9 October 1997. 7:46 a.m.
Dudley straightened up and shook his head to clear it from the dizziness he felt from teleporting with Hestia. He realized he was still gripping her arm, and so he dropped it.
The raucous gulls were walking along a bit of strand he could just make out, far in the distance.
Dudley's heart leaped. It was the same feeling as setting off for the train station, turning his back on the regulated life at Smeltings and heading for home and freedom, but a million times better.
His eyes skipped over the pile of crumbled stone and charred timbers that must have been Dedalus' house, focusing instead on the nature around him. Fields of soft grass swept down to the sea, flanked by chalk cliffs, arches, and pillars. The jumble of broken walls stood on a small plateau, which was flat enough to make for a perfect track.
There was the walking path Dedalus had described, covered in pebbles his great-grandfather had summoned up from the strand. Dudley walked over to it and scuffed the pebbles – nice and deep. He wouldn't be slipping and sliding all over the place like he did when he'd tried running around the meadow.
He took a deep breath in and inhaled the air, a mix of salt and sweet grasses. And ashes.
"Welcome to Sadie House," said Diggle, bowing. "Would that I could show it to you in its glory."
Vernon paced along the ruined pile. "Diggle," he said. "This was… this was a Stately Home."
Dudley looked again. True, there seemed to be rather a lot of fallen timbers and rocks. Now that he thought of it, the whole thing could have easily held the Smeltings Great Hall.
"You're too kind. It is nice, rather. That's all down to my great-grandfather. He had the knack for building, and he expanded the original seaside cottage to impress my great-grandmother's family. She was an Abbott, you know, Granny Sadie."
Vernon stroked the remains of a wall, made of shiny black stones cemented together. "Knapped flint… and the craftsmanship! You won't see anything like this today, not with the lazy sods we've got to deal with. No, sir!" He picked his way around the house, muttering and bending over occasionally to inspect the ruins.
"Wizard-make, Vernon. Won't be easy to replicate, either." Hestia, meanwhile, was all business. "Diggle, I must say, I'm not sure we've any trees at my place that are going to be tall enough to replace that central beam." She aimed her wand, and the jagged end of a blackened beam floated up, knocking aside several cracked roof slates. She laid it down alongside the ruin of the house and pulled up the remaining two fragments. "You see? That's at least 180 feet."
Dedalus scratched at his beard.
"We can join them up," said Hestia. "But I wouldn't trust a Weightlessness Charm to last on the roof, not with all the heat those tiles took. It'll need proper joists, and that'll just take longer, is all."
"You should fix the place up properly," Vernon said. "Don't want the whole thing caving in on you while you sleep."
"All of this fallen stone will need to be cleaned off and re-mortared," Hestia continued. She grimaced. "I've never really worked with stone like this, I have to say. I'll be able to do the timbers alright, but…"
Vernon was on the far side of the house now, tapping at the shards of stained-glass projecting from a stone arch that had survived the flames.
"Mind if I walk down to the sea?" Dudley asked. "Please?"
"I've got to take some measurements," Hestia said, "and then we're heading right back." She pulled out a parchment and quill from her sleeve and released them. They floated in the air near her shoulder. "Got to get all this mess out of the way first." Lines of golden light flung themselves like spider silk over Sadie House, settling through the stone and timber to settle deep within the ruins. The quill started writing numbers and sketching a tiny architectural plan of the first floor.
"I'll be fast," Dudley told her. "I'll just run down and come back."
"I'll join you, Dudley," Dedalus said.
Dedalus' top hat didn't budge as they walked down to the sea, although the breeze coming off the ocean was strong enough to blow Dudley's stiff leather jacket back against him and make him lean into the wind to power through it. It must have been stuck onto his head with magic, Dudley thought.
"By rights, Hestia should be working high up in the Ministry," Dedalus said. "With her talents, she could easily be a Restorer for the Division of Historical Buildings."
"Guess she liked owls better than buildings." Dudley threw a rock into the sea, hoping it would skim. It plopped into the waves. He couldn't feel annoyed, though, at the sight of the far horizon lost in mist, and threw another rock, just as poorly.
