November and part of December passed in a flurry of activities and letters and reading.
Harry's owl (Her name was Hedwig, Harry had informed Dudley) was getting quite the workout flying from Smeltings to Hogwarts so often. She didn't seem to mind though, which was nice since Dudley found that he actually really enjoyed writing to his cousin. He suspected it was mutual; after all, Harry wrote back.
It made Dudley feel a bit special. The man who had given him a pig's tail (and yes, sometimes the area still twitched and the like, making Dudley swear it was somehow still there sometimes) had said Harry was famous. Odds were his cousin received lots of mail from people and so for him to reply back even after all Dudley had done to him was nice.
His friends wrote too, meaning Dudley had quite a correspondence and saw quite a few owls.
Though he was still wary about magic because of the man with the pink umbrella, he could deal with a few things like books and sweets and owls.
Without owls, he wouldn't have pen pals, after all. His cousin's two friends were interesting. There was Ron, who loved chess and Hermione, who loved knowledge of all sorts. It was for this reason that, at her request, Dudley had sent her a photocopy of an article about Nicolas Flamel a few days ago, asking if the magical world really had Alchemy with it. Her reply had made him smile.
Dudley,
You are amazing! I had no idea the Muggle world knew about Nicolas Flamel too! Some things in the article aren't completely accurate, but it pointed us in the right direction. Thank you so so much! I'm sending you a copy of the article in our book about him, you'll be astonished at the differences!
Thank you again!
Hermione
Apparently she really liked Alchemy or something, since she had been quite excited.
A day after this, the first game of long distance chess had ended with this short letter sent by Ron through a school owl:
D,
Queen to F4. Checkmate! That was great. I've never played long distance chess before. So...
Please hurry with the next game!
Ron
Dudley had laughed at that and quickly penned a reply back since it was late enough for him to do so. He quickly fixed his chessboard and wrote:
Ron,
That was a fun game. It was my first time playing long distance chess too.
So that means we have to start for the second time. Here goes:
Pawn to D4!
D
But just because Harry's two friends were also writing to Dudley now didn't mean Harry had stopped.
In fact, the two cousins would still send each other various things, like books and pens or quills. Dudley had found a nice old-fashioned fountain pen for Harry one weekend when roaming around the shops near Smeltings; there was a small second-hand shop that seemed to have the oddest things, but they were affordable and so Dudley didn't complain (and he could actually get clothes from there he could afford with his pocket money that didn't droop on him! Honestly, why did his clothes keep getting so large?!). He had gotten the same style of pen for Ron and Harry's other friend Hermione too. The three were pleased; now they didn't have to waste their ink nor did they have to dip them constantly.
Dudley was reading over the latest, very long, letter written in said pen now.
Hey Dudley,
SNAPE IS THE BIGGEST GIT IN THE ENTIRE GALAXY!
Oh dear. What had the man done to his younger cousin now? Harry's scrawl on the first line was so deep and furiously written that Dudley could see he had almost broken through the parchment; it was a sure sign of how furious Harry was. Dudley continued reading.
Do you know what that stupid jerk did!? I did like you said and filed a formal complaint. We had to look up all these old law books that smelled like moldy cheese but we finally found how to do it. So we told the Deputy Headmistress because the book said we had to work up the chain of command and that was easy because she's our Head of House, Professor McGonagall.
She's really strict, but at least she's fair.
Anyway, so we went to her and she said she'd talk to him. And she did but he ignored her. We told other students to do it too, since the book said one complaint doesn't do very much. Apparently hundreds of people hate him because she was bombarded with student visits and the line went around the corridor!
HE GAVE EVERYONE DETENTION FOR, I QUOTE, "Being foolish enough to waste another teacher's time."
So we went to the next person, Headmaster Dumbledore, like the book said. He said he'd talk to Snape and that just made things WORSE. He even began Vanishing our potions in class! That's SABOTAGE Dudley! SABOTAGE!
So finally we went to the Board of Governors and this stupid boy's father, this boy named Draco Malfoy who is just as annoying as Snape, his father apparently threatened to curse the Board if they got rid of Snape.
CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?! And stupid Snape had the nerve to smirk and his stupid Slytherins laughed! We were stuck for a while but someone helped us out. A really nice girl in my year, Susan Bones, in Hufflepuff, she found me after Herbology and told me that her aunt, Amelia Bones, is the head of Magical Law Enforcement for the Ministry and she told her aunt what Lucius Malfoy did to the Board of Governors and she got that jerk removed sent to Azkaban for six months because of extortion and told us to try our complaints again.
Now Malfoy is being more of a git than ever, swearing revenge for what we supposedly did to his father, but on the bright side, Snape's on probation! So now he has to be fair in class with points and everything or he'll be fired.
But git that he is, he STILL gives me detention for things like breathing too loudly or being outside. He'd probably give me one for existing if he had his way plus he tried to get past the three-headed dog on Halloween! I saw him in the staff room when I was trying to get a book he wrongfully took from me back and his leg was all mangled.
Oh, you don't know-there was a troll here on Halloween and well, with what you sent to Hermione... the Philosopher's Stone is REAL, Dudley. It's real, it's here at Hogwarts, and we think that Snape is trying to take it for himself.
And I almost got tossed from my broom my first Quidditch game and Hermione told me Snape was jinxing the broom. What we're suspecting is that Snape must have worked for Voldemort or something and Ron thinks he's trying to finish me off.
So ever since then, that git's been giving me detentions. You name it, I get detention for it. Today I got detention for "Walking with your left foot first" and he gave me a "D" which stands for Dreadful on an essay I spent all week on because "it was a horrible pathetic essay and very illegible."
I even wrote in print, Dudley, not cursive, and had people check over it. It was fine and he just gave me this horrible smirk as he passed it back to me.
What a jerk. I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM SO MUCH. Without him and Binns, Hogwarts would probably be perfect.
Hope you're well and thanks for letting me vent,
Harry
Dudley frowned. He didn't know this Professor Snape, nor was he a Hogwarts student, but Dudley already didn't like the man.
Unlike his poor cousin's Potions grades, however, Dudley's grades were the best they had ever been. History, he was a top student but to his surprise, he had managed to get better in English-perhaps some of the tips he had sent to Harry sunk in or just the fact he was reading more had helped. All of his grades had vastly improved with Jake's tutoring and his hard work.
How had he survived Smeltings without Jake before, Dudley had no idea. They had a lot of fun playing games in the computer lab as well as playing chess and Jake was even dragging Dudley to these odd "robotics" meetings that had started at the beginning of December.
In Dudley's humble opinion, robots were definitely very cool. And though the boys were busy with that new interest, they still made a lot of headway in their historically-accurate game, having managed to completely design their first level, but it was so difficult getting the music and graphics the way they wanted!
Gawlinski had been amused by the game and had made more than a few corrections making both boys groan.
"No one has ever drowned in sweat, boys. And you're sitting, not even sweating," the man would often tease gently, quite amused by their reactions.
"It's still hard!" Both Jake and Dudley would complain.
"Nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy, gentlemen. Now then, let's get these graphics working properly, shall we?"
Needless to say, both boys would good-naturedly grumble and try to fix what was wrong.
On the bright side, at least they knew their battle scenes were also accurate. Though it was disturbing when Gawlinski frowned and said that swords stabbing into people did not sound that way and neither did muskets being fired.
Neither Dudley nor Jake had the courage to ask how their teacher would know what it actually sounded like. And they had ample time to, of course; they were both still in chess club, after all. And though Dudley was still losing most times at chess, he was still having a lot of fun. Plus, his boxing training was going great! He was learning how to move around-they called it "dancing" but Dudley sure wasn't wearing a top hat or moving to any dance beat! This was ducking and moving away from hits and staying on his toes and moving to confuse people. And though it left him exhausted and out of breath, he felt that boxing was a sport he would not only excel in, but also enjoy.
It was a Saturday afternoon in mid-December now, and nearly a meter of snow covered the grounds of Smeltings. Dudley was in his dorm, a bit excited. Christmas holidays were soon and yesterday he had finally managed to get the last of presents for everyone.
