Loyal Pet

by H Bregalad

Bellatrix is an animagus and escapes with Sirius, Harry catches her and decides to keep her for a pet, she decides to raise him into a Lord and Master that she can be proud to follow. Rated M for sex and animagus sex. Warning: Polyamory eventually. There is also violence, including towards children and animals. You have been warned. Based on timbarney110's challenge 'loyal pet.'

67. Year 6 Chapter 3

Dudley's Road Trip (Part 2)

[Content warning: someone gets very pushy, non-con kissing.]

Back at the house, the sword lessons were over, Gregory took him inside, intending to introduce him to the rest of Hermione's clique. The tattooed girl was named Pansy, she'd already had her shower. But apparently, everyone else was busy showering, and while they waited for them to be available, did he want a shower too? or did he want to unpack first? Had he grabbed a bedroom yet? Had anyone told him where to look for a room he was allowed to grab, et cetera?

("Hi, Pansy," "Oh," "Yes," "also yes." "No, not yet," "no, not yet.")

Pansy took him away from Gregory (and told Gregory to shower), then led him out and down a hall, or more like around the entire perimeter of the building, past a huge library. Up some stairs.

"Pick whatever room you want, from the rooms without anyone in them," she said, "write your password on the slate on the back of the door, remember to erase it before you leave."

"Alright," said Dudley. He tried a door, locked. He tried another. It opened, revealing a small sitting area with two bedrooms off it.

Oh, god, suites! The total area of this one seems twice the size of my room at home.

He glanced around a little then backed out and looked around to find his bearings.

"Can you handle this?" said Pansy.

He stared at her, "Just a second," he said, and went back into the suite and checked for the existence of the rumoured bit of slate on the back of the door.

An ancient, tiny chalkboard: complete with two pieces of thin grey chalk.

He went back out, "Yeah, I can handle this, thanks."

She nodded, then wandered away.

.

He looked around. To-do list: go to my car, grab my travel bag, and present, find my way back to this hallway, to a room I haven't picked yet.

He looked around again, a lot of the doors had pictures or plaques hanging on them. All of them had a nail just above eye height. No room numbers just 'personalise your door with a hanging of some sort.' It was an excellent way to get rid of the utilitarian industrial feel of a normal hotel.

Something Dudley had never considered might need getting rid of. I'm not a number and neither is my room. It was an interesting extension to a bit of philosophy he'd never felt particularly invested in, in one way or the other.

Rather than choose a room and never find his way back to it, he decided to grab his stuff first, so that he'd have more choices in what to hang on the door.

On his way out of the house, he found a closer place to park his car and moved it. Then took his bags up, also a name badge left over from a field trip to a factory. He'd saved it because the pattern of bolts and gears was neat, and left it hanging from his rearview mirror. It should work perfectly well as a door marker.

He wandered down the hall memorising the pattern of already claimed rooms and admiring the eclectic variety of things people had used to mark their rooms.

He picked an unmarked door at random and pulled it open.

A girl was there just picking up her bag and turning around.

"Well hello handsome," she said.

"Sorry," said Dudley, "I was just … trying to pick an empty room."

"Of course," she said, "I was just leaving, enjoy. This is the best one of course."

It is? In what way?

"I'll be back in a week, Save it for me will you?" she winked at him.

"Um, I probably won't be here that long," said Dudley.

She stared at him for several seconds.

"Then what will I look forward to while I'm away?" she said.

Huh?

She put her bag down and walked right up close and took his bag away and put it down next to hers.

Then she turned back to him and swallowed.

She's begging like a dog. And before that, she … flirted with me … three times, I'm not crazy? That was flirting, right?

She doesn't even know me, but she's acting like this, what sort of girl is she? She doesn't look like a crazy one. On the other hand, she does look like … and getting here first even though I just picked at random, is exactly the sort of mind game the assistant Sensi liked using on Harry and me.

"Leona?"

Her eyes went wide, "Sure," she said and changed height and hair colour.

"Whoa, wait, what?" Dudley said.

"Wait for what?" she said.

"How many guys have you been with?"

"Just Harry," she said,

That's not the right way to say that Harry.

"How many girls have you been with?" she said.

"Just Leona," said Dudley.

"And how many guys?" she said.

An interesting thing to ask, but perhaps warranted, under the circumstances.

"Same answer," said Dudley, "And how many girls have you been with?"

She tightened her mouth like he wasn't allowed to ask that, "Only willing Lion's-Keep members," she frowned, "Oh, you have Harry's mark, that's why you feel safe."

"Um?" said Dudley.

"Where is it?" she said taking his left hand and flipping it palm up.

"The top of my mouth," said Dudley.

She turned her face back to his and grinned and she did something with her eyes that was very attractive somehow. "How did it get there?"

"Um, I'm not clear how much of that I'm allowed to talk about."

"A face mark means battle hostage," she said, "what did Harry have inside your mouth when you surrendered?"

"Her tongue," said Dudley.

She nodded, "… Oh, You're the muggle cousin, and that happened during the dementor battle? That explains the kissing," she nodded seriously.

"I'm not allowed to talk about that," said Dudley.

She shrugged, "it doesn't explain why kissing with tongues though, hmm?"

Dudley shrugged.

"You think Leona is hot, the way Harry and I think Leona is hot?"

"Um?" said Dudley.

She grinned and stepped closer and grabbed him by both sides of his collar and tried to kiss him.

He put his chin up so she couldn't reach his mouth.

"Bad captive," she scolded and dragged him farther into the room and somehow kicked the door closed.

"Um?" said Dudley, "I don't think…"

"I'm Harry's honorary little sister, and have a breed contract with him that lets me seduce any of his other breed partners if I want."

"How many does he have?" said Dudley.

"How many did he have when you kissed him?" she said, "I don't think he's taken more since then."

The missing information still felt like it mattered very much, but somehow … the math part of his brain that he couldn't seem to get a full sentence in or out of, seemed to relax a bit at that … oh, that diseases needed a vector, and there hadn't been new vectors since last time he'd touched the system, then touching the same system again wasn't a new threat.

He hadn't kissed anyone since Leona, though he'd had a successful year at wrestling … so …?

She yanked him again, this time around a corner into a bedroom where the bed was still open and looking recently slept in. The whole room smelled slightly like she'd been there.

She picked up her knee. He reacted on the instinct that she might be going for his groin and dodged back, even though it put him a little off balance, but she just raised her knee across, next to his hip and dragged him back towards her face. With her knee in between she could just pick up her foot and topple him over on top of herself.

One or both of them might crack a head on the foot-board of the bed, but she could. And she'd probably manage to extract her kiss in the aftermath.

But she didn't do that, she just paused with her mouth an inch from his and took a deep breath and let it out. She smelled like lunch had included carrots and some kind of pepper. Then she tilted her eyes up from his lips to his eyes, "Do you want me or not?"

"I don't even know your name yet," said Dudley.

Her eyes got wide.

"You're not Harry, but you are Leona?" said Dudley.

She nodded, "I'm Susan Bones, Heir of the House of Bones. An ally House of the House of Potter. Do you know what 'consort' means?"

That depended on context, and generally got complicated quickly, but to simplify … "It's an old word for 'significant other'?" said Dudley.

She shook her head, "Kind of yes, kind of no, it means there's an arrangement of some kind about heirs, but it's not a marriage contract, or in some other way keeps the estates from completely merging to form the inheritance of the offspring (however the law otherwise might cause to become the default in the meantime), Harry doesn't get to tell me how to run my house, or my family, I don't get to tell him how to run his house or his family, ergo, not a marriage."

"Alright," said Dudley.

"But my contract does make him my consort, basically my screw toy. Except it kind of makes the Family (not the House) of Potter the screw toys of the Family (not the House) of Bones."

Dudley raised an eyebrow. Too many specifics might mean lying, or it might mean contract law. Also, that sounded like much too big a treaty concession to believe anyone would make.

She waited.

She wrinkled her nose in a way that seemed like a smile, "So is Harry's battle captive gonna be an obedient little screw toy for Harry's big strong little sister and political ally and legal advisor?"

This was Harry's lawyer? No wonder she was acting proud and entitled and … bratty? Ok, wait … What she just said …

Given which of them was bigger, and which of them was acting older, that was hilariously mixed up.

But Dudley didn't laugh.

"I'd kind of rather," said Dudley, "have his permission first."

She rolled her eyes and seemed to lose interest in him for a second. Then her eyes went wide. "Kinky!" she said.

That gave Dudley pause, maybe the fact that it was the correct way to finally get rid of Fenrir Greyback didn't mean it was the correct answer for everything. Ugh, now what?

"Expecto Patronum," she said, and a silver ghost of a boar flew out of her elbow and pranced around.

"Go say to Harry Potter," she said, "May I have permission to seduce your muggle cousin?"

The boar turned and trotted downhill, vanishing about eighteen inches short of both the wall and floor.

"What?" said Dudley, "that's what Harry was … supposed to use to kill dementors?"

She wrinkled her nose differently, "a hope guardian, and no they don't kill them, just chase them away. They can also carry messages."

"What the hell Susan?" exclaimed the boar in Harry's voice and took a turn around the room before slowing down.

"Humph," she said.

"Even if he had said yes," said Dudley, "That wouldn't also count as permission for me to be seduced by you."

"Humph," she said. "Go tell Harry: I mean, you already kissed him, right? Anyway, he says I was supposed to ask if he has permission to be so seduced."

The boar ran off through the floor again.

"Humph," she said again, then let go of him and darted around him and out into the sitting area.

He followed her, just in time to watch her write, 'do not disturb' on the password chalkboard, then turn back to him, "Where were we?" she smirked and kicked off her shoes.

Not girly shoes, plain brown, mid-height work boots.

How did I not notice that?

Her socks and shorts followed her boots onto the floor.

Really?

"You know what, I don't care," sighed Harry's voice from the ghost boar, "Just be gentle with each other."

Susan rolled her eyes and the boar seemed to melt away into just silver sparks, which blew away on winds that weren't currents of actual air.

She took off her shirt and placed it with the rest, on top of her bag. She was wearing the same kind of leather undershirt/skirt that Dudley had seen Leona wearing last time.

"I promise not to be gentle with you," she said, "if you promise not to be gentle with me?"

Dudley blinked, "I have no idea how to respond to that, except … I think you're crazy."

"You're … a warrior trainee of some sort," she said.

Dudley nodded, "you could put it like that."

"And the only summer camp I've ever been to was the police boot camp that my aunt used to run before she got promoted to running the whole police department."

"Alright," said Dudley, "That solidifies a lot of suspicions I had about you and convinces me that you can deal with rough treatment, it doesn't give me a calibration of how rough you actually want."

"I don't want rough treatment," she said, "I just want not gentle treatment."

Dudley raised an eyebrow, "Oh, you want to screw like a couple of veterans on their day off, not like a couple of virgin teens afraid to hurt each other or themselves?"

She grinned and nodded.

Dudley nodded, "Cool, I'd kind of like that, but …"

She raised an eyebrow, "What."