"No, no." Dedalus shook his head. "She applied, four different times. Passed over each time for someone from a more prestigious family. Don't bring it up, mind you. I only know from a few things Abe mentioned. And, one hears things, you know. One notices."
"Couldn't she just build things herself, then?" Dudley asked. "Start her own business?"
Dedalus shook his head. "Not a lot of call for building in our world, is there? Most inherit or purchase old homes, already fitted out for the modern wizard. Or they do what Lupin did, find a bit of land no one's using and throw something up on it themselves. No need to hire outside help, unless it's a tricky bit."
"So, lucky you, then," Dudley said, then flushed, realizing he'd blundered. "I mean, lucky she can help you, not lucky your house burned down."
"My house didn't burn down, Deadly," Dedalus winked. "Someone burned it down." He levitated a rock into his hand and sent it skimming in long arc, more times that Dudley managed to count. "But we'll beat them, in the end. You'll see." He skimmed another rock, farther than the first. "Your cousin, Harry Potter, is out there. He'll get them all, in the end."
A shower of red sparks caught the corner of Dudley's eye. That was Hestia's signal that it was time to leave.
"Let's not keep General Jones waiting, yes?"
Dudley was already heading back, gravel crunching under his feet. Something gnawed at him. Harry, Dudley knew, was not from a prestigious family. His parents had been, in Vernon's words, complete reprobates. Aunt Marge, who had a good nose for wealth and power, had thought they were, well… bad enough that Harry'd blown her up and sent her floating to the stratosphere when she'd talked about them.
Then there was Harry's godfather, escaped convict, now dead. He'd left Harry a house in London – Vernon had said privately that Harry'd be better off tearing down the hovel and selling the land, what with London prices nowadays. Not much use there.
His friends, the Weasleys, were shabby, and the brown-haired girl's family were Muggles, like Dudley and his parents. Total non-entities, in Harry's world.
Dudley pictured Harry, twisting a cap in his hands and standing at a massive desk of a cruel-faced wizard in a velvet robe, begging for a job. The cruel wizard burned Harry's application to ash and pointed to the door, sneering. Dudley swallowed. Smeltings put great stock in helping their leavers get into university, and then they were all on to lucrative careers (those who needed employment, anyway). Harry's school seemed rather ineffective on that point. And he'd have no GCSE's, no A-levels. Nothing to show for all his time. Nothing to fall back on when the magical world turned their backs on him, after all his trouble.
"Deadliest? Will… er… Harry be able to get a job? After the War, I mean?"
Dedalus whipped his head around, shocked. "Harry Potter? He'll have any job he likes! If he wants to work, that is. All doors will be open to Harry Potter, after the War." Dedalus tapped his walking stick on the ground. "You needn't worry about your cousin. In fact, after the War, I imagine we'll all find employment practices much more fair and reasonable. We'll do a much better job rooting out the Death Eaters and ending the corruption this time round, I'm sure."
Dudley was unconvinced.
Dedalus and his friends had supposedly won the War the last time, but it didn't seem to Dudley that it had done them much good.
Good luck, Harry, he thought. Hestia hadn't wanted to wait, it seemed, for they saw her grab Vernon's arm and disappear with a POP as they crested the hill.
"Surely we can afford a few more moments to look round," Dedalus said.
So they took them, wandering the ruins of Sadie House, with its solarium, and library, and observatory towers, and owlery, and second library (for books that were fun but not important enough to go in the main library), and breakfast nook, and tea room, and midnight snack alcove. They crawled over and through the wreckage until their clothes were quite stained with soot and splinters.
POP!
"What are the two of you doing? Get back to the Cottage!" Hestia put her hands on her hips, but Dudley noticed she was smiling.
16 October 1997. 4:10 p.m.
Dudley washed the filth off his hands, working soap into the cracks around his nails to get rid of all the dust that had crept past the protection of his leather work gloves. He saw in the mirror that his shaggy hair had curled a little at the ends from the sea air. His beard was longer, still patchy, but unmistakable. He grinned at the thought of what the Smeltings Headmaster would say at the sight of him.
