23 June 2020

11:07 a.m.

Nicole emerged from the office. Dudley knew not to bombard her with questions. He could tell from the set of her jaw and her tense shoulders it hadn't gone well.

"Put it this way," she said, "I'll have plenty of evidence for my next SEISS grant app."

Self-Employed Income Support Scheme. Along with the CJRS (Coronavirus Jobs Retention Scheme), they'd kept the Dursleys and their employees afloat since the miserable start of spring. Dudley had hated the paperwork, but at least they'd had the option. Has your business been impacted by the Coronavirus? The gym – once a place for health and wellness – was now seen as a plague-transmission zone. While some couples were going forward with tiny weddings, most of Nicole's couples had chosen to postpone until more of their loved ones could attend. Or until the couple themselves could be permitted to enter the countries hosting their destination weddings.

"Let's go to the beach," Dudley said. He'd already changed into casual clothes. "Car's all packed."

"Lunch?" she asked.

"Lunch."

"Sunscreen?"

"Got it."

"Towels?"

"Uhhh…"

She smirked and shook her head. Dudley set off to the bathroom for some towels.

As he loaded the towels into the boot, he saw that Dom's packing consisted entirely of beach toys. He'd need his water shoes. And a water bottle. Getting down to the shore wouldn't be so fast after all. Still, Dudley thought, Dom had done a better job than he would have at the same age. At age six, Dudley would have packed nothing but electronics, and would have had a tantrum when the sand and salt ruined them. Would have? He suddenly remembered screaming his head off at the seaside, rolling and flailing on the beach as the emotion took over his whole body. His kids had their tempers, to be sure, but they'd never seemed quite so out of control.

Dudley's heart felt light as he shuttled back and forth between the house and car. He'd been taking his family out on excursions since the start of lockdown, timing them just right so they'd be gone before the authorities could be notified. He knew how mental people could get, how the walls and fences of even a large property could start to close in. And anyway, what was anyone going to do to stop him? Throw up a Muggle Ward around the place? Amazing how many deserted coves and meadows they could find around just the Kentish countryside, let alone farther afield.

Dudley had never been one for following rules. But today, there was no need to dodge security cameras, or park out of sight of the road, or come up with excuses for anyone who might spot them. There'd be other people out too, most likely, though they'd all keep well back from each other, repelled as if by magnets.

Even the money worries couldn't get to Dudley today. His gym would reopen, he was sure, and Nicole would get another grant – and he would too, if he absolutely had to. And COVID would be over by the end of summer. He thought of his own parents, scheming to keep money in the bank during their own Troubling Times that, above all, had to remain Secret.

No, today, on his 40th birthday, there was no need for conspiracies or plotting. Today, they could all relax.

18 September 1997

Dudley had started a timer on his watch when Dedalus and Hestia had left for their mission. They'd be going to Muriel's place first – another safe house. Then, once they'd finished planning the mission, they'd be at Snape's place for fifteen minutes or less. Dudley was hoping for less.

He was worried for both Dedalus and Hestia. He told himself that it wasn't because he liked them, or anything. It's just that… without Dedalus and Hestia, they'd be stuck with the Lupins. Dudley wondered where his parents had got off to. Their shoes were in the front hallway, so they must be upstairs. Keeping an ear out for any POPs, he climbed the staircase as silently as he could. He could only hear a vague murmuring through their bedroom door.

The attic corner above his parents' bedroom didn't have a listening device, but Dudley found if he pressed his ear to the floor, he could at least hear his father's side of the conversation. Vernon's rumbling voice carried through the floorboards, but it didn't sound promising.

"All my annual leave has been used up, and then some…"

"It'll be fraud from here on, and if we're caught…"

"THEY'LL be only too happy to see us go to prison…"

"How can we even get payment to the credit card company…"

Dudley held his breath, trying to quiet his body so he could hear better.

"I know, but if this doesn't work…"

"And how will we meet with the agent, anyway?"

"Yes, of course I TRUST you. If anyone can pull this off, it's you, but…"

BANG! CRASH! Frankie was at it again, and Dudley was in no mood for their usual games. He tried to quiet him, but once Frankie got going, he'd keep up the noise for hours. Sighing, Dudley joined in, playing a game of "Toss the little cauldron at the big cauldron."

