I certainly have no rights to Harry Potter, but this won't stop me writing this story. However, you probably already know this. As it is my specialty, and as in my other big stories, this shows how things go if something went different right at the beginning. Please note that I'm not a fan of bashing and also don't expect the pairings to differ from canon. However, the path to them sertainly will be quite different. I also want to try and subvert certain plots and things that became common in the fandom over the years.

For now, the story will update every second Saturday, until I say otherwise.

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Chapter 12: The Pieces Move into Place

My parents must hate me... went through Dudley's head while he had to endure what he considered to be sheer torture.

It was the day of his tenth birthday, and normally that would be a great day for him, but sadly due to certain circumstances it was not to be. In the contrary, the day up to this point had been pretty much a bust, and the reason for that for fairly simple: his parents had gotten the strange idea to invite his Aunt Marge for his birthday.

"I can't believe that little Dudders has grown so much since my last visit. It was way too long since I last saw my neffy-poo," Marge said while inspecting Dudley like one of the bulldogs she bred.

Petunia clearly tried to ignore the accusation that they didn't invite her often enough. "Oh, he will become a truly big boy, I know it. Diddy Darling will make all of us proud!"

"Yes, I always said that a man needs to be able to throw around his weight, otherwise he's nothing," Vernon added, making no secret of his own bulk caused by too many sweet things.

"Oh yes, he certainly is becoming more like you every day, Vernon," Marge said loudly, unable to resist another barely concealed barb against Petunia.

Dudley's parents were oblivious of the fact that in reality he could barely tolerate Marge's presence. He'd always played the good nephew in her presence, because she always bribed him with presents or money to make sure all was going as intended - today he'd gotten ten Pound just for letting her hug him. That in retrospect had been a serious error, since he now couldn't say he didn't want her to be present, but one could hardly blame his younger self for enjoying all the stuff she had been giving him.

No, Dudley by now knew exactly why he didn't like being around Marge: she just was that unpleasant. Also, with her booming voice, the baby names given to him suddenly felt rather embarrassing. They also had to be blind, since he'd lost considerable weight over the past year.

And just to make things worse, she had brought Ripper with her for today's visit. Ripper was an older, very ill-mannered bulldog that Marge was holding in high regard and Dudley, who unlike his mother normally had nothing against dogs, couldn't stand that little monster. Oh, granted, that dog was not aggressive against him - Marge had made sure of that - but his mere presence was highly disruptive. That, and Ripper honestly was going on Dudley's nerves.

"Your dog seems to be unusually excited, Marge," Vernon commented when seeing Ripper being restless.

"Oh, he probably has missed Dudders as well. He also doesn't like being in the care of Colonel Fubster," Marge waved it off.

No, you just like seeing Mum being uncomfortable, Dudley thought.

While Marge had warmed up to Petunia due to their similar views on many things, she still couldn't help but to stubbornly remind Petunia of some of her traits she still disliked. Petunia hated having animals in the house due to her being a clean-freak, thus Marge liked to bring Ripper along in order to test Petunia's patience. Right now Dudley's mother tried not to look horrified at Ripper slobbering onto her pristine kitchen floor.

It continued like that over the day, severely testing Dudley's nerves.

Marge's visit had been so disruptive, Dudley had not even had the time to open up his presents, instead opting to simply dump them into his room until he would find the time. That was easier said than done however, since Marge seemed to insist to always have him around, making this day more about her than him. And that damn dog didn't ... stop ... annoying ... him!

"Ripper really likes Dudder's presence. Just look how happy he is!" Marge said, blissfully unaware that Dudley was not appreciating that kind of attention.

Dudley could have lived without said attention, as it meant Ripper chewing on his trouser leg. "Mmmnngh..." He didn't trust himself to say anything, knowing it would be something nasty.

Vernon and Petunia tried to be all smiles, but even they had started to notice that their son's mood had taken a turn for the worse. While they didn't connect it to Marge, they did understand that Dudley was not fond of Ripper. "Eh, Marge. There trousers were quite expensive..." Vernon tried.

"Oh, calm down, Vernon. But if it makes you feel better..." Marge picked up Ripper, holding him in front of her. "Don't worry, dear. We will come here often enough for that."

That finally did it.

Dudley still didn't say a word, but something inside him snapped and he felt like he wished for nothing more than to give that damn bulldog a piece of his mind. Something that would teach the damn dog to finally keep away. Hell, he wanted Marge to keep away as well, having grown sick of her invading his birthday and essentially making it all about herself!

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and... "Wha...? R-Ripper? W-what...?"

Instead of a bulldog, Marge was suddenly holding a poodle. Unable to comprehend what had just happened, her eyes rolled up and she fainted. Ripper, now becoming aware he had become a completely different breed of dog, followed his owner in unconsciousness right on the spot.

Vernon and Petunia were speechless, trying to process what just had happened, before finally looking to their son. "Son...?" Normally, Vernon would have shouted in anger at usage of magic, but right now he was too shocked.

"I... I..." Dudley knew not telling the truth would have consequences. "I don't like her and that dog being here! It was supposed to be my day!" He didn't dare to say he didn't like them at all.

Vernon and Petunia had gone through pains to ignore the change their son had gone through - and that was not about the fact that he no longer was a glutton and was now feeling bad about his still excessive weight. Their usual reflex, to get angry in the face of the unusual - meaning magic - was not working because it concerned their own son. They were at a loss how to react, when...

-toc toc toc- "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley? We are here to take care of the little problem that just arose and we were notified of."

Hearing that from the door, the adult Dursleys for a moment were tempted to not answer, fearing they somehow had been spied on, but in their desperation, they did open the door. To their surprise, instead of typical wizards, there stood two men in black suits. These two would not have looked out of place in an office building.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley? We registered an incident with a minor - most likely your son - in your house and are here take take care of the problem so that no permanent harm is done. We only need a few minutes, then we are out of your hair again," one of the men told them.

Being already stressed out enough, Petunia took over. "There! Over there!"

Both men walked in and saw the unconscious woman and dog. One of them addressed Dudley. "Boy, really? What drove you to give her that mustache?"

"Eh... she always had that. It's the dog... normally it's a bulldog," Dudley admitted. He then saw that his father was starting to get over the shock and his anger was seeping in. "I'm upstairs!" Dudley then decided to better make himself scarce.

Quickly escaping upstairs, Dudley locked himself into his room. His eyes then fell onto the stack of presents still waiting. He'd counted them earlier - to his embarrassment with some difficulties - and arrived at 38 of them. Now that he was more aware of it, the sheer amount felt somewhat embarrassing, especially since he remembered the second room and all the things he simply has no use for or that got broken.

Now he started to feel uncomfortable with the sheer amount of money his parents were putting into this.

Why didn't I notice that before? he wondered.

A few minutes later, the two Obliviators were leaving the house. The dog was back to normal and the woman had gotten a slight modification to her memory, that she had felt tired and laid down for a bit. Nothing dramatic and the day was saved.

"Good thing that this house is flagged for us. Imagine their reaction if one of the off-the-mill guys wearing robes had arrived at their door," one of the men told the other one.

"I don't try to; that would have ended ugly. Now I understand why Dumbledore insisted only muggleborn Obliviators should take care of that family. Yikes, that felt like the Spanish Inquisition in there once they calmed down and we were using our wands."

