AN: This chapter is dedicated to Foria, who answered me a lot of question about the holiday time in english public schools, english Taxis and everything else I could think of. You are getting it a little bit earlier than planned, simply because I posted the German version a little bit early too.

At a blow

"What do you mean? This is a gold card! My account has more than enough money, and even if that weren't the case, I have nearly unlimited credit with the bank!" Dudley protested repeatedly.

"I've already told you: According to my computer your account is closed." The salesclerk was becoming noticeably impatient. "Clear it up with your bank, not with me." She turned her back on Dudley and started to take the goods of the next customer in the queue.

Dudley fumed at the woman, "I'm not finished yet!"

"Oh yes you are!" contradicted a well-built man. "I don't know what your parents were thinking when they gave a gold credit card to a youngster, but apparently they have come to their senses. High time, when I consider your behavior. You're holding up everyone here with your theatrics," he said menacingly, rippling his muscles. "Now leave the nice young woman in peace and move on." An approving murmur was heard.

Dudley would have been only too happy to have shown the impudent chap how wrong he was, however, even though he himself was already almost the size of a teenager at the age of twelve, his pals were not. With such weaklings, he could not intimidate such a large group of adults. Grinding his teeth, Dudley snatched back his credit card and left to the gloating applause of the rest of the customers, but not before 'accidentally' taking a package of chewing gum from the box which stood on the counter.

"Hey, Dud, what's up with our drinks?" asked a boy with rat-like features… the idiot was called Pete Poolpiss or something like that. He wasn't important enough for him to remember his name.

"Buy them yourselves," Dudley snapped at him.

"We'll do it too. Unfortunately you probably can't come with us now to the cinema," Cecil, the second-richest boy in his year and everlasting thorn in Dudley's side, needled triumphantly. "Unless you still have some cash in your pocket."

Of course not. Dudley always paid for everything by credit card, and Cecil knew that full well. He would rather buy something he didn't want at all, to make sure he had more than the minimum needed to charge, than to be caught with bills or coins in his hand. Or he would ask one of his friends to buy it for him. After all, he treated them quite often.

Nevertheless, now they all followed Cecil's example and left him standing alone on the street. Dudley clenched his fists, but he had a rule, never instigate a fight if he wasn't sure he would win. Against Cecil alone he would win with ease, but should the other guys decided to fight on the side of that conceited dandy, then he would not only lose the fight, but he would also lose his supremacy once and for all. If he had learned anything from his father, it was that it's easy to intimidate others, if they're already fully convinced that you're invincible.

With all his might, he kicked one of the trash bins, which were fastened to the street lights everywhere in the market place. A loud clattering sounded as the retaining bolt broke and the trash bin rumbled to the ground. Well, he would show them what they gave up. As soon as his card worked again, he would go to the store and buy the most expensive toy that he could find. And none of them would be allowed to play with it.

But first, he had to return to the boarding school and call his parents. His father would immediately give the bank hell, of that Dudley was sure. Or, maybe not? Last week had been his birthday. Packages had arrived for him (fifty four of the very newest games for his Game Boy and the promise that still another very special gift waited for him at home), but neither his mother nor his father had phoned him. That had been quite all right with him, because he had been left to celebrate in peace.

Only now, it was slowing becoming clear how unusual their behavior was. At the beginning of the school year, his mother had insisted on daily phone calls, until he was able to convince her that they distracted him too much from his studies. She had relented on the condition that he wrote her regularly. And mostly he remembered to smear a couple of lines on a postcard and to mail it. The school secretary reminded him of it whenever she saw him, in the hope of sparing herself another hysterical call with regard to his well-being.

But what if the guy in the store was right? And what if his parents really had decided to teach him a lesson? Dudley knew that he had put in a miserable performance on all his examinations. Although, he himself saw no reason why he should make an effort (after all, he was a rich heir), but if his performance at Smeltings was too bad, then his father would certainly be disappointed. Indeed, he always told him that he didn't want his son to be a common worker, but it was still important to him that Dudley followed in his footsteps. So if he were to be expelled by Smeltings now…

Oh nonsense! Then his father would simply donate a larger sum and fix the matter. And he would certainly not place the blame with his son, but with the teachers. If there was one thing that Dudley could count on, it was the fact that his parents knew exactly how perfect he was. The teachers did not understand that truly rich people should not be loaded down with hard work. And if he learned nothing, then it was their fault, because they taught him nothing.