Dudley had mastered the art of looking stupider and more ignorant than he was. It might not have been the wisest art to master, but it had its uses. For instance, it meant his parents weren't as good at hiding things from him as they thought. He'd noticed, over the last few years, that money wasn't flowing quite as readily as it once had. He still got plenty of gifts, but he'd noticed the concerned frowns as his parents looked through the mail, sorting bills from letters. He'd noticed the wear on the car, and the shift from taking it through a car wash to washing it at home. Their Christmas holiday trips – they liked to holiday when Harry wouldn't be around – had shifted from 10-day jaunts in Spain to weekends in a cabin. Dudley didn't know how their money would hold out, or what they'd manage to do once the War was over and they could go home. Would there even be a home to go to? They owned the house in full, but didn't they need to keep paying for the utilities? Insurance? Would the wizards currently lurking in it end up trashing it so badly it was destroyed? Would their wizards keep helping them make excuses to the outside world, or would they be left to their own devices? He rather thought Dedalus and Hestia would, but they were all out of work, and Dedalus' house had been burned down.

There was only a slim chance for Dudley to get into university. He hoped to be able to study Computer Science at the University of Surrey or the City, University of London, but unless he could sit his A-level exams, he'd be stuck at home for another year. At least university was cheap – they'd start charging tuition this year, but it was still going to cost less than a year at Smeltings.

CRASH-CLANG! "YEAH! Nice one, Frankie!" Frankie had scored double by bouncing the little cauldron off the bookcase before landing it in the big cauldron.

Dudley ducked when Frankie tossed the little cauldron to him. Frankie didn't understand that being hit with a massive, metal pot would hurt a human. He retrieved it and hurled it at the big cauldron. He stumbled, and the shot went several feet wide.

It landed on a large stack of wooden crates with a tinkling crash. A musical crash.

"What've they got under there, Frankie? That a piano?" Dudley asked. He moved the crates – eight in total – and stacked them in a clear space under the eaves. Underneath them was a large felt blanket, which had accumulated dust and splinters. Dudley dumped this on the stack of crates.

He'd revealed an upright piano – a little smaller than the kind he'd seen before – and with only one pedal instead of three. The dark wood was undecorated save for the name "CRESSWELL" in elaborate gold script. Tucked under the piano was a bench that turned out to contain several books with sheet music with titles like, "Celesta for Beginners," and "Mastering the Celesta," and "Top Hits from the 1870's, Arranged for Celesta."

Dudley ran his fingers over the keys, from the lowest to highest note, and back down. It sounded tinkly and high, each note wavering separately, seeming to hang in the air.

Though he'd accumulated several instruments over the years, Dudley had never persisted with music lessons. The fantasy of rockstar tours and fame had always evaporated with the dull tedium of plonking scales and babyish tunes. Harry's face, smirking and wincing at yet another squawk from Dudley's trumpet, floated into his head. He'd dropped the trumpet and chased after Harry to pound him, and Harry had evaded him (again), and trumpet practice had been over for the day. No one in the Dursley house had seemed sad when he'd quit the following week.

He plucked out "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the celesta. Here, no one could hear him but Frankie.

This place was so quiet. So dull.

The hours were so long here. Maybe it was time to try his hand at music again. He'd never want to be caught dead playing something called the celesta, but… he had a soundproof room. And… whatever skills he picked up on the celesta should translate to the keyboard, and Malcolm (ten years on guitar) would finally get that neighborhood band going.

Dudley looked out the small hole in the attic that he and Frankie had bashed open to let in the owls. It had been forty minutes since Hestia and Dedalus had left.

What had that tune from the first piano lesson been? Some embarrassing thing, like "Giggly Bubbles?" Dudley fiddled around with the keys. Flicking through "Celesta for Beginners," he searched for anything cool. "Third Goblin Revolt." "Troll's Demise." "Flight of the Dragon." Yeah. Finally, the wizards had managed to top the normal world.

Dudley set the book on the music bracket, turned to "Troll's Demise." As he sat down and hovered his hands over the keys, the sheet music glowed, highlighting the first note and an image of two hands at the top of the page. The fifth, third, and first finger (thumb) were highlighted on the left, and the third finger on the right. On the keyboard, four keys shone with a golden light, on the lowest two octaves. Dudley arranged his fingers as shown on the page and played the chord. The highlighting on the right hand shifted to the thumb, and a new key glowed. Note by note, Dudley followed along with the sheet music to plunk out a grim little tune with a relentless bass line.

Frankie pounded on a cauldron while Dudley played through "Troll's Demise" over and over again. It was only 8 measures long, so it didn't take long. On his seventh repetition, the keys stopped lighting up, and the highlighting faded. Bored, Dudley tried out "Flight of the Dragon." The highlighting reappeared, and Dudley grinned a little. It wasn't quite a video game. As he played through "Flight of the Dragon," followed by "Third Goblin Revolt," he pushed aside his worries.

