12 – Muggling Through

Author's Note: Disclaimer here, no money, no own, no character, 'sept Adamantia. Okay, here's the cliff clinger for all you people who are most indignant with me. MUahahahahaha. Thank you all for the terrific reviews and I hope you all enjoy this bit too.

Regards

Les

oo0oo

The sun was barely up when he first set off, pounding the pavement in his very expensive trainers. He'd been trolling around these streets since he'd been old enough to leave the front garden on his own and run with the neighbourhood children around the estate. The rhythmic slap of rubber on asphalt lulled him into an auto-hypnotic trance as he cast his mind backwards over the years.

The Gang. That's what they called themselves as they chased and bullied the smaller, younger residents of their neighbourhood. They'd all been big lads, and strong, fighting, running and generally terrorising. As they'd grown older, they had started committing acts of vandalism and petty larceny, especially in the summer when school was closed and not able to amuse and contain their baser instincts. God only knew where they would have all ended up if not for that summer when they turned eighteen.

Redemption Day.

He shuddered as he rounded the corner and headed off down Main Street, past the bakery and the florist, then left into Elm Road. The Gang had been running that day too, running and laughing as Big D tossed over the packet of sweets they'd casually nicked from the Jamieson kid in passing. He remembered that he'd just picked out a raspberry sherbet twist from the pilfered loot when the world went a funny colour and the ground bounced up to trip him. There was no sound after that, just the scattered bodies of the Gang all slowly hauling themselves to their feet in shock as they looked around. Then Big D's mouth had dropped open and he'd pointed, taking off at a bolting pace.

The place where Number 4 Privet Drive had stood was a pile of smoking rubble; Number 2 and Number 6 were partially demolished. Bricks from Number 4 had been shot across the road, peppering 1, 3 and 5, breaking windows, and denting cars. The rest of the Gang members caught up with Big D as he stood on the lawn of Number 4 with his hands on top of his head, his mouth agape as he surveyed the crater where his home used to be. Then came a tug as Little Nadger pointed to Number 2 where part of someone could be seen lying under the bricks.

He had always been big, but Big D was even bigger. Most people only saw Big D as fat, but under that layer of lard was a bulk of pure muscle, well-honed by running, boxing and hopping over walls to get away from the law. Together they used their bulk to lift the rubble away from Mrs McKenna from Number 2, then made Nadger wrap his belt around her leg where it was… missing. Other neighbours rushed to bring blankets but Nadger wouldn't let them give Mrs McKenna any tea, brandy, or anything else until the ambulance arrived.

Side by side with Constable Smithers, their long-time nemesis and a figure of fun to them, the Gang dug through the wreckage of Number six trying to find Miss Jobson who lived alone and was always home. After locating the poor woman, Big D kept working until the rescue people arrived. He had felt the house wall going as they were pulling Miss Jobson out of what remained of her front room but Big D had put his back and shoulder into supporting the wall. He was able to hold it just long enough for him and the copper to get her out before literally were bounced out of the space, a rolling cloud of dust chasing after him.

That day The Gang had redeemed themselves in the eyes of the law and the neighbours. The local newspaper ran a piece on them, calling them 'tragic heroes' and 'brave local lads'. Of course, for Big D it had been a personal tragedy, especially as his mother had been home when their place blew up.

He had not wanted to think about that - a double tragedy for Big D really, losing his mother to the bomb blast and then losing his father to insanity. Mr Dursley had gone off his trolley after learning of the explosion, blaming his nephew, Harry Potter, for blowing the place up with his unnaturalness and making Petunia's body disappear with his shenanigans. Big D had tried to hush him but Vernon Dursley continued to rave right up until he was sedated. He was off to the local loony bin where he still lived, lost in a world of torturing his nephew for causing the death of his wife. Of course, the local detectives had asked where this Harry Potter person was. Dudley explained that Harry was his cousin who had lived with them until he turned seventeen the year before and had gone to live with his mate's family.