No, they really didn't want to imagine a stereotypical wizard or witch trying to get this job done.

"Yeah, one of those families. I just hope the kid won't have to suffer from it."

It was an open secret that some parents of muggleborn wizards and witches did take the revelation badly - at times resulting in horrible consequences. They still remembered the case of a muggleborn witch two years ago, who had been killed by her own mother with a cleaver mere days after the arrival of the Hogwarts letter. That tragedy had shaken some in their department badly.

The Dursleys in their behavior also raised some red flags, so they decided to suggest watching out for if anything anything suspicious happens.

...August 10th...

Deep silence laid over the hall in which the finals of the junior national chess tournament age 9-12 took place. It was the big finale now, with the remaining two players having their decisive game. Both boys sat at a table in the middle of the hall, brooding over the chessboard, while the back wall was dominated by a scoreboard with big chessboard, on which the current situation in the game was shown with wooden representations of the chess figures hanging on it, thus the audience wouldn't miss any turn.

It also showed the names of the two boys competing for winning the tournament.

RONALD B. WEASLEY vs. JACOB WHITE

Truth to be told, Ron Weasley, who was thankful they didn't use his full middle name, was astounded that he had made it this far.

When he's actually managed to enter the national competition, he had expected to not get very far, but here he now was, playing for the title! However, all these thoughts right at the moment were not important, while he was finally making his next turn.

Making his move, he put his opponent's second bishop out of commission. "Check," he then announced, pushing the button on the watch to register his time.

The orderlies at the back wall quickly removed the black bishop and moved the white knight onto its new field on the big board. "White knight takes black bishop," they then announced to everyone.

In the audience, all of the Weasleys sat in silence.

All of them were present, even Bill, who got some leave since it really was not every day that your brother would play in a national finals, even the goblins understood that. All of the male Weasleys were wearing rented dark suits, while Molly and Ginny wore dresses. Ginny actually was quite uncomfortable, not being particularly impressed with the dress her mother had rented for her. She had nothing against dresses - not anymore - but this one was way too frilly for her tastes.

Fred and George were sulking, despite them also wishing for their younger brother to win. To make sure they would not cause a scene at something that required silence, Molly had silenced them with a spell and would only undo it once the match was over, something the twins were not happy about. Molly however felt it was the right thing to do, as Ron didn't need any distractions right now.

Molly Weasley also knew these two were up to something over the entire summer, having been suspiciously busy with something they kept silent about. She still had no idea however, what it was, only that it caused them to lock themselves up in their room for extended amounts of time. While concentrating on her youngest son, at same time she glanced to Charlie.

She still had not gotten over the shock of him announcing that he was planning to work in a dragon preserve after he had finished school, even already got ready for signing. She had been unable to convince him otherwise; dragons just were his great passion - even more so than Quidditch. Trying to not let this distract her, her thoughts returned to what they were witnessing.

All of them were, like Ron himself, a bit surprised that Ron had made it this far, but that didn't mean that they thought Ron didn't deserve it and knew it was due to to Ron's skill and hard work. Perhaps this was the moment where he, like all of them, discovered what he enjoyed doing and was successful at?

Ron's opponent finally reacted to the difficult situation and decided on how to get his king to safety.

This was quickly done on the big board as well and then announce to everyone. "Black king to rook two."

Ron took a look at the board and saw that his opponent has done exactly as he had predicted and the trap was about to snap shut. Now I got you. I can't believe it! Should I let him stew a little by making a show of it? ... Nah, let's put him out of his misery.

Ron moved his queen. "White queen to king four." was quickly announced and shown.

Right away those who were well-versed in the game began to murmur in anticipation. Ron's opponent also looked like he got caught on the wrong foot by this move. He looked around the board in desperation, but after some moments realized there was no way to move his king to safety, and moving any other piece also would not end the threat of his king's defeat at the next turn. There was no escape.

Conceding defeat, he tipped over his own king. "Checkmate... Congratulations, I didn't see that one coming!" White told Ron, showing sportsmanship. "I really anticipate seeing you defend your title next year!"

Now that it was over, applause erupted from the audience, especially due to this final, brilliant move that ensured Ron's victory. With the match no being over, Ron had little time before his family surrounded him.

"You see, Ron, there is something you are really good at! I'm sure you can apply it to more than just chess as well," Bill told Ron, remembering Ron's feelings over his seeming lack of a talent.

"Oh, you really think...?" Ron still had troubles to accept that new reality.

Bill stopped Ron with a raised hand. "Oh no, don't even try to make yourself smaller than you are. This is your victory, and you earned it fair and square."

Charlie laughed at this. "Just imagine him using these tactical skill on the Quidditch field. Boy, his team would be unstoppable!"

If anything, it caused Ron to blush hard. "Please... stop!"

"Oh, is that our dear brother...?" Fred teased.

"Yes, him still wondering even after this smashing victory...?" George added, though there was no vitriol behind it.

"Oh,don't tease your brother." It was not often that Mr. Weasley told the twins off, but unlike with their mother, they never challenged him on those instances. "This is his day and nothing can take that from him."

Percy, who had said nothing, looked very pleased with him, and that was little wonder. Percy clearly saw winning a chess tournament as a feat of the mind, and he did respect that, being the nerd that he was. Ron's older brother clearly was waiting for what he felt was a calmer environment before giving his congratulations, since Percy in recent years had become somewhat more formal.

Ginny on the other hand clearly had to control herself not to hug him, perhaps starting to feel she was getting too old for doing that. He also could have sworn to see a tiny bit of envy on her face and understood that the pressure was now on her, and just being a girl alone wouldn't cut it anymore. Part of him felt sorry for Ginny.

Of course first now came the ceremony for the winner, as well as the press getting their pictures and some words from Ron. It took some time before Ron could have some time with his family. The topic at hand now was the fact that with his victory, Ron also had gotten a substantial prize money - especially substantial to a ten-year old boy, to whom 20.000 Pound Sterling was a massive sum.

Finally, they were alone in a nearby park, sitting on benches surrounding a small fountain.

"I have some trouble to grasp the sheer sum, even after you told me how many Galleons that will be," Ron admitted to his parents. After all, that still were several thousand Galleons.

"Do not bother too much with it; you are not yet old enough anyway to deal with such sums. It will all be put into a vault for your later use," Mrs. Weasley said, hoping that her son wouldn't go crazy over the sheer sum he'd won, which for their conditions was a huge amount of money.

Truth to be told, the sheer sum seemed a bit surreal to Ron. To him, the family always had been on a budget, and to suddenly have such a substantial sum on his own name went beyond his imagination. He had always dreamed about becoming rich in some way, hating how tight the finances of the family were. He however had little idea what to actually do with so much money, now that he did have it. His mother's plan did sound good, however.

Yet, Ron also felt strangely guilty that he got so much and would keep it all for himself. Wanting it was one thing, but actually having it felt quite different. All of a sudden keeping it all for himself made him feel like he was greedy.

"Eh, Mum? Dad?" Ron hoped his parents would understand. "I kind of feel uncomfortable keeping all of it for myself. It so much..."

"Oh dear, Ron, I know this is a bit overwhelming..." Molly Weasley clearly was trying to steer her son away from such thoughts.