Dudley signaled to an approaching taxi. Fortunately, he had made provisions for such cases at the beginning of the school year and had transferred a large sum to the account of the school doorman. The money was intended to pay for Dudley's taxi rides. At first, the doorman had shaken his head at the high amount, because he was sure that it would pay for the taxi rides of at least two school years. But now, he shook his head over the fact that the money was nearly exhausted. No wonder, because on the weekend when the students were given permission to walk to the small town nearby, Dudley always returned by taxi in the evening. Run three miles? And uphill? Never!

"The Headmaster has requested that you come to see him as soon as you return," the doorman informed him while he handed money over to the taxi driver. Dudley did not stoop to answer. Foaming at the mouth, he stomped through the hallways of the administration building. His day was getting even worse. First, trouble with the credit card, then Cecil's triumphant posturing, an early return instead of a visit to the cinema, and now the old fogey was trying to order him around. Not him! Yes, he would go, but he'd give the Director hell!

He stormed past the secretary into his office. "You wanted to speak to me, Headmaster?" he said in a deliberately insolent tone.

"Most certainly!" confirmed the Director in an icy voice. "May I introduce: Mrs. McGonagall." Only then did Dudley realize that an older woman was in the office. She wore an old-fashioned costume of tartan plaid and had her hair pinned up in an austere bun. With a critical eye, she scrutinized him over the top edge of her eyeglasses. When he made no effort to welcome her, she commented disapprovingly, "You do not seem to place very much emphasis on behavior here."

"Mr. Dursley is a special case. His parents have completely spoiled him. Such a thing cannot be corrected in one year."

Dudley stared at his Headmaster with an open mouth. How could he dare…?

"Well, from now on he's your problem," continued the Headmaster. Dudley finally regained his voice however it came out whining, "What did you say?"

Now the Headmaster turned to him again. "Mrs. McGonagall works for the Youth Welfare Agency. She has come here to inform us of some changes in your personal circumstances. According to her, your parents have been arrested because of irregularities in their financial transactions. Since their request for bail was rejected, you become, Mr. Dursley, provisionally under the custody of the state."

This time Dudley could not even form words. His vocal chords only managed to push out a squeak.

"Mrs. McGonagall will wait for you here while you pack your things. As it is not expected that your parents will be able to raise the tuition for the next school year, I recommend that you pay careful attention to make sure you leave nothing behind."

Finally, Dudley's brain succeeded in forming a thought. The Headmaster was enjoying this! The bastard was actually enjoying this! Dudley's parents had donated a sum to the school that equaled thirty years of school tuition. But now, since he couldn't expect any more money from this direction, he was treating him like scum! He would not put up with it!

"You cannot do this to me!" Furiously he swept the desk clear and lunged with clenched fists towards the frightened man.

He had only gone one step, when he inexplicably tripped. Then suddenly someone took hold of him by the right wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and pressed him down to the now empty desk surface.

"I believe it will be better if I help the young man with his packing!" the determined voice of Mrs. McGonagall declared behind his back.

It was about four hours later when the taxi drove off. Dudley found it a little bit strange that the woman had not come in her own car, but it was all right with him. Certainly not all of his luggage would have fit into a small car, the type which menial clerks such as she probably drove. Instead, the taxi* was a black Limousine, which Dudley felt was befitting his social standing. The driver succeeded (to Dudley's surprise), in packing the entire pile of luggage into the boot. The boot was probably bigger than it looked from the outside. But so much the better, because then he had ample space on the back seat.

To his annoyance, Mrs. McGonagall did not claim the front passenger seat for herself, but took a seat beside him. Dudley was still trying to understand what had happened. When he had woken up that morning, he had still been the heir of an immense property, so why should he be absolutely penniless now? He stared out the window and watched, as his school got smaller and smaller. Would they now send him to a public school? And from now on, where would he live?

"Mrs. McGonagall?" He finally ventured to ask. "Where are we going?"

The elderly lady, who up until now had been observing him in silence, straightened up in her seat as if she had been lying in wait for a battle.

"It's time we clarify something. What do you know about the wizarding world?"

Dudley became nervous. If there was one rule, about which his parents remained strict, it was that magic was a taboo subject. And they also desired that he keep away from strange characters. He scooted as far away from the woman as the space allowed.

"You are not from the welfare agency. My parents were never arrested!"

Although it looked as though his financial future was once again secure, he was more afraid than before. What did this strange woman plan to do with him?

