I do not own any of the HP characters and am making no money in the writing of this fanfic.

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Chapter 1 ~ Dudley's Discovery

Sixteen-year-old Severus Snape sat sullenly on the swing at the local park, the very same park he’d first seen Lily Evans show her magic and float to the ground, her sister Petunia yelling at her not to do it.

He sat there in his long dark robes, digging his feet into the earth, swinging slightly, his pale face expressionless and curtained by lank black hair as he frowned down at the ground. He was on vacation from Hogwarts and he hated that. He hated coming home to his drunken, abusive father and doormat mother. He spent as much time away from Spinner's End and away from people as he could.

The other teenagers, who were Muggles, gave him a wide berth. He was creepy, strange, and when he looked at them with his cold black eyes, fear would creep over them. A few of the braver boys verbally challenged him, but never tried to touch him.

”Bet he has a knife under those robes,” they’d say to each other, sure Severus wouldn’t hesitate to stab one of them. He always had his hand in his pocket. It wasn’t the handle of a knife he was holding, but his wand. He would have hexed them, the idiots, then Obliviated them. He was good with his wand work.

He sat brooding. He was alone, without friends and without Lily. She no longer talked to him. Still, he came here almost every day. It was a place where he was once happiest. The place he and Lily would sit and talk.

”Still pining over her,” a sharp, somewhat bitter voice said behind him.

Snape didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look up, although he was conscious of someone walking over and sitting in the swing next to him.

”You should have known she wouldn’t go for you. Not my perfect sister,” Petunia Evans spat as she began to swing, digging her bony feet into the earth to push off, her horse-like face turned toward the silent wizard next to her.

She began swinging slowly, just a bit, just enough to be in motion.

”Serves you right. Now you know how it feels to be on the outside looking in,” Petunia said to him. “You always treated me like I was some kind of leper. Now you know it. Lily’s done it to you. Left you out in the cold. Doesn’t matter that you have magic now, does it, Severus?”

”Shut up, Petunia,” Snape hissed, feeling even more miserable, if possible.

Petunia fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Do you hate her, Severus? I do. I hate her so much I can’t even see straight. I know she’s the reason—she’s the reason for what happened. Everyone says it was a freak accident. That there was gas buildup and—and my parents were killed in the blast, but I know it was because of Lily, and—and your crowd. I can’t say it of course. Everyone would think I was mad, but that wizard that she made angry—I know he did it.”

Snape didn’t say anything. He’d heard that too, from his housemates in hushed tones, but he didn’t spread rumors and it wouldn’t help anything to let Petunia know he knew. Her parents had been killed in a blast. The only reason Petunia wasn’t there was because she was out with her beau, the stocky, mundane, non-magical Vernon Dursley. Suddenly, she was alone in the world. When Lily came home for the funeral, Petunia treated her like a stranger for the most part, before the ugly blow-up where she blamed Lily for the deaths, and Lily ran away, saying she didn’t want anything, that Petunia could have the insurance money, what was left of the house, everything.

And Petunia took it, telling Lily she never wanted to see her freakish face again. That she was no longer her sister.

Snape blamed Lily too. If only she had kept her friendship with him, he would have kept her out of Voldemort’s sights. He could have protected her because she would have been his, and the Dark Lord would have overlooked her parentage. Or so Snape believed. But no, she had to choose Potter, who stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong, interfered with the Dark Lord’s plans and made himself, and anyone connected with him, a target.

Idiot.

So, Lily’s parents were killed and she was still with the wizard responsible. Why was she so stupid?

”I hate all of you,” Petunia hissed at him.

Snape turned his head to look at her, his black eyes narrowed.

”Then, why do you come here day after day, Petunia? If you hate me and my kind so much, why do you bother?” he asked her.

Petunia made a face as she looked at him.

”You’re so strange—so—weird. Look at you. You don’t even try to hide what you are, how freakish you are—”

Snape felt hot anger boiling up in his belly.

”Why do you come here then, to sit with me and just talk about how much you despise me, Lily—everyone? Why aren’t you with your fat boyfriend?” he asked her.

