The next morning, when they woke up, Aunt Petunia was gone.

Harry had gone downstairs, early as always (although he was dressed much neater than usual), and found Uncle Vernon sitting at the table in the dining room with a bottle and a note sitting in front of him. 'Vernon, I'm sorry,' the note said. 'I can't handle it anymore.'

Harry felt like he'd been sucker punched. It shouldn't have been so much of a surprise, with the summer they'd had, and it shouldn't have affected Harry as much as it did, with the history he had with his Aunt, but it was, and it did.

Despite the way they'd treated him, his Aunt and Uncle had always been together. It had been something he'd always just known, a fact of his life. They'd been united in their distaste for him, and now that that was no longer the case, Harry wasn't sure what to do. Uncle Vernon didn't seem to be handling it any better; on the contrary, he was taking it much, much worse. Harry looked down at the floor and saw that the bottle Uncle Vernon was currently finishing off was by no means his first.

Then a thought occurred to him. Dudley didn't know yet. Dudley was going to take this far worse than either of them. Harry only had to deal with his shock, and while Uncle Vernon was losing his wife, Dudley was losing his mother. And what she'd written in her letter made it even worse than just that.

'I can't handle it anymore. I want to be able to remember him as normal, not as one of those freaks.'

She couldn't have made it clearer that it was Dudley's fault that she'd left. He was going to take this horribly.

"Why, Harry?" Dudley yelled, throwing one of his schoolbooks at his television.

Harry had been right. Dudley was taking this horribly. They were upstairs in Dudley's room again, after Uncle Vernon had broken the news to him. He had refused to let Dudley read the letter, though, which Harry thought was probably a good move, even if Dudley already seemed to know why she'd gone.

"She never seemed to have a problem with you having magic!" he continued angrily, kicking his wall. "She didn't even yell at you after your letter came! Why did she start hating me?"

"I don't think she hated you, Dudley," Harry tried to reason, ducking a video game case and wondering if he was telling his cousin a lie. "I think she just couldn't handle your having magic."

"But why was it okay for you to have magic?" Dudley asked, sinking suddenly down onto his bed. He looked on the verge of tears. "Why did she start ignoring you and hating me?"

Harry didn't know what to do. He couldn't say it wasn't Dudley's fault, because Aunt Petunia had made it abundantly clear in her letter that it was his fault.

"I think she was used to me, Dudley, and she never liked me in the first place," Harry explained, having accepted this long ago. "You were a shock…"

Dudley put his head in his hands, and Harry tentatively put an arm around his shoulder. "It's not fair." he muttered. Harry nodded sympathetically.

Dudley sat in the backseat of the car, sulking as they drove toward London. Harry tried to remind him that this time, it wasn't one of Uncle Vernon's 'let's spoil Dudley so he'll forget his mother left him' trips, and that they were going for school supplies in Diagon Alley with Draco. Dudley didn't seem to care very much. He'd been like this since Aunt Petunia left, and Uncle Vernon had taken the week off and thrown himself into making he and Dudley feel better. The problem with this was that he had no idea how, and so the past several days had been filled with a very hung-over Uncle Vernon taking Dudley on constant field trips to various amusement parks, zoos and restaurants. Harry was even allowed to come sometimes, if it looked to Uncle Vernon like Dudley might appreciate it.

"Alright, here we are," Uncle Vernon said, pulling over in front of the Leaky Cauldron. "I'll be back to pick you up around five." He pulled out his wallet and handed Dudley a large wad of cash. "Make sure you get everything you need, son."

Harry and Dudley got out of the car, Harry putting his hand in his pocket to make sure his key was still there. When his Hogwarts letter had come, Harry had written back to Dumbledore, inquiring about any money his parents might have left him. The reply was this key and an explanation that it was meant for when he was ready to strike out on his own, and a caution to not use the money frivolously. Harry had told Uncle Vernon that Filch paid very well, and that he would probably be able to afford his own schooling from now on, and Uncle Vernon was happy enough to not be paying for him that he didn't bother questioning it, and even told Harry he had until he had finished at Hogwarts to pay him back for first year. Harry thought this very generous of him.

They stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry immediately spotted Draco near the other exit, waiting impatiently with what must be his father. The hair was unmistakeable. He and Dudley made their way over to say hello.

"Hello Harry, Dudley," Draco said politely.

"Hi, Draco," Harry responded in turn. Dudley echoed him unenthusiastically.

"I would like you to meet my father, Lucius Malfoy," Draco said, looking up at his father. "Father, this is Harry Potter and his cousin, Dudley Dursley."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," Mr. Malfoy said smoothly, extending a hand for Harry to shake. He didn't look at Dudley at all. "I have heard much of you from my son. He tells me you're quite the Slytherin."

Harry blinked. "Er, yes, thank you," he said uncertainly, looking at Draco, who shrugged behind his father's back and mouthed 'act snooty'. Harry bit his lip and straightened his posture.

"Draco has told me much about you as well, sir," Harry tried, using the most pretentious voice he thought he could get away with. Then he wracked his brains for things Draco had said about his father. Eventually, he gave up and made something up. "I'm proud to be associated with such a prestigious family."

Mr. Malfoy seemed approving of his response, in any case. "No, Mr. Potter, it is my family that is honoured that you would consider us allies."

Harry was beginning to hope this conversation would end soon. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, Mr. Potter, call me Lucius."

Harry wondered what to say to that, if he was supposed to tell Mr. Malfoy to call him Harry. He supposed it wouldn't hurt and tried it.

"Excellent," Mr. Malfoy said with a satisfied nod. "I have business to attend to today. Draco, remember that you and Harry are to meet me at Flourish and Blotts at four o'clock." He turned to Harry again and gave a smile that worried him a bit. "Enjoy your day, Harry."

And with that, he was gone.

Harry gave Draco a bewildered look. Draco laughed at him, looking much more at ease than he had five minutes ago. "Well. That was my father. What did you think?"

"I feel like I signed a contract I'm going to regret later," Harry said uncertainly, following Draco and Dudley out to the alley. "Why did he ignore Dudley?"

Draco looked slightly uncomfortable at this question. "Er…that could be because I told him a while ago that you don't like your cousin… Or because Dudley's a muggleborn…sorry Dudley."

Dudley made a noise in the back of his throat and continued trailing along behind them. Draco looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Is he still upset about…"

Harry nodded. He'd mentioned Aunt Petunia's leaving in a letter, which Draco had responded to in shock that a muggle be anything but awed by magic.

"I…sorry about your mum," Draco said hesitantly. Dudley made the noise again and continued following them.

"That means 'thank you'," Harry whispered, and Draco laughed a little bit.

"Gringotts first?" Draco asked. Harry nodded, and they set off for the white marble landmark in the distance.

Diagon Alley actually managed to cheer Dudley up to the point that he was talking in full sentences, to Harry's relief. Gringotts had jumpstarted this, as Dudley hadn't seen the goblins last time, and neither of them had taken the ride down to a vault, which Dudley proclaimed later to be better than any roller coaster.

They wandered around the various shops, restocking their supplies. Dudley needed new robes, and Draco wanted a new pair of gloves, so they stopped off at Madam Malkin's as well. Harry even bought them all ice cream cones at one point. As four o'clock approached, they made their way to the bookstore, which was overflowing with people.

"What's with the crowd?" Dudley asked, struggling to keep up with Harry and Draco as they slipped in the door.

"Some poncy author is doing a book signing," Draco explained, pointing at a banner stretched across the windows.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harry read. "Never heard of him."

"He actually is pretty famous," Draco told them, grabbing them each a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, which allowed them to escape upstairs, away from the crowd. "Not to mention he wrote most of the booklist, which you'd know if you even looked at it. Bet you a galleon our new Defense teacher fancies him." He darted a look at Harry. "Let's just wait until Father arrives to get those."