The inquest into the explosion found that the electrical meter had been tampered with and so had the gas meter. It seemed that Vernon Dursley, in his arrogance and petty miserdom, had rewired the main electrical meter so he could steal power. When it turned out that the re-wiring had worked well enough to save him a few quid, he tried the same thing with the gas meter, and that was when the problem started. A very small leak had allowed the basement to slowly fill up with gas. An unfortunate spark from the crudely-wired electrical meter was all it took to blow the place sky high, taking several neighbouring houses along with it. A few days after the final verdict had been reached, The Gang had assembled in the park on Delphinium Drive and made a pact to do something productive with their lives rather than land in gaol. Little Nadger, having successfully responded to the disaster, decided the paramedics was the place for him. Big D went to the police academy, and he had gone to join the Fire Brigade.

Grinning, he turned into the park on Delphinium Drive and stumbled to a halt. "What the hell…"

The place was… beautiful… fresh, clean, neat, and serene in the early morning light. Flowers bloomed, trees rustled gently in the light breeze, a swing creaked in the same breeze. The park was also deserted except for one bundle of cloth on the completely-repaired park bench a dozen metres away from where he had stumbled to a halt. Moving cautiously, he approached the huddled figure sleeping on the bench and carefully lifted the cloth away from the head end. He almost screamed as sleepy green eyes blinked up at him from round black-framed glasses.

oo0oo

Dudley Dursley tightened his new tie and admired the pale grey stripes that perfectly matched the pale grey shirt he wore. The dark grey jacket of the tailor-made suit was still on the hanger ready to be donned before he left for work. His colleagues always teased him about how expensive his clothes were but it was a matter of necessity, rather than vanity. When you were six feet four inches tall and had a chest size of sixty two inches, tailor-made clothes were the only things that fit. He'd always been big but now his girth was a big made of muscle, not obesity.

Moving lightly, Dudley entered the kitchenette and poured muesli into a bowl before selecting a banana and an apple, then seated himself at his compact table. The whole flat was somewhat small but it was all his. He'd bought the three-storey converted row house for a song with some of the insurance money from his mother's death and spent a lot of time and physical effort remodelling and rebuilding the top storey of the place which had been a wreck when he first moved in. The building had been divided into six tiny flats at some time in the past. The lower four flats were already rented to a mixture of old people and older couples. Dudley had decided to use the top two flats as his own place. He'd worked out a lot of his anger at his father and his father's stupidity on demolishing the inner walls and opening the tiny, pokey rooms into bigger spaces. The rest of the money had been invested, quite wisely he thought, and made it possible for him to afford several tailored three-piece suits and leather shoes.

Dudley finished breakfast and slipped on his jacket just as the phone rang. Sighing, he pulled out the mobile and blinked in surprise when he saw the name on the screen.

"Hey, Pod, wassup?"

"Hey, Big D, I have a bit of a problem and I really need you to come to the old park on Delphinium Drive."

"Pod! I have to go to work in a few moments, can't it wait?"

There was a burst of silence then Piers' voice came back very quietly. "I don't think it can. You have to come now. Your cousin Harry is here and…"

"Harry? Oh God! How is he? What's he done? I'll be there in a few moments!"

oo0oo

The park was unrecognisably recognisable as Dudley pulled up, killing the discrete flashing lights in his car's grill as he tossed off his seatbelt and dashed over to where he could see Pod's head just above the dip in the land. As Dudley got closer, he realised there was a small person sitting beside Pod, dwarfed by Pod's not inconsiderable bulk, and swathed in black material. As Dudley stopped beside the duo, two sets of eyes swivelled up to stare. Pod's eyes were somewhat shocked and questioning but Dudley was really only interested in his cousin's vivid green gaze.

"Harry? Is that you… really you? Where have you been? What are you doing sleeping in a park? Where's your suitcase? Oh, sorry, stupid question. Hey, man, it's so good to see you!" Dudley ignored the slight man's flinch as he grabbed and gave him a hug, carefully pounding him on the back.

Harry chuckled nervously. "This is like being patted by Hagrid, and he's a half-giant," Harry murmured into the dark grey jacket. "I… Sorry, Dudders, but I don't know why I arrived here, I just had to get away from Hermione's temper and… and… she called me stu-upid!" He could feel a sniffle coming on.

Dudley shook his head slowly. "Its okay, Harry, let it all out. Come on, I'll take you home and… No, no, to my home, not Number 4. Thanks, Pod, I'll take care of this now."