“Vernon is not fat! He’s stocky. He looks like a proper man should look, not skinny and pale and ugly like you are! And he’s got a good future,” she snapped.

Snape looked over her bony frame, thinking when they shagged she must get on top because Vernon’s bulk would surely crush her. Then, he gave her a small, rather nasty smirk. He slowly stood up.

”I think you come here because you fancy me, Petunia,” he said softly.

Petunia looked horrified, at first.

”What? I do not! How could I? You’re—you’re a freak!” she cried, although her eyes shifted just the way Lily’s did when she lied. She stopped swinging, her hands clutching the chains of the swing so tightly, her knuckles whitened.

”I think it’s the magic—the magic that you pretend to hate. You wrote Dumbledore to try and get into Hogwarts, didn’t you? I know about that. Since you don’t have magic, you want to get close to it, so you come to me, picking at me, hoping to goad me into doing something to you,” Snape purred at her. “What do you want me to do to you, Petunia?”

Petunia was two years older than Severus, and just as tall as he was. She was taller than Vernon, actually. She stood up as he walked up to her and they stood face to face.

”Do you want to shag me?” Snape asked her, his eyes hard. He didn’t like Petunia, and never had. He simply tolerated her because she was Lily’s sister. But he was so angry, so alone, so bitter, and she was such a bitch he’d fuck her just to do it. It would be like getting back at Lily in a way, although she’d never know he did it.

”No! How dare you ask me something like that!” Petunia spluttered, turning red, but not moving away. Snape stepped closer, invading her personal space, his eyes meeting hers.

”I think you do,” he said, then grabbed her, and kissed her.

Petunia pretended to struggle, then relaxed and kissed him back. Suddenly, Snape pushed her away, changing his mind. Petunia was disgusting and false. False, like her sister.

”Give it to Vernon,” he hissed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Petunia’s eyes widened in shock, and she reddened, anger and hurt pouring off of her as she looked at him with his lank hair and big nose.

”I see why she dumped you, you bastard,” Petunia said, her mouth still tingling from the taste of him. “I should report you! You tried to force yourself on me!”

”Who’s going to believe that?” Snape said, turning away from her. “You’re trash, Petunia.”

He started walking away from her. Furious, Petunia picked up a handful of the tiny pebbles scattered around the swing to keep the grass from encroaching and flung them at his back. Snape stopped as they rained around him, hitting him and stinging slightly.

Snape turned to look at her.

”Don’t come here tomorrow,” he said, his voice dangerous. “Don’t come here at all if you see me here. If you do, no one will ever see you again. I want nothing to do with you or your sister. You’ve been warned, Petunia.”

Then he walked into a copse of trees and there was the sound of thunder. He’d Apparated, even though it was illegal for him to do at his age. He had to get out of there before he did something he’d have to pay for. No doubt he’d get a letter about it, but he wouldn’t be expelled. He had connections, if nothing else.

Petunia stood there for a moment, then turned, walking away from the swings and Severus bloody Snape. She didn’t know why she kissed him back, or why she came there every day to sit and talk, or vent. Maybe he was using magic on her. Yes, he probably was. There was no other explanation for why she’d even want to be around him.

It wasn’t because he was a wizard, or that he had been Lily’s friend and hurt by her. It wasn’t because he was odd and dangerous. No, he was doing something to her. Well, it would stop now. She wouldn’t come back.

Petunia finally wiped at her mouth as she exited the park. Vernon could never find out about this. He’d leave her for sure. He knew about witches and wizards because she confided in him and told him her suspicion of her parents being killed by Lily’s kind. Vernon promised he’d protect her from them, all of them, including her sister. If he found out she’d actually kissed one of them, it would be over.

Petunia walked purposely back toward the house. It had been repaired and was up on the market. She and Vernon were to be married soon. He had started a business and it was doing all right. Vernon was enterprising, even though he was only twenty. He had a future and she’d have a normal life, free from magic and witches and all things that concerned them.

She’d be normal if it killed her. And as for the wizards like Severus, and the witches like Lily, they were all freaks, every single one of them and should be wiped from the face of the planet.