"Eh, Molly dear, perhaps we should first hear Ron out?" Arthur stopped his wife from saying more, first wanting to hear Ron's reasoning. He kept firm when his wife gave him that look.

Ron felt the silence was the sign to continue. "I... I know we all have our pride. But... isn't that something that stays in the family? I just thought ... maybe set part of it apart for the family? You know, in case we really need it in an emergency?"

There was silence again and Ron looked around to see the reactions from the family. They all looked stunned, and Ron feared he had stepped into it. The Weasleys were quite proud people and hated things they saw as charity out of pity. He still had no idea how Mr. Lupin got them around about the fonds that would pay for their school supplies from now on. It must have been quite convincing.

Ron was young, so he had misinterpreted the mood and it was the opposite of what he feared. They were all stunned Ron would part with a chunk of his winnings just like that.

It was Arthur, who finally spoke up to reassure Ron. "See, Molly? Our son is not giving away anything, he is thinking about the future and wants to set some of it aside in case the family needs it. Can we really fault him for being so selfless and thoughtful?"

His wife had to concede that point. Ron didn't want to interfere in the family finances, he only wanted to put aside some of his winnings in case something unexpected would strike the family. If anything, this probably wouldn't be touched and just sit in a vault. She also had to admit that is was pretty selfless of Ron to part with part of his winnings like that on his own accord.

Truth to be told, she had always worried about her youngest son being too worried about their family's financial standing. That he now was willing to part with some of his winnings reassured her that it didn't mean he would become obsessed with money. Maybe this whole experience would be beneficial for him and she thus gave in.

Hearing his mother's approval, Ron finally allowed himself to relax.

...garden of the Evans house, August 19th...

It was a warm Sunday in summer, and both, the Black and Evans families were enjoying the good weather outside in the garden of the Evans house - with a nice little spell making sure nosy neighbors would hear nothing but general murmuring through the fence, a spell Sirius enjoyed having on his own garden as well to keep out Petunia from listening in.

"The boys are really good with them. Look how careful they are while playing with them," Diane remarked while watching Harry and Mark play with Steve and Kathleen.

"Oh, I wish I would know how they can make these two stand still. Ever since the twins learned how to crawl and then how to walk, it's been hell on Earth for us. Even Harry was not that energetic at that age," Sirius said, though he still showed how proud he was of his children.

"That's not to speak of the other changes. Oh, that caused us so many sleepless nights..." Diane sighed. Yes parenthood was not easy, but the reward was great.

Steve and Kathleen were no longer babies, they were toddlers now, having grown quite a bit since their birth - that was, physically and mentally. Both children already had a better understanding of their surroundings and also had started to use simple words. However, their increased mobility had also caused quite some scares for Sirius and Diane, and both of them teething was an ongoing nightmare for the children and their parents alike.

And then there were the sparks of accidental magic. Diane had to admit that while she had the luxury of a wizard as a husband, who could easily solve any trouble with accidental magic, entirely non-magical parents didn't. She could only start to understand how much of an additional burden this had to be for them, while not knowing what exactly was going on. It also gave her the rather horrifying conclusion that the Ministry was in the habit of modifying the memories of said parents, if they caught wind of any bigger incident, until the Hogwarts letter would arrive.

Sirius himself had admitted that it was a fucked-up system that actually had long overstayed its welcome, but no one wanted to make an effort to change it.

"Oh, don't we know it," Veronica admitted. "We decided to only work on another child once Mark is in school. Oh, I guess I became an at-home mother, but this really is a full-time job."

"Yes, especially with the 'mishaps' Mark tends to have." That was code from Thomas about their son's accidental magic. "Thanks again for Remus and you, Sirius, for helping out with that. I would rather not have any Ministry officials waltz in."

Diane snorted. "I'm sure there are many honest people working there, but I want to keep that Ministry out of our childrens' lives. I know this otherwise will turn into a circus."

"And they do." Sirius poured some lemonade into his glass. "You would be surprised how many strings I can still pull over mail. Both of our families won't be bothered by them, and they still have no idea where I live. The only one who could blab is that loser Howe, and my lawyer put a muzzle on him."

"You think you can stay invisible to the magical world?" Veronica asked.

"Of course not, otherwise I would lie to myself; I can't stay hidden forever. I already talked with Diane about that. Sooner or later - more likely sooner - I have to become more active again," Sirius admitted openly.

"Oh yes, that will be a nightmare to come. I know that everyone will look at me, the woman at his side, like I'm a zoo exhibit," Diane grumbled. "If we can gain enough time that our children are old enough, we can keep them out of that safely."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like fun at all," Thomas grimaced. "By the way, where is Remus? I'm surprised he isn't joining us."

"Oh, he's taking his responsibilities as a teacher very seriously. He told me he'll be busy with improving the preschool, now that they have managed to get the first year done," Sirius remarked. "Kind of odd to see, considering how he was in his youth."

"Mum!"

Mark's cry ripped them out of their conversation. The boy looked uncomfortable. "Is something wrong, darling?" Veronica asked.

Mark grimaced. "Kathleen went potty... and then Steve followed."

Looking over, they saw Harry looking quite uncomfortable at what just happened, while the twins had stopped their activities and moved in discomfort. True, it was an everyday situation with children that age, but did it have to happen right now?

Veronica gave Diane and Sirius a knowing look. "Oh, the joys of having children that age..."

"Don't remind me," Sirius said, before he and Diane gathered their children, knowing what they had to do.

"That was stinky," Harry commented, still grimacing.

...St. Grogory's Primary School, September 3rd...

School had started again and this would be Harry's final year before going to Hogwarts. Harry couldn't exactly grasp the big change this would be. He also knew that this also would be Mark's first day of school, but he doubted he would see him much at school over the year, since they would hardly have any chance of running into each other.

Right now, however, something different was occupying him and the rest of the class as well.

"Why in all names do we have to have Mr. Foster on the very first day?" one boy complained while they walked into the changing rooms.

"I think he did it on purpose, wanting to see how much we have slacked off over the summer," Harry suggested, also not exactly happy with their first day, having gotten the lesson plan in the mail a week earlier.

Harry had wondered as well why in all names did physical education have to be on the plan right at the first day of being back at school for his final year here. It was not that he was a weakly nerd, but physical education was always a chore due to the teacher, Mr. Foster.

Many jokes circulated, that the man originally had been part of the army, but after being dismissed decided to become a teacher instead. He certainly at times had the mannerisms of a drill sergeant and was the only teacher Dudley had a healthy respect for right from day one, which was no easy feat. At least Mr. Foster was no sadist and knew exactly how far he could go and no further than that.

"I think he's trying to pick favorites that can win some contests this year. I heard he did it with the previous sixth year as well," another boy added.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Which means all of us that won't make the cut at least get less of his attention."

While they were changing into the gym uniforms to walk out into the field, as the weather still was warm and dry, Harry glanced to Dudley. Ever since that day with the dementor, Dudley had changed drastically. Now he not only avoided him, but he also was no longer hanging out with his little gang. Yes, it almost was like Dudley now was kind of lonely. They boy also had lost quite some weight over the previous year and no longer looked morbidly obese, just a bit overweight.

At first I ignored it. But... what is going on with him? Harry had no idea what to actually make of these changes in his former tormentor.