"Third Goblin Revolt" sounded familiar to Dudley. Something about that rhythm – BUM babababa BUM babababa. It sounded all wrong on the tinkly celesta, Dudley thought. It needed something deep, crashing. His fingers had grown tired from stretching over the keys, and he covered up the celesta again.

He hummed the tune as he headed downstairs, still trying to place it.

POP! Hestia had returned, and she grinned as she walked through the doorway and hit her shoes with a Scourgify. Hestia liked to keep her shoes on, all the time, in case of emergencies, but Petunia had complained enough about tracking in dirt that she at least scrubbed them clean.

"Dudley!" she called. Her face shone bright under her dark bangs, and Dudley grinned back at her. "It worked!"

She threw her arms around him. It was so brief a hug he didn't have time to decide whether or not to return it, and he froze in place as she let him go and leaned against the railing to yell up the staircase.

"It worked!" she called up the stairs and down the hall. "Easiest bloody mission I've had in three years. Turns out Tonks was right – Snape's rubbish at security. And after all his snide remarks – who'd have thought? Eight minutes on site, exactly – the Weasleys and I Disapparated just as the baddies showed up. Didn't even stick around to see their sorry mugs, just got back to Muriel's without a scratch on us! Dedalus came right behind us, and now he and Arthur are over at Bill's, making sure everything is shipshape before we bring anything over here."

She realized only Dudley was there to hear her story. "Where the hell is everyone?" she asked.

"Er… Tonks and Remus said they wanted a nap. And mum and dad are upstairs."

"Oh, well – let 'em sleep. They've been through hell this last week. The good news can wait." She strode to the sitting room and set an owl treat down by the sleeping owl. "He can have that when he wakes up."

Her eyes sparkled and she seemed to have too much energy to sit still. "Look, Dudley, could you do me a favor?" she asked. "Great, thanks, just stick around here while I go check on the owls. Their lofts could do with a good cleaning, and I feel too pumped up to sit 'round here waiting for everyone to wake up. Just fill everyone in as needed and tell them I'm in the owlery if they want to chat with me."

The owl woke up, noticed the treat, and gobbled it down. It walked over to Dudley and hopped up on his knee. Dudley petted it and hummed the tune that was stuck in his head, trying to change the instruments in his mind to fit how hearing it had made him feel. He closed his eyes, trying to remember. Malcolm would know – he was good at recognizing songs from just a few bars. The owl closed its eyes and leaned against Dudley's hand.

Scared. Excited. Dudley, Piers, Malcolm, and Gordon crowded together on his bed, plugging the tape Gordon had sneaked over from his house. Gordon's family had a massive video collection, and Dudley had his own TV/VCR combo and a mum who believed whatever he told her. The nine-year-olds shrieked and jumped as something haunted the jungle. An arm, severed cleanly, dropped to the leafy floor, still holding a gun. The gun continued to fire, over and over again.

Dudley looked down at the owl, whose talons were poking through his jeans. "Dillon," he said in a terrible attempt at an Austrian accent, "you goddam sonahva beech."

He cracked up laughing. Bitch. Beech. The owls were all supposed to go to a stand of beech trees and ended up being hunted instead. "Son of a beech," he said again, cackling like a lunatic.

Predator. The soundtrack and its main theme had a lot of other stuff to it, but the pulsing notes underneath it all were the same as in "Third Goblin Revolt." Dudley didn't want to think too hard about what that might mean, about the loose and uncontrollable nature of a Statute of Secrecy binding millions. Later, he'd explore the dead zones, the loopholes, and the back alleys of the Statute. But for now, he pushed aside his thoughts about the entanglements of the Wizarding World in his own. Stick to what he knew, to the things he understood.

Dillon bit him on the shoulder. "OW! What happened to you, Dillon?" he said. "You used to be somebody I could trust." He moved the owl back onto the hearth. Dillon flexed his wings out and hissed. He struggled to perform his awkward, flapping hop, and landed on top of an easy chair. If Dudley had ever been able to fly and had ended up grounded, he'd be furious, too.

As his friends watched the movie, Dudley became aware of a sound that didn't come from his speaker system. HIM – hiding in the Dudley's closet, SNEAKING what he didn't deserve. At that age, Dudley acted purely on emotion. He didn't pause to consider the possibility of Harry tattling. He yelled, dragged Harry out, and whacked him while Harry kicked at his shins and scratched at his wrist. Then Dudley and his friends tossed Harry out in the hallway, while Dudley screamed for his mum. Harry – also rather stupid, at that age – immediately tattled about the movie. Petunia actually bothered climbing the stairs to check, and while Dudley held her up on the staircase, Piers switched out the tape for "The Rescuers" and fast-forwarded to the middle. Harry ended up with a double punishment.

