Harry woke late the next morning, thankful for weekends. He eyed the books stacked on his nightstand with slight irritation, then stuffed them all in the drawer and got dressed. Now that he knew what he was to the wizarding world, he had a better idea of where he stood.

What he'd found out was shocking, and had completely altered his perception of…well, his whole life. His parents had been young when they'd had him, barely out of Hogwarts (where they'd both been Gryffindors). His mother was muggleborn, known before her marriage as Lily Evans, and she had been good at Charms and Potions. His father was a pureblood and good at Transfiguration. They had been members of the Order of the Phoenix, an independent organization that fought alongside the Ministry against You-Know-Who.

When they had Harry, they immediately went into hiding, apparently afraid for the safety of their small family. For a year and a half, not a peep had been heard from them, and the war went on. But on Halloween of 1981, You-Know-Who (whose name Harry still didn't know, as none of the books had it actually written down) had somehow found them and cast the Killing Curse on Harry's parents, before trying and failing to cast the same curse on him. Somehow it had backfired, he had disappeared, and Harry was hailed as a hero, never mind the fact he was only a year old when it happened.

His parents had also had a best friend named Sirius Black, who had been blamed for their discovery. From what Harry had read in the books, another of their friends, Peter Pettigrew, had tracked him down before being blown to bits along with twelve muggles in a crowded street by an insane Black, who then went to Azkaban. He'd been there ever since.

Harry had read all this with some disbelief, unable to comprehend that his early years were filled with so much drama. He noted a few things he needed to find out about, he was particularly wondering what Azkaban was (He was thinking prison, but wasn't sure. It could have been a mental hospital). He also wanted to find out more about this You-Know-Who. And these were only the main things. He thought again of asking Draco or Blaise, but the sight of them, sitting in the common room with Pansy, Vince and Greg, laughing and bragging about their particular family's wealth and prestige, threw him off and he put that idea away as a last resort.

Instead, he found himself returning to the library, intending to devote himself to a day of research. He was hoping Hermione would be there. She had probably already done most of this and would be able to either tell him about it, or at least point him in the right direction. He wasn't nearly as good at this research thing as she was.

Unfortunately, this plan was cut short three corridors away from the library. Harry had been distracted by his new knowledge, and over a week of silence had made him slightly complacent. So he wasn't expecting it when he was suddenly shoved into a suit of armor and knocked to the floor.

Harry looked up, disoriented but not surprised as he heard Dudley's churlish laughter. "I don't know why they all think you're so special. I could beat you up with one hand tied behind my back."

And almost as if to prove it, he held one hand behind his back and used the other one to swipe at Harry, who was on his feet at this point and able to dodge.

"Go back to your common room, Dudley," Harry said, pulling out his wand and wishing he knew a spell. "Unless you were lonely. Did you miss me without any friends?"

Dudley scowled at him. "It's all your fault. You did something to them. All they do is stare at you all the time and ask me about you. You freak," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Harry kept his wand aimed at Dudley and remembered his plan. "Say, Dudders, are you having problems with your homework?"

Dudley scowled again, automatically it seemed, at the idea of homework. "They actually expect you to do it here," he grunted in confusion. Then his eyes rested on Harry and he advanced threateningly. "I've got a bunch of homework due." He raised his fist and said, "Do it for me and I'll leave you alone."

Harry smiled grimly. They'd made this deal before. "How much and when?" he asked.

Dudley didn't have his bag with him, so Harry told him to go get it and meet him in the library. When he got there, he saw Hermione at a desk by herself in the corner and made a beeline for her.

"I've got questions," he said. "D'you think you could help me?"

She looked up from her book and said, "What did you want to know?"

"Well, what's You-Know-Who's name?" he asked. "It wasn't in any of the books you found for me."

She nodded, looking frustrated. "I know, it's almost like they think it's bad luck to even write it. I can't find it anywhere."

Harry sighed in defeat. "I guess that'll be something to ask Draco and Blaise then."

She glanced at him again. "Your friends?"

Harry nodded, grinning slightly at the idea that he had friends. "Yeah. I really didn't want to ask them, you know, but if it's not here then I suppose I'll have to."

Hermione nodded and asked, "Anything else?"

Harry thought for a moment, then said, "Azkaban and Quidditch."

She smiled slightly shaking her head. "Complete opposites. Azkaban is the wizard prison. The guards are really creepy, I'll show you a picture later. And Quidditch is a sport, kind of like football, only nothing like it."

Harry nodded, then paused and shook his head. "Wait, what?"

"Well, there are four balls…hang on." She jumped up from her seat and disappeared into the shelves, returning a moment later with a well worn book entitled, Quidditch through the Ages.

They sat for a bit, Hermione lecturing about what she had learned while Harry skimmed the book, nodding and occasionally asking a few questions. Then, Hermione suddenly got very quiet and Harry looked up and around, wondering what had caused the change.

Dudley stood next to their table, holding his bag out and saying, "Most of it's due next week, I think."

Hermione looked at Harry, scandalized. "You aren't doing his homework for him?!"

Harry grimaced. "Well, he's my cousin," he said feebly. He couldn't really explain his reasons to her, nor did he want to.