"Oh no, you don't, Big D. I've seen some weird things but someone who hasn't aged a day in what, seven, eight years, that's definitely a new one. And this park, you think Harry knows what happened to it? 'Cus this is also some sort of miracle, let me tell you."

"It's not a miracle, Pod, really it's not. Can I say it, Harry? Is it allowed?"

Harry sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve again, banishing the mess without thought. "No, not allowed, but I suppose I can say it. It's magic, Piers, my magic."

The other man snorted and shook his head. "Okay, if you insist, but I want to know how it really happened as soon as possible. You guys'll be okay from here? I have to get home and I still have four miles to run."

"No probs, Pod. You want a lift?"

"Nah, I'll call you later." With that, the still sweaty man waved casually and trotted off, slowly getting into stride as he powered away.

"Come on, Harry, let's get you somewhere less conspicuous and see about some breakfast," Dudley said gently and steered Harry toward the car without removing his arm from its draped position over Harry's shoulders.

Harry wondered what had happened to his cousin to make him so… nice! Dudley spoke softly, moved quietly, and smiled gently! There was no hint of the sheer nastiness Big D used to exude like a miasma around him, not even a hint of impatience as Harry explored the neat and tastefully decorated flat Dudley brought them to. Harry half listened when Dudley called his boss and said he was taking a sick-day, not that he was sick but that he was taking time away. The difference was not lost on Harry as the bigger man folded the mobile phone up and dropped it in his pocket.

"So, are you hungry? I have muesli and toast and fruit, not much bacon or eggs in my diet these days," Dudley joked uneasily as the big green eyes turned to him almost apprehensively.

"I like eggs and kippers and toast but I have to eat more human food now. What is muesli? Can I have some tea, please or milk?"

Dudley gaped, then shook his head. "You aren't kidding, are you? Muesli is a mix of cereal, nuts and dried fruit. You eat it with milk for breakfast. I only have some tinned kippers or tuna, and possibly one egg but I don't guarantee the use-by date."

"Tinned kippers? Oh, yes, tinned fish is… I remember now…" Harry trailed off vaguely.

"Are you taking drugs?" Dudley asked as he made tea and passed a mug across to his cousin.

Harry blinked. "No," he said, then sighed deeply. "Look Dud, I am not… It was a fight with Hermione… She went off her trolley for no apparent reason... Life is easier as a cat, really it is."

"A cat?" the bulky man slid into the chair opposite Harry and sipped from his own mug. "You know, Harry, I think you need to start from the beginning, from when you actually left home. It would make more sense to me, truly."

Harry thought about it, then nodded and sipped his tea while he collected his thoughts. "Okay. You know the wizarding world was at war…"

oo0oo

Ron was in shock as he sat by his wife's bedside, head hanging, wrists limp. Hermione was ill, really ill, and the baby was the cause of it. Usually babies took a lot of nutrients and ambient magic from their mother but this baby needed more and so it was draining Hermione's magical core. She was going to be virtually a squib for the whole of the pregnancy and probably for a few years after delivery, unless they got help. How in Merlin's name was she going to survive as a squib? Even if they instigated a regime of potions and infusions of magic, she was still going to be crippled and confined to bed for the next seven months while the baby developed. It wasn't a common condition but the usual treatment for it was termination of the pregnancy and then try again later. How in the name of sanity was he supposed to tell his wife they had to kill their child?

Hermione stirred and Ron was at her side in an instant. "Easy, gently. How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

"Horrible," Hermione decided, reaching for water. Ron brought it over immediately and held the glass while she sipped. He was solicitous and nervous, and he was making her very nervous too. "What's going on?" She demanded.

Ron swallowed hard and carefully sat on the side of the bed to gather her hands up. "'Mione, there is a problem. Sometimes, when a witch is pregnant, it interferes with her magic…"

"Yes, I know that," she snapped impatiently, then quickly reined in her wayward temper. "I was pretty much reduced to second-year spells in the last month with Annabell, if you remember… but this is something else, isn't it?" she said shrewdly, knowing her husband all too well.