Jake was getting some sweets and a few packs of cards for an odd game he played. Dudley didn't know much about it, but he thought the cards looked cool. His mother Petunia was getting a new apron and oven mitt. His father Vernon was getting a new tie and cufflinks. He had gotten his teachers small things as well, like coffee or sweets. And he had gotten Harry and his two friends some things too: Hermione would be getting a rather nice notebook. Ron would be getting some Twix bars and a really cool black t-shirt with a king piece from chess on it with a design behind it. As for Harry...
Yesterday evening, at the same small shop he had bought the fountain pens, he had found the perfect gift for Harry. An old-fashioned typewriter which meant that there wouldn't be any more complaints about his cousin's handwriting since it would work in the school, no electricity needed. Though how Harry lived without electricity, Dudley still had no idea. He really suspected he would go insane.
Unfortunately, the typewriter was very heavy. Too heavy for his cousin's owl, that he knew. He had bought a ribbon for it but he was worried it wouldn't be enough, so he knew he'd have to try to find more. But he was sure Harry would appreciate it and some sweets and the red lion t-shirt as well. Dudley had read about the Houses and knew their symbols and was sure Harry would appreciate the shirt.
He had just bought the sweets and returned to his room, making sure he was packed for the holiday and wondering how to get Harry's gift to him when the snowy owl flew in and hooted at him.
"Hey Hedwig," said Dudley, looking at the owl with a sigh. "I found a gift for Harry that I think he'll like, but I think it's too heavy for you."
The owl hooted questioningly and Dudley indicated the typewriter. Another pleased hoot that Dudley was sure meant 'Harry will like it.' She tried to heft it up and hooted sadly.
"I know," he said, sighing. "No way in the world you can get this to him, is there?"
Hedwig was quiet a moment before she hooted excitedly.
"There is a way?" Dudley asked, surprised.
The snowy owl hooted once more, taking the smaller parcels, hooting at Dudley happily and flying off into the night quickly.
"Oookay then..." The boy shrugged and looked at Harry's present with a sigh before reading more and going to sleep.
The next day was the last class day for Smeltings before the holiday and Dudley was a bit sad to be packing up. It was only two weeks but if it would be anything like the last holiday, he would have to deal with his mother's shrieking about his clothes falling off and trying to stuff him and his father still bothering him about when he would start a boxing match plus probably bother him more about a robotics meet.
His parents would be arriving for him the next morning, bright and early. Dudley finished packing his things away into the trunk, leaving his outfit for the next day out, and wondered how on earth he was going to hide Harry's present from his parents' prying eyes.
And then the boy froze, listening.
Music was coming from somewhere. Dudley blinked, confused; the music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on his scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Dudley felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of his bedpost.
A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the room. Dudley would have panicked that someone heard it, but he felt too brave to worry. The bird had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons. It hopped to his desk and Dudley could see it had a long, sharp golden beak and beady black eyes.
The bird stopped singing and stared steadily at Dudley before nudging his hand gently. Its feathers were warm.
A hoot from the window made Dudley turn to see Hedwig and he heard another gentle strange song from the crimson bird.
"... This is how Harry's going to get his present?" Dudley asked, slightly dubious as he looked at Hedwig before indicating the crimson bird.
An affirmative hoot from the snowy owl and another song from the crimson bird.
"Erm... it's a bit heavy..." Dudley gave a worried look to the bird. "You sure you can handle it?"
A proud song from the bird and it gently nuzzled Dudley's hand as if to reassure him.
"All right," said Dudley. "I couldn't exactly wrap it, but his other things are wrapped right on top of it, okay? They have to stay together. Is that all right?"
The bird gently sang once more and placed a gleaming talon on the typewriter, wrapped t-shirt and sweets. It sung gently once more and Hedwig hooted from the window as Dudley watched, flames erupted once more around the crimson bird and it, along with Harry's gift, was gone.
Dudley swallowed hard, feeling a bit sick and nervous. He couldn't help looking over his shoulder after the display with the fire, pressing his hand nervously towards his backside.
Magic at a distance was fine. Books and birds and letters, also fine. But displays like that, close up...
The boy tried to hold back a shudder as he sat on his bed. He hadn't even said anything that entire time in the Hut on the Rock. Yet when his father had angered the huge man, it had been Dudley he had attacked.
And with Harry's parents, had they not tried to kill Harry?