"Oh, but you can't! That's cheating!" She fixed Dudley with a stern glare. "How could you even ask him to do that? You'll be lucky if I don't report you, Dudley Dursley!"

Dudley cracked his knuckles threateningly. "If you report me, I'll -"

"Dudley," Harry said, standing suddenly. "Things aren't the same here as they are at our old school. If you even try it, I'll give you a tail."

Dudley snorted. "We haven't learned that in any of our classes."

Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You actually pay attention?"

Dudley looked away, fat cheeks reddening. "I wanna learn magic, like the Great Humberto."

Hermione stood, eyeing Dudley thoughtfully. "You know he's fake, right?"

Dudley frowned and said, "But this is real, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded and said, "But if you actually want to know magic, having Harry do your homework for you isn't going to help."

"But I don't want to do it!" Dudley whined, making Harry grimace and wish he knew a spell to shut his cousin up. "It's hard and boring! I want to do real magic!"

"Well you won't be able to unless you know all this stuff first. I'll," she hesitated, then caught Harry's eye for a moment before offering, "I'll tutor you if you want."

Dudley snorted and said, "But you're a loser!"

Harry and Hermione both just looked at him for a moment, before he remembered his own lack of friends. "Oh…well okay then."

"Alright," Hermione said briskly, smiling at Harry as he gave her a look of pure gratitude, "First things first, you're going to get started on that homework."

"Hey, Draco?"

Harry, Blaise and Draco were sitting in the common room in front of the fire that night. Theo, Vince and Greg had already gone to bed, and Harry and Draco were waiting for Blaise to finish up a last round of exploding snap with Pansy.

"What?"

"Er, you know how I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?" he asked, hoping he wasn't making an arse of himself.

Draco grinned. "Yeah, and it's good to hear you actually acknowledge it. I wasn't sure if you really knew, from the way you were acting."

Harry fought a blush furiously, mentally smacking himself, and soldiered on. "Well, you know that 'You-Know-Who' guy that I supposedly defeated?"

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. "You mean the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded, relived at this slightly less ridiculous title. "D'you know what his actual name was? No one will tell me." And of course, what he meant by that was that none of the authors of the books he'd read would write it down, and Hermione didn't know. But Draco didn't have to hear about all that.

"People don't like saying his name, Harry," Draco said carefully. Harry rolled his eyes. He'd figured that one out on his own already, thanks.

"Could you just say it once?" Harry asked, filled with curiosity. "I'd never ask again, I just kind of wanted to know the name of this person I supposedly defeated."

Draco shook his head. "He wasn't just a person, though. He was really powerful and he was going to give the wizarding world back to the purebloods."

Harry really didn't care about all the details. He just wanted a name. "But why are you so afraid to say it, Draco? He's not even around anymore!"

"I'm not afraid!" Draco scowled. Then he lowered his voice and glanced around furtively, before leaning in toward Harry and muttering, "Voldemort."

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment. "Pardon?" he asked.

Draco frowned at him. "You heard me," he said. "I'm not saying it again."

"Then that was actually the name?" Harry asked in all seriousness. "I thought you coughed in the middle of it or something. Sorry. Voldemort, okay."

Draco could only stare at him, having flinched a bit when Harry repeated it. "You're not supposed to say it, you prat. Why do you think I didn't want to?"

Harry privately thought Draco didn't want to say it for the same reason that Harry had spent his first night in the Slytherin dorms thinking of his friend as Draco Malfoy, the Italicized One, but once again, he kept this to himself.

"Sorry," Harry said absently. "I won't do it again."

"Sure," Draco said, and then Blaise interrupted them, crowing with delight as Pansy made her way up the stairs, covered in SnapSap, smelling like a dead rodent and grumbling darkly at them. Blaise waved cheerfully at her, and she made a very unladylike gesture at him that had all three of them laughing as they went off to bed.

"Voldemort," Harry said proudly.

He and Hermione were in the library, which was almost empty aside from them, what with it being Sunday and all. Harry had come here, certain that he would find her, and had been proven right when he found her at what was quickly becoming her 'usual' spot. The only surprise so far was that Dudley was there too.

Hermione had him set up across from her, working on an essay for Transfiguration. He didn't look happy.

"Hermione," he whined, throwing his quill down in exasperation. "I don't get it!"

She tugged on his parchment and examined it. "That's because you can't do that. It's impossible. Can you tell me why?"

Dudley stared at her for a moment, then looked down at the book and his parchment. "The…bits aren't right?"

Hermione nodded. "The elements aren't compatible. You have to change one of them before you can combine them like you're trying to. Now," she said, turning to Harry and raising her eyebrow. "What was that you just said?"

"Voldemort," Harry repeated, feeling uncommonly proud of himself. "That's You-Know-Who's real name."

"Voldemort," Hermione mused. "That doesn't sound like a real name at all. I mean, who would name their child Voldemort?"

"Maybe that's why he became a Dark Lord?" Harry quipped. When Hermione fixed him with a 'that's not funny' look, he stopped grinning and said, "Sorry, fine, I won't joke about it. But if you don't think that's his real name, then what is it?"