"Sure," Harry agreed, leaning against the bookshelf behind him. "How was your summer, then?"

"It was decent," Draco said dismissively. "How do you like your mirror?"

Harry grimaced at him. "It argues with me every morning. I've spent hours trying to convince it that my hair isn't getting any neater, but it just doesn't stop." He stood up straight and opened his arms so that Draco could see his clothing. "Look at how neat I am now! It doesn't let me leave the room until I've tucked my shirt in!"

Draco had been snickering at him throughout his explanation, and even Dudley was grinning.

"He refuses to use the stuff Pansy sent him," Dudley revealed. "That's why the mirror keeps bugging him."

Harry scowled at him. "I don't think it would do any good," he said to Draco, who was now laughing at him with Dudley. "Both of you stuff it."

Draco smirked at him once more, then looked down at the crowd below them.

"There's Father, come on," he said, heading for the landing. Harry watched his back straighten as they walked down the stairs.

"There you are, good." Mr. Malfoy eyed the crowd distastefully. "Have you found all your books?"

"We still need the Lockhart ones," Draco said, and Mr. Malfoy cast a disdainful eye up at the table where Lockhart was grinning toothily and winking at the crowd.

"Hurry up, then," Mr. Malfoy said, and the three boys shoved their way toward Lockhart's table, which was near where the books were stocked, and grabbed a copy each.

"This is ridiculous," Draco muttered, trying to balance the books already in his arms while adding more. "We don't need this many books for one class."

Harry couldn't help but agree as he was bumped into by a man dancing around Lockhart with a camera, causing him to drop all his books.

"Watch where you're going, these are for the Daily Prophet," the cameraman snarled at him. Harry rolled his eyes and bent down to pick up all his books.

He stood up, balancing his books and darting a glance around to make sure he wouldn't be knocked over again. Lockhart looked up from a book just in time to meet Harry's eye, causing his own to widen.

"Why, it simply can't be Harry Po- "

"Come along, boys," Mr. Malfoy said smoothly, appearing out of nowhere and blocking Harry from Lockhart's line of sight. He ushered the three of them toward the register and paid for their books, nodding at Harry and Dudley's uncertain thanks. He then levitated all of their purchases for them and ushered them immediately out of the store, so that by the time everyone realized that Lockhart had spotted the Harry Potter, they were already long gone.

Dudley was a bit better after Diagon Alley, but not for long. By the end of that week, he'd regressed right back to monosyllabic responses and general silence.

Uncle Vernon decided that Dudley was happier doing non-muggle things, and so when Dudley mentioned one day that he'd accidentally broken one of his ink bottles and ruined one of his Lockhart books, Uncle Vernon suggested going back to Diagon Alley and getting him another one. Harry stayed home, as there were only two weeks left till school started, and Hermione had begun each letter she sent him lately with 'have you finished your homework yet?'

Dudley did seem to be in a better mood when they got back, and when Harry waved a quill at him in greeting and told him that Hermione had said hello in her most recent letter, he flushed, grabbed his own homework, and sat down at the table next to Harry to get started.

After that, Dudley seemed to improve somewhat. While he was still upset over Aunt Petunia, he didn't seem to be brooding over it as much. He did spend large amounts of time in his room on his own, but when Harry checked on him once, under the pretence of bringing him a sandwich, he found Dudley writing. He didn't see what, but he assumed homework, as Dudley sometimes paused for a few moments, as though thinking or reading what he had just written, before scribbling more.

The rest of the summer passed without note, and soon Dudley and Harry were at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, saying goodbye to Uncle Vernon. He and Dudley hugged, and Uncle Vernon gave Harry a look that said 'keep an eye on him'. Harry nodded. They were both still a bit worried about Dudley.

After passing through the barrier and finding a compartment, Harry settled down to keep an eye out the window for their friends, and Dudley pulled out a small book and began writing, to Harry's confusion.

"Still doing homework, Dudley?" he asked.

Dudley finished what he was writing and looked up at Harry defensively.