"Be assured that your parents have really been arrested. However, not by the Muggle…" she interrupted herself and rephrased the sentence. "…the regular authorities of their world, and not because of tax evasion. They have committed crimes against the wizarding world for which they must answer."

Dudley snorted contemptuously. "That's ridiculous. My parents would never enter that world, not for any price."

"I did not say that they entered. Only that they knowingly violated our laws. The indictment states child abuse, unlawful restraint, and embezzlement on a grand scale."

"My parents have never abused me!" protested Dudley.

Two critical eyes scrutinized him from top to bottom. "I would not be so sure. But the indictment does not refer you, but to your cousin."

"The Freak?" asked Dudley shocked. Now she gave him a definitely cold look.

"I advise you to no longer use that word, especially in the presence of wizards. Their reactions could be very unpleasant for you. And after what your family did to Mr. Potter, you will already be in a difficult position."

"We took him in when nobody else would have him," Dudley repeated the often heard phrase. "Without us he would have been left on the street."

McGonagall seemed to want to contradict, but instead, she asked a question.

"Mr. Dursley, do you know how your parents earned their money?"

Dudley shrugged. All he knew was that they had enough money that he would never have to work in his life. That was enough for him.

"The money came from advertising contracts, which your parents conducted in the wizarding world in Harry's name. Every penny they spent in recent years rightfully belonged to your cousin."

Did that mean that all his stuff belonged to the Freak? Dudley pulled a face at the thought that he might have even slept in his bed.

"I know. The idea is quite horrible."

Dudley was surprised by her sudden understanding.

"To exploit a child in this manner, and then to grant him just the bare necessities…"

Oh, so that was it. He didn't understand why the old woman was so annoyed. A good businessman always seized good opportunities. But he did not say this out loud.

"…the punishment for them will not be mild indeed. And now, you are more or less parentless."

Was he wrong, or did she sound like she had a little compassion for him? "My parents are still alive."

"But they cannot take care of you as long as they are in prison. Fortunately, Albus Dumbledore has agreed to take in not only Mr. Potter, but you as well. For the moment, he is your guardian, at least until they have finished processing your parents. Then we will see what happens."

Albus Dumbledore... the name seemed familiar to him. Wasn't that the guy made things difficult for his father because of the freak? Because of school and such? And now he wanted to be his guardian?

"And what If I don't agree to it?" inquired Dudley.

"You will like the alternative much less."

Now that Dudley knew he was in a magical car, he also noticed one or two other noteworthy weird things. For example, at every red light the car was automatically at the beginning of the queue. It also traveled far greater distances than was possible. On the highway, they passed through the villages in seconds.

So fast, that Dudley could not read the signs, so he had no idea where they were when they left the highway. He watched with concern, as the surroundings grew more and more rural and thus became more isolated. Finally, they stopped in front of a rusty gate. Behind it, Dudley could see a ruin, whose dilapidated towers stood out clearly against the bright night sky.

"We are here. Get out, Mr. Dursley."

Dudley didn't think it too bright at all to leave the warm car.

"I'm not getting out! There's nothing here!" he protested.

"We really don't have time for this nonsense!" She then addressed the driver, "If you would be so kind…"

The door beside Dudley swung open, and before he knew how it happened, he found himself on the loamy ground. He swore!

"Come, finally!" instructed McGonagall, who in the meantime had left the car. To his dismay, she had actually touched the rusty gate and it had opened. Just where was he?

"What about my luggage?" he started. "Don't let him take it away!"

"The house elves will look after it."

Dudley did not know what house elves were, but he certainly would not let his luggage out of his sight. He opened the boot, and to his complete surprise, he found... nothing! All of his possessions had disappeared!

"Where are my things?"

"They're probably already in your room. The house elves are inclined to fulfill their tasks quickly and discreetly. Now, if you are finally finished making a spectacle of yourself…" she stepped through the open gate.

Dudley indignantly followed her with unwilling steps. He would have gladly remained stubborn a while longer, but he wanted his stuff back, especially his Game Boy! He could hardly believe that the old hag kept going steadfastly toward the ruin, without observing the warning signs. On the dilapidated stairs, she paused.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Dudley blinked. Where previously there had been a ruin, suddenly up rose a splendid castle. Although the walls looked old, under no circumstances did it look like it was in ruins, and despite its dramatic shape, it was very inviting.

During the entire trek through the corridors, Dudley remained amazed. There were expensive looking wall hangings, gleaming armor, and a myriad of pictures - pictures, whose inhabitants waved to him (sometimes a bit maliciously). Without being quite aware of it, Dudley moved ever more closely to McGonagall.