"How would I know?" Hermione asked with a shake of her head. "You had to get your friends to tell you his name, I couldn't even do that." She did not seem happy with this idea. Harry thought back to potions class, and how the other students had been ignoring Hermione, and began to wonder if Dudley wasn't the only pariah in Gryffindor.

Harry suppressed this train of thought as Hermione began going on about various ways they might be able to get this information. They spent an hour or so discussing it, occasionally helping Dudley, who only seemed to understand when someone else walked him through the problem. Harry was starting to feel hungry, though, so after a while he said goodbye and left the library.

Harry nearly shot out of his skin when Draco appeared suddenly at the door and pulled him down the hall.

"Harry," he hissed, "What are you doing hanging out with them? They're Gryffindors and mudbloods!"

Harry had no idea what that last word meant, and he said so.

"It means…well it means they're muggleborn! They've got dirty blood!"

Harry frowned at this; the way Draco had said it made it sound like an insult. "My mother was a muggleborn! And Dudley's my cousin!"

"You don't like him anyway!" Draco said, brushing aside Harry's parentage. "You said he was a fat pig! And who was that girl?"

"Hermione?" Harry asked. "She's really smart, she's tutoring Dudley for me so I don't have to do his homework."

Draco frowned, distracted. "Why would you do his homework?"

Harry sighed. "Uncle Vernon wouldn't like it if I did well and Dudley failed, so to keep the peace, Dudley needs to do well. Hermione's helping with that."

Draco frowned, trying to understand this. Eventually he shrugged and said, "Harry, just choose your friends wisely, okay?"

Harry grinned. "I chose you and Blaise and the rest of the Slytherins, didn't I?"

Draco bestowed a smile on him. "You did, didn't you? What was I thinking? You have great taste!" They both laughed, then Draco glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Just don't make me hang out with them, okay?"

Harry mock-sighed and promised, "I'd never dream of it, Draco. Now I was going to lunch before you showed up, so…" he trailed off meaningfully. Draco rolled his eyes at Harry and pulled him off down the corridor to the Great Hall.

Classes flew by, until one day, Blaise found a sign on the notice board announcing that the first years would be having flying lessons. Draco and Blaise both moaned over the fact that they had it with the Gryffindors, but it seemed to Harry that this was more out of obligation than anything; they were too excited about flying to really care.

As the first lesson neared, Draco began regaling them all with stories about all the times he'd gone flying. Harry was highly amused to note that most of these ended with him narrowly escaping muggles in helicopters. He, Blaise and Pansy listened to these stories mostly for the entertainment value, until Blaise finally broke and began telling his own outlandish flying tales. Harry and Pansy shared quite a few laughs over some of the more ridiculous stories, and Pansy warned Harry that she would have to kill him if he joined in.

"You're the only sane one left, Harry," she'd said one day on the way to Transfiguration, when even Theo had joined in on the fun and told them all a long, twisty tale involving a muggle telephone booth, a magic carpet, and several hippogriff. "Of all the first years, in all the houses, you and I are the only sane ones left. Please don't leave me, I couldn't bear it. I'd become homicidal and then you'd become the Boy-Who-Was-Pushed-Off-The-Astronomy-Tower."

Harry had laughed and told her he'd never flown before anyway, so if he was to start telling stories about it, he'd be lying through his teeth.

"And they're not?" Pansy asked, nodding at a red-headed Gryffindor boy who was going on at length about nearly hitting a hang glider on his brother's broom.

Harry just shrugged and laughed again, and Pansy forced Draco and Blaise to go away and let her partner with Harry that lesson.

"Hermione, please, we both already read the book!" Harry said, trying to fend off his overenthusiastic friend. "You were there when I read it, remember? You've told us this already!"

Hermione, Harry and Dudley were sitting together in the library, and Hermione had foregone homework again in favor of reading flying tips out of Quidditch Through the Ages to them for the twentieth time. Harry could practically recite it with her by now.

"But Harry, Dudley might not know, and I'm quite nervous about all this flying business," Hermione said anxiously.

"You've read them to him too, you know," Harry reasoned. "And I'm sure you'll be fine, Hermione. You always worry, and you're always fine afterward."

Hermione looked the tiniest bit reassured. Then Dudley spoke up. "I don't think I can do it."

"What, fly?" Hermione asked, turning to him and preparing to start reciting her tips again.

Harry personally was very curious if the broom would actually be able to lift Dudley's weight off the ground, and it was in part for this reason that he was happy that Gryffindor and Slytherin were taking the class together.

And then Hermione began her recitation again, with Dudley paying close, almost frantic attention, and Harry said goodbye, reflecting that Pansy was exactly right and they were the only two left.

A/N: To explain some things. Most people said they thought Dudley should be in Hufflepuff or Slytherin. This is my reasoning on his being a Gryffindor. First of all, when has Dudley ever been a hard worker? Or loyal? And the most ambition the boy has ever had was to catch Harry and beat him up (which he generally failed at unless his friends helped), and he's a druggie in the fifth book. That doesn't take too much ambition, or even cunning. The boy is a bit of an idiot. I cite Cormac McLaggen as proof that people like him and Dudley will be Gryffindors.