He showered, kicking up a storm of dust and ash when he washed his hair.
Dudley had enjoyed the routine of the last few days. Each morning, he rose before dawn for a boxing workout. Then he ate a quick breakfast and teleported to the worksite with Hestia or Dedalus ("It's Apparition, Dudley," Hestia said in his mind).
Hestia and Dedalus had already straightened most of the rubble. Each stone, board, and bit of broken glass had been laid in neat rows all along the perimeter of the great house. Dudley was working on cleaning the stone. Dedalus had tried setting up buckets and making the flints clean themselves, but they'd knocked themselves about too much. So, Dudley was set to work cleaning everything. Cleaning without magic was only ever used as a punishment in the magical world. Cleaning detention-style, Remus called it, which had made everyone except the Dursleys laugh.
Vernon was there too, of course. He generally spent his time adding unnecessary nails to Hestia's woodwork. She had felled several large oaks and hewed them into beams and was now building the framework. Several times a day, Vernon would hammer his thumb instead, curse, and then take a long break in the sun. If he snored a few times – or a few thousand times, the rest pretended not to notice.
Petunia, who was feeling better, been able to come as well. She spent her time either cleaning delicate silver and China that had survived in charmed cupboards, or investigating trunks and wardrobes for possible treasures.
They would stop each day for a picnic lunch by the sea, then return to work until the sun dipped low in the sky. Then they'd all go back to Meadowsweet Cottage to clean up and have tea.
In the late afternoons and evenings, Dudley would spend some time transcribing. He hadn't revised for his A-levels in days.
The best part of the work was that Dudley could easily listen to his music while he scrubbed burned mortar from the flints.
The second best part was that they got a multi-hour break from the Lupins. Remus was off fixing up his own cabin – it was a job that could easily be done by one wizard, he said. The cabin had only been trampled by giants, not burned. And the giants had probably not known it had belonged to an Order member, so they hadn't done as much damage as they might have otherwise. Giants were smashing up whatever human structures they could find in the countryside. Tonks, meanwhile, spent the mornings napping and reading through Snape's remaining books, and the afternoons brewing Wolfsbane Potion.
After his shower, Dudley squeezed into his largest track suit, missing the freedom of the Catapults robes. He eyed his textbooks, torn between feelings of regret, guilt, and dread at eventually having to read them.
"Don't worry, Deadly – there'll be time enough for light reading soon enough!" Dedalus chirped. He, too, gazed at the books, but with a fond smile rather than a scowl.
"They're so boring," Dudley said. He picked up his film studies textbook and held it up. "See? See, it's almost all black and white stuff. Or subtitles."
"The pictures don't move! How charming." Dedalus took the book and thumbed through it himself. "Do you mind if I borrow this? I could have it back to you tomorrow."
"Yeah, whatever," said Dudley. "I mean, sure, you're welcome to it. Not like I'm going to be using it tonight anyway."
Dedalus read the book all the way down the staircase.
"Well, I'm off then," Remus said after tea time.
"I'll go with you," said Tonks.
Remus smiled wanly. He had dark rings under his eyes and his hair was messier than ever. "Maybe next time. We'll see how tonight goes."
Tonks leaned back against her hands – she was sitting on the dining room table – and glared up at the ceiling. After a second or so, she looked back at Remus and flashed him a tiny smile. "Next time, then."
They kissed, rather awkwardly, as everyone else got busy clearing the tea things.
"Good luck, Remus!" Hestia said.
Dudley waved. "Yeah, good luck."
He teleported directly from the dining room. The noise irritated Dillon, who hooted and flapped until he got a treat, then hopped down from the chandelier onto Dudley's shoulder.
Dudley petted Dillon's back as he wandered from room to room, peering out the windows. To the west, the sun was dropping down behind the trees. Dudley knew that the moon would rise in about another hour, just as the sun set, although he wouldn't be able to see it until some time after supper. The hills and trees would block it.