Dudley wondered where his hapless cousin was now. Hiding in the forest, being hunted. With his glasses and snarky comments, he was more Hawkins than Dutch.

Should have just let him watch, he thought. His good mood had faded. Dudley watched the owl try to get comfortable on the chair. He quoted another character, dropping his voice to a whisper. "You know, whoever got you? He'll come back again… and when he does, I'm gonna cut your name right into him... I'm gonna cut your name into him." He bulged out his eyes as he whispered this promise to the owl, who'd fallen back asleep. Dudley knew he couldn't possibly keep that promise, but as the owl couldn't understand it, it didn't matter. It was just a movie quote.

"Er," said Tonks from the doorway. "Wotcher, Dudley. Everything alright?"

His head snapped up. "Oh! Yeah, Hestia came back and said to tell you everything worked. She's in the owl tower."

"Did you make sure it was really her?"

"I mean – she knew about the mission. And the owl tower. And she acted like her." She had hugged him, which was quite unlike herself, but Dudley wasn't going to go into all that.

"And Dedalus?"

"He's – over at Muriel's? Or was it Bill's? He and Arthur had to check to see if the stuff was safe to bring over here."

She nodded. "Bill's a Curse-Breaker, and well – technically, that is most of what Arthur does. Wouldn't put it past Snape to have loads of Dark Objects."

Dudley nodded, unsure of what to say. "Cool," he managed. He nodded some more.

"Have you done your revision yet?"

"Ahhh – no," he said.

"Bring your stuff down. I'll help you while we wait for Dedalus." She paced in front of the windows.

Dudley brought down his stack of flashcards for Sports Medicine. Tonks paced around the living room, while Dudley tried to pick a chair in the far corner of the room.

"Sprain?"

"That's a tear in a ligament," he said.

"Tear or stretch of a ligament. What's a ligament?" she asked.

"That's not on the card."

"But what is it?"

"It connects … muscle to muscle." Tendon connected muscles to bones, Dudley knew.

Tonks tilted her head and scrunched her eyes. "Sure about that?"

It felt weird, revising out loud, instead of looking at the cards himself. "No? Wait. Connects bone to bone."

"Yeah, that's it. And what is it?"

"It's a thing that connects bone to bone," Dudley snapped. "I just said that."

"You should be able to explain what it is, not just what it does," she said.

"Well, what is it then?"

"No idea," she said. "Mum was terribly disappointed I didn't want to become a Healer, but I can't stand this stuff. I learned the basic Healing spells for my job, but as long as they work, I don't care about the details."

Dudley wanted his cards back. He'd love to snatch them away from her, but with his luck, Remus would walk through the door just as he did so, and attack him again. "Could we go to the next card? Please?" Dudley asked.

"Strain." She flipped the back of the card over. "Should you be revising using such simplistic cards? It might be better to spend time writing your notes over and over again. Or writing essays."

"Strain is a muscle injury."

"OR a tendon injury," she corrected. "And what's a tendon?"

"Connects bone to muscle," he said. "And it's fibrous tissue."

"What's fibrous mean?"

"Next card please," Dudley spoke through gritted teeth. All he had to do was wait for her to trip and drop the cards everywhere, and he'd have an excuse to get his cards back. But he had to stay in his seat until she was back on her feet, or her husband would freak out again.

"Fibrous means it's like a fibre – has to, right?"

"Whatever. Next card, please." He was saying please. He was making eye contact. Did she need him to smile at her, too? Dudley attempted to smile, all the while hoping she'd trip and break her neck.

POP! Dudley looked outside. He had never been so happy to see Dedalus.

Dedalus bounced through the front door. He was still dressed in Dudley's shrunken tracksuit, and this last item now was covered in soot and mud stains. The trainers – also Dudley's – were filthy, and the laces and toes were singed. Dudley was sure that even magic wouldn't fix them up, and thought to himself that it was a good thing he hadn't lent out his leather jacket.

"Hello, Dudley and Nymphadora!" Dedalus sang. "Sorry – I mean Tonks, of course. What a day of jubilation!" He set down a large leather satchel, then crossed the room to shake hands with both of them. "Much more to tell, but I've got to get cleaned up and changed out of these things first. Can't wait to be comfortable again!" He made it halfway up the stairs before calling down, "I mean, it is I, Dedalus Diggle! I just burned Severus Snape's house to the ground, and I've never felt better! Oh, and feel free to look in the satchel – plenty of loot for all of us." He took the stairs two at a time, whistling.