"No," he said with a frown. "I'm just writing. Got a problem?"

Harry blinked at this unexpectedly acerbic response, and Dudley went back to his book.

By the time the train was pulling out of the station, Hermione, Blaise, Pansy and Draco had all found them, and had all learned quickly not to ask Dudley what he was writing. Even an absently curious response evoked a glare from him, and they quickly left him alone and discussed their summers instead.

"I didn't do much," Hermione told them. "Spent time with my parents, they took me to plays and movies and things, and I did my homework. That's about it, really."

"Well, at least you're back with your own kind now," Draco said consolingly. Everyone in the compartment (with the exception of Dudley, who was still writing) stared at him, and Hermione looked offended.

"Excuse me?" she asked. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Draco seemed to realize he'd put his foot in it, but soldiered on. "Well, you know, you're back with witches and wizards, so you don't have to deal with…the muggles…"

Hermione opened her mouth angrily, and Harry knew she was about to start a tirade. He did nothing to stop her, however, feeling a bit shocked that Draco would say something so rude. Unfortunately, Blaise interrupted before she could say a word.

"You'll have to excuse Draco," he told her with a charming smile. "He can sometimes be a bit…tactless." He glared at Draco.

Draco glared back at him, but didn't say anything, having realized how fine a line he was walking, especially when he turned to Harry and saw that he was no happier with Draco than Hermione was.

"So, Harry," Pansy said loudly. "Did Sleekeazy's work?"

Harry allowed the topic change with a groan. "No, It didn't."

"That would explain why you aren't using it now," Pansy nodded. Harry shook his head, intending to explain that even if it had worked, he wouldn't use it all the time.

"Actually," Draco said tentatively, trying to ignore Blaise, who seemed be watching to make sure Draco didn't say any more stupid things, "Dudley told me he didn't even try it. He argued about it with his mirror all the time, apparently."

"Really?" Pansy smiled sweetly at Harry, who slid as far away from her as possible on the seats while shooting Draco a glare. "We'll just have to give it a try, then. Lucky that I have some in my trunk."

Harry's eyes widened, and he had just stood up to excuse himself to the loo for the rest of the trip when the doors slid open.

"Vince, Greg?" Pansy asked, having also stood to stop Harry and get her trunk down from the rack. "What are you two doing here?"

"Er," Draco said uncomfortably. Everyone looked at him again. "They're here for me. They're supposed to…." He trailed off, muttering the rest. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him, clearly having heard more than the rest of them.

"Bodyguards, Draco?" he asked incredulously. Everyone stared at Crabbe and Goyle now, who were standing in the doorway, waiting to be allowed inside.

"It wasn't exactly my idea," Draco said defensively. "I told Father I don't need bodyguards, but he said I have to have them anyway."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said, and it was clear that she still wasn't pleased with Draco. "They can't be expected to follow you around and obey your every whim. They have their own lives to worry about!"

"That's what I said," Draco agreed uncomfortably. "Well, not really," he added after a moment. "But that's what I thought. Unfortunately, Father doesn't agree with us. You two can just sit over there and play cards or something," he said, addressing this to Crabbe and Goyle, who did just that, Crabbe pulling a pack of playing cards out of his pocket as they sat.

Hermione scowled at him. The next hour was spent in an uncomfortable silence, only broken when Blaise challenged Harry to a chess match and Harry lost horribly.

"You're pathetic, Harry," Blaise said in amusement, setting up the pieces again. "I'm going to teach you strategy if it kills me. Draco, give me a hand here."

"Sure," Draco said, leaning over Harry's shoulder to look at the board. "Pawn to D5."

"I didn't ask you to play for him!" Blaise exclaimed. "Harry, why would Draco want to make that particular move?"

Harry eyed the board in concentration. "Because he wants to kill my poor pawn?"

Draco made an affronted noise and shoved him a bit.

"If I sacrifice that pawn, Harry, that means that you're in position to take his bishop without any casualties."

"Aside from my pawn," Harry corrected.