Harry had been at Hogwarts approximately one hour. It was everything that he had dreamed of and more. The castle itself had already promised days, or even months, filled with exciting explorations. The lands were so immense that they made the property of the Dursley's looked like the front garden of a row house. And until now, no one had behaved with hostility towards him.

His new guardian, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (as he introduced himself), proved to be somewhat eccentric, but friendly. He permitted Harry to address him informally by one of his first names (Harry decided on "Albus" because he had already forgotten the other names). He was also greeted very cordially by Snape, and Harry was very relieved, when he heard that he would be taking up his old post as Potions teacher again. If he remained nearby, he would watch out for Harry.

He was less happy when he found out that Dudley would be living with him. He had hoped to never have to see that fat despot again. He was sure his cousin would find a way to make his new life as difficult as possible.

"Ah," said Albus suddenly. "Minerva has finally arrived."

The door opened and a strict looking older woman entered. Behind her, Dudley gasped as he entered the room.

"Harry, this is Professor McGonagall. She is the head of Gryffindor House."

Harry jumped up and gave her his hand.

"Please to meet you," he said politely.

"The pleasure is all mine," she assured him.

"Hello Dudley!" Harry then said, far less enthusiastically, and only out of politeness. He received no answer.

"Were there problems? You're late," inquired Albus.

"Nothing important, Mr. Dursley was not at the boarding school when I arrived, and the packing took longer than expected."

"Mr. Dursley, I already offered to your cousin to call me by one of my first names. If you would like, you may do also."

Dudley wheezed several times in and out before he had enough air to respond. "I would prefer not to."

Harry had to suppress a triumphant grin. Dudley might believe that he had shown pride, but in reality he had only sounded like a defiant child, he had even refused a privilege that Harry alone was now allowed to use.

"As you wish. Now, you have just put a long journey behind you. How would it be if you rested first of all? Your room can be found if you simply go up the stairs. Harry, you will certainly also want to see your room, correct?"

Actually, Harry was not particularly keen to leave the room along with Dudley, but he was curious about his new accommodations. Hence, he nodded and quickly rushed up the stairs. A small lead over Dudley would surely be an advantage.

He reached another tower room, which based on the curvature of the wall, measured greater than the one he had just left. If it hadn't been for the bulge caused by the roundness on one wall, than the space would have been exactly triangular. Right in the middle of the room was a round table with four chairs. The curved wall was covered from top to bottom with crowded bookshelves, interrupted by three large windows. Below each window was a purple and green upholstered bench. Along one straight wall there were two doors, between which was a large fireplace. On the other side were a door and the opening to the staircase, which he had just come up. The two doors at right angles both had nameplates. 'Dudley' was on the one on the side the stairs and 'Harry' was on the one on the side of the fireplace. Relieved that he had a private room, Harry stepped through the door.

The room behind it was a little disappointing, because it was almost completely empty. The only decoration on the stone walls was a painting, which showed a lion, dozing on a rock, alone in the steppe. There were also built-in bookshelves and a bench under the panoramic window, however, there was no cushion on it and the shelves were completely empty. A very used looking wooden desk, along with a wooden chair, stood in the corner. Only the big bed promised a little luxury. Harry's suitcase, which stood beside the bureau at the foot of the bed, reconciled to him that the bare-looking room was his.

Beside the desk was another door, through which Harry now ventured to look. Behind it was a bathroom that was more luxurious than anything that Harry had had up until now. The iridescent tiles were painted with large aquatic plants, among which fish, sea horses, and a few things that Harry could not identify, cavorted about in the truest sense of the word. Seeing another door opposite him, led him to suspect that he would have to share this paradise with Dudley, but the idea of being able to use such a large shower (with a shower attachment!), made his heart beat faster. There were two identical sinks, and over each hung its own mirror. Harry went up to the nearest one and turned on the tap, as he had hoped - warm water! In the last few weeks, he had learned to appreciate not having to shiver under an icy cold blast.

Far less disappointed he returned to his room and opened his suitcase. Once he took some of his books out and put them on the shelves, the room certainly wouldn't look so bleak any longer. He had just taken the first stack of school books in his hands when Dudley stepped through the bathroom door into his room.

"They don't really expect me to share a bathroom with you, do they?"

Harry observed Dudley distrustfully. His cousin sauntered through his room and touched everything he came to with his fingers.

"At least your room is exactly like my hovel. Well, you're not accustomed to anything better, but for me, it's hardly reasonable, is it?"