"Well, honestly," said Dudley, "I'm a virgin."

"Oh," she said, and took a step back, squeezed her eyes shut for a second then opened them again, "So … you want a quick shag anyway, but gentle cause it's your first time, or do you want a complete first sex tutoring lesson. Or … wait, then what did you do before with Leona?"

"Just the battle kisses," said Dudley, "and snuggling in bed three nights, and one of those nights we slept posed like we'd fallen asleep making out, except … we hadn't been."

She echoed Dudley's grin.

"It was a little awkward for the first three or four minutes," said Dudley, "But it was totally worth seeing Mum's face."

She chuckled.

They shared a smile. Then she sobered, "Unless you're saving yourself for someone in particular?"

Dudley shrugged and looked away, "Not … I haven't really thought about it like that, is there such a thing as saving myself, just in general?"

She smiled, "Yeah, that's a thing too. Why? Are you?"

Dudley shrugged again.

"And it's not just … narcissism or fear of being financially responsible for a kid I'm not going to let you give me anyway?"

Dudley blinked, "What?"

"Contraceptive charms," she said, "They're a thing, they work."

"Oh," said Dudley, "Yeah, I see."

She flinched like she might have said something offensive, "And I can do them, so you don't need to worry about them."

"Ah," said Dudley, "an important consideration."

She grinned, "come on," she said and undid his second shirt button, then lifted her eyes.

He expected this to be another case of getting close, and then asking for permission to be here. But her expression was different.

"You have a Lion's-Keep nightgown already?"

Leona had called it an armour liner tunic… "Yes," said Dudley, "I think, mine was the first she made."

Her eyes went wide, "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have bothered Harry about permission, you're practically one of us already."

She unbuttoned the rest of his buttons.

She reached for his pants like she expected him to take off his shirt by himself. But he stopped her by putting his hand in front of his trouser button, "Can you wait just a minute and let me think."

"About what?"

"About the answers to the last several of your questions," he said.

She frowned at him, then blinked, then took a step back, "Oh, sorry."

"What actually is sex tutoring?" he said.

She tipped her head to the side, "Not entirely sure, I think it's like giving you a tour of everything, and taking everything a little slow and gentle to make sure you're comfortable and not scared and whatever. That's not really what Harry and I did, so I don't know."

Dudley nodded. And I'm not afraid, because the wards are lying to me, but a false sense of confidence does not mean I know what I'm doing.

"And what else might I be doing regarding … waiting, if I am waiting?"

She frowned, "you think you are, but you don't know why?"

Dudley shrugged while he considered. Maybe I just don't want to tell Dad that I actually gave in to a crazy girl after he warned me that there's a difference between some crazy girl type and a wife material type. And a wise person should pay attention for the difference. Be prejudiced about the difference.

Not that dad would ever know?

Not that he gave me definitions of each. But in context, he seemed to imply he thinks dyed hair and tattoos were evidence towards 'crazy'. But were they really? Or was that just Dad's justification for his prejudices?

"So … multiple choice?" she said, "Right, do you look forward to getting married and telling your wife, 'I don't know what I'm doing, because I've never done this before'?"

"Hmm," said Dudley.

"Do you just have an ethical problem with sleeping with anyone you aren't dating long term? (Even if there will not be babies, so no need to fight over who gets to keep them.)"

That might be it.

"Do you have an instinctive aversion for the sex act with anyone who you aren't already really good friends with?"

Don't think so, or is that the same thing as the previous thing you said? "Is that a real thing?"

"Rebekah says that's a real thing called 'demi-sexual'.

"Huh, alright."

"Which is different than not wanting sex at all which is called 'asexual'."

From her expression … I think she doesn't believe that exists.

"Do you have a ritual in mind, specifically for the event of sacrificing your virginity?"

"What would that entail?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Among other things, it might entail waiting for the next appropriate holiday."

"Such as?"

"Lughnasadh is three days from now, August 1st … or August 7 depending on your sect."

"The day after Harry's birthday."

She nodded.

"What does it signify?"

"The beginning of harvest, when the god Lugh, the long-armed, master of all knowledge, retrieves the harvest for mankind from Dark Crom and defeats Balor, the power of famine and blight."

"Ok, but first sex then, would signify what?"

She frowned, "Depends on what question you're asking, Usually 'whatever it would mean to you'?"

"Multiple choice?" he said.

She shrugged, "Something a lot more normal to be doing on Lughnasadh is hand-fasting, which is … starting a one-year trial marriage. After the year is up, you can keep it or drop it, with no repercussions. Unless there are kids, then it depends on your sect."

"Hmm," said Dudley, "I think I've heard of that."

She nodded, "If you want help with seasonal things or ritual magic, Ask Padma or Theo or Neville."

"Hmm," said Dudley.

"Ugh," she said, "I'm late," she looked at him oddly, "you sure you don't want to do anything?"

He grinned, "Leona's welcome in my bed any time."

She widened her eyes.

"For snuggles," he said.

She widened her eyes even more, "Ah," she said, "intriguing."

She stepped in close, and pulled his tunic collar down to sniff it, "wow, that's different!"

He grinned.

"Still vanilla, honey and what?"

She pulled her collar out and offered it to him.

It seemed an odd ritual, but given a friendship based on a mutual friendship with Harry … sure why not.

He stepped in and sniffed, something floral, also a predictable but unexpected glance down her front. No bra, but apparently some other kind of support, possibly magical. He stood up.

"Something familiar," he said, "Flowers but I can't identify them. But I think I can try to recognise them as 'Susan Bones' in future."

She smiled, and dressed, "It's amaranth and levisticum."

"Alright," said Dudley.

She stepped close again and hugged him, "If I'm welcome in your bed," she whispered, "Then you're welcome to borrow mine, just shower after heavy exercise before you sleep in it, yes?"

She let go and backed away. Just when I'd been about to return the embrace.

"What did you just say?" said Dudley.

"I said, I dare you not to change the sheets."

"Oh," he said. And shrugged.

She slipped her shoes back on and tied them by shooting sparks out of her elbow again. Though by this time he knew she wore a wand inside her shirt. She grabbed her bag and glanced back one last time on her way out the door.

"I'll be back a couple of days after Lughnasadh," she said, "will my bed smell like hot sweaty sex by then?"

He gave her a confused glare, "you mean you haven't already decorated it that way?"

Her mouth fell open, and then she smiled, "Nah, Harry and I usually play in the clibbert fur nest in the old cottage root cellar."

Dudley shrugged, "I make no promises."

She smiled, shrugged, and was gone.

Dudley checked the other bedroom, it seemed clean and made up, but it also had twelve books on the shelf and a notebook, inkwell, and roll of parchment on the nightstand. He returned to the room she'd tried to lead him into, He leaned over the bed, definitely smelled of her, but it wasn't overpowering.

Yes, she'd been there. No, she hadn't sweated hard. Yes, she'd showered often enough before climbing in. No, she hadn't left books behind like she expected to be back.

Did she even realise that someone else had done so in the other room? If she had realised, would she have returned them before she moved out? Or left her password up?

He put his bag down, got out his clothes and made his way to the shower.

.

Halfway through he realised that it would have been smarter to change the password before he started his shower.

He thought of several possible passwords, referencing everything from Susan's chest size to Leona-snuggles but by the time he got out he settled on, 'snuggles welcome.' It seemed more apropos than anything else, especially more gentle than, 'do not disturb.'

He also figured out that the thing in the soap dish was not a cracked old bar of soap, but a river rock with foreign writing scratched into it. It seemed to do a perfectly adequate job at making suds regardless.

Speaking of products he'd be willing to buy if witches were allowed to sell them to him.

Maybe they were, if he was allowed to know about magic. He just couldn't sell them to everyone else.

.

He went downstairs and wandered. Where was the hallway with Gregory's room? Or even, Where was the damn library.

Eventually when he wandered into the kitchen the second time the cute redhead looked up to stare at him, "Who are you looking for?"

"Gregory, or … Theo, Padma, or … Neville, and of those I only know what Gregory looks like."

Her eyes flicked to the side, "Theo and Padma are in the library," she said, "I think Neville flewed home."

"Fly, flies, flew, flew, flown," said Dudley, "Not flewed?"

She rolled her eyes, "Neville doesn't like brooms, so doesn't fly if he can help it, floo travel refers to magically linked fireplaces."

Dudley blinked, "Oh, alright, so he floo'd home."

She nodded.

"And where is the library, I've glanced into it in passing but can't seem to find it again."

"Second floor towards the back of the house."

"Second floor!" said Dudley, "That's what I'm doing wrong, Thanks!"

She nodded.

He blinked hard, "You're Ginny?"

She nodded.

"Harry's … fiancée?"

She grinned.

"Congratulations!" he said, "I'm not sure whether I should say, 'Welcome to the family,' or say, 'good job stealing him, please take good care of him.'"

She stared at him for several seconds, then nodded, "I intend to take good care of him."

"Thank you," said Dudley, he turned to go.

"You know," she said.

He turned back around.

"Over a third of the people here would have killed you by now, if you weren't wearing Harry's mark."

"Because I'm a muggle?"

She shook her head, "Because you used to torture Harry."

Dudley felt chills go down his spine, and he felt tired.

He closed his eyes, "I had to apologise three times to get his mark," said Dudley.

She frowned at him, and his mouth went tingly numb.

"Your repentance, submission, and his protections are parts of your conditional?"

"What?" he said.

"Never mind," she said, "For the mark to work, You had to mean it."

Dudley nodded, "Some of those apologies I'd meant for years, but didn't have the words to say, until then, or the courage to say until I was frightened that it might be too late." and some of them I didn't understand why he even deserved an apology about until I saw him working dangerously hard to protect me.

She nodded, "Fair enough."

That was Harry's phrase for, 'I've heard you.'

"Anyway," she said, "Go away, I'm baking your tea."

Right.

He went upstairs and found the library.

He found the really blond boy sitting across the table from a really blond girl, and one of the two Asian twins.

"Are one of you Theo?" said Dudley.

All three of them pointed across the room at a black-haired boy in a beanbag chair with a tiny girl curled up in his lap.

Dudley headed that way.

He seemed to be reading comics. She seemed to be reading two maths textbooks. Or she had been before she fell asleep.

"Which one of you manages more adventures to Wonderland that way?"

The boy looked up, "That had better not be innuendo."

"No," said Dudley, "Susan told me to ask you about an introduction to Loo-nu-su, and ritual magic, or the poetic meanings of such, or something."

He blinked, "Loo-nuh-sah," he said, then looked down at the girl in his lap, then rolled his eyes, then got a wand from somewhere and held it up in the air, "Accio 'Crow's Handbook of Significance', accio 'The Sixteen Moods of Magic'."

He put his wand down and stuck his hand up in the air just in time to catch a book, which he tossed to Dudley.

Dudley barely caught it.

"Theo! Really?" called someone from behind Dudley.

Theo stuck his hand in the air and looked around. No second book.

