A year away from Privet Drive, and everything seemed to have changed. Their home still blended perfectly among all the other houses that littered the street, but Harry wasn't there anymore. Dudley didn't think he would ever return either, even after making some sort of peace with Dudley: the bitterness and dislike from his parents had only grown from being displaced as they had.

It wasn't the only thing that had changed though. Piers and Malcolm had become crueller, and Dennis and Gordon seemed to have become stupider than Dudley remembered. It was unnatural to continue walking around the neighbourhood with them, silently listening to them plan to corner another fifteen year old, and force the child to hand over all his money, or whatever else they felt like at the time.

Or, perhaps, it was just him that had changed in the last year. It had been a break from the monotony of Privet Drive – it's perfection and worries about inconsequential and childish things – to the real world, where it was a matter of life and death, with no telling which would arrive first.

That was probably why, when they parted, Dudley had been relieved. Listening to his old friends had begun to sicken him; it made him feel terrible about the person he had been – even more than spending the last year thinking had.

"Look, it's little Dudders."

Dudley sighed, watching the quartet stalk towards him. Malcolm had become the leader of the group – Piers had only ever been good at getting himself out of trouble, and being a leader meant you had to take some of the trouble.

"Tired of hiding at home?" Malcolm spoke while the other three snickered, forming a loose semi-circle. "Don't worry, we'll send you right back there."

"I see you're not tired of being four bags of useless," Dudley replied. He still had about an hour until dinner, which gave him enough time to deal with his old friends; maybe he would be able to get them to stop, but Dudley doubted it. Dudley knew he wouldn't have stopped, had he not experienced what he had.

It was his future that interested him more than roaming the streets to feel better about himself. It was growing up and knowing that he could be proud of himself for everything he had managed to accomplish.

Everything would start here, with Dudley burning the last bridge that linked him to his past self.

Dudley punched Malcolm in the face.

Watching the other male go down was satisfying, almost as satisfying as seeing the other three take an unconscious step back. He'd never been the person to hit before, always issuing the commands for others to follow, but the boxing classes he had taken up had taught him to control his punch enough to stun and not gravely injure.

On the street, no one cared about 'not injuring', and if Malcolm ended up with a broken nose as a result, it would only serve as a reminder.

"The four of you need to grow up. You're not going to be depending on your parents for the rest of your life." Dudley frowned at the hand that he had punched Malcolm with; clenching and relaxing his fist. "You will, eventually, but I hope that it's not too late then. For the sake of our past friendship."

They didn't stop him as he left them.

The Golden Snitch [Uagadou, Biloko]: 12 Days of Christmas – 5 kangaroos: write about Dudley Dursley being bullied