What was it with magical people targeting children? Before Dudley could think more on this, and still a bit anxious from the fire display, Hedwig hooted and flew off. Dudley looked up as one of his dorm mates entered.
"Hey D," he said, blinking curiously. "Window up in this weather? You okay? And what station did you have the radio on?"
"Oh... yeah, thought I saw a cool bird," said Dudley slowly, standing to shut the window, noticing his hand shaking slightly. It was a faint tremor and only noticeable to him because he had lifted his hand to close to window. "Sorry about that. And if the music disturbed you."
"It's fine. And it was weird but I think I liked it. What band was it?"
"I don't know," said Dudley, managing a nonchalant shrug. "I think it was a commercial jingle or something. I liked it too."
"Well, I'm going to sleep. Parents coming early tomorrow. Hope you have a good holiday."
"You too," said Dudley, turning out his light too and sleeping. The frenzied rush of packing and constant moving made Dudley glad he had packed all of his things the night before. He hugged his parents and they helped him move his trunk to the car. The boy waved goodbye to his classmates and their parents.
"Oh Dudders," moaned his mother, sighing as she watched him remove his thick coat since the inside of the car was hot thanks to the heater. "Vernon, look at him, he's half the size he used to be! They're starving him!"
"I'm fine Mum," said Dudley, sighing and shaking his head.
"Atta boy, Dudley," his father said, grinning. "Don't worry Pet, I never went hungry at Smeltings, the servings are good. Now then..." His father turned on the radio and began to drive home.
While he drove, Vernon complained to Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, the council, the bank... today it was people doing holiday shopping or not properly shoveling the snow.
Dudley looked out the window, thinking, before asking quietly, "Will Harry be home for the holiday?"
His father nearly crashed the car, and his mother answered, "No, and good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."
"Sure," replied Dudley quietly, nodding and returning his gaze out the window. He still didn't understand it. If his parents disliked Harry so much, disliked magic, why would they have let Harry live with them? Why not with a magical family that would be happy to have him?
They reached the snow-covered street of Privet Drive and pulled up into the driveway. Huffing and puffing a bit, Vernon and Dudley brought his trunk up to his room while Petunia made hot chocolate. His father went downstairs and Dudley went to unpack when a gentle trill made him jump.
The crimson bird was sitting atop his bed.
Dudley's eyes widened and he quickly shut the door. "Are you mental?" He whispered. "You can't be here, my mum and dad will have a fit!"
The bird tilted its head and sang softly once more.
"Shhhhh!" Dudley said, wringing his hands nervously and slowly opening his door to make sure neither of his parents heard his visitor. He turned back and walked cautiously towards the bird, which held up a tightly wrapped scroll in its gleaming talons.
Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before was the following:
Dear Typewriter Giver,
Dudley couldn't repress an amused chuckle at that and he continued reading.
I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought it prudent you knew of the changes I made to your present using runes.
"Runes?" Dudley muttered, confused. Runes were just an old alphabet, weren't they? Before the Latin alphabet became embedded in culture... he would have to ask Gawlinski for more details, since they hadn't really touched on languages much.
The bird sang and Dudley jumped.
"Shhhhhhh!" He said once more, looking at the bird with worry and checking for his parents once more. Sighing in relief, he returned his attention to the scroll.
The typewriter will now be much lighter, will be silent and will not need refills for the ink. And I must thank you for giving Fawkes something to do. He has been most bored lately, taking even to stealing my socks because he thinks I am not watching. Quite the naughty phoenix, don't you agree?
"Fawkes?" Dudley looked up towards the crimson bird. "You're a phoenix?" He stated the last word with obvious disbelief.
The bird preened happily and piped its odd music once more. "Oh no. Shhhh! Fawkes, no! Quiet! Bad phoenix!"
Giving him what Dudley was sure was a sulking look, the phoenix obeyed.
"Dudders?" Petunia's voice called upstairs. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes Mum!" Dudley called back, giving Fawkes a look. "I'm fine, was just a game I unpacked!"
"Hot chocolate's almost ready! Then you can go out and play with your friends, I'm sure they missed you!"
Dudley sighed, looking towards his ceiling as if asking for patience, and called, "I'll be down in a bit, Mum!" He turned to the phoenix that was still on his bed and returned his attention to the scroll.