Harry refused to comment on this statement. In his view, a pigsty was adequate accommodations for his greedy cousin. Meanwhile Dudley directed his piggy eyes with full attention onto Harry.

"You probably think that you're better than me now, right?"

"I just think that you should be unpacking your suitcase." Harry replied and turned toward the shelves to ostentatiously put away his books.

That was a mistake! He should not have turned his back on his cousin. Dudley grabbed him painfully by the wrist and swung him around again. The books clattered to the ground.

"This is entirely your fault! I don't know what lies you've told to get my parents into trouble…"

"Lies?" Harry interrupted him. "I didn't have to lie. I didn't have to say a word."

Dudley seemed totally surprised that Harry had dared to interrupt him, but he quickly caught himself. "You're to blame that they're sitting in prison!"

"They did that to themselves. They're the ones who embezzled my money. And do you know what? They would have probably even got away with it, if they had just treated me decently. No one would have cared how much money went into their own pockets, if they hadn't been so stupid and greedy."

"We'll see!" Dudley hissed and raised his clenched fist.

Once Severus was sure that the two boys were no longer within earshot, he turned to Albus, "Is that wise? A Muggle in Hogwarts – especially that Muggle – he will make nothing but trouble."

"What else would you suggest? The wizarding world bears some responsibility towards this child. In an orphanage, he would not be in safe hands. There he would be an easy target, for both fanatical Harry Potter fans who want to avenge him, and also for the followers of Voldemort.

"Nevertheless, couldn't we find a nice, discreet married couple who would take the boy?" Minerva objected to Severus's surprise. He would not have thought that she would be on his side of this argument.

"Perhaps, but his presence here does have some advantages. Lily Potter's blood also flows in Dudley's veins. Through him, we can re-establish the blood wards here in the castle, and thereby provide security for both of the boys."

"Is that the real reason why you feel Mr. Dursley should stay her during the school year?" asked Minerva. "To strengthen the magic charms again?"

"A year here will certainly do Mr. Dursley no harm. His school performance leaves much to be desired. I will procure a good tutor for him who will help him to fill in the gaps of his knowledge."

Severus frowned. So first and foremost it was about the blood wards. This surprised Severus less than the fact that Albus barely made the effort to hide his true motivation.

"It would also be good," continued the Headmaster, "if the two boys developed a closer family relationship. That would strengthen the protection."

Aha, so that was why he sent for him, he wanted him to play babysitter to the two monsters so that they would get along together. Well forget it! Potter alone was halfway bearable, but he would not deal with his spoilt brat of a cousin.

Minerva sighed. "After recent events we cannot be too careful," she conceded to Dumbledore.

Severus became alert. "What events? Is it about the dead unicorns?"

"Among other things, have you read the Quibbler?"

Severus turned up his nose. "The nonsense in the Daily Prophet is already questionable enough; I will not waste my time on that other rag."

"This time Xenophilius was rather close to the truth with his theory, although Quirrell was not attacked by wrackspurts, but by Voldemort. He nearly succeeded in stealing the Philosopher's Stone."

Severus became weak in the knees at the image of what the Dark Lord could have done with the Philosopher's Stone. To hide his weakness he sat down in the nearest chair.

"He overcame all the traps?" And he had been so proud of his idea.

"All, except for the last one, fortunately, the mirror of Erised proved to be an insurmountable obstacle. I returned immediately when my detector signaled me that someone was trying to steal the stone, but if he had overcome the mirror with the same ease of the other traps, then I would have come too late."

"And you killed Quirrel?"

"No, when Voldemort sensed my arrival, he fled and left the body of his underling behind to die."

"And what happened to the stone?"

Dumbledore regarded him seriously.

"What I reveal now, cannot leave these walls. I have scattered the rumor that I destroyed the stone. Nikolas has taken a stock of the elixir and has gone into hiding. Actually, the stone is still in the mirror. Nikolas feels that since it is such a safe hiding place that the stone can easily be left there. I dismantled the other traps in order to support the illusion that the stone was destroyed, and I moved the mirror to another, safer place. Hopefully it will be enough to dissuade Voldemort from looking for it any further."

Severus did not fail to feel a little pride. Here he was, a spy, a former Death Eater, but Dumbledore trusted him with this important information. Although, he did wish the headmaster wouldn't use the name of the Dark Lord in such a casual way. He was just about to ask him a question, when suddenly a magnificent lion ran into a painting next to the ones of former headmasters, and caused turmoil by roaring loudly. In one fluent movement, Dumbledore rose from his chair.