If there were any justice in the world, they would be.

* * *

5 Years Later

”The time has come, young Severus,” Voldemort hissed at his young Potions master as he drew up his hood. “I’ve located the Potters and go to deal with them, now.”

Snape stared at him, his heart pounding, unable to move.

Lily.

From within the hood, two crimson eyes considered him.

”I only want the child, Severus. I will not harm any of them. He will become a powerful wizard under my tutelage, and loyal to me. Accompany me, and you can have your revenge upon his father and claim his mother as you’ve always desired. She can be Obliviated so she forgets about her husband and child, and you can take her away . . . live . . . happily ever after, boy. Don’t you want that? By rights, she should have been yours.”

Snape took this in. Albus had promised to protect Lily and her family, but the old wizard had failed. Voldemort knew where they were. But how? How did he know? Still, if he went with him, he could make sure Lily was safe. James, he had it coming to him, but Lily . . . his Lily . . .

Snape drew up his hood as well.

”I’ll come,” he said shortly.

”Take hold of my robes,” the Dark Lord ordered.

Snape did so, and they Disapparated from the stronghold.

* * *

Snape stood back and watched as Voldemort blasted the door of the Potters' residence off its hinges, and heard James shouting for Lily to take their son and run. He was frozen for a moment as he saw the Dark Lord cross the threshold and utter the Killing Curse.

Snape stood there, petrified by the silence that followed, then saw Voldemort’s robed figure disappear.

The young wizard ran into the house and stopped cold as he saw James Potter sprawled on the floor in the foyer, his wand next to him and glasses askew. He was dead, staring up at the ceiling sightlessly.

Snape stared down at him, not feeling the gratification he thought he would. He had dreamed of him dead, but it had always seemed that he would live forever.

Suddenly, he heard Lily scream, “No, not my baby!” and bolted up the stairs, just in time to see green light flash from a bedroom on the left.

”Nooo!” he cried, rushing in to find Lily dead on the floor, her baby sitting next to her, crying as he looked up at Voldemort, who pointed his wand at him.

Snape stared at Lily’s body, feeling as if the entire world was falling down around him, then his black eyes shifted toward Voldemort wildly. He’d killed her!

”No!” Snape cried, lunging at the Dark Lord’s back as he hissed the curse, the tip of his wand pointed right at the child’s forehead. Snape felt only the slightest contact before he was blasted back by a powerful force that blew away a portion of wall. Stunned, he lay in the rubble. He could hear Lily’s baby crying. Smoke and fire was rising all around them and Voldemort was gone.

Staggering to his feet, Snape stumbled over to Lily’s corpse, his eyes wet with tears.

”I’m so sorry, Lily,” he said softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I believed him, believed his lies when he intended to kill you from the very beginning.”

Little Harry Potter crawled over to his mother and pulled on her pitifully, looking up at Snape. A nasty, jagged cut was on his forehead. The Slytherin looked down at him. He couldn’t leave him here. He’d die.

Snape was bleeding terribly from a gash in his leg and losing a lot of blood. He scooped the crying child up and carried him through the now blazing house and outside to safety, hidden in the smoke. People gathered, screaming and calling for assistance. No one saw the young wizard and the child he held.

Snape put Harry down on the ground and pinched the baby so he’d scream. Harry howled as Snape ran around the side of the house and Disapparated.

“That’s Lily’s baby!” Hagrid bellowed, rushing toward the sound. He had been sent by Albus to run interference, yet arrived too late. The house was in flames. The half-giant ran toward the sound of the crying baby and he scooped Harry up from the ground, running back to safety beyond the flames as the house collapsed behind him. .

“Oh, yeh poor tyke,” the half-giant said softly to the crying child in his burly arms. “Looks like yer an orphan now. No one coulda' survived tha’. I’d better take yeh ter Dumbledore. He’ll know wha’ ter do wit’ yeh.”

Huge tears fell from Hagrid’s eyes as he did just that.

* * *

No one saw the other person escaping the ruins of the Potter house. They wouldn't notice him. He was in his Animagus form, small and grey, Voldemort's wand clamped between his teeth as he avoided all the running feet and Aurors.