I would not mind a pen pal, if you are agreeable. It may save my socks, quills, robes and what little is left of my sanity from a bored phoenix. Replying, of course, is entirely up to you.
Have a very Merry Christmas.
Sincerely,
Albus D.
"So he sticks me with the bored phoenix..." muttered Dudley, blinking curiously. "I guess he must be a prefect staying for the holiday or something, since Harry's gift went through him first."
Fawkes sang loudly and for some reason, Dudley swore the phoenix was laughing.
"You can't sing here, Mum and Dad will have a fit if they see you," said Dudley to the bird sternly. "This is a... a... I don't know, anti-magic zone or something." He paced for a moment, looking at the scroll in his hand. He had three pen pals and he did like letters...
One more pen pal couldn't hurt. He just hoped the phoenix didn't keep singing!
Dudley walked over to his desk and beckoned Fawkes to join him.
Dear Albus,
My name is Dudley. Thanks for making the changes to Harry's present. It'll be a lot easier for him to use now! And thanks for telling me, so if he mentions it, at least I know beforehand and won't be confused.
Why a phoenix for a pet if he's so naughty and loud?
An indignant squawk sounded from next to him and Dudley looked up from his lined paper at Fawkes. Was the bird reading his letter?
No... that couldn't be...
Could it?
The beady black eyes peered back at Dudley and the boy began to write once more.
You mentioned runes were used for Harry's present, but I only know of runes as an old-fashioned alphabet before the Latin alphabet was common. I was going to ask my history teacher more about it back in school, but are they different in magic?
Also, I have a question for you. It is of the utmost importance. Ready?
… Do you play chess?
Have a Merry Christmas and I hope a certain phoenix doesn't stay bored very long. Perhaps I'll send you some socks if he keeps taking them!
Sincerely,
Dudley D.
Fawkes sung softly and gently rubbed his head against Dudley's hand. "Here you go," said the boy to the phoenix, handing the letter over. He winced, waiting, and was not disappointed when Fawkes vanished in an eruption of flames that did not do any damage.
He couldn't repress the fear that made him quiver slightly though. What if the fire one day did do damage? He closed his eyes, loathing the fear in him.
Perhaps he could ask Fawkes to flame away outside or something. Sighing, the boy stood up and went downstairs to where his mother was waiting with a broad smile and hot chocolate.
"Oh Dudders," she said, rushing over and hugging him. "It's so lovely to see you, I've missed you so much!"
"I've missed you too, Mum," Dudley replied, hugging her back. He accepted a mug of hot chocolate and sat with his father on the sofa, where they talked about Smeltings and, of course, his father began asking yet again about when he would be competing in matches for boxing.
He was not, however, as encouraging when it came to Dudley playing chess.
"Not a real sport or anything," the man grunted, mustache bristling. "But if you enjoy it, I guess that's good."
Dudley nodded and after finishing his hot chocolate returned to his room. He was going to try and sneak some reading of the magical history book but a thud on his window when he went to his trunk made him jump and the window rattle.
Another thud made him walk to the rattling window. Snowballs? Dudley looked outside, where he could see four people. He could recognize them even in their winter coats: Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon.
For some reason, as he looked at them, Dudley had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why he would feel so strange as he looked at his friends, he didn't know, but he had a bad feeling about going outside...
He steeled himself and left his room. "Mum, I'm going to head outside, okay?" Dudley put on his winter coat and hat.
"I'll be in here cooking dinner Duddykins!" Petunia said, hugging him tight. "Have fun!"
"I'll try." Dudley walked outside.
It was still snowing and it muffled his steps a bit, making it a bit hard to walk. "Hey guys," he said calmly, looking over them.
"Hey Dudley," Piers said, looking irritated.
What was he irritated for? Dudley had no idea; he had just gotten home!
"So you're still at Smeltings?" Dennis asked, sneering at him.
Dudley nodded slowly. His internal warning to leave, to back away, honed now from practicing fighting a lot, was practically shouting at him. He took a step back but was pelted in the face with snowballs...
Loaded snowballs.
"Ow!" Dudley shouted, falling over and covering his face while his old friends pelted him with snowballs, some having been packed with ice, others with rocks.