"The baby is leeching your core and he's going to suck you dry if we don't terminate in the next couple of days," he gabbled in a rush.

"What? What do you mean, 'terminate'? Murder? You get away from me, Ronald Bilius Weasley! How dare you! Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do! You haven't even got half a brain, never mind one original thought in your head that one of your brothers or friends hasn't thought before you, have you? You are useless! You can't even catch a ball without help from a girl…"

Ron's mouth flapped open at the tirade until a mediwitch in green robes bustled in and cast Solemnus, causing Hermione to finally dose off. "Oh dear, spells have to have magic to work upon and alas, her core is draining very fast. We'll have to move quickly to get rid of the child. A pity it's a boy; he would have been your heir, but then, you aren't really into all that pureblood faradiddle, are you?" She said airily as she laid out bowls and towels on the bedside tray. "Just in case it gets messy, less magic, less workability," she said catching Ron eyeing the preparations and thinking to reassure him.

"But, but Hermione hasn't agreed to this yet! She's just not sure. Actually, she is very sure that she doesn't want the baby terminated."

"Now you know that's just the foetus trying to protect itself… We'll have it out of there in no time."

"No, you bloody well won't!" Ron said harshly, as he shoved the wand aside and bundled the witch out the door. "There has to be another way! There just has to!"

oo0oo

"…And I woke up as a kitten."

"What? Really? A real cat?" Dudley asked, round-eyed in wonder. The whole tale was something like a fairy story to him, not a real war at all.

Harry nodded with a grin and morphed into his smallest form, stepping daintily around the now cold cups of tea to step down into Dudley's lap and knead his thigh with paddy paws. As a reflex reaction, Dudley stroked the sleek animal from head to tail then shook his head as Harrycat jumped down and morphed back into Harry Human. "I was so happy as a cat with Severus to look after me, but then my pet came along. She was so little and so lonely. She was fun and she made me a pom-pom." Sighing, Harry continued, "Then, she grew up some so we could go on adventures and it was really quite good until someone tried to steal her. She is MY Human, not his; mai 'Mia…" Rather impressive claws shot out of Harry's finger ends and dug into his hip before the smallish man turned with a tragic expression. "See! I get so jealous and angry when I think about 'Mia going to Hogsmeade with that… that Boy! She belongs to me, not him! Sorry, I sounded like Aunt Petunia for a minute, didn't I? Severus was angry with me and said she was her own person, not my pet; that people could not be owned like pom-poms and Mr Mousies, but … that's so not fair, she's my friend!"

Dudley hid a grin as he went to pour more tea and discovered it was stone cold. He was even more impressed when his cousin waved a hand and warmed the tea all up before Harry sat back into his seat, making a small huddle of misery. "Why can't it all stay the same, Dudley?"

"Because people - and cats - are all subject to the march of time, which is a good thing, really."

"Maybe I should not have left Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's house. Maybe I should not have…"

Dudley drew a sharp breath, then sighed as his smaller cousin cocked his head in rather a cat-like twitch of curiosity. "You're not the only one who wishes time would turn back to when we were kids. Oh, not for all the horrible stuff that we did to you, but so that we could change it, maybe stop the horrible things that happened later on."

"What happened?" Harry asked after a lengthy pause where Dudley only stared into his teacup as if it held all the secrets of the world.

"Oh, that's right, you don't know, do you? Mum was killed a few years ago, almost exactly a year after you left, actually." Seeing Harry's confusion, Dudley stopped and sipped his tea. "Okay, a year after you left, I was coming home from roaming around with the gang when Number 4 blew up. Mum was in the house and was completely torn to pieces. It was awful! I was helping out with the other houses so I wouldn't have to go near it just… in case. When Dad got home he went nuts, started cursing your name, saying you had done some freakish thing to spoil his nice normal home, stuff like that. His usual stuff. The ambulance crew on the scene put it down to shock and sedated him, but it wasn't shock. He just kept on getting more and more violent and the threats against you got worse and worse until the doctors questioned his sanity. Of course, when they heard that you went to 'St. Brutus' Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys', there was all sorts of investigations. The fact that the school didn't even exist made no difference to the field day the press was having with Dad and his obsession. Then the police discovered there was no such school and the next round of questions started: Where were you? Had you really left home or were you dead? Had Dad actually acted on one of the hundreds of horrible tortures he had insisted he was going to inflict on you as soon as he saw you next? Anyway, it got really bad at the inquest when the police gave evidence that tampering with the electric and gas meters had caused the explosion. Then Dad said, he wouldn't have fixed either of the meters if the gas and electric boards weren't thieves, liars and extortionists. Next he insisted that it must have been you who blew up the place and killed his wife with your freakish ways and stuff. When the authorities tried to clear Dad from the room, he attacked the bailiffs and strangled one of them enough to require hospitalisation. That was when they started to investigate Dad in earnest as he had basically admitted that he had tampered with the services in the basement."

