It'd kill her," Dudley tried feebly, but the girl shook her head.

"No, we know what we are doing, but we need some silver to heal the bite wound and we need your help. Silver, Evan. Think."

"Dittany!" the blonde announced, storming in with a small bottle in her hand.

The redhead shot Dudley an annoyed look. "Hannah, open the bottle."

The redhead dug in her pocket and, to Dudley's dull surprise, pulled out a coin that looked valuable and silvery and unfamiliar.

The blonde dropped to her knees next to the redhead, holding the bottle in her shaking hands.

"All right, Sarah," the redhead said in as calm a voice as Dudley had ever heard someone speak, "we'll take a look at it, so take your hand away. Take it – Evan, you take it away. We need your help, okay?"

He did, feeling numb inside as he pulled Sarah's hand away.

The wound was bleeding profusely, but the two strange girls got to work at once, pouring a strange liquid from the bottle and doing something with the coin that Dudley couldn't see and didn't pay attention to. His eyes found Sarah's and soon after her lips.

She mouthed something again and again, eyes slowly glazing over. Even if she didn't have the breath left to speak, Dudley had seen her say his assumed name enough times in the past.

Swallowing his tears, he forced himself to smile. "Dudley," he whispered, leaning down to her, only to be pushed aside by someone's hand. "I'm Dudley Dursley," he told a feebly smiling Sarah.

The stench of blood and something else was heavy in the air as he watched helplessly as his girlfriend came closer and closer to death.


Petunia's gone the Evans's way - a hero (of sorts). Only one loose end to tie up - Dudley.

'Let Dudley go out in a blaze of glory, saving people from Dementors. It's the Evans's way.'

Yeah. Or, no. No, not go out. Wouldn't it be way funnier to have him win? Yeah, let him win. Plus, he can be the Muggle view point, so there's that. Hmm, but what to do with Dudley after that?

'He should still die. No one likes him anyway.'

Yeah, he should. A wizard'll do it, of course. Stray spell, end of story.

'Yeah. Except no. No, not after he fought with Dementors. Something sufficiently horrible.'

Hmm. Bellatrix. Or better still, Greyback. Yeah, Greyback'll do it. Awesome, nice and bloody. Dudley'll do his best...

'And then he'll kill Greyback.'

What? No!

'Yes! With a fire axe and a one-liner. Or a chainsaw. Yeah, chainsaw-good. While on fire. The chainsaw as well, if need be. And a cigar. And rocking a skull-motif! The skulls of all the Dementors he's killed off-screen! Dudley Dursley, Professional Monster Hunter!'

No! No, no, and no.

'When will he ever get another chance at being awesome and contribute?'

... Fine.