Remus would transform into a wolf, somewhere in a Welsh forest. If Tonks' potion worked, he would be able to go to sleep. If not … Dudley wasn't clear on what would happen if the potion didn't work. Remus had put extra locks and charms around the cabin to prevent himself from leaving, and to prevent Muggles from wandering through.
When the sun rose, the moon would set. But Remus wouldn't be strong enough to teleport back on his own. He was the cabin Secret Keeper, and he hadn't shared the Secret with anyone, including his wife.
Dillon hooted again and nudged Dudley's ear. Dudley passed him another treat and went upstairs to pack his pillow, pajamas, and blanket. He threw a fresh pair of socks into his bag as well.
"Is this really necessary?" Vernon asked.
"Necessary? Well, no, not exactly, Vernon. But werewolves can become disoriented before moonrise. They have been known to Apparate to familiar places – do you want to fight off a fully grown werewolf?" Hestia asked.
"Still… he's hardly a threat, what with the three of you here." Vernon rubbed his back. "I don't fancy a night under the stars, at my age. Sleeping on rocks and what have you."
"I don't like taking chances," Hestia said. "Even Tonks isn't staying here."
"We didn't go to all this fuss and bother last full moon," Vernon objected. "So I don't see why we should set about camping in October when there's no more danger now –"
"We didn't have the option of another place last month. And we ought to have done more last month, but what with having just fought off the Death Eaters, and dealing with the aftermath of the Ministry falling, we didn't think to." Hestia took her wand from her sleeve.
"What about Frankie?" Dudley asked. He hadn't ventured into the attic since the Bludgers had nearly killed him, and he felt guilty at neglecting his friend.
"Werewolves don't attack ghouls," Dedalus said. "Do let's hurry, everyone. Best to get out before twilight. Give my best to your parents, Tonks."
Tonks, whose hair had gone that drab brown again, nodded.
Petunia, who'd said not a word, held her mouth tightly shut and reached out for Hestia's arm. They disappeared, followed by Dedalus and Vernon.
Dudley and Tonks both looked out at the sun, which was now about to disappear behind the trees.
Dudley's mind teemed with thoughts of what he might say to make her feel better. Unable to decide, he petted Dillon again and shifted his bag under his arm.
POP! Hestia had arrived again to bring him back. She reached for Dudley's arm.
"Wait," Tonks said, pulling out her own wand and forcing her nose to change into a beaky point. "What was my Patronus? Back in Sixth Year, I mean?"
"Badger," Hestia said. "Bit on the nose, even for you. I have to say, I like your new one better. Besides, that's not a great question, is it, because everyone at school with us and your Auror training saw that badger. Including Snape and Yaxley."
Tonks tapped her wand against her palm. "Hestia would say that. But how do I know you're the real Hestia Jones?"
"Expecto Patronum!" Hestia's owl Patronus appeared and flitted out the window. "Don't worry about Remus, Tonks. I think you got it just right."
Tonks shrugged. "We'll see. Now, let's find out if I can get my parents to let me past their wards without tipping off any Death Eaters in the neighborhood." She disappeared.
Hestia sighed. "Ready, Dudley?"
They linked elbows, and Dudley's world flipped inside out, until he felt the gravel crunch under his feet outside Sadie House.
The moon rose, full and golden over the sea
Far from lying on lumpy rocks, the Dursleys, Hestia and Dedalus were set up comfortably in beds Hestia had conjured after a dinner of cold chicken, salad, and bread. She'd fixed up one of the bathrooms, complete with working toilet and sink, on the first work day. And she'd protected the bedroom area from rain.
"I've warded off the dew and rain," she said. "So we don't have to worry about damp."
Dudley lay in his bed watching the moon climb higher, growing smaller and more silvery, listening for howls. He wasn't listening to music tonight. All he heard was the wind and the waves. The stars twinkled far off. Although the night was dry, the fire had died down, and the cold seeped under Dudley's blanket. He curled into a tight ball.
His world had doubled in size, but it still wasn't his world.