"Harry is in danger," he explained and went in the direction of his room, with his wand pulled out. Both teachers followed his example. Severus could not believe it. Scarcely had he brought Harry to the castle and already he was in danger. Watching the boy was a full time job.

The scene, which they came upon as they entered Harry's bedroom was not what they had expected. Severus had naturally assumed that his heavily-built cousin was responsible for the alarm, but he had not expected that the said cousin would be crouching pitifully on the floor holding a bloody nose.

Harry stared half disbelievingly, and half self-satisfied, at his bleeding cousin. He could hardly believe that he had succeeded in defending himself against his attack. Dudley had probably not counted on that he, who had fled from him for many years, would strike back. But Harry had no time to relish in his triumph. After the initial surprise, and as soon as the worst of the pain had vanished, Dudley's eyes sparked with rage. Harry raised his fists. In the next attack, he would not get away so easily, but he would put up a good fight.

Steps sounded, and Dudley quickly changed his tactics. Already half way to his feet, he sank back to the floor whimpering.

"He hit me!" he whined as soon as he saw the adults, who rushed into the room with wands raised.

Harry ducked his head. He knew that he would now receive the blame for the situation, and his new guardian would not have a nice impression of him. As usual, Dudley had ruined everything.

"Unfortunate," said Snape dryly. Harry ventured a quick glance at his face and relaxed a little. Snape was sometimes excessively severe, but this time his austere look was not directed towards Harry.

However, the sarcasm was lost on Dudley, who wailed even louder.

"Stop that infernal howling! You will not die of a bloody nose!" Professor McGonagall stated then. Surprised by the unexpected reaction, Dudley actually grew silent. She stepped forward and examined the injury. "Nothing is broken." She pulled out her wand, and unmoved by Dudley's obvious fear, she spoke a charm and the blood disappeared.

"Sneaky!" Snape called. A strange creature with bat ears appeared, dressed in a leather cloth, on which the Hogwart's emblem was embroidered. Dudley stifled a cry, but Harry regarded the creature with undisguised interest.

"Oh, Master is back! What can Sneaky do for him?" The being looked very tired. Snape threw a questioning glance to the headmaster who just shrugged.

"Your replacement has been enjoying the convenience of having a lab and a house elf available quite a lot. Sneaky has spent the last three days re-organizing the lab, the ingredient cupboards, and the potion shelves, over again up to your standards."

"Sneaky, get me my tin of salve for healing bruises. Provided, that in my absence, something useful has been brewed."

Harry felt slightly betrayed. Dudley was not seriously injured. His nose already looked completely normal again.

Before anybody could do or say anything, Sneaky returned again.

"Here, Mr. Potions Master, Sir!"

"Thank you Sneaky! And you can take your time with my lab. I won't return to it for about three weeks."

Harry's heart sank. Was Snape really going to leave him here alone? Was it his fault? He stared at the ground.

He then looked up surprised, when long tapered fingers lifted his wrist and carefully applied ointment to the spreading blue marks that Dudley had left there. Snape's hand moved gently back and forth. Contented, Harry did not make a sound, and satisfied, Snape nodded.

"Now that all the injuries are taken care of, I must say that I am very disappointed," Albus said then.

"But he has…," protested Dudley.

"I do not want to hear it, Mr. Dursley. Fights are forbidden in this school, and I will certainly not permit my wards to ignore the rules. You are both to remain in your rooms tonight. I do not want to see either of your faces before tomorrow morning.

"But…," continued Dudley once again.

"Must I personally escort you to your room?" inquired Albus. Dudley fumed inside, but was clever enough not to let it show. Furiously he stomped out.

Snape screwed shut the little ointment container again. "If that is all, I would be happy to retire."

"Certainly! We can discuss things further tomorrow."

Harry was relieved. At least Snape was not immediately departing.

"Harry, the house elves will bring you up something to eat later. We'll see you at breakfast. Sleep well!"

"Thanks, S… I mean… good night!"

Shortly after, Harry was alone. He could hardly believe his luck. For the first time no one sided with Dudley against him. The punishment was not worth mentioning, and he even got something to eat. He could use the time well by finishing the unpacking his things. He anticipated that the next few months would be the best of his life.

Note: *In England, there are not uniform rules regarding the appearance of taxis. They are identified only by the taxi sign on the roof. It is therefore not surprising that Dudley is not suspicious at first by the appearance of the car.