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "I hadn't realized that arson was part of the plan, or I'd have gone along with them, regardless." She still held Dudley's flashcards. If she could just pace a little closer to that end table, she might bump into it and drop them. "Want to look in the satchel with me?"

"No thanks," Dudley said. "You go ahead." He had no idea what kind of loot Dedalus had brought back. Gold? Jewels? Thousands of silk handkerchiefs?

Tonks took out her wand, and Dudley felt relieved to see her set the flashcards down on the table. As soon as her back was turned, he'd grab them back and hide them. She summoned the satchel to her and started to dig through it. The cards were right there, but Dudley wasn't in a good position to steal them back. Maybe once she got distracted with all the treasure.

"WHAT?" she grunted, tugging at the corner of something Dudley could barely make out. "What was Dedalus thinking?" She switched her grip to using just her left hand while aiming her wand at whatever the treasure was inside the satchel.

Out came an entire shelf of leather-bound books. It split the sitting room along its length, reaching all the way to Dudley's chair. It was high, stopping just one inch from the ceiling. "Where are we going to PUT this?" her voice asked from the other side of the shelves. The sitting room didn't have much wall space, between the fireplace, the large window, and the doorways to the kitchen and corridor. Even rearranging it, there was no way it could fit.

"Can you shrink it back and put it in the corridor?"

"The corridor's narrow enough as it is," she said. "Typical Ravenclaw – brings back more books than can easily fit in the house." She walked around the bookshelf, and finally knocked over the end table. Dudley's flashcards went everywhere, and he scrambled to pick them up, assuring her he didn't mind.

"Is that all that's in there?" Dudley was hoping to see something more exciting than a library.

"Scared to look," she said. "But we may as well. I'll try to dig around for something smaller."

Jars. Lots of jars. Jars of bugs. Jars of slugs. Jars of weird old leaves. Jars of yellow slime. The jars filled the floorspace, leaving Dudley to retreat to the couch. He was scared Tonks would trip and break them all open at once, leaving a huge mess. His fear increased when she began to caper and sing a song about badgers fighting on to victory. She held up a jar and actually kissed it.

Remus spoke from the doorway. "Successful mission, I take it?"

"Look!" She held the jar aloft. "Occamy eggs! Dozens of them – and he's pre-treated them."

"Well. That is something," Remus smiled. He started to levitate the jars out of the sitting room, to Dudley's relief. "Let's get these stored – we could take the clothes out of the wardrobe."

Tonks kept digging more jars out of the satchel. "Wow, they really ransacked the place! Trust Fred and George to do a thorough job of it. Wish I could have been there with them. Here, there's something else – having a hard time getting hold of it." She stuffed her arm in, up to the shoulder, and finally pulled out a rounded, wooden box the size of a toaster. It had two rods, one silver and one gold, and a large circle on the front. "Wizarding Wireless!" she cheered. "It's practically an antique, but I think it'll play. Dudley, you were wanting to listen to music, right?"

She aimed her wand at the box, and a husky voice filled the room. It was the end of a song. ""That was… the exquisite Madame Bletchley singing "Cheering Charms Can't Work on Me." As always, on the Wizarding Wireless Network, we strive to bring you music from the finest Pureblood tradition. All composers and performers guaranteed Pure, and if you know otherwise, do write in to the Ministry with your critical information."

Tonks hissed and turned the radio off. "Can't take any of that bilge today. Let's go stow these jars, yeah?"

She and Remus set off to stow their precious, beautiful jars. Dudley eyed the bookcase. Hundreds of books. Hundreds. And a racist radio. And jars. That's what they had managed to bring back. Maybe the books were worth something. He sat down and flicked through his flashcards himself, trying to ignore the bookcase looming over him.

Author's Note:

Quotes are from Predator, written by Jim & John Thomas. If you haven't seen it - Dutch is the main hero and only survivor, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. All of his friends/comrades (including Dillon, played by Carl Weathers) die fighting the Predator, an alien with superior technology. Hawkins, a comparatively frail tech operator with glasses, is the first to die, so comparing Harry to him is not a compliment.

Music - Alan Silvestri is the composer of the Predator soundtrack. He was not, to my knowledge, inspired by any of the beginner celesta pieces I made up for this story. The celesta is a 19th century instrument heavily featured in the Harry Potter soundtracks by John Williams.

Thank you for the reviews! Glad you're enjoying the story so far. gigoegiolo - I hear you about the time shifts – I didn't want to have alternating chapters with 40-yo-Dudley (who so far is having a pleasant, if but not thrilling birthday), and I don't like italicizing whole sections. ShadowCub – Dudley adores his name. He has questionable taste.