"Yes, aside from your pawn," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "That's how you play the game, Harry."

"But isn't there a way to do that where my pawn doesn't have to explode into tiny little pieces, Draco?"

Draco considered this. "Well, maybe if we sacrifice it to the rook instead. He doesn't have a mace, anyway."

"Why does that game have to be so violent?" Hermione asked from her seat across from them.

"Because Harry's too soft-hearted," Blaise said jokingly, watching Harry wince as his pawn was decimated. "We'll get him over that soon enough."

"If they didn't scream like that," Harry said, moving the pawn mournfully off the board and taking Blaise's bishop.

"My father has a chess set," Pansy said from her seat next to Hermione. "His pieces don't scream."

"My father has one too," Hermione agreed. "His don't kill each other horribly. Taking the piece is symbolic. You just tap it and move it off the board."

"Yes, well," Blaise said amiably, killing one of Harry's knights. "When Harry gets his own set, maybe they'll just tap each other and dance off the board. And maybe they won't scream. But mine do."

"So do mine," Draco agreed. "It's more fun that way."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about boys.

"Oh, hey, that reminds me," Draco said. "One of the house elves insisted on coming to Hogwarts with me this year."

Harry glanced at him askance. "Talking about screaming chess pieces reminds you of your house elf?"

"He's a bit odd," Draco explained, looking embarrassed.

"Right," Blaise said sceptically. "So, your house elf insisted on coming with you?"

"He did!" Draco exclaimed. "I swear it. Halfway through summer, he started dropping hints, and eventually he just asked outright if he could come along. Then he went to Father and told him that it would keep me from bothering the house elves at school and that he'd be able to keep a better eye on me."

Pansy snickered at him, and Draco threw her an annoyed glare.

"He sounds fun," Blaise said. "What's his name? Think he'd do stuff for us too?"

"His name is Dobby," Draco said sullenly. "And he'll only do things for you if I tell him to. He is mine, after all."

Pansy now appeared to be explaining to Hermione exactly what a house elf was, and when she finished, Hermione didn't look happy. "So, essentially, you've brought your slave to school with you?" she asked Draco with a frown.

Draco blinked. "He's not exactly my slave, no…"

"But he works for you?" she asked. He nodded. "And you don't pay him?" He nodded again. "Sounds like a slave to me," she concluded angrily. "Didn't that practice die out in the eighteen hundreds?"

"But this is different," Draco tried to explain. "He's not human, Hermione, he's a house elf."

"Oh, so that makes it alright?" she asked incredulously. "That's a horrible attitude!"

"No, no, you don't understand," Blaise said, trying to calm her. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. "Have you ever heard of brownies, Hermione?"

She nodded slowly.

"House elves are directly related to them," Blaise explained. "They help around the house, obey orders, prefer not to be seen, and are happy if you feed them and give them a place to stay."

"Yes," Hermione said impatiently, "But -"

"What does a brownie do if you try to pay it?" Blaise asked her. She frowned.

"In myths, it becomes offended and…" Her eyes widened. "Oh…"

Blaise nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly."

Hermione blushed slightly. "Never mind then," she said in a small voice.

The rest of the train ride passed peacefully, if a bit awkwardly. Crabbe and Goyle didn't really make much noise, and everyone forgot they were there until it was time to get off the train and they immediately flanked Draco.

"Do you mind, Vince?" Blaise asked. "I usually walk here."

Harry was walking slightly ahead of Draco on his other side, which meant that he was in danger of having his feet stepped on by Goyle almost constantly. Hermione was still in the compartment with Pansy and Dudley, and seemed to have gotten over her issue with Crabbe and Goyle too. She was over it enough to laugh at them all, in any case.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Pansy finally said. "You two don't have to be inches away from him at all times. If you really want to, just follow all of us."

Crabbe and Goyle looked to Draco, who nodded in exasperation. They fell back and waited for the rest of them to leave the compartment.

"Bodyguards for a twelve year old," Hermione muttered as she passed them. "Most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."