On the whole, Dudley preferred cleaning rocks to reading and transcribing. Still, no matter how beautiful the clear night, or how big and grand Sadie House would be when it was restored, Dudley's life felt empty and meaningless. Nothing he did truly mattered.
If he wasn't there to clean off the stone, Hestia would probably find another way to use magic to get them clean. It would just take a little tinkering.
If he wasn't there to read Snape's messy handwriting, they would figure it out eventually. Besides, Dudley doubted they would ever find anything truly useful in the mess of scribbles. What about that Wolfsbane Potion? he thought, arguing back against his own gloom.
Dudley had liked being on the boxing team because he enjoyed being allowed to hit people. After he'd joined, though, after the thrill of pounding other kids with adult approval had subsided, he'd found he liked having other people depend on him. He liked representing his school in the heavyweight division. He liked the way other people – who weren't his parents – applauded his successes and reassured him in his losses. He'd made his way from being the worst on the team, constantly winded and whinging, to one of the best. Someone they depended on to win.
In Meadowsweet Cottage, he had done nothing but blunder around, needing rescuing. Or he'd done tedious, meaningless chores.
The months would drag on, he feared, and he'd finish with one set of tasks, and another would be found for him, and everyone would pretend to be pleased. But he knew the truth – in a world of spells and wonders, he could never be more than an entertainment or a burden. Guarding the Dursleys was holding back Dedalus and Hestia from figuring out something else to do to help with the war.
Maybe that's the point, Dudley thought. Maybe they had no idea what to do, either, and protecting the Dursleys was something. Something they could do. Maybe Hestia and Dedalus were people who had the wrong skills for this stage of the war. They'd been spies, listening in on conversations in the owl shops and at Quidditch matches. Then, when everyone knew they were in the Order, they didn't have a purpose anymore. So they'd been set a task they could manage. Just like Dudley could manage reading spiky script and scrubbing rocks.
Dudley got out of bed, wrapping the blanket around him. He put on his shoes and climbed as high as he could on one of the broken outer walls that was made of thick limestone blocks. He looked far out to the sea, and saw no lights. No boats, no lighthouse. The whole cove had been warded long ago to keep out Muggles. He looked away from the sea, and far off into the night, he could see the bright, electric lights that meant his world was still out there.
Dudley wanted it. He wanted the electric heat, and the television, and the films, and the computers, and the games.
Magic wasn't all that fun, not when it kept trying to kill you, and when you couldn't do it yourself.
His parents, he could tell, were stressed. His mother had hardly touched her food, and his father's moustache was constantly twitching.
It was only going to get colder and darker. Everyone needed cheering.
He stroked the rough walls of Sadie House, and imagined wires running into it, through holes drilled into the walls. Lights bright enough you wouldn't notice when the sun had set. Speakers loud enough you wouldn't be able to hear the relentless waves. You wouldn't hear the howling, until it was too late. They could all forget about the war, at least for a little while.
"Can't sleep either?" Hestia asked. She climbed up and sat down next to him.
"Yeah."
She gestured at the far-off lights. "I could see lights like that, from my room when I was little."
"Yeah?"
"I always wondered about the people with those lights," she said. "What they were doing, why they had lights going so late at night."
"It's to help people see," Dudley told her. "For driving and things."
The moon behind them cast long shadows across the grass. Dudley thought about the people in the houses, who might be asleep, or watching something, or reading under bright electric lamps, all the people who didn't know or care about the full moon climbing higher in the night. If they knew about werewolves, would they be able to fight them off, if the werewolves attacked? Would a car kill a werewolf, if it was going fast enough? Would bullets work, and did they have to be silver?
Hestia must have been thinking about werewolves as well, because she said, "Greyback's pack is bound to attack again tonight." She summoned a couple of mugs, steaming hot.
Dudley took a sniff. Cocoa. He took a small sip and let the mug warm his hands. He didn't know who Greyback was. He'd learned enough to know that Hestia would say more if she wanted.
She told him about Fenrir Greyback, and his murderous pack, and the devastation he wreaked.
Dudley listened and watched their shadows shrink until the moon lit their faces.