"You think you're better than us, you chicken?" Gordon shouted. "Your dad would've gotten us out, he knows the headmaster!"
"You can't blame me for your expulsion!" retorted Dudley, rolling away from their attack and managing to get up a bit, panting.
"You're a freak just like your stupid cousin," snapped Piers. "You used to be cool and tough. Now look at you. And everyone says I'm scrawny!"
To Dudley's surprise, his friend was right; he and Piers, compared to the others, did look smaller. He backed away as they advanced. "Leave me alone," Dudley said, looking at them. He showed no fear, would not give them that satisfaction.
"I don't think we want to do that. Snobs and people that let their friends go to St. Brutus's gotta be taught a lesson," said Gordon.
"And you know, so do stupid little nerds that think they're better 'cause they get good grades," said Piers, making the others laugh and Malcolm tried to tackle Dudley while Piers was talking, but Dudley was ready now. He punched the other boy hard and then began to run.
Shouts rang out from behind him as snowballs once more began to pelt him and the others chased him. The boy ran, hopping small walls, not caring if he was in a yard or not, running through the streets, slipping and sliding on the snow, but his old friends were chasing him relentlessly.
He would never, Dudley vowed as he ran, do this to his poor cousin ever again. Never.
A loud hiss from next to him made him jump and for a moment, Dudley thought a small tiger had lunged towards Piers, who was right behind Dudley.
"Argh!" The boy screamed, Dudley turning to face them, glancing around briefly. He was on Wisteria Walk, in someone's yard. Well, next to it.
More yowls joined the one hissing and Dudley turned. There were cats, loads of them, all hissing at the other boys.
"What is going on out here?!" A voice demanded, making Dudley and the other boys turn. "You boys, leave him alone! Don't you have anything better to do before Christmas?!"
"Your cat just scratched me!" Piers shouted.
"And I'll wallop you if you don't get off my property!" Mrs. Figg, the batty old woman who used to babysit Harry and had once or twice watched Dudley, shouted, glaring menacingly at the boys.
"... Come on," Gordon said to Piers.
Dudley watched his old friends leave, his racing heart beginning to slow a bit, though he jumped when something furry nudged his hand and began to purr loudly.
The massive cat that had attacked Piers was nuzzling him.
"Thanks," said Dudley to the cat, who purred. He looked up at Mrs. Figg, who was looking at him strangely. "Er... sorry about that, Mrs. Figg. I didn't mean to bother you. But... thanks."
"Those boys were bothering you?" Mrs. Figg asked, looking over Dudley. "I thought you were friends?"
"It's... It's a long story," Dudley said, sighing and petting the cat, who purred louder.
"I've got time," said Mrs. Figg. "Come on inside and have some tea. Those boys are probably waiting around the corner anyway."
Dudley nodded and gratefully followed the old lady inside, smiling at the large cat that walked alongside him. Mrs. Figg's house smelled like cabbage and she had a lot of cats, but Dudley wasn't going to complain after the woman's presence and her cats had saved him from his old friends.
She served him tea while the large cat jumped on his lap and purred. As Dudley pet it, he told Mrs. Figg about his friends-how they had attempted a so-called prank that nearly killed someone and were expelled for it and, it seemed, they somehow blamed him.
"So now they think I betrayed them because I'm still at Smeltings," said Dudley flatly, sipping his tea. "They're trying to make fun of me for getting good grades and all of that. My dad knows the Headmaster, so they think I should've said something to stop their expulsion."
"Well, you couldn't have stopped that. They're just acting foolish. It'll pass."
"I hope so," said Dudley with a sigh. "The last thing I want is for things to happen every time I'm home because they're being stupid."
Mrs. Figg nodded, sipping her tea, "So they just bother you about this? Not Harry?"
"Oh, he opted to stay at Ho-er, his school for Christmas," said Dudley, almost having slipped and saying Harry's school's name. "His friend's family is visiting one of their sons in another country, so Harry stayed there. I hope they don't drag Harry into this when he's home though..." Dudley frowned, thinking. It'd be wise to give his cousin a warning. Perhaps after Christmas...
"His friend?" Mrs. Figg looked at Dudley, surprised. "You talk to each other?"