Peter Pettigrew made his way into the darkness, scampering away from the scene, fear in his ratty little heart. Voldemort had instructed him to follow, but keep hidden. He was to strike Snape down once the Potters were killed. Voldemort believed the young wizard had betrayed him. He didn't have any proof, but felt it in his gut. He only asked Severus to accompany him to witness the death of the woman he loved as a punishment before he too, was hexed from the face of the earth.

But Peter had been too slow and was caught in the blast like Snape was, but recovered much slower. He saw the young wizard run by with the child in his arms, then entered the bedroom to find no sign of the Dark Lord other than his wand, which he took. Then he changed form and made his way out of the house and into the darkness.

He had to find someplace to hide. He had betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort to save his own life. He had been their Secret Keeper, and two people knew that . . . Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black. He was sure Sirius would confront him, and the wizard could always tell when he was lying. Hopefully, he could leave the wizarding world before Black found him.

If he did, Peter knew he'd never make it to trial.

* * *

Severus Snape fled to Spinner's End, tended to his wounds and sequestered himself in his home, mourning the loss of Lily and Voldemort’s treachery. He’d killed her.

Killed her.

That wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. James . . . yes, he was supposed to die, but Lily . . . Lily was supposed to be his. They were supposed to run away together, and Voldemort raise her son as his own.

Snape should have known the Dark Lord wouldn’t allow a potential rival to live, particularly one with the power to destroy him. Nor would he allow a witch to live who had the potential to produce other such powerful children. Yes, Voldemort had intended to wipe out the entire family from the very beginning.

Snape stared at the floor sightlessly. What was he to do now? He couldn’t let anyone know he’d been at Godric’s Hollow and witnessed the murders. He’d been seen as an accomplice although he’d done nothing. He’d have to act as if he hadn’t known of Voldemort’s plan. He’d have to pretend to be unaware of the Potters’ deaths.

Well, it wouldn’t be hard to show grief. He could only feel two emotions right now . . . grief and despair.

He had no idea what happened to Voldemort. Maybe he was destroyed when he tried to kill the child. Maybe he had self-fulfilled the prophecy and attacking the boy had destroyed him. Oh, if only he’d gone for the baby first . . . Lily might still be alive.

Snape clasped himself tightly with his arms and rocked back and forth, misery, guilt and bitterness wrapping around him like a new skin, sinking into his very soul, darkening it and destroying whatever slim hopes he had for happiness.

* * *

Petunia Dursley had just finished giving her fifteen-month-old nephew, Harry Potter, a bottle of watered-down milk and a carrot, and left him in his small toddler bed in the cupboard under the stairs, turning out the light. He cried a little in the darkness, but stopped after five minutes or so. No one would come pick him up or comfort him, and the toddler knew it. All that would happen was Petunia would return and spank him. Sleep was the only thing for it.

Petunia walked up the stairs into her son's, Dudley’s, bright, airy nursery. The fat, blond toddler was awake in his crib, screaming for a bottle and goodies.

”Oh, my little Dudikins! Don’t cry. Mum’s here,” Petunia gushed, lifting him out of the crib and rocking him as he shrieked, beating her about the neck and shoulders with his fists in aggravation. She had just fed him a full bottle and cookies less than two hours ago, but the greedy child wanted more, and what Dudley wanted, he got. And not the thinned, cheap milk and bits of food Harry received for nourishment, but the richest and most delicious of everything.

As Petunia fed her son, she walked about, humming to him and telling him what a beautiful baby he was as he masticated on his cookies and suckled on his bottle. It was a wonder she could carry him. Suddenly, Petunia tripped over her own feet, Dudley flying out of her arms.

”My baby!” she screamed, trying to catch him before he hit the floor, but failing to do so.

She watched horrified as he hit the hard, wooden surface then bounced, hitting the left wall, then the right, then the ceiling, just as if he were made out of rubber, Dudley screaming at the top of his lungs. Finally she managed to catch him, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

Petunia knew this wasn’t normal. She also knew what it meant. Her parents used to tell the story of how the same thing happened with her sister, Lily, when she was a baby. How she was dropped and bounced about, unhurt. It was proof she was a witch.