"Oh dear. I'm sorry Dudley, I know he was your father but…"

Dudley sighed deeply. "Don't worry about it. I realise how horrible we were to you so you don't have to pretend you cared for either of them. You probably hated us all and I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"No, I don't hate you, nor do I hate my aunt and uncle any more. Hate is such a negative emotion you know? I had to purge it for one of the magical potions to work properly on me. I am very sorry for your loss, Dudley, really I am. So, what happened next?"

"I passed my 'A' levels with a much better score than I ever imagined possible. I won the junior boxing championship and took out the gold medal, too. Since I had enough education and was seen to be a sporting lad, as well as big enough for anything, I applied for the police force. Remember old Constable Plod that we always used to tease?"

"You mean Constable Smithers? I never teased him," Harry said in surprise.

"Well, I mean our gang always teased him, you didn't. During the rescues from the explosion, he was a real champion and had impressed me with how he handled everything. Anyway, in one of my police training rotations I was assigned to a Child Protection unit. On one call we were investigating complaints that a child had been locked up in the cupboard under the stairs and was being starved. Of course, I piped up naively and said, 'what's wrong with that? My mum and dad kept my cousin in a cupboard for ten years and he was okay.' Oh boy; was I given a short sharp education! What was done to you, Harry, was illegal, immoral and reprehensible! We all deserved to go to gaol over it. Fortunately, my very naivety on the subject sort of protected me, but it was the nail in Dad's coffin. He had already been sentenced to ten years in gaol for man-slaughter. Once the social worker began asking the right questions, then the new charges were levelled. Child physical, emotional and mental abuse, child endangerment, theft of services, all sorts of things. The only reason Dad wasn't charged with murdering you was that there was no body and someone confirmed seeing you on the streets of Edinburgh a few months after you left. Anyway, you know Dad, he lost it and threatened the judge, threatened the police, and threatened to cut you up into little pieces and feed you to the cat if he ever laid eyes on you again – ironic that, really. Anyway, they took him off, had him psych evaluated and put into a facility for the criminally insane. And there he will stay 'at the Governor's Pleasure'."

Harry leaned forward to touch Dudley's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dudders, you lost both of your parents, too. It's not fair, is it?"

"Oh well, nothing to be done about it and water under the bridge. So, your turn. What do you want to do now?"

"I think… I think I want to go to muggle university and prove I'm not stupid. I have lots of money; mum and dad weren't drunks. They were rich and were murdered but they left all their cash and stuff to me. My godfather was murdered. too and he left me lots of money and things also, so money's no object."

"No. I wouldn't think of you going anywhere. There's plenty of room here if you want to stay," Dudley assured him. "Turns out Mum was pretty clever with money, too. She had inherited a bit from Grandad Evans and invested it. And she had a fairly hefty insurance policy on her life from which I was the sole beneficiary, even though dad was still alive at the time of her death. Anyway, I'm financially comfortable also, and with getting promoted to Detective Constable, I had a pay rise, too. So, I have a spare room you can have. We can share groceries and utilities, if you like. Do you have any luggage? Do you have any of your old documents or do we have to get a whole new set?"

"I, I don't know. I think I have to go to Gringotts and get some Muggle money and I'll need a hand to get started so I would appreciate staying with you, if you don't mind."

"Not a problem," Dudley assured him, holding out his hand.

Harry looked at it, then took it carefully and shook hands on the start of a new relationship with his last Muggle relation.

oo0oo