Disclaimer: The only thing I own are my OCs who will appear later in the story.

Chapter 4: Doing What's Right

As he was on his way to Gordon's house, Dudley thought about what Mrs. Figg, his batty old neighbor who turned out to be a Squib of all things, told him. The Dementors were sent to Privet Drive to attack Dudley and Harry. The thought of anyone being able to control those monsters sent shivers down his spine.

Voldemort. Dudley frowned as the name entered his mind. He knew very little about the wizard; he knew he was the one who killed Harry's parents and might be responsible for sending the Dementors, but that was it.

Dudley felt the summer breeze on his skin, cooling him off. He shook his head. Why was he thinking about those weirdos? He should just forget about the Dementors, the nightmares, and Mrs. Figg and move on with his life as though nothing had happened. He shouldn't worry about his cousin's freaky world.

But in his heart, Dudley knew he couldn't forget about that dreadful night even if he tried.

Gordon's house was like the rest of the houses in Privet Drive; a squared house with a perfectly normal lawn. The only thing that distinguish the houses in Privet Drive were the color of the houses; Gordon's house was painted a light brown.

Dudley walked to the door and knocked. There were muffled voices behind the door as one of his friends opened the door. Gordon was a tall muscular boy with a hard-looking face. He smiled at Dudley, showing slightly crooked front teeth.

"Hey, Dud!" said Gordon happily. "Come on in. Piers told you I got the house to myself."

Dudley walked inside and Gordon closed the door behind him. He sniffed as the smell of alcohol drifted into his nose. Malcolm, Piers, and Dennis were sitting on chairs with a bottle of whiskey in their hands.

Dennis, the shortest in the gang, looked up at Dudley. "Big D! Want a bottle?"

Dudley wanted to say "yes" but there was something in the back of his mind that was telling him to refuse the offer. He drunk alcohol before, so he did not know why he was feeling this way. But he didn't want to appear weak in front of his gang, so he accepted the offer.

Piers tossed him a full bottle of whiskey, and Dudley caught it. He opened it and drunk some of it. The drink burned his throat, but he was used to it.

"So, guys," said Malcolm, "I saw this kid riding his little red bike around the park. It's brand-spanking new, that bike. We should show him a thing or two."

Dennis nodded. "He was showing off that thing like it was worth something. He even had the nerve to say that he can get away from us on his bike."

"I wonder what his mum would say if the bike ever gets stolen," Gordon smirked nastily.

"He probably would cry to his mummy, saying he lost the bike," said Piers, laughing.

Dudley snorted. "Wouldn't that be hilarious?"

But Dudley didn't find it funny. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel up to beating up a kid. He felt ill thinking about it. He remembered what the Dementors showed him and how he felt the pain of each of his victims. He didn't want to feel that way again.

But as Dudley was about to change the subject, Gordon drowned his whiskey and threw it in the garbage bin. "Come on. Let's teach the boy a lesson."

The gang cheered in agreement. But Dudley didn't feel as enthusiastic as his friends.

"But what about the bottles?" Dudley asked, hoping they will change their mind.

"Nah," Gordon replied waving a hand dismissively. "My parents will be gone for a while. We can clean up when we get back."

"Oh, okay," Dudley sighed. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want his friends to think he'd gone soft on them. But they wouldn't understand why or how. They probably would never understand.

The gang left the house and went to the park. Dennis had informed them that the boy always rode his bike around the park so it didn't take them long to spot the boy.

The kid couldn't be more than ten years old, Dudley thought, feeling disgusted with himself and his friends.

The boy had his back to them and didn't hear them coming until it was too late. Malcolm grabbed the seat. The boy looked behind him and his blue eyes widened in fear.

"So," Malcolm sneered. "I see you got a new bike. Nice-looking, isn't it?"

The boy didn't say anything; he was too scared to speak.

"Would be ashamed if it got stolen," Gordon smirked.

The boy squeaked at the threat. "Please don't take it! I got it for my birthday."

"We don't give a damn how you got it, idiot!" Piers snapped. Gordon lifted the boy off his bike and pulled his arms behind his back.

The boy struggled, but Gordon was too strong. "Go ahead, Big D," he said to Dudley, who was watching with wide eyes. "Take the first punch!"

Dudley gulped nervously. "All right."

Why was he feeling this way? It was just beating up a kid! It was just his normal routine! But Dudley wondered if beating up a defenseless kid is normal.

As he balled his hand into a fist and readied himself to punch the boy, Dudley saw it. Floating a few feet in front of him, was the Dementor exactly like the one in his nightmare. Although he knew it wasn't real (it didn't suddenly turn pitch black and the temperature was still normal), Dudley couldn't help the fear that entered his heart. Suddenly, flashes of his victims came in his mind, their cries of pain flooding his ears. His fist shook.

Damn it, Dudley thought angrily. This isn't right!

"What's the matter, Dudley? Just punch him already!" Gordon yelled impatiently.

Dudley gave a deep sigh and put his fist down. "I can't. I'm...I'm not feeling well."

Gordon, Piers, Malcolm, and Dennis looked at him in shock.

"Fine then," Dennis growled furiously. "We'll just do it ourselves!"

"No!" Dudley cried. "Just put the boy down and leave him alone!"

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at him. "Since when did you get soft?"

"I am not!" Dudley protested. "I'm just…" He couldn't find the words to describe his sudden change. Was he going soft? And if so, was it really that bad?

"Weak!" Gordon said, laughing. "Never thought you go soft on us, Big D."

"Just leave the kid and his bike alone," Dudley snarled, "or I'll fight all of you if I have to!"

Gordon, Malcolm, and Dennis looked at Dudley as though they were challenging him. Piers didn't say anything in the fight; he just stood there in shock, not knowing what to do. Finally, Gordon dropped the boy on the ground. The boy quickly got on his bike and rode away as fast as he could.

"Fine," said Gordon. "You're lucky you're the boxing champ. We would've taken you on."

He turned away from Dudley in disgust. "Come on, guys. Let's ditch the softy." He walked away with Malcolm and Dennis following him. Piers stared at Dudley with a frown. He looked torn. Finally, he left with the rest of the gang.

Dudley was alone. The gang was finished. He looked around to see if the Dementor was still there, but it had vanished. He turned and trudged back home miserably.

When he got home, Dudley went to his room. He sat on his bed and sighed. He wondered if he had any friends besides the gang and realized he didn't have any friends outside his now broken gang. He knew he did the right thing for a change, but it didn't take away the fact that he'd just lost his only friends. A part of him couldn't help but wish he could go back to the way things used to be before the monsters came. At least he'd still have his gang.