Not that he was complaining. Dudley having lost any interest in him certainly made his life at school at lot easier - pity it was only for the final two years. Without their leader, Piers, Dennis, Malcolm and Gordon were far less daring than they used to be and clearly had written off Dudley as a loss while starting to do their own thing. While the last point was not a good thing, it at least meant they would not be after him, since to their mind he always had been reserved for Dudley.

He again noticed Dudley giving him a hard to read look. What does he want from me?! If he would just walk up to me and spit it out would be a great improvement!

It after all was the same in magical preschool, where Dudley kept his distance, yet gave him these looks. When he was with his friends, he could have sworn Dudley even looked a bit... envious, like he had something that Dudley didn't. This changed dynamic between them was highly confusing and Harry just couldn't get used to it.

And that's not the end of it, now that I know he'll be at Hogwarts as well for all of my school time there... Harry thought darkly.

It was a bit unfair in Harry's mind, that he had to share a school with Dudley until graduation. Considering how Sirius had told him of Vernon's loud waxing about his old school Smeltings in the garden - so loud that it easily carried over the fence - and that Dudley would go there in due time, Harry had known for the longest time that he then no longer would have to endure Dudley. However, that was all before that fateful day and now things were different.

However, if Dudley just continued over the years like he did now, it would be bearable.

Out on the field, their teacher wanted to see if they had slacked off or not over the summer. Clearly, he was looking for his best bets to get some trophies for the school. Many felt the man really needed a hobby, considering he seemed to live for the job.

The class sat at the edge of the track, knowing there was a certain pecking order imposed on them. He would first test the most fit and promising boys and girls and then slowly move down the list until reaching the bottom. Harry had no illusions that he was in the bottom group, as well as Dudley and among others, a girl that had such strong asthma that even a small exercise would cause her to be out of breath.

Sitting there, he again noticed Dudley giving him a look, before turning away when a saw that Harry had noticed. Enough is enough. If he wants to say something, he should do so!

Being sick of this game, Harry walked to Dudley, who sat a little apart from the others. "After all these months I finally have enough of all these looks! Just say outright what you want!" It was only now that he dared to actually do so, and even now only a teacher nearby.

Dudley looked like a deer in the headlights. "I... It's..." Clearly, he was not good at this, but Harry knew that was what they had to work with and waited for Dudley to get it together. "I have no idea how to say it..."

Harry rolled his eyes at the attempt. "You actually feel bad for the past?"

Dudley looked relieved that Harry spelled it out. "Uh... yeah. At first I was too afraid to approach you, and then I had no idea how to say it."

Giving Dudley a questioning look, Harry decided he wanted to hear more. "Where does that sudden remorse come from? Not that I didn't notice how you kept away from me."

It was quite obvious that Harry had become quite a bit more assertive, making Dudley wonder how miserable he'd made Harry in the past. "It's because of that... eh... thing. It made me experience my greatest fear..." Dudley knew he needed to spit it out. "I liked being the strongest, so it forced me to experience what I do to others."

Harry could see the irony. "Not so much fun if you are on the receiving side, eh?"

Dudley grimaced, as that hit the nail right onto the head. "You now understand why I leave you in peace?"

"Yeah, I do." Now, it would have been easy for Harry to make fun of Dudley, but then again, if he did so that would make him no different than how Dudley used to be.

-triiiiiiiiiit- The whistle stopped their conversation, the PE teacher giving them irritated looks. "Well, Potter and Dursley! Since you two decided to suddenly get cozy, you two do the next run!"

Ignoring the laughter of the other students, Harry and Dudley walked to the starting line on the track.

"You know that doesn't mean I suddenly get friendly with you," Harry reminded Dudley on the way.

Not that Dudley had expected something different, considering the abuse he'd given to Harry. "I would be happy enough if we agree to ignore each other from now on."

"Live and let live?" While part of Harry felt that Dudley was getting away with what he did, he could see where Dudley was coming from. "Yes, staying out of each other's way is for the best. I know we won't become friends, but being able to tolerate each other would be real progress."

"So you do agree?" Dudley asked, while they waited at the starting line.

"As long as you keep the peace, I keep it as well," Harry said, then the teacher blew the whistle and they started their run.

Physical Education went by as expected, with those good at sports excelling, while those who had no chance from the start getting confirmation of their inability to be good at physical activities. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, when everyone started to walk back to the changing rooms, the teacher stopped Dudley.

"Dursley, I need a word with you. And no, you are not in trouble," the man told Dudley.

"Mr. Foster, is something wrong?" Dudley asked.

"No, instead something seems to be right." He looked Dudley up and down. "I noticed it before, but now it's really apparent. You are losing weight."

To Dudley that was no surprise. While he still liked eating, it no longer was like before, when he had shoveled it in. He'd noticed only after several months what was happening, but then found he liked not being so massively overweight and kept up with his reduced food intake. His parents had become concerned about him losing the excess fat, which was especially bizarre coming from his mother, considering how thin she was. His father complaining about a man needing meat on his bones also was a bit rich, considering he had seen photos of his father while dating his mother. He'd only started to gain weight after being married.

"Is that a problem, Sir?" Dudley wondered.

"Problem?" Now the teacher laughed. "Lad, this is the best thing you could have done. But seeing your new frame gives me an idea. How would you like to turn the fat still there into muscle?"

"How?" Dudley wondered, hoping his teacher would tell him.

"Looking at you, I saw right away that you would be ideal for learning boxing. I know a boxing studio here in town and they are always looking for boys like you. They do have a program appropiate for your age as well," Mr. Foster told Dudley.

Dudley thought about it. He by now was unhappy with the excess fat still present, and boxing sounded like a fun way to get rid of it. Honestly, he had always lived in fear of the day a boy who could not be overwhelmed by his bulk could appear, so this sounded really good. Getting permission shouldn't be too difficult as well. His father probably would call it a noble sport or something like that.

"Oh, can you tell me more?" Dudley asked, trying to ignore the expression on the teacher's face, which looked like someone making a good catch.

o

At the same time, the fifth year students at Hogwarts had the honor of being the first to attend Muggle Studies, and thus experience their new professor, Charity Burbage. Quirrell had been regarded as, while competent, a bit of a pushover and numerous students who knew better about the non-magical world had complained about how outdated his lesson plan was, lagging behind reality by over 50 years. They had no way to know the latter had no been his fault at all.

Walking into the classroom, the students right away were confronted with the first difference.

Quirrell had kept his classroom almost painfully devoid of anything other than the basic things found in every classroom. All of the teaching materials he had brought in for the lessons, and took them away when he was done. Now, however, the classroom looked very different. A number of interesting non-magical objects rested on pedestals under glass covers, while maps, charts and blown-up unmoving photographs hung on the walls.

One photograph was confusing many, until spotting Europe on it, and suddenly they realized that it was a picture of the Earth from outer space, making them wonder how in all names that had been accomplished. It certainly helped to raise anticipation.

The Professor was waiting behind her desk for them to get to their seats and didn't speak up until they were all seated. "Welcome. I am Professor Burbage and I greet you as the very first students I am teaching at this school."

She then waved her hand around the room. "As you can already see, I will employ a very different teaching style compared to my predecessor. As much as I hold Professor Quirrell in high regard, his teaching style was very academical in nature. From now on, we will also do much practical work, and believe me, you will enjoy that a lot."