"We write," admitted Dudley with a slightly embarrassed smile and shrug. "His friends are pretty nice. They write too."
The woman sipped her tea, looking at the young man over her mug, before she spoke, "I'm glad you're getting along better. Family's important."
Dudley blinked curiously, peering at her. He hadn't ever heard that when it came to Harry. His parents always complained about him, after all.
".. Why?" he asked quietly.
The woman looked thoughtful, "Why is it important?" When Dudley nodded, she said, "Because it's something you don't realize you need and want until you don't have it. Even when they're mean to you because you aren't like them. Even when they're horrid and you loathe them... they're your family. In the end, no matter how much you want to deny it sometimes... there they are. It's something that even if your world turns upside down, it will never change."
Dudley looked at her, wondering. He never saw Mrs. Figg's family, now that he thought about it. He peered into his mug. "Guess we all take it for granted, don't we?"
"You'd be surprised what people take for granted," she said, chuckling. "I'm glad you two are getting along better though."
"Yeah," agreed Dudley with a smile. "He really likes his school too, just like I like mine. And so do his friends. Well, I think they do, I mean, they complain about some things, but otherwise they like it."
"That's good." She watched Dudley pet the cat for a bit and they finished their tea. "Do you want me to walk you home?"
"Oh no, I'll be fine," Dudley said with a smile. "Thanks, Mrs. Figg. And thank you." He said this to the cat, who purred and nuzzled him. He put on his coat and hat and gloves.
"Be careful," Mrs. Figg said, looking at Dudley sternly. "Call when you get home."
"I will. Have a good night, Mrs. Figg!" With that, Dudley began his trek home, the snow still falling. He kept an eye out but it seemed the falling snow and enough time had passed so the the streets and sidewalks were empty and his old friends gone.
He had reached his house when he saw the long horrible scratch on his father's car and he glowered at it. Those jerks. Dudley had half a mind to find them and beat them for this; he knew who had done it after all. He took a calming breath and entered his house.
"Had a good time?" Petunia asked immediately, smiling at him.
"Hey Mum. I had an okay time, I was with Mrs. Figg-I have to call her to let her know I got home safe. Er... Dad? I think you should take a look at this..."
His father looked at him and shared a look with his mother before slowly nodding. He stood and grabbed his winter gear, following his son and had just said, "Dudley what is this all about?"
In answer, Dudley pointed to the car.
"MY CAR!" Vernon screamed, rushing to it and petting it. "Oh my poor car!"
Do not laugh, Dudley told himself sternly as his father continued cooing comfortingly to the car as if it were alive.
"Oh my poor baby!" Vernon wailed, continuing to rub at the scratch. "It might buff off. It might. We can fix it. We can fix it, definitely..." The surprise and sadness began to swiftly fade and he turned to Dudley, "Son, did you see who did this?!"
Dudley took a deep breath, "I didn't see who did it, Dad, but I'm pretty sure I know who it was. Can I tell you inside?"
"Yeah," Vernon muttered, petting the car once more. "It's cold out here." He gently ushered Dudley in front of him and they went inside.
"What happened to the car?" Petunia asked instantly. "I heard you shouting all the way from the kitchen."
"Scratched," Vernon replied miserably, both he and Dudley taking off their winter gear.
"What? Who would do that?" Petunia asked.
Dudley replied quietly, "I think it was my old friends, Mum. They... we had a bit of a falling out, after they were expelled. They think Dad should have talked to the Headmaster."
"That's idiotic," Vernon blustered. "You weren't involved. I didn't even know what happened until they were home and then sent to St. Brutus's. Those little hooligans ruined my car!"
"Sorry..." Dudley mumbled, looking down.
"Oh it isn't your fault pumpkin," said Petunia quickly. "Come now, both of you. This is no way to spend our Dudley's time home. Don't worry about them one bit, we'll fix that car. Come on, dinner time and then we can relax together. Dudley, I called Mrs. Figg for you so you don't have to worry."
The boy smiled and followed both of his parents to the kitchen.
He didn't know how he would do it, but he had to find a way to get them back for scratching the car. Somehow...
But he pushed that thought to the side. Christmas was tomorrow and there was no way he was letting those jerks ruin his Christmas!