"Damn light family library doesn't have the important books," muttered Theo and glared at the ceiling for several seconds, "Accio, 'The Powers And You'."

Nothing.

"Accio, 'But is there a wheel of the year? What we can learn from modern Wicca.'"

That brought another book, which he caught out of the air and held out to Dudley.

Dudley gingerly accepted it, less of a book, more of a very heavy pamphlet.

One book seemed to intend to fit in one's pocket, like a two-language dictionary. The other seemed to be an illustrated children's guide to … calendars, growing seasons, and mythological figures.

"Thanks, I guess," said Dudley.

"No problem," said Theo, "find a chair and take a load off?"

"Hmm."

"Mostly get out of my light?"

"Oh sure, right away," said Dudley, and got out of the way of the girl stomping up behind him.

"I can't believe you sometimes, Theo, summoning books across the room, and tossing them around?"

Theo shrugged.

"Honestly, Theo! I should kick you out of the library for the rest of the day."

"But Padma," mock-whinged Theo, "I have a Kat in my lap."

"You don't have —? ARGH!" said the girl.

Apparently, this was Padma, the hard-arse sister of Parvati, Lady Black.

"So you do," said Padma in a more even tone, "Then I'm revoking your library privileges for tomorrow instead."

"Damn," said Theo, "and it was such a good excuse too."

"It's a reasonable excuse for me not to expel you right now, it's not a good excuse for summoning things instead of levitating them gently."

"Humph," said Theo.

Padma wandered away.

"Is your friend a … kin?" said Dudley.

Theo stared at him, blinked, then shook his head, "No, she's not wilderfolk, her name is Katherine, which some people shorten to Kat."

"Oh," said Dudley, and grinned.

Theo grinned back.

Dudley looked around until he found not just an empty bean bag, though there were four, nor an empty library work table type chair, though there were three such tables available, but an armchair. He went to it and sat down.

Skimming through the big picture book until he found the harvest ritual for August 1st, spelt 'Lughnasadh or Lughnasa' of all things. Still pronounced: Loo'-nuh-suh or sometimes Loo'-nuh-sah.

Fine.

First, the mythology was described, then the traditional festival, an almost useless essay about the sad lack of written records detailing any more about it than that it was a 'first fruits' type beginning of harvest festival, which are celebrated in many forms by agricultural societies the world over. And everything we know today had to be inferred from quotes about it from writings on other topics.

Except that was block-quoted in the middle of a longer essay about muggles having a suspicious lack of curiosity about said missing records, because obviously they were 'suddenly missing' because of the statute of secrecy.

'Oh, The horror,' or something?

Historians calling other historians names for not knowing how to research properly? What was new?

Dudley read on.

More on festival significance.

A section comparing the local myth to the Greek myth where the goddess Persephone (grain) being taken by Pluto (underworld/or just the ground) and being held 'captive' for a time before being allowed to return to the over-world. Except that seemed to fundamentally misunderstand the timing of the mythology as Dudley had understood it. Because this interpretation seemed to imply the time that Persephone was 'missing' was from planting until harvest, rather than from harvest until planting.

One seemed to be about faith that the seasons of the year will keep turning, the other if you could find the right anchor point and push the analogy one step further, would be about planting the right amount in the right way to achieve the harvest you needed.

Whatever.

Or maybe both were about waiting for things to be ripe before harvesting them?

In which case, the significance of sex at Lughnasa seemed to be about 'the waiting until then,' as symbolism about 'waiting for the right time,' not about having it on that particular day or season. Hum, intriguing.

And a wait as short as three days didn't seem particularly significant compared to an entire season of growing things, and whatnot.

And nothing there to prove that Lughnasa ought to be the correct season for sex, just because it was the correct time of year to harvest grain and bilberries. Unless he himself counted as the crop that was supposed to not be 'harvested' until he was 'ripe', in which case … why wouldn't that mean waiting until next June when he'd be sixteen? Then again, why sixteen? Harry hadn't waited until sixteen apparently (or was that all rumours by a horny witch that wanted into his britches?) He really should have a talk with Harry. Preferably in private.

He skimmed the other harvest holidays. Of course, there was one on Halloween. interesting that it was about mourning the end of summer and therefore the other kinds of mourning also. Though the passage about saving up for winter, the calculations of who was and who was not part of one's clan and eating at one's table, meant it was the time of year that one actually had to confront the idea of who was permanently gone from one's economic reckonings.

And given that those calculations weren't just saving up for 'winter' but saving up until the harvesting of the spring crops, whatever those were. Dudley wasn't sure, though he had a vague notion it might include lettuce and carrots.

Whatever, then yule, which was the 21st of December, and … looked like Christmas only more partying and fire and fewer presents. Whatever.

He put that book down and opened the other.

It was weird nonsense. It seemed like someone giving a tour of the inside of a brain that is doing math in a dream.

Dudley kept reading, in case it got easier to understand.

And then there was a paragraph that seemed to tie together three things from the previous two pages, and some of the things he'd always suspected about Harry's vague hints about what magic could and could not do.

This might be the book he'd always wanted explaining the logic behind how magic worked, except that the introduction had suggested that it wasn't about charms or runes, but about potions and rituals. Apparently, there were important separations in the kinds of magic available.

Apparently, you could only do magic that you intended to do, (except intention was a bad analogy), and that magic wanted you to do, (except 'wanting' was a bad analogy), and it wasn't either of those things, because both of those were relatively intermittent sets, and the only things that were possible were the integers that were present in the intersection of those sets. And it was worse because the set of things the human brain could intend properly was also intermittent.

So it was more like searching for common multiples of the primes you cared about, or whatever. (except not integers or primes or sets, but probably … coinciding sign waves would give similarly sparse answers, so … music?)

So like looking for chords to play the melody you wanted, except staying in harmony with a looping base line that someone else had already made up and already started playing.

Except that the base line that someone else made up already was the seasons. And the range of the instrument was either the human brain or 'the will of magic' or something.

And after learning all of those constraints, you just had to improvise the tune you wanted within them.

Or wait for a more auspicious time of year.

.

"Well?" said Theo, "Find what you're looking for?"

"Only sort of," said Dudley.

"Did you notice that 'first fruits' is a worldwide farmer thing, whereas Lamas is a Christian version, and Lughnasadh, is an Irish / Scottish version of the holiday?"

"Sure, I guess."

Theo nodded, "and did you notice that Lugh, the three-faced god of farmer/warrior/ingenuity must battle against the hunger of depravity and the forces of nature, not to directly bless mankind himself, but to rescue the grain or the grain goddess, who blesses mankind?"

"I guess," said Dudley.

Theo nodded, "Did you also notice how 'order' is a god, and the chaos and creativity and fertility of nature is all the same goddess, and yet the god of 'greed and tyranny' is a god again, and unlike Order, Justice is a goddess?"

"I'm confused," said Dudley.

"Never mind," said Theo, "The wheel of the year is the modern muggle Wicca version of an old topic, with gods and goddesses as individuals re-imagined from the old roots, whereas 'The Powers' are the moods or impersonal personalities or roles reified out of the old stories and titles, to satisfy the current mage trend towards ecumenical atheism."

"Say what?"

"If you meet or try to invoke a real god, knowing their name helps, though you still would be better off also knowing their personality and goals in order to communicate well. But when calling on a Power, for example, the Power of Chaos or the Power of Order, you don't need to know its name, you need to understand the force for what it is and why it resonates with you, and why you wish to resonate with it, or what time of year it is dominant, knowing its name only helps to the extent it makes it easier to research how to build the ritual you want, or how to communicate with others about the thing that you did."

"Ah," said Dudley, "I think I understand."

Theo nodded, "Why did this come up?"

"Someone noticed I had something, and asked if I was … saving it for myself, for someone else, or saving it for a ritual sacrifice, and I said, I wasn't sure."

"Ah!" said Theo, "Can easily be more than one of those, when the time is right, the time and place to make the sacrifice can be obvious."

Dudley stared at him.

Theo frowned, "I don't have a favourite introductory book on sacrifice, what does that book say?" he pointed to the reference book on symbols and rituals.

Dudley stuck his finger in and flipped over to 'Sa-'

"Sacrifice: The act or ritual or ritual element of trading one item or symbol for another more desired item or symbol.

"In philosophical or economic systems that contain 'Opportunity Cost', every decision, action, or transaction is a sacrifice.

"There are competing views: It is said by some that no transaction is a sacrifice, as long as it is not coerced, a competent agent always acts in their own best interests and will only make good transactions.

"It is said by others that sacrifice is the act of self-denial inherent in the decision to give something away, not the act of destroying or giving away the item.

"More traditionally, a ritual sacrifice is usually something pure, innocent, simple, cheap, and symbolically unique/non-fungible and usually is exchanged to gain something more complex, advanced, nuanced, but often more standard or common."

Sure, I suppose, my virginity could be called most of those first things.

Theo nodded, "Well, That's an extremely concise introduction."

"Um?" said Dudley.

"Do you see how keeping the year's first grain, harvested separately from the rest, is simple and cheap, yet also unique and irreplaceable? There will be more grain harvested from your field but the rest won't be first."

"I guess," said Dudley.

"And with the Lammas festival, you're bringing it to be processed and shared with your family or community. To celebrate that the waiting is over, the feasting can begin, (or at least the fear of starving is over for the moment)."

"Sure," said Dudley.

"A lot of the traditional seasonal festivals are community-oriented," said Theo, "but that's perhaps a tautology, regarding 'tradition' and 'festival'. You should know that there are well-known rituals that are neither traditional nor have anything feast-like about them."

Dudley put down the book and looked up at him, "You're talking about, something someone would do in private?"

Theo nodded, "often outdoors, in sight of the sky, or underground, on bare earth or bedrock, or sometimes for the equinoxes or Beltane or Samhain, at the beach on the tide verge."

Equinoxes (March and September) were when the length of day and night were equal or crossing each other, whichever symbol meant more to you, and the Beltane (Beginning of May) and Samhain (Ending of October) were … when the temperatures were crossing some idealised average.

Fine. Sure. Trying to mix those up with the middle of rising or falling tide sounded like good poetry.

Except who wanted to be at the beach in April or November when it was too cold to swim … But maybe May or September would be alright.

"Are Yule and Imbolc more likely to be celebrated at night, and the others more likely to be celebrated during the day, or morning or dusk?"

Theo shrugged, "Not in the straightforward way that I think you're expecting. Samhain is an evening rite, and Yule is potentially an all-night affair. Imbolc is usually an afternoon and early evening affair."

"Oh,"

"And the later spring, summer, and autumn festivals are often determined by the weather and the expected occupation of the majority of people at those times."

"Ah, sure."

Theo glanced away, then back.

"Do you plan on celebrating Lammas with the House of Potter and their werewolves, or Lughnasadh with the House of Granger?"

Dudley shrugged.

Theo raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have a suggestion?"

Theo shrugged, "I and Kat will be celebrating with the House of Potter, and you aren't to tell her that the rest of the House is doing anything else."