There was some silence, before a student raised his hand for a question. "Professor, no offense, but what exactly do you mean with practical work?"

Professor Burbage clearly did not take offense at the question. "Well, most of our work will still be done in the classroom itself, but besides books, I will also supply you with products and other items from the non-magical world that you will have to analyze and find out their use without damaging them. And no, if you think you can be lazy by asking a muggleborn student for help, I WILL know you did so and fail you on that assignment."

Several students gulped, realizing that this closed the easy route. It had been a somewhat common for those taking this elective to ask muggleborn students for help. Now this easy way was blocked and they didn't dare to try anyway.

Having let this sunk on, the Professor continued, back to her bright demeanor. "Now, this will only be important for those of you in seventh year, but in the final year we do field work in some bigger cities, since I was appalled at how many wizards and witches don't even know basic things about how to move around the non-magical world."

This caused some excited chatter, some now really wanting to get a good O.W.L. mark so that they could experience that in their seventh year themselves. After all, this was the one elective that was free of the children from the more conservative and bigoted families. They wouldn't even touch this elective with a ten-feet pole. That in general already resulted in a more open atmosphere.

"However," the Professor stopped the excited chatter, "that is in the future. While I of course was informed by Professor Quirrell about his lesson plan, I first want to hear your experiences and how far you got in your studies."

Listening to it, Charity Burbage knew she her work cut out for her.

She had nothing against her predecessor, he certainly had been competent in his field, but this was one school subject where just doing theoretical work would not cut it at all, especially not with the outdated lesson plan Quirrell had been forced to use. If anything, the students had learned more from their muggleborn peers about the subject than during the actual lessons, which was a sobering realization.

No, she would not say one bad word about her predecessor.

...10 Downing Street, September 14th...

Margaret Thatcher was stewing in her office in the Downing Street, fuming at how seemingly everything had turned against her recently, seriously threatening to end her time as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

First there were the defeats she had suffered in foreign affairs.

She still was unable to deep inside accept that against her beliefs, in less than a month Germany would re-unite. She had tried to squeeze out concessions, but the Ridley and Chequers affairs had in turn caused turmoil in her government. She had been accused of wanting to deny the Germans their right of self-determination and living in the past. Besides that problem, there were other problems like the crisis at the Gulf caused by that greedy idiot Hussein.

In domestic affairs it did look even worse, due to the damn poll tax.

She had completely misjudged the public opinion in regards to the poll tax and it was dragging her down like a millstone around her neck. She honestly believed it was a great thing, but clearly the majority felt very different about the matter and it had even resulted in outright riots. There was strong opposition to the tax in her own party, many fearing they were digging their own graves for the next elections.

She was very sure that her political rivals, especially that Michael Heseltine, would try to challenge her, should they feel secure enough of victory. The party certainly was nervous enough, one more election failure and she was sure at least Heseltine would attempt to overthrow her. The thought alone was angering her, wondering if that was the thanks for her hard work - blissfully ignoring that it were her own errors and harsh style of leadership that had made her so many enemies.

Looking to the ugly picture of the frog-like man, she remembered Bagnold's last visit, where she had announced her retirement, unwilling to serve a third term. Bagnold had added that she wanted to quit while it was still possible on her own terms. That declaration had given Thatcher an uneasy feeling - it had hit too close to home.

As if the ugly picture could read her mind, it started to move. "To Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher : newly elected Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, is about to arrive to introduce himself."

Let's get this over with. "Then in with him!"

Watching the fireplace like a hawk, she then saw green fire erupt and... She already knew she was dealing with someone very different from Bagnold when seeing the man's attire. Honestly, a man who wears a mixture of a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, black cloak, purple boots and a lime-green bowler hat already screamed to her that there was little to expect from this Fudge character, but for now she would listen.

"Cornelius Fudge, I presume?" She would be giving him a fair chance, despite a really bad mood.

Fudge gaped at her for a moment, like he was looking at a zoo exhibit, before composing herself. "Oh, pardon me, this is the first time I meet one of your kind."

Things were already off to a bad start, with him first treating her like a zoo exhibit and them him, in a voicle like talking to a little kid, right away showing he had no experience within a field that should be important for his office. Thatcher kept quiet however, wanting to see if the man would be digging his own grave by just letting him talk. She was not disappointed.

Fudge rambled on how fascinating it is to meet one of her kind and his relief how he wouldn't have to explain everything since Bagnold had educated her already. The more she heard, the more Thatcher wished she had her purse at hand to beat some manners and sense into that man. Thanks to her already bad mood, she was close to snapping, when Fudge finally went too far.

"Oh, and don't bother when something strange happens. No, you really don't have to. Just let us take care of it. Not that you could do anything about it..." Fudge rambled on, clearly being out of his depth.

"Excuse me?!" Thatcher finally snapped. "You say I should lean back while the citizens I'm responsible for get endangered from your side?!"

"Uh? Eh... I..." Fudge clearly had no expected this outburst.

Marching menacingly towards him, she caused Fudge to retreat, until he almost was with the back to the open window. Only now did the wizard realize, a little further and he would fall out of the window and go splat on the pavement of Downing Street. He decided a retreat was in order. "I won't bother you anymore!" he yelped before jumping to the fireplace and in seconds he vanished in green flames.

Trying to get herself back under control, Thatcher quickly left her office.

He made me forget myself, she scolded herself.

However, she now knew exactly what to expect. Bagnold at least had been diplomatic and did share the really important information. However, with Fudge at the helm, who obviously thought everyone without magic was a braindead moron, nothing more could be expected from their side. Preparations had to be made.

...Hogwarts, October 24th...

Another day of teaching at Hogwarts had come to an end. That evening, the teachers that were having the first year students had gathered to talk about their impressions on their new students, now that some time had passed into the new term so that they could gauge them.

That meant besides the Headmaster and McGonagall, the Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Slughorn, Sinistra, Rogers, Hooch and Barrabas. Rogers was the History teacher and had managed to win over the students after Binns the seeping pill, while Barrabas was the unfortunate man holding the Defense position this year - unfortunate, since that post by now held no prestige at all and few wanted to apply.

This was something they did every year, but this year, Dumbledore and McGonagall knew there was another factor at play. The first batch of muggleborn students that had went through the preschool, although only for one year, were now first years at Hogwarts, so they were really curious how these children were doing. However, they would not tell the others and keep silent about that little fact.

"Now, our new batch of first years did have time to get used to our school. I am curious, how are they actually doing?" Dumbledore asked after everyone had sat down and socialized a bit.

It was Madam Hooch who spoke up first. Her eagle-like eyes - result of a botched animagus transformation many years ago - shone with excitement. "I for my part am very surprised. You remember the number of accidents and difficult learning curve flying class normally has? The number of accidents is down significantly, while to many students, flying seems to come much easier. Impressive, especially since this mainly is due to the students I didn't expect it from."

Everyone knew that she meant muggleborn students, who up to that point normally wouldn't have had any chance to train with a broom. Little did she know that Sirius had convinced Remus to include broom lessons in the summer before the children would leave for Hogwarts.

"Well, it will certainly make Poppy happy that there will be less flight-related injuries,"Slughorn remarked, remembering the potions he had to deliver to the nurse due to said injuries.

"Yes, she will quite relieved that it will lessen her stress levels... at least until the Quidditch season starts." Dumbledore knew the matron was always close to breathing fire when witnessing Quidditch-related injuries. "Well, Horace, what are your impressions?"

"Oh, I'm impressed," Slughorn said while reaching for a piece of crystallized pineapple. "There were no severe accidents. I was especially astounded that my muggleborn students knew proper safety precautions."

"Ah yes, the new muggleborn students..." Flitwick mused. "They certainly are different from how they used to be. They are not nearly as wide-eyed in wonder as I expected them, and I see a rather strong defiance against assimilating into wizarding culture. It's much more pronounced than even in the older muggleborn students... very strange. Yet, their academical results are better than previous first years."

Dumbledore and McGonagall were not surprised of that development.

These children, unlike their predecessors, had a whole year to get used to the idea of magic, while still living in their normal environment. That not only would make them much less overwhelmed with what they saw - he bet they only saw Hogwarts as a somewhat weird school - but also make them realize that having magic would not mean they had to give in and give up their way of life. Instead, it was them bringing the culture they grew up in to Hogwarts now stronger than ever.

It was like pouring gasoline into a fire, causing the changes to get further momentum. That of course would alarm conservative elements and no doubt they would in time do something desperate to stop the changing times.

"They certainly are more more outspoken than ever," Professor Rogers, the man teaching History, remarked. "I overheard several of them complaining to each other that my lessons are not real history and won't be very useful compared to what they have learned in school before."

"Truth to be told, it certainly is less interesting than listening to things like Alexander the Great or Emperor Augustus," Professor Sinistra remarked. Despite her background she was well-versed in world history - not something normal in the magical world.

"Hmpf!" Clearly, this offended Professor Rogers.

"Oh, don't be sour about it," Professor Sprout said. "I for my part don't have problems with the students. It's like they heard about the plants, but never saw them in person. They are quite eager to learn more about them, however."

That was no wonder to Dumbledore and McGonagall, either. The preschool didn't bother with erecting a greenhouse for magical plants, since the Ministry red tape for that was significant and would surely have caused unwanted attention. Thus why the new first years knew the easy Herbology plants, but had no practical experience with them.

"What about your experiences, Minerva?" Sinistra asked McGonagall.

"Oh, my experiences were nothing but positive. They certainly are quite eager for my lessons and also have better results than the previous first years. It is quite refreshing that I can probably finish my lesson plan with time to spare." She would not reveal that she was very well aware why that was. She the looked to the Defense professor. "Barrabas, you were silent the entire time."

The man only now said anything. "There is hardly anything I can add. I'm here for one year and then I'm gone. I have no experience what the first years are supposed to be."

Now, his behavior was little wonder. Defense was a thankless job and he probably had only seen it as little more than an obligation. While there no longer were incidents thanks to the kind of contracts now made, the reputation of the position, especially since it only officially taught students up to fourth year, was pretty much down into the sewer. Not to speak that the students learned more from the informal Defense group, than in the actual subject until Snape took over to fix things in fifth year.

The discussion went on, by the Headmaster was elsewhere with his thoughts.

It was a bit of an irony, he thought, that all this change was, directly or indirectly, due to the very war Voldemort had started. Instead of cementing the conservative position, as those circles had hoped, it had weakened it. However, that was a long-term effect, and he was troubled with those circles would do, should they feel threatened enough in their power and try to turn back the clock by violence or other shady means.

The recently finished election campaign already was giving a taste of it.

Lucius Malfoy, for some reason, had sponsored Cornelius Fudge, the winner, to become the next Minister. Dumbledore knew Fudge, the man was rather unsuited for such an important position, and had he a good guess what game Malfoy was playing. Fudge would now be in Malfoy's debt and was easy to manipulate due to his inexperience. What better way to support the conservative agenda could there be, than someone naive in the top position you could whisper your ideas to?

Worse was, there now was little he could do against it, apart from trying to give Fudge better advice and hope the man would listen to him. Oh, he was sure Malfoy would be smart about it and first let Fudge get overwhelmed by his office, before approaching him to 'help with the responsibility'. It was a very clever plan, indeed.

There will be difficult times ahead, now that Bagnold has left office, he thought.

...November 17th...

The late afternoon screening of Disney's newly released The Little Mermaid was over in a cinema in London, and the audience - mostly children escorted by their parents - were leaving onto the by now dark streets of the capital. There was lots of excited chatter over the great quality of the animated film, a number even wanting to see it a second time.

Amidst the people entering the London streets also were the Evans and Weasley families.

This was the result of Harry's guardians planning to see the film with their children, and when Harry mentioned it to Ron and Ginny, both had become rather excited at the description, never having been exposed to an animated film on the big screen, and really wanted to see it as well. Hermione surprisingly had already seen it at a cinema close to her home, while Neville had no interest, probably because it would have been too much of a hassle to get his parents to agree, and Luna was too distracted to listen.

Well, currently present wasn't the entire Weasley family of course. Bill was back at work abroad, while Charlie, Percy, Fred and George were back at Hogwarts and wouldn't be home until Christmas. Thus it just were Ron, Ginny and their parents.

Funny enough, however, it was impossible to determine who was more impressed with the film: five-year old Mark, or Mr. Weasley.

"Arielle was really pretty," was all Mark would say, simply having been almost overwhelmed by it.

Mr. Weasley on the other hand was deeply impressed how something like that had been made without magic, though he could hardly say so in front of Mark. "And that was all drawn by hand? Oh, that must have been so much work!"

"Better believe it did," Veronica said, also having enjoyed it a lot. "I read it took them several years, and a good part of that because of all the air bubbles they had to draw and animate for the underwater scenes."

"I was impressed by how they imagined magic being used," Ginny chimed in while they all walked to the tube station so they could get back to where they had parked their cars (Arthur had insisted on also using their car, much to Molly's discomfort).

"Oh yes, they really went all out with it. Especially Triton's trident and the transformations, though those looked somewhat frightening as well," Harry admitted, being a bit disappointed that real magic was not as flashy - at least not the one he'd seen up to now.

"Oh, I think they made it look frightening to drive home that what Ursula was doing was wrong, and that all her contracts were made in bad faith and worded in a specific way, so that in the end only she profits," Thomas speculated.

"It was really exciting to see something like that. So much imagination..." Mr. Weasley looked a bit child-like instead of the almost 40-year old man he was.

"Oh, Arthur, only you could be so fascinated with something that was made for children." Though, Mrs. Weasley had to admit, she also was impressed at the sheer imagination brought to life.

Thing was, both the Weasley parents were well aware that had things gone differently, they would have never done anything like today.

Up until Fred and George had started school at age five, they pretty much had been as ignorant as most of the pure-blood couples in magical Britain, and that was despite Arthur's job, which brought him into contact with the non-magical world. No, it was their children starting a non-magical school that forced them to interact much more regularly with the non-magical world. They otherwise would have never done so on their own.

Most wizards and witches interacted only sporadically with the non-magical world, thus they were pretty much ignorant of their customs and even if they got a hint, gave a damn since it happened so seldomly. The Weasley parents however interacting with the same people on a regular basis, had revealed their own ignorance to them.

At first they had been blissfully ignorant of it, but over time, their own ignorance dawned on them. It were many small things that began to add up and it started to become embarrassing for them how oblivious they were of even the most basic things. That was only made worse by how easily Frend and George acclimated, making their parents feel a bit stupid at times. So starting when Ron was about to start school, they'd made more of an effort to understand.

Granted, unlike their children, who were growing into it naturally, it was for more difficult for them as adults, but by now they felt reasonably secure about it and they had not made any blunders in some time. It had even made Arthur's work a bit easier.

"Oh, I will never get used to this kind of transportation." Molly still looked a bit uneasy while they were using the tube, but that already was great progress. At least it was better than these damn carts at Gringotts - those actually had made her hurl several times, as if the goblins wanted to provoke that reaction from their customers.

"You know, we should really do such things more often, before our children go to boarding school. It's after all through our children that we learned of each other," Veronica remarked while making sure Mark stayed in his seat.

"That certainly would be a great idea," Molly agreed.

That had been another development which had happened gradually. While they already were friends with the Lovegoods, it certainly had been an adventure to first meet the Evans couple. Granted, their children had already told them multiple times of Harry, but it was something different to meet his guardians - and Sirius Black, the enigmatic godfather of Harry, who had made them promise to stay silent about Harry's whereabouts.

The Grangers, whom they had met several months later, had perhaps been an even greater adventure, since these people, unlike the Evans, had had only very limited exposure to the magical world. Funny enough, Arthur and Ian Granger had managed to bond easily once the latter had shown him his work room in the basement and all the various small electronic gadgets had was working on as a hobby.

They had not yet met Neville's parents, as the Longbottoms had become notoriously private people after what happened to them, but at least they were not restricting their son, as long as he always got permission first and had adult supervision.

"I just imagined all of us being together when we get the children to the train. That will be an adventure in itself," Thomas mused, remembering Sirius and Remus telling the of the usual chaos on platform 9¾.

"Thomas, dear, please don't challenge fate," Veronica reminded her husband, having become a bit more careful about such things after learning about magic.

The children meanwhile were busy with discussing the film they'd watched - far enough away that no one could listen in on them. Not that anyone would believe them and just chalk it up to a great imagination at their age.

"Man, I'm glad you mentioned this to us. I've heard of these before, but never actually watched one. Makes me really wonder what else they have created," Ron gushed, the film having left a lasting impression.

"I've seen a few on the telly, but it's not the same as watching them in the cinema. However, they do reissue a lot of these in cinemas, so there's a good chance," Harry told Ron, remembering a few reissues from Disney he had watched. "You just have to know when and where."

"Any of them showing how they think magic works?" Ginny asked, still fascinated with it.

"Try Sleeping Beauty or The Sword in the Stone. Especially the latter should be fun, since Merlin has a major role in it and is doing magic constantly," Harry suggested.

"Really?!" Ginny perked up. "You have to tell me more about that!"

"Mate, you have no idea what you just have unleashed," Ron commented when Ginny was starting to bombard Harry with questions. "Don't expect help form me; that's entirely on you."

Harry barely heard him while trying to answer Ginny's questions. It took several minutes before Ginny was satisfied with the answers and Harry was sure she would in time ask her parents see a different film - most likely a reissue - from Disney. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake with this.

Seeing how Harry looked a little shell-shocked, Ron asked the obvious question. "You never got questioned by a girl like that, mate?"

"No, never. In school girls were not exactly gunning to become my friend," Harry admitted.

Ron gave Harry a knowing look, while Ginny rolled her eyes at that admission.

...10 Downing Street, November 28th...

Still hard to believe this is now my office, John Major thought while leaning back in the office chair in his office at 10 Downing Street.

Just this morning he'd officially been appointed by the Queen to be the next Prime Minister of the United Kingdom as the leader of the majority in the House of Commons. However, he was not particularly proud of the background of why he now held this post. He probably wouldn't be here hadn't he gotten support from the party in order to prevent Heseltine as the next PM.

It was a difficult time to take this post, even without that other issue that his predecessor had dropped into his lap.

The country was facing an economic downturn, the damage done by the poll tax had to be undone, Europe had changed fundamentally and then there was the crisis at the Gulf which by now would inevitably end in violence. Oh no, he had not chosen an easy time for the start of his term, but the country needed him after the turmoil the government had went through. Now reliability was needed to get things back on track.

"Ahem"

There we go... That was the visit he had been dreading. He was thankful for Thatcher having told him everything several days earlier and giving him visible proof, so that he wouldn't think it was a hoax. He still had some troubles with it, but the fact the government actually was doing something about it made him feel more secure about it.

"Who is there?!" he asked, acting ignorant.

"To Prime Minister John Major: Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, is about to arrive and wants to introduce himself," the ugly portrait said.

"Who? What?" Major hoped he sounded convincingly confused.

Right then the fireplace flared up in green flames and a man with an absolutely atrocious fashion sense entered his office. He knew from Thatcher who the clown was - after all, not many managed to enrage her to the point she wanted to throw them out of the window.

It also went as expected.

Fudge 'kindly' explained that there were witches and wizards still living in secret all over the world and tried to reassure him that he was not to bother his head about them as the Ministry of Magic took responsibility for the whole Wizarding community and prevented the non-magical population from getting wind of them. It was, said Fudge, a difficult job that encompassed everything from regulations on responsible use of broomsticks to keeping the dragon population under control.

Fudge patted his shoulder like he was petting a dog. "Not to worry, it's odds-on you'll never see me again. I'll only bother you if there's something really serious going on our end, something that's likely to affect the Muggles - the non-magical population, I should say. Otherwise, it's live and let live. And I must say, you're nicer than your predecessor, who tried to throw me out of the window."

Major then decided to put on the act. "You're - you're not a hoax, then?"

"No," Fudge said gently. "No, I'm afraid I'm not. Look." And he had turned the Prime Minister's teacup into a gerbil.

"But," Major said, now laying on thick, "but why - why has nobody told me - ?"

"The Minister of Magic only reveals him- or herself to the Muggle Prime Minister of the day," Fudge said, poking his wand back inside his jacket. "We find it the best way to maintain secrecy."

"But then," Major now wanted to test the guy, "why hasn't a former Prime Minister warned me -?"

At this, Fudge had actually laughed. "My dear Prime Minister, are you ever going to tell anybody?" Still chortling, Fudge threw some powder into the fireplace, stepped into the emerald flames, and vanished with a whooshing sound.

As soon as Fudge was gone, Major left his office, his face morphing instantly to dislike.

That was like some colonial lord talking down to the negros. He doesn't see me as an equal, not even as someone to be taken seriously. It's useless trying to deal with him. Major now had his own impression of the man, and hoped by all that's holy he was not representative for his whole group. On the other hand... they had elected the guy.

Well, the arrogant jerk was wrong in his last point. A lot of people by now knew.

He would have to notify MI-X of this little visit and how the working relationship with the magical government, as thin as it already had been, had broken down due to incompetent new leadership. Fudge was clearly an opportunist and weak character, something someone with his many years in politics could pick up on. No kind of cooperation could be expected from him. MI-X therefore had to raise their activities, as he had the creeping suspicion that something would happen within his term, a fact that he could have lived without.

Yes, it was a wonderful first day as Prime Minister. It made him dread how his term would go.

...forest in Albania, April 21st 1991...

I have to be insane, Quirrell thought while making his way through the forests of Albania.

He knew he had to be insane, because what he was doing could be seen as suicide. His travels through the world had only made him more restless than before, the feeling of being pulled in two directions, the feeling of aimlessness, those had only become stronger. His job had made him ask himself questions, which he had found no answers to yet.

These questions were constantly tormenting him. Questions about good and evil, and how to solve that constant conflict. It also was a conflict that was raging within himself and was causing him sleepless nights by now. To his great disappointment, no one could give him a real answer, only what he saw as platitudes. By now he had become obsessed with the question: how to solve the conflict between good and evil.

He had already become desperate, when in Albania he had heard some vague rumors of some kind of wraith having made its home deep in the nearby woods. Entering the country in the first place had been easy, since the magical government of Albania currently was in chaos over the vast changes that happened to the country. Thus also no one would notice him entering said forest.

I must be truly insane to willingly seek out a wraith or whatever that thing is. Strangely enough ,the thought was not disturbing him.

Walking deeper into the woods, he suddenly stopped when feeling a bit cold. It was not the same like with a dementor, it just was the feeling that someone with little regard for his well-being was watching him. Looking around, he froze in place when seeing the source of his discomfort hovering only a few meters away.

It was... some kind of shade. It roughly had humanoid form, but was entirely made up from some kind of black mist. The only visible feature in this thing were two piercing yellow eyes in its head, which in themselves had no visible features, since they were glowing yellow as well. The creature seemed less and yet also more substantial than a ghost, confusing Quirrell a lot.

The thing, whatever it was, didn't seem to be in any haste to attack him, however, being content with just watching him. Quirrell thus felt it better to not draw his wand, since this could provoke the thing - he doubted he could hurt that thing, anyway.

The shadow watched him for a long time, before a distorted, high-pitched voice broke the silence. It was like some kind of magic was generating the voice. "This does create a question... What is a Hogwarts teacher looking for in these forests?"

Quirrell was taken aback by the shadow's knowledge and intelligence. "W-what? How?!"

A dark chuckle filled the air around them. "How I know? I know, since Lord Voldemort always knows."

Quirrell now paled. "Lord V-V-Voldemort?" he stammered, fear filling him.

"Indeed. So... what brings you here before me? Speak, before I end your pitiful existence!"

Quirrell was like paralyzed for a moment, before he realized he at least could get his answers before the Dark Lord would kill him. That for some reason gave him a strange calmness. "Lord Voldemort... I came here on the search for answers. Answers no living human managed to give me. I thought... maybe the unliving..."

Voldemort's eyes flashed for a moment, silencing Quirrell. "What question could there be, that you sought out the unliving for?" he mused, clearly wanting an answer.

I have nothing to lose now. "It is about good and evil. How can this conflict be ended? No one could give me an answer and it feels like it's an eternal struggle. It is tearing me apart on the inside, I need answers!"

Voldemort was silent for a moment, before he chuckled again. "You fool, you have not seen it. Good and evil? No... There is no good and evil, there is only power. Nothing more, nothing less. There are those who take it, and there are those too weak to seek it. That is the way of the world and you have wasted your time chasing an illusion."

"There is no...? No...?" Quirrell stammered, then fainted.

Voldemort observed the man carefully, even in his strange state of being he could see the impact these words had on the tormented man. One power that did remain with him was the power of being able to get an impression what was going on in someone's head. Clearly, these words had been the catalyst for the final collapse of that fool's world. He was sure, whatever conclusions Quirrell would come to right now, they would be more to his liking.

He is weak if words cause him this. But he has to do... Voldemort thought while closely inspecting the struggle in the man.

He of course had been bluffing; Quirrell could have run away and there was nothing he could have done about it in his current state. Hiding for almost ten long years as a shade of his former self had, if anything, only made him more hateful than ever. Yes, his life insurance had kicked in, but not exactly in the way he had imagined due to his body getting completely destroyed that night.

He had simply fled to this forest for two reasons: superstition caused next to no one to enter this remote location, and it was the place where he had found Ravenclaw's diadem. Despite not exactly being alive, the long years of forced inactivity had felt like sheer torture. It certainly had not made him any happier.

He was horribly out of the loop, and should this weak man before him see the light, he would use him to get all the information needed to know about what the current state of things was after his long absence. He held no illusions about many of his followers, as most of them surely would try to save their own skin - they would pay in time. The only one wose loyalty he was sure of was Bellatrix, who saw him as the center of her universe.

Speaking of followers...

Despite having made his intentions clear, he was not certain if that weakling Pettigrew would manage to actually find him. That little man was not exactly bright, and that he already was waiting for ten years proved that perhaps he should have taken someone smarter along on that night. However, should the little rat actually manage to find him in the future, he would forgive him for this weak performance as he then would have proven to be loyal. After all, better late than never.

"Ha ha ha..."

Hearing the chuckles, Voldemort turned his attention back to Quirrell and saw the man had awakened and much changed, even though he looked the same. It was like something had finally taken hold. "Do you now understand?"

Quirrell knelt before Volemort. "I finally do! I had an epiphany that the world exists without meaning or value. How could I have missed it?

"Truly?" Voldemort was impressed. Sure, in his mind the world revolved around him alone, that was his personal value, but this nihilism Quirrell was showing truly was a piece of art, and he was the artist.

"Yes! No meanings! No virtues! No values! There is no good or evil ... all things can be permitted." Quirrell looked downright liberated by this horrifying conclusion, like he no longer cared what happened to anyone else, since the world had no meaning without good and evil. It was just there to be taken advantage of by those who had the means to do so.

Yes, Voldemort was pleased. This pathetic man essentially would now do everything required from him without blinking an eye. Of course Quirrell was disposable, since someone like him was capable of anything now, which was not good if you wanted to seize power, since people like that could also turn against you if they felt it would give them an advantage.

Quirrell was little more than a useful idiot, but that was enough.

"Good, good. You have truly understood and opened yourself up to a bigger world. Now tell me, how are things back at home?"

to be continued...

Next Episode:

"Prelude to Hogwarts"

Notes:

Here the notes.

I got comments, that Dudley's parents seem to be too accepting. Now, as you can see here for the first time, things are more complicated - though Dudley doesn't know that. In due time this mixture will blow up, but for now it's an uneasy situation.

This chapter put some of our protagonists on the backburner, since I needed to do lots of world progression.

In case you didn't notice. The scenery of the chess finals and all of the moves were lifted directly from "From Russia with Love". I really liek the film and that scene, so I couldn't resist to re-create it in a new context. The last name of Ron's opponent also is a James Bond reference.

Finally Dudley makes a move. As Harry said, too much happened between them, but a peace offering in which they mutually avoid each other seemed the most realistic. Also, the teacher Mr. Foster took some inspiration from Mr. Buzzcut from Beavis & Butt-Head.

Now we see Fudge's two disastrous visits two Downing Street, and how Thatcher had almost thrown him out of the window, though the second visit has a HUGE twist, despite using the canon dialogue. I hope you like that I did put in the real-life political troubles both Prime Ministers went through at the time. I feel it makes a better connection to the real world.

Oh, and finally we see what happened with Quirrell. Nasty, isn't it?