The last place Harry expected to spend his summer—let alone enjoy a moment of it—was at Number Four, Privet Drive. By the end of his fifth year, he'd come to dread each return to the Dursleys' home, where his presence was barely tolerated, and he was constantly reminded he was unwelcome. But as he was unpacking his school things in his small room, he noticed a subtle change in the atmosphere around the house. He felt it most clearly with Dudley.

It was one afternoon in mid-July, with the sun high and hot over Little Whinging, that Harry found himself alone with Dudley in the backyard. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had gone off to visit some friends and would be gone for hours. Left without much to do, Dudley was aimlessly swatting at flies around the garden table.

Harry had been re-reading an old Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook when Dudley wandered over. A strange feeling of tension seemed to float between them as Dudley plopped down into a chair beside him, his usual sneer absent.

"What's that?" Dudley asked, eyeing the worn book.

"Just…something from school," Harry replied, waiting for the usual scoff or grimace. But Dudley just nodded, watching the sun on the pages as Harry continued reading.

For a moment, it was silent, with only the hum of distant lawnmowers and birds singing. Then, Dudley cleared his throat.

"You, um…you fight people at school?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but Harry could tell there was genuine curiosity hidden in his tone.

Harry smirked a bit. "Not exactly. It's more about defending ourselves. Dark creatures, curses, things like that."

"Right," Dudley said, swallowing hard, as if some unspoken memory sat on his mind.

Harry glanced sideways at him, noticing a strange look in Dudley's eyes—a flicker of understanding or even worry. "What are you getting at, Dudley?"

Dudley hesitated, then muttered, "I never really thanked you, did I?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Thanked me? For what?"

"That night…last year. The…those things…Dementoids or whatever." Dudley shifted uncomfortably. "I saw them too, you know? Well, I felt them."

"Dementors," Harry corrected gently, sensing this wasn't the moment for teasing. "Yeah, I know you did."

Dudley's face flushed a bit as he looked down, picking at a crack in the garden table's wood. "They—they showed me things, Harry. Horrible things."

Harry softened, his voice gentler. "They make people relive their worst memories. It's not something they can control."

Dudley seemed to shiver at the thought. "After that… well, I didn't really…sleep well for a while." He shifted, clearly embarrassed. "Mum and Dad thought I was just being weak, you know? But you—" He paused, forcing himself to look Harry in the eye. "You saved me."

Harry didn't quite know what to say. He'd saved Dudley because he was there, not because he particularly liked him. But something had changed after that night; perhaps it had opened Dudley's eyes a little, made him realize Harry's world was more than just "freaky tricks."

"Well, yeah, Dud," Harry said, trying to downplay the awkwardness. "Couldn't very well leave you to them, could I?"

Dudley nodded, his expression softening in a way Harry had never seen before. "I just wanted you to know I remember…that you did that."

Another pause settled over them, and Harry could feel a strange sort of relief mingling with the tension. He felt Dudley relax a little beside him, as if he'd been holding onto those words for a while.

"So, you're, uh…going back soon?" Dudley ventured, clearly not used to keeping a conversation going with Harry.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "In September. One more year after that, and I'll be done."

"Must be nice…getting to leave all this," Dudley said, casting a rueful glance back at the house, the pristine lawn, the endless rows of neat, identical homes in Privet Drive. "Go somewhere…you know, different."

Harry's surprise grew as Dudley's words sank in. Had Dudley, who'd always seemed so proud of his muggle life, begun to feel trapped here?

"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "But it's not easy, you know. There's a lot going on. A lot I have to deal with."

"Like that dark wizard bloke?" Dudley asked, his voice low. "The one you said was after you?"

"Voldemort," Harry replied, watching Dudley's face as he flinched at the name. "Yeah. He's back, and he's…he's a real threat. Not just to me but to everyone in our world. And maybe yours too."

Dudley swallowed, his face pale. "You're…you're not scared?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I am. A lot of the time. But…it's something I have to do. And I have friends who'll stand by me, so that helps."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of Voldemort's shadow almost palpable in the air. Dudley fidgeted, lost in thought, before he finally said, "Look, Harry… I know we've never been…close or anything. But if you need anything…I mean…if you ever need a place to stay or something…"

Harry's eyes widened. Was Dudley actually offering him a place to stay? It was a small gesture, but from Dudley, it felt monumental.

"Thanks, Dudley," Harry said quietly. "I appreciate it. And I'll…I'll keep it in mind."

Dudley gave a single nod, his face serious. Then he awkwardly stood up and headed back toward the house, glancing over his shoulder once as if to make sure Harry wasn't laughing at him. But Harry just sat there, thoughtful, watching him go.

It wasn't much, but maybe, just maybe, it was a start.