"Oh," said Dudley. He looked over and found Katherine at a library table, copying something out of a textbook.

"What's she doing?"

"Looking for a single pattern that derives into all the exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. In hopes of finding exceptions six and seven before anyone else."

"What does that mean?" said Dudley.

"It means calculus on other people's arithmancy," said Theo, "Some of which aren't even in the same symbol sets as each other."

"She's eleven?"

"Twelve."

"Hmm."

Theo nodded.

Dudley shrugged, "is that as amorphous as this is?"

Theo raised an eyebrow, "No, not at all."

"Hum," said Dudley and yawned, "How do I check books out?"

"You don't, you leave it on the bookcase over there by the door and pick it up again when you come back. Ideally, you'd shelve it again when you're done with it, but … even I still haven't completely mastered the organisational system here."

"Humph," said Dudley, "What else is scheduled before Tea?"

Theo shrugged, "afraid of missing out?"

Dudley shrugged.

"I guess we've all got summer projects to work on. Even if a few of us have so little ambition that we'd merely be satisfied to build up a tan."

Dudley blinked, then shrugged, "Is there punching equipment around?"

Theo's eyes shot open, "Yes, I saw some around, but I don't remember where, I'd check the dungeon."

"Alright," said Dudley, "I think I'll go wear myself out and take a nap."

Theo nodded in respect and wandered away. Dudley went and put his two books in the recommended spot. Then orbited the building until he found the stairs and followed them all the way down,

This was an infirmary, not a dungeon, though four of the beds did have cages around them.

The walls were lined with wardrobes, with various labels and runes on them. When he got close to one his skin prickled a little, but then a lot of the things around here did that.

He walked along the row and found one that made his skin prickle less than the others. He opened it and found it to be very cold inside.

Magical refrigerators, fair enough.

He closed it again. And looked around again.

There was no punching equipment.

There was however a single door that wasn't a wardrobe or the stairs, and it seemed to point toward the centre of the house, so maybe a hallway?

Nope. Instead, it led to a totally empty room.

Square. Rather large. And an extra big step down onto an uneven stone floor.

'Some rituals are private and are performed on bare bedrock.'

"Right," said Dudley, "Got it," he closed the door and backed away.

Actually, that might have been the place in the house where he'd sensed the least magic so far, if that skin prickle and tingle and everything that he couldn't make sense of even was magic, rather than a psychosomatic reaction to knowing that magic was around and he wasn't trained to deal with it.

He turned around, there wasn't anything else much down here.

He went upstairs.

.

He orbited the hallway to the next stairway and went down. Yes, this was definitely a dungeon, four rows of people-sized cages, each one with one or two cots. Two cages looked lived in. Made sense that if you got this many teenagers in a group with no adults to stop them, one or two of them would get the idea that the cage aesthetic appealed to them. He heard someone using punching equipment and headed in that direction.

"Hello Dudley," said Harry.

"Hello Harry," said Dudley.

"Hello Dudley," said the tattoo girl.

"Hello … Pansy, right?" Dudley said.

"It is," she nodded.

"I suppose you want a turn with this?" said Harry and stepped away from the small bag.

"That's what I came for," agreed Dudley, "But that doesn't mean it's already my turn."

"That's alright," said Harry, "It was about time for my drink break."

"Alright," said Dudley, and stepped up to the bag.

He started slow to warm up, but he wasn't exactly the most patient at warming up.

Not that he cared as long as he managed not to hurt himself.

"So, how are you finding my Manor?" said Harry.

"It's a nice spread," said Dudley, "It explains why you weren't planning on visiting this summer."

"Sure," said Harry, "I planned to visit next summer. It wasn't that I didn't want to visit this summer, I'm just unsure how to fit it in. I'm not sure how I'm going to fit everything I want into this summer."

"Fair enough," said Dudley.

"How has your summer been so far?"

"Um," said Dudley, "not sure how to say this, but Little Whinging is boring."

"Sure," said Harry.

"I mean, I knew that last year, but this year… well the rest of the posse just seems really uninspired."

"Not going to argue with that," said Harry.

"Or maybe just depressingly unambitious," said Dudley.

The tattoo girl paused for several seconds, then resumed working over the big bag.

"Ah," said Harry after a while, "and what about you?"

"Want to be ambitious, but didn't have anything to be ambitious about. The mystery of how to get here, the project of getting here, were a welcome break."

"Dudley?" said Harry, "Do you have the mystery-solving addiction also?"

"I wouldn't call it an addiction," said Dudley, "but I won't deny that there's a high to solving puzzles sometimes."

"Huh," said Harry, "Alright."

"Is that all you have to say?" said Dudley.

Harry sighed, "about you and your posse, when Professor Tonks first saw you, she called you a predator and the others scavengers."

The tattoo girl paused again. Probably they were distracting enough to mess up her count.

"Wouldn't call us that," said Dudley, "But alright."

Silence.

"So Harry, Do you have a mystery-solving addiction?"

"Maybe," said Harry, "Or some have said, I have a saving-people addiction or a significance addiction."

"Sounds dangerously close to a heroism complex," said Dudley.

"I think that would imply I want fame and recognition of the world for what I've done," said Harry, "Whereas mostly I want people to notice when I go out of my way to help. Or in a few cases, notice what the hell they did wrong to get into danger and not do that again."

"Hmm," said Dudley. He decided not to mention how depressingly adult that made Harry sound.

The tattoo girl backed away from the bag, bowed to Harry and turned to find her towel.

"Thanks," said Harry, and took her place.

She mumbled something positive but exhausted and left.

Harry went to town. One of his normal routines: five punches, a stance change and a block, five punches, a kick. Repeat.

.

...-...

Dudley's Road Trip (Part 2): A conversation with Harry

"Harry?" said Dudley.

"Yeah?"

"Umm, about Susan and …"

"Sex?"

"Not just that," said Dudley.

"What then?"

"She can turn into Leona?"

Harry froze and after two seconds stepped back from the bag, "Yeah, she can."

"Umm, should I ask who else can?"

"Probably all my girlfriends, don't know who else."

Note to self, do not trust any Leona is actually Harry underneath.

"Can any of them turn into you?"

"No … Er, not without an expensive potion that takes vaguely a month to brew."

"Do what?"

"It only lasts for an hour, paranoid people will ask for passwords, or will start business meetings with a meal, or a game of chess or whatever, so that no one needs to spill secrets before an hour is up."

"Oh, ok," said Dudley.

"Professor Tonks can transform into her impression of anyone, but prefers not to, or not without permission, you know? For her impression of me, she stays her size and doesn't do the forehead scar. Calls herself David."

Dudley stared at him.

Harry scratched his forehead and shrugged. Most of his scar was gone.

"Ok, umm…"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Ok, that probably answered quite a lot more than I expected about trusting my senses about a lot of things. Sounds like what a special effects guy on Telly said, 'I can do anything, but some effects are harder and more expensive than others.'

Dudley shuddered. Being around magic was like being at the circus, or the zoo, it was possible that you might meet anything at all, around the next corner, which was both exciting, and an invitation to be silly, but also … plenty of reason to leave all that at the zoo/circus/cinema/vacation, not a reason you'd want to take it home with you.

"Alright," said Dudley, "Thank you for telling me."

Harry tilted his head in curiosity.

"Do you have sex with your girlfriends?"

"Is it any of your business?" said Harry.

Why would he ask … like that. Ok…

"I'm not asking about gossip," said Dudley, "I'm asking …" Dudley swallowed, "brother-to-brother, about …" Dudley sighed, "keeping up, I guess? And if Susan's bragging was lying to trick me into … doing what she wanted."

Harry sighed, "First of all, sex is a very personal thing, and there are … several different kinds of sex, with different significances for each. Being ready for each different kind if you ever are, is also a very personal thing. You should not try to keep up with anyone else, and you should not feel guilty about not being ready for one kind at the same age or time that someone else is ready."

"Oh," said Dudley.

"One of the worst times I had sex, was when I asked someone to teach me the safety lessons surrounding a kind that I was afraid I would not be ready for in time to share with one of my other friends."

"Because you weren't ready for it?" said Dudley.

"No," said Harry, "Because I was afraid, and because I was thinking about that other friend, and about myself, instead of thinking about the friend I was with. Still good to know the safety warnings and everything, of course."

"Sure," said Dudley.

"Speaking of safety warnings," said Harry, "Sex is slightly dangerous, physically, and medically, slightly more dangerous emotionally and socially, best to be good friends with someone before asking them to juggle emotional grenades with you?"

"Sure," said Dudley.

Harry shrugged and closed his eyes, "Every culture grows its own recommendations and morals and ethics and traditions around every aspect of life, sex is one of the most emotional things we do, and having babies is one of the most expensive things that we do (both materially and emotionally). You'll find that the laws, morality, and ethics, surrounding sex are the ones that are hardest to find a logical assessment or conversation about, rather than an emotional reaction. I don't know a better way to warn you about that."

"Sure," said Dudley.

"Mage culture and muggle culture are separate, plenty we could learn from each other, but not a lot, ugh, not a lot of free exchange. And most of the cultural exchange that does occur is either very emotionally charged, or conducted alone privately in a library, or in carefully planned educational tours to what did you call them, Potemkin villages."

"Holy shite," said Dudley.

Then Dudley remembered that Harry hadn't really understood what Dudley / real historians meant by that. But had given up after three attempts to explain. He did however know what Harry meant by 'Potemkin villages'.

"Mages in Great Britain … ugh that's at least three cultures all by itself, but there's a general priority in two of them, towards maintaining enough emotional control to avoid accidental magic. One of the ways one of those cultures manages that is by being very permissive about just about everything else, including sex. Another culture permits (even endorses) giving mind-altering potions to children, both temporary and permanent, ditto, ditto for mood and mind-altering charms and curses."

Dudley stared.

"Personally," said Harry, "I find permanent potions and curses used without the consent of the patient to be an abhorrent practice."

Dudley nodded.

"Another faction teaches that accidental magic is a whimsical delight and to be celebrated, but that means keeping children who have not yet learned control far enough away from muggles that their accidental magic should go unnoticed, some never even bother to learn that control, choosing instead to just avoiding an environment where their lack of control might be criminal or even slightly frowned upon, leading to a completely different set of prejudices and maladjustment's later in life. Or even worse, generations later, if all your near ancestors go 'ugh' at the mention of muggles. The way Aunt Petunia says 'ugh,' at the sight of a bobby."

Dudley nodded, "so which are you?"

Harry smiled, "I like several aspects of each of the above, and could probably find a way to live with each without compromising my ethics. I also find some of the consequences of each problematic, some on a practical level, and some on a philosophical level. If you ever have a mage child, please don't give them permanent mind-altering potions if sending them to be raised in a segregated community would work just as well. I suspect Hermione or I would be able to find a place or make a place if need be. Ditto ditto, finding potions that are not permanent, if you just need them to stay calm for a couple of hours while you take them shopping."

"Oh … alright," said Dudley.

"Where was I?" said Harry, "Oh, yeah, so mages around here assume that if most children start wanting to explore sex sometime between 13 and 25 then that is the age that they should start doing so, therefore they ought to be armed with just enough knowledge that when they want to start they know how to ask for help researching contraceptive charms and potions and curses, and the health and safety risks of each."

Dudley nodded.

"Not because it is safe, but because burying that desire, and more problematically, burying and refusing to let them talk about the associated emotions, is often very unsafe."

"And all the heartbreak songs ever …?" said Dudley.

Harry nodded, "Sex is not safe, the emotions around it are not safe, the emotions around everything are not safe, but they are … Dudley, emotions are useful input. We wouldn't have those emotions if God or Evolution or whatever you believe in, had found a better way to give us that information. Not having those emotions is even less safe on average. Therefore, learn to live with your emotions, and learn to control your actions regardless of your emotions. And, yes, learn how to build yourself a life and a meditation practice which lets you stay close to the emotional states that you find most helpful."

"Yeah, ok," said Dudley.

"And if that means no sex ever, that's fine, and if it means lots of sex all the time, then you've got a challenge ahead finding someone who wants to share that kind of life with you."

"Well yeah," said Dudley.

"And people grow and change, I'm under the impression the hormones that make teenagers want a lot of sex go away eventually. So there may be some sense to the strategy of waiting until you've hopefully settled into your adult preferences before looking for a life partner." Harry shrugged.

"Hmm," said Dudley.

Ok, then, for sure Harry didn't agree with Dad about the correct response to crazy girls existing. If they even did exist for real. It sounded like Harry thought that was just a phase that would go away eventually.

Dudley turned back to the speed bag and started whaling on it.

Harry grunted and returned to his own routine.

"So if I'm not going to accidentally turn anyone's hair blue by being angry at the state of the world," said Dudley, "Then I don't have to worry about my emotions the same way?"

Harry snorted, "You're not going to turn anyone's hair blue, but look at your parents."

"What about them?" said Dudley, did Harry know more about their dating than Dudley could remember ever hearing?

"They both have pretty serious arrogance and temper problems," said Harry, "I won't try to guess if they are separate or caused by each other."

"Huh?" said Dudley.

"Your Dad taught us boxing, but it was Sensi who taught us restraint and conflict de-escalation."

"Oh, yeah," said Dudley.

"Emotions can still get you into trouble, we were trained not to let them trick us into violence, but they can trick you into other things, blurting out things that you won't mean by tomorrow, buying things you don't need, or borrowing money to do so, or getting into other kinds of business deals without researching them well enough, things like that."

"Yeah, ok," said Dudley, "so … emotions should lead me into research, but only research should lead me into action?"

"Hmm," said Harry, "I have never heard that rule of thumb, but it sounds ideal?"

.

"Where were you for Lunch?" said Harry.

"Gregory and Vincent thought that staying for lunch with the werewolves was a good idea."

"Oh, really?" said Harry, "How did that go?"

"Fenrir … picked a fight with me, I think there were a lot of status messages flying around that I didn't manage to interpret."

"Probably," sighed Harry, "how did that go?"

"I managed to draw blood and get my hand away from him, and asked Wotcher to put me at the other end of the tomatoes, and when he told me to come back I told him I didn't think you liked your pets fighting with each other. So … he walked away to check on everyone else, then he came back and told me again that he'd like to put me in his pack."

"Hell," said Harry.

"I umm, said that he'd need your permission, but what I really meant was, I wanted you to just say 'no' if he's crazy about that, or a lot of help researching and understanding before I say 'yes,'."

"Certainly," said Harry, "I'm under the impression that he's crazy, but understandably so, being a werewolf is less damaging to someone's spirit the more wolf-like their spirit animal is."

"Spirits are a thing?"

"Probably, but there are several other things by that name … hmm, pretend I said 'identity.' "

Being a werewolf is less damaging to someone's identity the more wolf-like their identity animal is… Was that good magic-ish poetry, or was that a tautology?

"And his identity animal is a wolf?"

"Probably," said Harry, "a lot of animagi are … evangelical for everyone finding and making friends with their animal self. I think he has that, but I think it has combined with and been exacerbated by the lycanthropy curse's communal instinct to form a pack."

"Oh," said Dudley, "Do you … umm."

"As a lion, yes, I have the instinct to form a pride, or, I have that instinct and it led me and magic to find that lion is my animal form."

"That is not what I was going to ask," said Dudley.

"Oh," said Harry, "Go ahead."

"So you think everyone should find their animal form, and his animal form is a wolf, so the lycanthropy curse made him what he should already have been?"

"I think, everyone could be helped by finding their animal form, it does not follow that the amount they could be helped is greater than the cost of learning how, nor the risks of doing so. I think Mr. Greyback's identity animal was already a wolf or dog and so he was not hurt nearly as much by being changed by the curse, and therefore the idea of a future involving being changed every month does not feel nearly as onerous to him as it does to most other werewolves."

"Oh, ok."

"Without a full understanding of how horrible the curse is to some people, and with an intimate understanding of having the advantage of whatever the experience feels like to him, yes he wants to share his good luck with everyone, or at least everyone that he has found within himself the ability to respect."

"Yeah, sure," said Dudley.

"And at other times, I cannot grant him that much innocence, because I know that he has also turned others as a form of retaliation or punishment for being prejudiced against him, and/or other victims of the lycanthropy curse."

"Holy shite," said Dudley.

"Basically," said Harry, "Not that there isn't an ironic justice to that act in a few of the cases that I know about. But no, he can only do that while in wolf form, and I don't trust his control enough to aim his curse where he means to aim it while sober. So no, I do not permit him to change anyone else."

"Alright," said Dudley, "But you think … if the curse changed me into my own correct form instead of a werewolf form or whatever, would that be different?"

"That would be very different," said Harry, "and if the curse could only spread to willing victims, rather than whoever you ran across on the full moon nights that you ran wild if your form even desires to be out at night, etc. Then I might condone spreading animagi awakening via that route, rather than through the hard work that it normally takes."

"Yeah, ok," said Dudley, "But since it doesn't, you wouldn't give him permission unless we somehow knew that I'm meant to be a wolf?"

"Sure," said Harry, "actually no, since I don't trust a 50-year-old with experience with what it's like to be a werewolf, not to attack people and turn them, I also don't trust you who have no experience with that. So no, I don't condone you becoming a werewolf, not just to protect you from becoming a wolf if it's bad for you, but also to protect everyone you might turn while out of control, as well as protect you from needing to be confined to keep everyone else safe from you."

"Oh," said Dudley, "Yeah, ok. That makes sense."

A little humiliating, but makes sense.

Harry smiled warmly.

Right, that sort of came out as a statement of care, if you took the correct perspective, protectiveness was weird sometimes.

Dudley went back to pounding on the speed bag.

"Are you angry at me?"

"Angry, yes, at you, not exactly," said Dudley, "That was … vaguely the information I was expecting from the vibe I was getting about everyone being respectfully freaked out that you were letting werewolves stick around."

"Oh, ok."

"So, also the sort of information I was expecting you'd give me if you thought it was an ok idea but wanted me to know what I was getting into first. Instead of just telling Fenrir, 'hell no,' and never talking to me about it."

"Right," said Harry, "sorry for boring you."

"Not that," said Dudley, "I'm glad to have your opinion that neither I nor anyone else needs the burden of the curse. I'm angry because … I don't know, you told me I don't deserve to have an experience, (not that I want it), right after saying that you trust me to pick when I get to have the experience of sex or whatever."

"Oh, yeah," said Harry, "emotions can be stupid like that. Probably means I ugh, sorry, I should have presented it better, is all."

"Probably," said Dudley, "May I switch bags? Speed bag adrenalin is confusing itself with anger adrenalin, and being unhelpful."

"Certainly," said Harry and stepped back from the heavy bag.

They traded places.

But Harry didn't start up on the speed bag, he took another drink, then towelled off.

"I take it that you didn't shag Susan?"

"How do you figure?" said Dudley.

"First thing you said implied you were trying to work through a lot of distrust."

"I'm … that's not quite how I'd say that, but … maybe."

"Relationships are built on trust," said Harry, "even relationships that don't have any kind of 'care' in them."

"What does that mean?"

"You walk into a store," said Harry, "you don't know or care about the clerk, or the store owner, and vice versa, but you trust that given the context of everything, they intend to sell a decent product for a reasonable price, to build and continue their reputation, and they trust that you intend to pay a fair price for it, and neither of you intends to rob the other or kidnap or whatever. Once you make your transaction and leave, perhaps the relationship is over, maybe you'll be happy enough with your purchase to spread the word and the store's reputation, and perhaps you'll be back whenever you need more of whatever it is. Of course, if you're smart, you'll keep your eyes open for developments that contradict any of that, whether that means the prices don't look right and you walk out or ask about them, or whether it means the clerk starts flirting with you and you have to decide how to respond to that."

"I don't usually think of that as a relationship, but I suppose in a mathematical way it could be called that."

"Right."

"And you're saying that since you can't reduce 'a relationship' any farther, and that one still includes trust, that trust is more foundational to 'a relationship' than all the other things that you can take out to get that far."

"Precisely."

"And everything that you can add on top of that?"

"Just because the foundation is trust, doesn't mean that the whole building on top is also trust and only trust. No, there are definitely other things you want to add to have other kinds of relationship."

"Ok, maybe."

"And whatever Susan did that annoyed you."

"Turned into Leona," said Dudley, "it didn't annoy me, it annoyed me that she could do that and you didn't warn me she could."

"She couldn't until like two weeks after you and I last talked about anything even tangentially related."

"Oh, ok," said Dudley, "Then it makes sense that you didn't warn me, but…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry that I didn't warn you," said Harry, "I'd still rather you didn't go advertising that it's even possible."

"Hmm, really?" said Dudley.

"Most people who learn the spell, don't use it to copy other people's disguises but to make up their own. In fact…

"Hmm?"

"The book I got it from, advertises using it on pets, not oneself."

"Oh," said Dudley, "is it even safe how you're using it?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Hmm?" said Dudley.

"What?" said Harry.

"I sort of expected you to say, 'in theory' very slowly and thoughtfully."

"That was a month ago," said Harry, "I've reviewed it more thoroughly recently."

"Oh, why?"

"Someone else asked me, so I checked." Harry sighed.

"Wish you'd checked before you started using it on yourself?"

"That would have been wise," Harry agreed, "Not that I would have known how to do the math properly back then."

"Oh," said Dudley, "I've wondered how much math is in magic."

"Hmm?"

"A lot of the time, someone explains how some bit of magic works, and it seems like there are equations underneath except they are made out of poetry instead of numbers or atoms."

"Oh!" said Harry, "Sort of, yes. Math is a language for describing things, magic can be described, so math can be useful for magic. But yeah, symbolism matters differently for magic than it does for chemistry or physics or accounting."

"Because human psychology is the instrument you play to make magic?"

"What?" said Harry.

"Well, isn't it?" said Dudley.

"Well, umm, instrument, yes, but I'm thinking lab instrument E.G. a tool or gauge, not musical instrument, but given that we're talking about the expressive capabilities of the human brain, yes, math and music and interpersonal relationships also rhyme with how humans can make magic operate. Other species capable of magic, have other … textures, (I guess?) to the things they can do."

"How many other species are capable of magic?"

"No idea."

"How many other species are capable of … an interesting amount of expressiveness regarding the magic they are capable of?"

"At least … four?"

"And they are?"

"That I've met: Giants, Goblins, House-elves, and Veela, there are rumours about dragons and I guess gods but I haven't met any of those, and the dragon I met was barely old enough to eat and drink and wiggle her neck the way she used to signal she wanted to be fed, or get pettings. To be fair I haven't met a pure giant or pure veela, just part human part that, so the magic I've seen them do was perhaps partly informed by whatever effect the human part of their heritage added to the rest."

"Hmm," said Dudley, "That leaves goblins and house elves? What is their magic like?"

"House elf magic is … harder to see."

"I … can't always see magic, sometimes I just feel it on my skin."

Harry nodded, "common complaint by squibs and muggles."

"When I can see it, it looks like sparks?"

"Same here," said Harry, "billions of sparks, billowing from wand to target. Potions are different. Runes glow, some of that glow is localised to the runes and some of it is outlining the volume that they are affecting, though often that is so spread out and faint as to be unrecognisable. More training makes that more recognisable, I won't say 'like a wine taster' but in that general direction."

Dudley couldn't claim to have seen more than a couple of hundred sparks at a time. Except perhaps Susan's boar, but those were especially well organised so he could recognise the fog as a group of sparks so fine that he couldn't differentiate them.

Dudley shrugged, "And you can't see house-elf magic, can they see human magic?"

"Good question," said Harry, "I don't know. I can feel their magic on my skin, not like the spreading way that I feel human magic whoosh past (same as watching it), more like hearing it like a shock-wave echoing out from their hands and back from whatever they just affected."

"Is their magic … faster than human magic? If it seems like sound instead of … a breeze to you?"

"Perhaps," said Harry, "often, yes, but some effects deal with mass and inertia so, they are still limited in some ways by the physics of the target. Same as they are for me."

"Sure," said Dudley, "What about goblins?"

"No idea, I think that they are as proprietary about keeping their magic away from us as we are about keeping our magic away from them."

Dudley snorted.

"There is a long history of war and guile behind that tradition, No matter how much I believe in sharing in general, I refuse to critique the tradition until I know a lot more."

"Alright, whatever," Dudley shrugged.

...-...

Dudley's Road Trip (Part 3)

Tea was excellent, Dudley was fairly sure there was real mustard in one of the sauces, but he couldn't decide which one. The rice with sage and honey was an interesting touch.

.

When he ran out of things to do he wandered to his car and back to make sure he still remembered the way. On the way back he had the inspiration to tend some of the plants along the route back to the house, so that, if he got lost again, he'd be able to request directions at least this far.

He only found a few plants that he knew well enough to guess what they needed. Like, the scraggly azaleas needed the dead leaves pulled out from among the live leaves. And there were a lot of scraggly azaleas. Someone shouldn't have planted the cherry tree directly above them.

But whatever.

A couple of teens jogged nearby. "I don't know where Lord Potter came from, or where he found so many gardeners, nor why he thought he needed to import any to start with."

"They're not gardeners," said the girl, "They're friends of his who all happen to like gardening a little, or something."

"Oh," said the boy, "so it's not like I should stop by sometime and check if he's hiring more?"

"I doubt it," said the girl, "one of his wives tried to hire me to help her in the greenhouses, but I took one look at those greenhouses and turned her down."

"Oh? Why?"

"Poisonous plants everywhere and a snake as big around as my wrist."

"Gosh."

They hit the hill and switched to a slow jog.

"And rumours of another snake the size of my leg."

"Seriously?"

Dudley stood up and stared at them, "What?"

The girl turned and looked at him, "you didn't know?"

"No," said Dudley, "but … I've only been invited to help in the vegetable garden … gardens."

"Oh," said the girl, "Yeah, there might be a reason for that. How do you feel about working around poisonous plants."

"Most plants aren't exactly edible," said Dudley.

"I don't mean toxic," said the girl, "I mean venomous."

Dudley blinked, "Yeah, that does sound like a problem that Harry's crowd might run into … and somehow wouldn't mind."

She stared at him, "and you're not … 'one of Harry's crowd' as you say?"

Dudley shrugged, "depends on which way someone might mean that."

The boy stepped closer and both of them stared at Dudley.

"I'm Harry's cousin, and I have definite ideas about what I meant by 'one of Harry's crowd.'" said Dudley.

The girl nodded, "Then I definitely know what you mean."

"Huh?" said the boy.

"Words neither of us is allowed to say," said the girl, "come on, Toby, let's finish our run."

"Alright," he said.

"How often do you run?" said Dudley.

"Most evenings," she said, "Why?"

"I usually run in the mornings," said Dudley, and shrugged, "I haven't really figured out a routine or a route here. Yet."

"Ah," said Toby.

"But I'm only here for a couple more days."

"Ah," said Toby.

"Ask Wotcher?" said the girl.

"I guess I could try that," said Dudley.

"Wotcher?" said Toby.

"One of the local nymphs," said the girl.

Toby blinked and stared at Dudley.

"They told me he wasn't a nymph," said Dudley.

The girl rolled her eyes. Then clutched Toby's hand and dragged him away.

"I wouldn't think that there's enough wild land around here to support a nymph?" said Toby.

"How do you know that a nymph's land needs to be wild?" said the girl.

"Um," said Toby.

Then they passed a hedge and crested the hill which combined to put them beyond earshot.

.

"Wotcher, where are good places to run, around here?"

[I don't understand the question.]

Right, not a human, not even alive, just … able to string thoughts together well enough to mimic.

"Wotcher, I like to run, or just walk fast, for about half an hour, either between when I wake up, and breakfast, or directly after breakfast. I'd rather run somewhere that is light enough to see even at that time of the morning, and where … I won't be stepping on any plants that … might be hurt by being stepped on. Moving in a circuit is more interesting than moving in a line and then back the other way along the same route. Can you add a few circuits to my map?"

[Oh.]

A long pause.

[Do you also prioritise crossing bridges, or being near running water while walking?]

"Maybe a little, yes."

[How long of a circuit?]

"Half an hour is about two miles, maybe a little less."

[A map with three routes, one was highlighted as being the closest to two miles, and crossing three bridges.]

"Thank you. Please keep this, and show it to me again when I wake up in the morning."

[Rule understood.]

.

Dudley's morning run went very nicely. He stopped by the kitchen on the way and Harry told him how long until breakfast.

He tried to offer to help and received only a glare.

He backed out.

Harry's face softened a little.

"Don't go away mad," said Harry, "Just go away."

"Huh?"

"I'm not good at sharing a kitchen yet," said Harry, "I'm a lot better than I was, but if and when I decide to try to practice sharing a kitchen it will be with Ginny, Hermione, or Luna, not you."

"Whatever," said Dudley, "I mostly wanted to make sure I wasn't going to miss breakfast if I tried a morning run first."

"Oh," said Harry, "Running before breakfast? What happened to you? What happened to, 'let's not try anything drastic'?"

Dudley stuck out his tongue.

Harry smiled, "Go. Run. Enjoy yourself."

.

Dudley ran, (well for the first ten minutes he walked fast to warm up), then he ran for most of a mile, with a short break to admire the bridge and the view from it. He was enough ahead of schedule that he meant to stop at the other two bridges for longer admiration breaks, except on the second bridge he found a black-haired girl and a bald girl snogging.

And neither of them was wearing much.

He tried to just run past without bothering them.

But the bald girl vanished. And the black-haired girl staggered and had to catch her balance before she could turn and glare at him. And …

"Oh, Hi, Padma," said Dudley.

She glared.

"It's a nice morning for exercise," said Dudley and walked on.

"Humph," she said.

"See," murmured someone else, "Even cousin Dudley agrees with me."

Was that Leona? It didn't look like …

It didn't sound like…

"I'm not having naked sex with you at dawn in public, especially not on a bridge, where everyone has to pass by."

"Only everyone who likes to be up and crossing bridges at dawn. It's not like anyone can see us from the road."

A sigh, "I can see why that matters to your point of view. Can you see my point of view?"

A completely different kind of sigh, "Yes. Wotcher?"

And the sound that Wotcher made when he moved people around.

Dudley slowed down and looked back.

Both of them were gone.

But who knew if they'd be back?

He ran on.

At the third bridge, he took a nice long admiration break and still arrived back at the big house in time for breakfast.

.

While they worked the little gardens a monster-sized snake slithered by to inspect everything, then continued on.

.

"Do I want to know what the deal is with the big snake?" muttered Dudley.

"She's the Patils' grandmother," said Gregory, "and a master enchanter, when she can be bothered to not be a snake. And Yes, that's probably as much as you want to know."

"Hmm," said Dudley, "alright."

So much for the only adults around being werewolves.

.

With so many of them, It didn't take long before they'd finished most of the work that could be found to do at the big house's garden and moved on to the werewolf's farm.

Where most of them finished a bit more on the tomatoes, but a few went off to work on something else.

And all the time there were constant urgent, low tones, bickering about 'preparations to make,' and 'plans,' and 'strategies' and 'psychology'.

"Is there going to be a storm later?" said Dudley.

"What?" said Gregory.

"Yesterday, barely anyone talked, and the only thing to do was tomatoes. Today?" Dudley shrugged.

Everyone around him stared at him like he was stupid.

Does everyone have last-minute things to do for Harry's birthday? If so, I probably didn't bring nearly a good enough present.

"The thing that they're making last-minute preparations for," said Vincent, "Is the full moon."

"Oh," said Dudley, "alright, that makes sense."

He thought of eight different things to ask about regarding that. But every one of them seemed like something Harry, or Harry's cat would have definite ideas about the strictness of tact that would be required for him to deserve an answer. And in almost every case, he'd probably be better off getting the answer from a book, not from an annoyed werewolf, especially not one who had the rest of their pack looking on, and so might need to elide or enhance certain details to save face with that pack.

So Dudley kept his mouth shut, and picked tomatoes.

Eventually, he came to a question that he actually did want an answer to, and couldn't figure out a way that it could be taken wrong, "Um, so do they let us help with any of those preparations, or only help pick tomatoes?"

"I don't know," said Gregory, "It either hasn't come up or has never involved me. Unless you have a wolf friend that you already help with, and want additional strategy advice, I'd advise waiting for one of them to invite you, rather than putting yourself forward."

Not quite the type of answer I wanted, but perhaps, still a correct answer.

"Alright," shrugged Dudley and he went back to picking tomatoes.

.

After the mandated two hours were completed and they returned to the house, Dudley went to the library, Only Katherine was around, and she was still alone, working from the same two books, more parchment, and another even bigger book across the table from her, as if it were more intermittent reference material, or a reward for when she was done.

So without anyone else to help him, Dudley wandered the library trying to figure out the system, and where he ought to look up werewolves.

He found an ancient-looking encyclopedia in three volumes, but it didn't have werewolves because it was only an encyclopedia of spells. He figured out how to look up a spell by its incantation, and read the entry on the Patronus charm.

Beyond the jargon that he couldn't parse, he got the gist of the idea.

Which also gave him the name of another animal-themed bit of magic, which in theory was completely separate. But seemed to interact sometimes for some people. The animagus transformation, (apparently a distinct thing from a living-to-living animal transfiguration). One was in theory safe for humans to do to themselves, and one was in theory always unsafe on anything with the merest shred of spirit, not that it would have permanent physical effects on the body, but that experiencing life as any other kind of creature, would have permanent effects on the spirit, and if it wasn't prepared for that … it would be emotionally scarred forever. Or whatever.

The animagus transformation got around that problem by only allowing transformation into the creature with the most spiritually compatible instincts.

Or something.

Then the next section seemed to be constructed of only rather opaque jargon until he got to a word that meant offspring, then he knew what they were trying not to let him understand. The same thing that Harry had already told him: Sometimes animagi had babies with animals or with other animagi of the same species, with the result that there were animals out there that were half-mage, and mages out there born as animals and who might change back … if they somehow learned magic without going to school, and somehow learned the animagus transformation (one of the most difficult pieces of transfiguration in existence): who might have a human as their personality-matched spirit animal.

Knowing what the section was about helped him figure out a bunch more words and a few sentences, but not enough for him to learn anything new about the topic.

.

He closed the book and put it back, which was when he noticed that the huge tree sculpture had an actual monkey sitting in it, and … Oh, god, it's looking at me. And there's no cage.

After several seconds of staring, it leapt sideways onto the library ladder and climbed down. In the process, it changed into Padma. Hell, what's she going to say to me now?

"What are you looking for this time?" she said.

"Werewolves," said Dudley.

She raised an eyebrow, "What do you want to know."

"Enough to know how to be polite," said Dudley.

"They're perfectly normal people," said Padma, "They just happen to spend one night a month awake and in pain, and not entirely in control of their actions, how would you want people to treat you if you were chronically sick? Or had to live with the fact that once in a while you'd spend the night high as a kite, on a torture potion, and be strung out and hungover for the next day or two?"

Dudley frowned, then shrugged.

She nodded, "the benefits are a slightly increased metabolism, better muscle density, better sense of smell, and in theory, an ability to learn a stronger form of occlumency."

"What's that?"

"Mind protection magic. It keeps people from reading your thoughts, sifting through your memories, or tagging along while forcing you to sift through your own memories. (accounts vary, perhaps techniques vary). I've wondered if that protection is real, or if that and the muscle density are both natural effects of the night exercises or living through the pain. Speaking of the pain and stress, they seem to be bad for heart health over time."

"Probably not then," said Dudley.

"What?"

"Fenrir offered to turn me into one," said Dudley, "he tried to sell it as an additional kind of protection, 'if I wasn't satisfied' with everything that Harry has already given me."

She crossed her arms.

"Heart problems run in my Dad's side of the family," said Dudley, "might be better if I didn't tempt fate."

She nodded, "Ah, fair enough."

"And anyway, I'm not really in a hurry to … well anyway, the animagus transformation isn't discussed as painful at all."

"It's usually not," she said.

Dudley blinked, "and everything except the animagus transformation is discussed as spiritually painful."

"In theory," She smiled, "And statistically yes, that's true, but everyone is an individual, and some people might be more resilient than others, or more flexible, whichever."

"What's your point?" said Dudley.

She shrugged, "some of the people I know, might be less affected than others by being lied to by instincts not their own."

"Oh," said Dudley, "Harry?"

Her eyes widened, "I … don't know," she thought for several seconds, and stretched, "Yes, probably," she said, "I was thinking of Luna actually."

"I don't think I've met her," said Dudley.

Padma rolled her eyes, "Haven't met, or haven't seen."

"Unless her other name is Wotcher," said Dudley, "I think those are dependant."

"No, her other name is Hunter."

Dudley blinked.

"She's a species of monkey with a magical ability to hide."

Dudley blinked, then shrugged, "What does she look like when she's not a monkey?"

"Small, blond … well bald at the moment, conjures magical lenses in front of her eyes when she's working on something intricate enough to notice that she's misplaced her glasses again."

Dudley blinked, "Is she who you were kissing on the bridge this morning before I ran past and spooked her?"

"Ah," she said, "Yes."

Dudley smiled.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why were we discussing whether I'd met her yet?" said Dudley.

"I have no idea."

"Oh, you were telling me that she might naturally be able to deal with being more different animals, than the normal person."

"Ah, yes," she said.

"Next question," said Dudley, "suppose I wanted to become an animagus, is that possible for a squib?"

"I wouldn't think so," she said, "but … there are several … competing ways to awaken your animal, do you want me to research if any of them don't require your magic to activate?"

"Yeah, kind of," said Dudley, "I … how much do you charge for researching things?"

"Nothing for the first two hours," she grinned, "if it seems interesting enough."

Dudley grinned back, "Please?"

She took down the encyclopedia he'd just been browsing and reopened it to animagus transformation, skimmed down it to the bottom, bookmarked it and flipped across, apparently to one of the 'see also:'s.

She flipped across again, then back to animagus and flipped across again.

Maybe she just reads very very fast.

"Shew, Shew," she said and waved her fingers at him dismissively.

… OK then?

He backed away then turned, he almost returned to the books Theo had recommended, but somehow, he didn't want to tempt fate ('Padma is a hard arse') by not going far enough when she'd commanded him to go away. He left the library.

Outside the house he found Padma and her twin sister watching … invisible things fight and squish grass.

What was going on? Padma could be in two places at once? Or someone else could pretend to be her? Maybe 'professor' Tonks.

Harry, the tattoo girl, and another girl also watched. But … Harry seemed less interested than yesterday.

Dudley watched for a while.

After a while, the twins traded places, one each with the invisible things, and had sword fights with their curved swords.

Harry still watched. But seemed to keep his eyes mostly on the other twin, the Future Mrs. Black.

Dudley looked around and realised that the tattoo girl and the girl with her had also started sparring at the same time as the others.

The tattoo girl seemed to outclass the other. But the other was still here to learn, and the tattoo girl wasn't being mean about the difference in their abilities.

Dudley knew more about straight swords than curved swords, and it seemed to him that … he ought to leave before he offered advice that was probably not appropriate.

He wandered away.

Something was drawing him towards his car, so he went to check on it. Except halfway there he realised it was the bushes he'd been working on last night and the fact that he hadn't finished the row.

Were they jealous of each other?

Humph.

Whatever. He worked on another four of them.

The girl from last night came by, "What are you doing exactly?"

"Azaleas tend to catch leaves of taller plants in their branches, and then grow more poorly after, if you pull the dead leaves out, they grow better and flower better in the spring."

"Huh," said the girl and stopped to help for a while.

.

"Um, Last night?" said Dudley.

"He's my boyfriend," she said, "back off."

"That's fine," said Dudley, "but my question wasn't about that, You said some magical plants are venomous?"

"Oh," she said, "Yeah, a few are."

"Hum, alright," said Dudley.

"You don't believe me?"

"Not that," said Dudley, "I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask you to show me. And the words to make sure you know I'm … not asking you to prove it."

She stopped and looked over.

"Not a gryffindor then?"

"I don't remember what that is," said Dudley.

She giggled, "You're not actually magical are you?" she said, "Just … what?"

"Harry's my cousin," said Dudley, "I'm allowed to know, I'd rather know enough to not get myself into trouble just from hanging around."

"Oh, sure," she said. After another minute she stood and said, "Sure, come on, I'll show you around the greenhouses."

"The ones you wouldn't help with?" said Dudley, pulling out one more tuft of leaves and standing also.

"The ones I wouldn't commit to a job of helping with," she said, "I don't need the money, and do need the time off school to relax."

"Ah," said Dudley.

She led the way around the Manor and into the nearest greenhouse.

She showed him an inordinate number of plants. He tried to remember them all, if not their names, at least their shape and properties.

In the second greenhouse, they found Melantha weeding a bed of something succulent and … slightly wiggly?

"What's that?" said his tour guide.

"Oh … hi Freyazegen," said Melantha, "This is the aloe-purslane hybrid used for making 'imitation murtlap'," Melantha explained, "by itself, it's good for about … half the things that real murtlap essence is good for, diluting a tincture of it with seawater and iodine and you've got a much cheaper salve that is just as good, except it stings three times as much when it is applied."

"Hmm," said his guide, "What she said."

"Thanks," said Dudley.

He got a bit more tour, the two girls argued a little about a few of the plants. They tended to agree about their main properties, and disagree about … probably things that mattered by breed or specimen instead of by entire species.

They skipped the third greenhouse.

When Dudley asked why, she said, "Snakes."

"Padma's grandma?" said Dudley.

"What?"

"Is that the snake you're talking about?"

She turned and stared at him, "What?"

"When we were gardening this morning." Dudley waved in the direction of where he'd been working, "A snake as big around as my leg stopped by to observe, then wandered on," he waved again, "I asked, and I was told that she was Padma's and her sister's grandmother, and a very helpful witch, but only when she could be bothered to stop being a snake for a while."

She blinked at him several times, then shivered, "that is appalling, but I guess it explains why no one has evicted her yet."

Dudley shrugged.

She bit her lip, then backtracked to the greenhouse in question and peeked inside.

"Padma's grandmother?" she murmured, "Do I need to ask permission to come in?"

"Um?" said Dudley.

"Two of the best dye-setting plants are in here," she said, "I wanted to show them to you."

"Oh," said Dudley.

The door yanked out of her hand and banged all the way open.

A snake as big around as Dudley's wrist looked out at them from behind the door, where it was perched on top of a shrub-covered table. Where it still held the door open by being coiled around the handle and the branch of … whatever those were.

Probably they weren't meant to grow into shrubs before someone moved them down off the table, or took them outside, or whatever.

"That's a different snake," said Dudley.

"I think that's a 'yes, we need permission'," said Freyazegen.

The snake nodded.

"But I think that it's also, a 'yes we're currently welcome'," said Dudley,

The snake nodded.

"Though I'd totally understand if you wanted to get a more precise translation from Harry first."

"What?"

"He can talk to snakes."

"Oh," she said, "Yeah, I knew that, but it's been a while."

The snake slid absently off the table and straight to Dudley.

"What?" said Dudley.

It tongued the air for several seconds, before rising, sliding to the side, then climbing up, around his knee, across his elbow, and onto his shoulders.

"Not what I was expecting," said Dudley.

The snake draped itself across both his shoulders and then rested its head on Dudley's head.

Freyazegen stared at him in horror, "You're not … freaking out?"

Dudley shrugged, "cold-blooded things like cuddling hot-blooded things, at least while both aren't hungry."