Petunia stared at her son. Vernon would never accept this. He’d blame her for poisoning his son’s bloodline because her sister was a witch. He’d probably want to divorce her.

He couldn’t find out. He just couldn’t.

She and Vernon had been looking about for an orphanage to put Harry in. They didn’t want to raise a wizard. It was too much trouble. Now, she discovered her son was one as well. She might be able to hide it for a while. Harry, when he was upset, made things happen, like rising above his bed when no one would pick him up. Petunia would push him back down and call him a bad baby, threatening to take him outside and let him float away. Not that Harry understood, but she browbeat him anyway.

She looked at Dudley. The best thing to do would be to give him what he wanted, attention, toys, food, whatever so his magic wouldn’t manifest. But, damn—when he came of age, he’d receive one of those damnable Hogwarts letters. Vernon would find out Dudley was a wizard if that happened. He would have to live among those people, those freaks.

No. It couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t see her son turned into a freak. She couldn’t have any more children, so all her hopes and dreams were tied into Dudley, hopes that he’d become a man like his father, enterprising and normal.

She had to contact Dumbledore somehow, and not let Vernon know.

* * *

”Yes, he definitely is a wizard,” Dumbledore told Petunia as she sat stiffly in his office. In her desperation, and because it worked last time, she had written him a letter, simply addressed to:

The Headmaster
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

There was no address or region, but, there were wizards and witches who worked at the Muggle post office and the letter made it to him. He arrived while Vernon was at work and took her back to Hogwarts. She left Harry with Mrs. Figg, who lived down the street. She always did this, not taking the toddler anywhere.

”I don’t want him to go to Hogwarts. I don’t want him in the wizarding world at all,” Petunia said to Albus, who adjusted his glasses.

”But he is a wizard, Mrs. Dursley. He has to be trained up,” the Headmaster said.

”No! I won’t have him join your kind. He’s my son and my wishes should be respected,” she shot back at him.

”He does not have to attend Hogwarts, but the invitation must be extended,” Albus replied.

”No! No, I don’t want that letter to come. My husband wouldn’t understand. It would destroy our family!” she said to him desperately. “I’d do anything to keep that from happening!”

Albus looked at her thoughtfully.

”I’ve heard through the grapevine you’ve been checking about for orphanages,” he said rather darkly. “You mean to place your nephew there.”

Petunia nodded.

”He’s not our responsibility,” she said tightly, “and a lot of trouble with all that bobbing about and things happening around him. It’s just too much trouble. Vernon wants him out.”

Albus’ blue eyes darkened.

”And what about your son? Will he want him out too?” he asked.

Petunia’s eyes filled with tears.

”I don’t know, but he despises your kind. I think our lives would change for the worst. He might divorce me and disown Dudley,” she replied, her voice quavering.

Albus silently wondered what kind of man Vernon Dursley was if his wife was so afraid. He looked down at Dudley, who, as usual was sucking down a bottle on his mother’s lap, looking like a swollen, chubby-faced doll.

“Your nephew is very important and needs to remain in your house, Mrs. Dursley. You cannot turn him out. If you want me to help you, you must promise to help me. You must promise Harry can live in your household until he is old enough to strike out on his own,” the Headmaster said. “If you do this, your son will not be acknowledged as a wizard in any way, although it will be up to you to suppress his magic. But, I need your promise.”

Petunia looked pained. Vernon wanted Harry out, but if she did as he wanted, then Dudley would be exposed. She didn’t want that. She wanted a normal life and a normal family. Harry would put a damper on that but he could be ignored most of the time. Besides, once he reached eleven, he’d be gone more than he was there, living at Hogwarts except for the summers. She’d have to talk Vernon into letting him stay. She’d use “family obligation” as a reason.

”Very well,” Petunia said grudgingly. “If that’s the only way I can keep Dudley out of this—this situation, then I suppose I must promise. Harry can stay with us until he reaches adulthood.”

”Good,” Dumbledore said, “and in the dark times ahead, you must remember your promise, Petunia, and what we agreed to. If you break it, your son could still be exposed. Keep that in mind.”

”I will,” Petunia said, scowling at how manipulative the old wizard was, despite his apparently benevolent demeanor.

Dumbledore escorted her back home and left her alone with Dudley. She sat down on the sofa, holding her son, who began screaming for another bottle.

”Don’t worry, little Duddikins. Mum will protect you. I’ll always protect you,” she breathed, drawing the kicking, screaming baby into her chest. She’d retrieve Harry later.

”No one will ever know,” she swore. “Ever.”

* * *

Present Day

Several months had passed and Vernon and Petunia had quite a time with Dudley, who was still upset that his cousin, Harry Potter, hadn’t come with them when he was in danger. His parents couldn’t understand what had gotten into the young man.

“But where did they take him?” he asked his red-faced father.

Vernon blew his large mustache like a walrus and said, “That’s no matter of ours, Dudley. He’s with . . . with them, and away from us with his magic and murdering associates.”

Dudley scowled.

”Dad, he was in danger. It was clear to see that. Why couldn’t he come with us where he’d be safe?”

It was true Dudley had given Harry a hard time when he lived with him, but that was like a rite of passage. It had been fun to pick at him and Dudley had the feeling Harry was past caring about it, really. And considering the fact Harry had magic, and had never really done anything awful to him or his parents, made Dudley think that underneath it all, Harry was a good sort. Besides, he was the only cousin he had. It didn’t feel right to leave him behind.

”He’s not our kind, boy,” Vernon huffed.

”He’s my cousin! We share the same blood!” Dudley argued as Petunia’s eyes rounded.

”He’s not like you,” she hissed at her son desperately, her eyes wide. “He’s a freak!”

Dudley frowned at his mother and father. They were staying in a rented flat in London, and were sitting in front of the telly, watching the news.

”He’s just a wizard,” Dudley said sullenly. “He’s a little freaky, yeah, but he’s still a person.”

Vernon and Petunia looked at their son in amazement.

”Oh, where did we go wrong, Vernon?” Petunia wailed, burying her horsey face into her husband’s thick shoulder and sobbing hysterically.

Vernon patted her back as he glowered at Dudley.

”Now you’ve gone and upset your mum,” he growled at him. “Wizards are not . . . people. They are . . . abominations. Strange . . . otherworldly. Abominations to be avoided by normal folks like us, Dudley. I thought you knew that.”

Dudley considered his father.

”Dad, why do you and mum hate Harry so much?” he asked him directly.

Vernon reddened even more. There was disapproval in his son’s voice. He had always believed Dudley shared their view about the wizarding world. They had brought him up to be just as bigoted as they were. What had gone wrong? It should be clear why they despised the boy. He was a wizard. And wizards were to be reviled by decent folk.

”He was an imposition from the first. His parents went and got themselves killed and saddled us with him, draining our resources. Having him in the home took food out of your mouth, Dudley. And that was only the beginning,” Vernon huffed.

Dudley blinked at his dad. The boy had evened out now, his fat becoming muscle and Petunia’s genes kicking in. He was powerfully built, solid with no paunch. He lifted weights and had the biceps, pecs and abs to prove it. But even he knew Harry never took a crumb out of his mouth. In fact, Harry was lucky to get a decent meal, growing up.

”Then there was all that Weasley business, your tongue growing five feet long, and Dementors, whatever they were. Those nearly killed you . . . and now this Lord Voldemort coming after all of us. And that’s only a little that we had to suffer through because of him. Remember how he ruined my business meeting when an owl flew in the window? I lost a big account because of that. The biggest I had. And poor Marge floating away. And that . . . that pig’s tail. Of course we despise the boy, Dudley. Because of him, our life was disrupted. We would have been much better off without him.”

Dudley thought life would have been rather dull without Harry around. You could always count on something exciting happening, even though it usually scared Dudley nearly to death when it did. Still, in retrospect, it had been rather fun. Now, