Dudley didn't feel like getting back to the house. The rain had stopped, the air was light and fresh, and his boots made a pleasant squishing sound as he tramped through the meadow. He realized he ought to have brought something to put the berries in, if he found any. His pockets would just have to do.

He was halfway to the forest edge when he heard his mother calling his name.

"Dudley! Dudders!"

She and his father were nearly all the way back at the house. He started off waiting for her, but got impatient, and headed back to meet them.

Petunia lost no time letting him know the topic of their argument with Hestia and Remus that morning. "These new people – they're the biggest slobs you've ever seen! I came downstairs for breakfast to find clothes strewn all over the floor, owl droppings on every chair and the table! I gave the one with the hair a piece of my mind and then the raggedy one laid into me. And then off she scampers while Hestia and he upbraid us for being unwelcoming!"

She took a breath and looked over her shoulder as they continued toward the woods. "You ought to have heard him, Dudders – self-righteous prig of a man. Turns out, the one with the hair is pregnant, and that's why she's vomiting all over the place. Can't be bothered to do it in privacy, of course, not she."

"Yeah, she puked right in front of me," Dudley said. "Frankie busted up the attic roof, and she tried to fix it." He decided to leave out the bit where Frankie had dragged him, still sleeping, up onto the roof.

Vernon snorted. "Tried. Didn't manage it, though, did she?"

"Nah, Hestia got it sorted, though."

Vernon and Petunia fell silent for a moment.

"We were just asking some reasonable questions," Petunia said, "when they went all to pieces. As if we've forgotten for a moment about their precious War!"

"We still need to discuss our grave concerns," Vernon said, "matters of import. Grown-up things, Dudders, that needn't concern you."

"If they care so much about the baby, they should be more tidy, not less! Owls spitting up those pellets all over the place – chewed up bits of mice and shrews. Not to mention the droppings," Petunia said, mentioning the droppings for a second time in five minutes.

"And where are they all to sleep?" Vernon asked. "The newcomers, I mean, not the owls."

"Remus and Dedalus slept in my room; they made new beds." Dudley wondered what would have happened if he hadn't fallen asleep in the attic. Would they have made a third bed for him, or would they have sent him upstairs anyway? Or made a cupboard for him?

"Watch, they'll be trying to take over our room, Petunia."

Petunia, though, disagreed. Her eyes narrowed. "So – they're sleeping separately? I thought I detected some tension there."

"She can't stand him," Dudley said. "And he's just mental, anyway."

"Probably thought the baby would bring them closer," Petunia said. "I see it all the time, and it never works. But there we are. She's not managing at all well, is she? Sickly, temperamental thing. When I was carrying Dudders here, I just glowed with the anticipation of maternal bliss! Didn't I, Vernon?"

"Hrmm, yes, quite true," Vernon said. Dudley noticed his fingers were flexing, a sure sign he was fibbing. "Not a cross word between the two of us, the whole time."

"Whereas she, on the other hand – well, it's no wonder a flibbertigibbet like that has got in over her head."

They'd entered the forest again. Dudley took his parents to where he'd stomped on the brambles, and they poked at the branches with sticks.

"Nothing's left, Dudders. Not on these, anyway." Petunia scanned the trees around them. "There's a few walnut trees, though. Beeches, too. Did Hestia say whether they can transfigure nuts, or is it just fruit?"

Dudley started, surprised to hear his mother use the word "transfigure" so casually. He tried to remember exactly what Hestia had said. "Er… I think any food will do… she said they can make more or turn one food into another food."

"Well, those trees over there are walnuts, that's a beech. Let's see if the squirrels have left us anything worth bringing back."

The squirrels had been busy, and there weren't many nuts to find. Nevertheless, several squirrels seemed displeased to see three humans ransacking their forest. They chattered at the Dursleys and bounced from tree to tree in angry fits. Drops of water fell from the branches and plopped on Dudley's head. He was tired of getting wet.

Dudley kicked over some dead leaves. They all agreed to stay well back from his blazes today. He saw a nut and bent down to pick it up, then tossed it aside seeing it had holes bored through it by some insect.

There were a few. He pocketed them. His back was starting to hurt, crouching down so often. He'd already got his exercise for the day, and he resented the useless wizards and witches for their reliance on magic. If they were at all normal, they'd have been going to the shops as a routine, and his batteries wouldn't have run down, and they'd have had more than two flavors of biscuits.

Now that he knew the secret to why they hadn't run out of food, although the cupboards always seemed half-empty, Dudley thought the food had tasted off the whole time.

He hoped Tonks would bring back something good, and that Remus hadn't talked her out of going out.

Another cluster of walnuts that looked decent. His stomach rumbled, and he held two walnuts in one fist, then smashed his fist to crack one. It just made him hungrier, and the bitter skin reminded why he hated walnuts.

"How many do you think we need?" he asked out loud.

"I've got more than twenty," Petunia said. "We'll see just how good this lot is. Claiming they can make ever so much food… But they're always cagy on the details, you'll find. For all her bragging, my sister didn't give me enough knowledge to really help when I needed it."

Their hands were dirty, knees wet from crouching in mulch, fingernails coated in grime. As they walked back to the house, Vernon asked Dudley how he'd made out with the search for a medal for Hestia.

"I couldn't really find anything – just old pots and handkerchiefs," Dudley confessed. "Nothing like jewels or ribbons."

"We'll need to make one ourselves, then. It is of the utmost importance to award her medal today."

Dudley paused to let his parents catch up more.

"You see, Dudders – I've always said it. Clothes make the man. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. Show yourself respect, and others will respect you." Vernon's face was streaked with mud, and there was a leaf in his hair. As they paused for breath, Petunia plucked it out.

"We want to taken for generals, so we must behave like generals. Generals award medals," Vernon continued, "so a medal, we must have. We want Hestia to be the leader of the weirdos – not the newcomers. That is imperative. If she has something they lack, they'll realize their deficiencies."

"Quite right, dear. Furthermore, if they see us showing her – and Dedalus, I suppose – respect and deference, then they'll want to earn our respect as well."

"Not too much deference, mind! The slobs have already acted like lords of the manor. Can't be too deferential, or we'll be treated like the hired help. Got to nip that in the bud."

Dudley thought about Hestia. "I learned woodburning at Smeltings. That year I took woodworking, before -" Before he'd got ejected for roughhousing near the circular saw. "She likes owls. I could burn a design into a bit of wood, but I'm not sure how to attach it to a ribbon or anything."

His father grimaced. "It'd be better to have something metal. Shiny. Silver, or pewter at least."

Rather offended, Dudley fell silent. His parents had said they'd liked all the things he'd made in woodworking class. Although, now that he considered it, he'd never seen his doorplate, plaque, birdhouse, or napkin rings in use at 4 Privet Drive.

"I'll ask Frankie," he said after a while. "He helped me find these wellies before."

"Let's hope he comes through," Vernon said. "In the meantime, I'm putting together a speech to buck up the troops. Got to sound like a general."

"Did you see that board they've got up in the sitting room?" Dudley asked. "Tonks said she and Hestia were working on it. Board of all the enemies and locations of fights."

Vernon harrumphed. "Trying to take things, over, is she? We'll see about this board when we get back."

Hestia was waiting outside for them when they got back. She spoke crossly to Dudley, "Where's Tonks and Remus? I thought they were with you!"

When Dudley shrugged, she said, "I told you to bring one of us with you to the forest. I didn't mean your parents – I meant someone who could protect you if the Death Eaters manage to breach our defenses!"

Dudley lost no chance to criticize Remus. "I DID – Remus was coming with me, but then he ran off! I mean, Popped off, or whatever you call it. After Tonks."

"Where'd they go? And without a word of notice?"

"Er… Tonks was going to visit her mum, and then go get food. And he went after her."

"When was that?" Hestia appeared anxious now.

"Tonks left a little before one." Dudley'd had a busy day so far, what with the roof escapade, workout, shower, arguments, and nut-gathering. "And Remus left maybe around 1:15."

Dudley's watch read 2:13 p.m.

"So it's been nearly over an hour for her," Hestia said. "Really –"

"Makes one think a chain of command might not be such a bad idea," Vernon said.

"Not NOW, Vernon!"

Everyone was hungry and getting testy.

"Hestia, dear," Petunia said in her nicest voice, "we felt simply dreadful when we learned about the trouble we'd caused, eating up the last scraps of food when we were trapped here by ourselves. So we went out with Dudley to find something you might be able to Transfigure."

Dudley grabbed in his jacket pockets for as many of the nuts as he could hold. He held them out without further explanation.

For the first time ever, Hestia smiled at him. She got a little dimple in her left cheek that …

Clearing his throat, Dudley said, "Yeah, we found walnuts. And beech nuts."

"I can see that," she said. "Well, at least Dedalus'll be able to get together something like luncheon."

Inside, Petunia changed into her house shoes. "Not that it matters," she said, glaring at the splotches of mud, grass, owl feathers, and yes … owl droppings that spattered the floor. "I hope she had the sense to pick up some proper cleaning supplies." She'd run out, as the chemicals weren't the kind Dedalus or Hestia could multiply for them.

After a quick wash-up, Dudley headed up to the attic again to see if Frankie could help figure out something like a medal for Hestia. The piles of portraits, blankets, and junk had been cleared away, he noticed. This time, he thought to drag up a few of Dedalus' floating candles so he could see better. This woke the owls, who flapped and hopped to the dark corners and edges of the room.

"Frankie?" Dudley whispered. Then more loudly, "Frankie?" He scanned for the telltale signs of grey marble. "Frankie, I know you can hear me. Do you have anything metal up here? Something shiny and small?" The disastrous state of the room dismayed him. It had been fun, shoving and kicking the paths for the owls. Now, though, that he was expected to do a systematic search to find something to give Hestia as an award, he wished he had stacked the boxes and cases more neatly. "Dad can be a real idiot, sometimes, you know? Did you have parents, Frankie, or did someone just make you out of furniture?" He imagined one of Hestia's ancestors as Geppetto, making a piece of furniture come to life as a real boy, then either growing old, or dying, or getting bored and sticking the real boy away in the attic to gather dust.

"Yeah, so Dad wants to be a general, now. Wants to give Hestia a medal – she won't even like it, I reckon." Dudley blushed at the thought of how perplexed Hestia would probably be when his father went to pin the medal on her shirt or put it around her neck. "This is all her stuff, anyway, technically. What's he going to say? Congratulations, we rummaged around your aunt's attic, and here's one of her old pieces of jewellery. Stand still, pretend this is a big deal for me to give you. It's completely fake, but you should act like it's important." Dudley sighed. He was always screwing up around Harry's people. They never came on him when he was doing anything cool, like fighting in the ring, or finishing his video games. "She'll probably just make him write another essay."

He flicked through drawer after drawer of a tiny medicine cabinet. It was filled with leaves and dried berries and something that looked like fish scales but were far shinier.

"She's not – not some Rambo type, anyway," he told the tawny owl he had to nudge from a trunk. "She's upset about the whole thing. Probably doesn't want Dad making a big deal out of it, and that's all he wants to do."

The trunk held layers and layers of robes in gaudy colors. Dudley pulled one of the robes out and held it up. Alternating stripes of red and light green waved in the draught from the attic windows. He turned the robe around and found it read "Caerphilly Cannons" on the back. Dudley knew he was no one to pick at fashion, considering the Smeltings uniform, but these were more hideous than usual. Under the robes was a bound packet of more Cannons gear – pennants, badges, and a massive velvet hat with a swooping feather.

Badges. If they covered it up with something, they could use the pin. No – there was no pin on the back. Dudley held the shiny metal up to his shirt, and it affixed itself to the fabric without sticking him. Nice. He gathered a few of them into his jacket pocket – it was cold in the attic – in case it took a few tries to get it right.

More clothes. Books. Lots of books about herbs and potions. Entire cookery books for broiled scrod.

Dudley's stomach growled again. He could smell something cooking below, and when he listened at the spy post, he heard Dedalus singing, "You tore out my heart, and you threw it like a gnome."

"Frankie? Come on, I could really use your help?" Maybe Frankie didn't like all these owls being here, either. He'd had the place to himself for so long, sharing with so many animals would be difficult.

The paths he and Frankie had made cut the attic into eight unequal wedges. He'd managed to explore only one of them.

"Shiny stuff? Anything at all?"

Several of the trunks and cases were locked. Probably needed magic to open them.

This whole thing was so stupid, he thought. "She'd probably like it more if Mum just shut up about the owls and their mess." Even if he did find something that could be fashioned into a medal, it wouldn't mean anything to Hestia. They'd only end up looking stupid again, like when – well, when their house filled up with letters no one was allowed to read, or the cake smashed all over the place, or the fireplace exploded, or … or Dad unpacked the car again.

"No." Dudley found an unlocked trunk that contained a mortar, pestle, and set of knives. The knives were cool. He set them to the side. He'd bring them down to his room when he went downstairs.

"No." He stood and dusted off his knees. This plan was stupid. He couldn't fully explain why. He just didn't want to do this. He didn't want to see Hestia's face flush with embarrassment when his father went to make a big speech over her head about how brave she'd been.

"Lunch is ready!" Dedalus' voice resounded through the house, magically amplified.

Remus was already downstairs. He'd been back for a while, he said. Dudley reckoned he must not have felt like talking. He leaned back in his chair, staring into space.

"You made all this, just from a few nuts?" Dudley asked Dedalus, trying to break the tension in the room.

Dedalus beamed. "Simple enough when you have the right spell! Nuts are some of the most versatile of ingredients – we ought to have thought of it before!"

On the table were chicken, potatoes, butter, and rolls.

"Hard to make vegetables from nuts, I find" Dedalus said. "Plus, I don't really like them."

"Tonks is bound to bring back something we can use for the veg," Hestia said. She checked her watch. "Any moment, now."

Dudley felt a spike of fear behind his solar plexus, remembering how Hestia and Dedalus had been gone for days. But, just then, a loud BANG! announced the arrival of Tonks.

Her hands were empty, but then she pulled several bags of groceries out of a small bag she'd slung around her shoulder. "Food delivery!" she called, cheerfully. "Well! Looks like you've been doing alright here!"

Dudley leaped up to help, eager to put away the food and find the batteries. He sorted bag after bag as his mother hovered around him, redirecting where he put everything. He got to the last bag and still hadn't found them.

Tonks made the bags vanish, then slapped her forehead. "OH! I forgot to get the batteries! I'll get some next time." She checked her watch. "Wow, I was gone for a while. No attacks, though. Maybe the Death Eaters are as worn out as we are."

No batteries? Dudley noticed she didn't give back the money, though. Probably spent it all on – what were those long white and green things? Things no one liked or needed. Plain biscuits. Sardines.

He sulked into his chair.

There were seven around the table, now, and it felt crowded. Dudley pushed his chair back as far as he could so he could stretch his legs without kicking someone's feet.

"So this chicken is … vegetarian?" Vernon asked with disdain.

"It's chicken," Dedalus said. "But it was never alive to eat meat. Or anything else, for that matter! Nuts turn into chicken quite well, you know. The tricky bit was getting the rolls to come out right."

Dudley couldn't detect any nut flavor in the chicken or rolls. He devoured what was on his plate, and added a second helping of salad.

Vernon shuddered, but continued eating. "It's no wonder we're getting malnourished."

"I don't think any of us should leave the cottage without backup," Hestia said. "I thank you for getting the food, Tonks, but if you'd have run into trouble –"

"I'd have dealt with it." Tonks took another roll. "Hm, finally can eat again, it seems. That's nice. I've only been here for a few hours, and I won't be staying long. No need to go to extra trouble or worry for me."

"How was Andromeda?" Dedalus asked, with a warning glance at Hestia.

"Better than she was last month. But her home's been ransacked twice now, and Dad has been talking about going on the run, so she's not great." Her hair turned a silvery grey. "I tried to get her to agree to stay under the Fidelius Charm, but she won't quit her work at St. Mungo's unless Dad agrees to stay in the house with her too, and - Dad's never been one for confinement. He hasn't registered as a Muggleborn. Everyone knows about him, and even though they've got more Wards up - the Fidelius Charm could work, I know it. I could be Secret-Keeper for them. Whatever fraction of the Charm I'm holding for our H.Q. is down to nothing now the Death Eaters have control of it. And we've seen that Dedalus has been able to protect this place."

She shook her head. "I'll give them some time to think about it and go back tomorrow."

"The both of you should stay the night again," said Dedalus. "Make sure everything really settles. Dudley -"

Dudley braced himself for more bad news.

"I was thinking, if we moved your bed down into the gym, then the Lupins could have the bedroom upstairs, and Hestia and I could make those little mini-bedrooms under the stairs again for ourselves. Or, one of us could sleep in the attic, and the other cot in the sitting room."

"I don't think Frankie likes sharing the attic," Dudley said. "He isn't talking to me – I mean, not that he really talks – and I think he's out of sorts because of the owls. He dragged me through the roof last night as a joke, but I think we should check with him first. Make sure he's alright with everything."

He also had to make sure the spy post remained free. If it was discovered, they'd lose one of their only advantages.

"Who's Frankie?" Hestia asked.

That's how Dudley learned Frankie was called a Chameleon Ghoul. And he wasn't a Being, but classed as a Beast.

"They don't eat furniture, just spiders," Remus told him.

"But I SAW him crunch up the table and eat it!"

"No need to yell, Dudley! Have some manners!" Hestia said.

He lowered his voice. A little. "Anyway, I SAID Frankie doesn't like other people up in the attic too much! He had fun with me moving things around, but he's been quiet all day!"

"Probably just sleeping," Remus said. "The Chameleon Ghoul may have some rudimentary intelligence, but they're hardly…"

"SO I'M STUPID, THEN? Only friend I got here is too stupid to care about, is that it?" Dudley jumped to his feet, and his chair fell back against the wall. "You're the stupid one! NOT ME!" he yelled at Remus.

"Cut it out! You're acting like a toddler," Tonks snapped.

Tonks was barely older than him. Where did she get off acting so condescending? And even if Frankie was a Beast, why should his attic be invaded by dozens of owls and a human?

"Look, we won't take your room if it upsets you that much," Tonks continued.

"Course you won't! Not like you're sleeping together, anyway, innit?" Dudley kept his voice nice and low, just like Hestia'd demanded.

Tonks flinched, and everyone in the room – even Petunia and Vernon gasped.

"I – I'm so sorry – Dudley – apologize –" Petunia stammered. Vernon, purple in the face again, just shook his head and glanced at Remus, obviously terrified.

Dudley didn't care if he got turned into a whole pig and eaten. He was sick of all of them.

"It's a dangerous thing, interfering in other people's marriages," Remus said. He was the only person who seemed indifferent to Dudley's tantrum. "One doesn't really know the lie of the land, you see."

The adrenaline surging through Dudley's veins demanded that he throw a parting shot. He struggled to think of something devastating, something cool.

"Whatever."

He grabbed two of the fake chicken drumsticks – the only shape Dedalus could or would make – and stomped back to the attic.