"Mairthin!" she said.

"I think it wants to audit your tour," said Dudley, "keep talking?"

"Humph," said Freyazegen, but she continued the tour.

And as Dudley had begun to suspect, she definitely mentioned what colour dyes could be got from about half of the plants. Which seemed like something that might interest Harry, though not most other people Dudley could think of.

As they exited the greenhouse the snake slid off and back under the table.

When they were in the next greenhouse and alone, Freyazegen whispered, "When I was little, I used to steal samples when I needed them. When I was medium I would take cuttings to grow for myself. But not having a greenhouse, mine wouldn't survive the winter, It's annoying to be cut off from my source. But … I'm not really in a position to negotiate anything with Harry right now."

"But you could have taken the job?" said Dudley.

She rolled her eyes, "Someday I'll be able to, but right now?" she shook her head, "I don't want to be cooped up like that. I get enough of that already being snowed in all winter, in Scotland."

"Alright," said Dudley, "whatever."

"As you can see," she said, "This greenhouse has non-magical plants, mostly vegetables, but a few herbs."

And she proceeded to give him the exact same format of speech about every plant in the greenhouse.

He hadn't realised how many vegetables had usable pigments. Though it did sound like they were all green to yellow, or pink to purple pastels.

.

"Thank you for the tour," said Dudley.

"You're welcome," she said. They wandered long ways around the vegetable garden, then back toward the azaleas.

Dudley cleared up two more, while she cleared another. then she left.

Dudley cleaned up one more, then decided to go bug Melantha instead.

"Melantha," he greeted when he found her again.

"What?" she said.

"Do you want help?"

"Yes, but," she stared at him.

"But what?"

"I don't want to take responsibility for your safety in here."

"Oh," he said, "humph." He looked around, "Fair enough."

"Either promise not to touch anything, or go away," she said.

"Hmm," he said, "alright, I won't touch anything."

She glared at him for a couple of seconds, then returned to her task, apparently weeding something else now. Something else succulent. If he had to guess, this greenhouse had been intended for only succulents, though that sorting must have been relaxed somewhat somewhere along the line.

"So what are you doing here?" she said.

"I don't know," he said, "mostly I'm checking up on a theory,"

"Which is?"

"That you're not mean, just … you were angry the first time I met you."

She widened her eyes, "Yes, I was."

"Alright," he said.

.

"You're not going to ask me, 'what about?'?"

Dudley shrugged, "I will listen if you want, but … I'm not sure it's my right to ask, I'm kind of an outsider here."

"Me too," she said.

"What?"

"Harry has three or four interlocking friend groups," she said, "They either go to school with him, or belong to one of his wives, or whatever, a few do both."

"Oh," said Dudley, "Yeah, I don't go to school with him, can't, because I'm not a wizard."

She stared at him again, "Are you sure?"

"Relatively, why?"

She stood up and stared, then pulled a stick from her pocket and held it out to him.

"Promise not to break this?"

"Sure," said Dudley.

She held it out again. He took it.

Wave it like this, and say, "Lumos,"

Dudley did, screamed and dropped it.

"What the hell?" she said, picking it up and examining it, before raising her eyes to his.

"Felt like spiders crawling down my throat, down through my arm to my fingers, into your wand."

She raised an eyebrow, then frowned and cast the spell herself. Nothing complex, just turned her wand into an imitation electric torch.

"Humph," said Dudley.

"Try again," she said, "it didn't hurt, did it? Just felt odd?"

"Sure, I guess," said Dudley.

He tried again.

Same result, no light, just the feeling of … well … of being made of a sack of beans, and something poking a hole in his wrist then trying to vacuum all the beans out through that hole.

It didn't really feel like he was running out of beans, in fact, it might be that … he couldn't run out? Or that being made of beans, there was nothing for him to notice the absence of them when they were gone, it wasn't like he knew what it felt like to be made of beans, he just felt them whatever they were, when they were moving.

He shrugged and turned his attention back to Melantha.

"I think, that could be seen in the dark, but it's almost noon right now," she said.

"Oh," he said.

"Can you push harder?" she said.

"What?"

"Can you feel your magic going to your hand?"

"Yeah,"

"Can you push it harder?" she said.

"I have no idea," he said.

She shrugged and held out her hand, "probably you need to get your own wand."

"Humph," he said and handed hers back.

She pocketed it. "Ask Harry to take you to buy one sometime."

"Not bloody likely," said Dudley, "My parents would have a fit."

She shrugged, "and if you're weak enough at your age, to only make that much light … no there's still the 'not practised with your own wand enough yet', they say that after you're experienced enough you can use anyone's wand in a pinch, but you've got to learn with a well-matched wand."

"The same but different from spiritual pain of getting turned into an animal different from your animagus form?"

She blinked, "I have no idea what you just said."

"Huh?" he said.

"I haven't been to magic school yet," she said, "Just read the first year's worth of Harry's textbooks."

"Oh," said Dudley, "Are you a squib too?"

She shook her head, "Harry and Daniel say I'm a witch for sure, I just didn't get noticed at the correct time, and I can probably catch up well enough if I try. Ask someone competent to evaluate you, all I know is that you don't seem empty of magic."

"Alright," said Dudley.

.

They talked about kelpies and badgers, werewolves and dementors. Which is to say, they talked about rescues. And keeping pets. And whether the two went together, and whether 'nobility' was or was not a valid counter reason to keep people for pets.

.

"That's what I was angry about, you know," she said, "being an outsider, I expected to be an outsider to Harry's Harem, I was expecting to be an insider when it came to extended family. And then … they all drop by one after another, and half of them are thick as thieves with each other, and half with Harry or his harem. Even you and Ben…"

"I don't think I've met Ben yet."

She turned and stared at him.

"Oh," she said, "Sorry, it's … it's a stupid way we used to abbreviate 'Freyazegen'. Inside joke, a long story, I couldn't explain. Just … don't say it to her face."

"Alright, whatever," said Dudley.

"How long have you known Freyazegen?" said Melantha.

"Last night, her boyfriend mocked me for pulling leaves out of azaleas in the dark."

Melantha blinked, "Why were you doing that?"

"They needed it, and I needed a Wotcher mark near my car so I wouldn't lose track of it again."

She nodded, "Fine, that makes sense."

"Today she stopped on her way past and asked what I was actually doing and why. Then she helped for two bushes and left. Except there was a tour of the greenhouses in between her first and second bush."

Melantha nodded, "fine."

"And then I came in here," said Dudley, "because I figured out that I actually would like some company with my plant care. Also … I could play with flower bushes at home, food bushes feel more fulfilling to be caring for."

"Sure," she said, "interesting."

"What?"

"Do you …"

"What?"

She stood up and brushed her hands off. And stepped close and pushed a few strands of hair around.

"What?" he said.

She shrugged and looked away, "animals like me," she said, "I wondered if you…"

"Were caught in the same current?" said Dudley.

She nodded.

Dudley shrugged, "I'm not sure I'd be able to detect that over the 'you're very safe and happy' that Wotcher is always yelling at me."

"That's got to be weird, why would she be doing that?"

"Harry said it was because I have his vassal mark."

She raised an eyebrow then shrugged, "No idea."

"Um," said Dudley, "What's the consensus on Wotcher's gender?"

"Neither, technically, but usually the same as whoever is talking about her. Harry and Luna notoriously will talk about her both ways, sometimes they are coordinated enough to use the gender of whoever they're talking to since they aren't stuck using their own."

"Alright," said Dudley.

"Why, she seems male to you, right?"

"Yeah," said Dudley, "in between seeming like an idiot box that swallowed a dictionary and couldn't quite digest it."

Melantha blinked, "well, I'm fairly sure that's what she is."

Dudley shrugged.

.

"Go away Dudley," said Melantha, "you've ruined my illusions enough for one morning."

"Alright," said Dudley, "Sorry."

.

He went out.

"Wotcher, how much longer until lunch?"

[Three-quarters of an hour until noon.]

I hope that's close enough to the same answer. "Wotcher, please guide me to something interesting but safe to watch for half an hour."

[People your age are here: Map.] [People doing things I don't understand are here: map.]

Three of those were off by themselves in a place with no paths leading to it.

Somewhat nearby actually, if the path-less-ness in between weren't a problem.

He wandered in that direction.

The undergrowth gave way to forest. The forest gave way to a clearing and more undergrowth.

The undergrowth seemed to be … bilberries. Oh, what the bloody hell?

He crouched down.

A naked teen with a few tattoos down his spine was painting? … Dudley peaked again. She, that was definitely a girl, despite the short hair, and … that design was probably bilberries and wheat, and the thing she was painting on seemed to be a canvas shirt stretched tight around … what appeared to be a corpse.

Specifically the corpse of the other tattooed girl, the one with tattoos down her entire left arm and part of her right, except this corpse had no tattoos.

The naked girl seemed an excellent artist, though why she'd paint on … surely it was just a seamstress dummy, it was just that being a witch she'd copied more exactly because she could.

A few paces away, Theo was waving his wand at a dummy of himself, except not nearly so identical, and he was … moulding some armour around that dummy, also adjusting the colours. By colour it seemed to be mostly chromed steel, but with hints of brass and rust. But when he took hold of an elbow and moved it around, Dudley had a distinct impression, it was also made of fabric. Not in the sense of being chain-mail, but in the sense of normal cloth being enchanted to look like slightly rusty, previously-shiny plate armour.

The third of their number was Vincent, and he was making a costume out of strips of cloth, and Dudley had never seen anyone as skinny as the dummy he was designing for.

"Are you sure 'surreal' is the correct word?" said Vincent.

"Very definitely," said Theo.

"Is it my turn with Blight?" said the naked girl.

"Are you still planning on sewing actual plants to yours?" said Vincent.

"Sure," said the naked girl, "But I'm not going to pick those until the first."

"Oh, I see," said Vincent.

"I still think Rebekah or Pansy should be Lew," said Theo.

"Rebekah isn't participating, and Pansy is already being Wheat."

'Wheat' and 'Blight' that meant 'Lugh' not 'Lew'.

"I know, I know," said Theo, "I just know I'll look silly with a sword, and everyone there will know it."

"That's why you're going to be fighting me, not all the others," said Vincent, "Also why I'll be wearing an excessive amount of padding."

Dudley backed away. When he felt sure he was out of earshot he said, "Wotcher, what they're doing is making costumes for a play they will put on … probably on the first."

[… that doesn't sound legal.]

"What?"

[Let me check.]

"What?"

[Will anyone be killed or maimed in the 'play']

"I doubt it," said Dudley, but … that reminds me of Theo's comment earlier: don't tell Katherine that there is an alternative festival taking place. Naked girl's comment… Oh, was that Luna? Wasn't Luna supposed to be bald or blond, not brown-haired … or was that a hat?

[I do not have any rules set. I am not required to interfere.]

...-...

{End chapter 3}

[A/N: I contemplated putting all of 'Dudley's Road Trip' into a companion story, but then there would be some important changes that only people who read the sidequest would understand.]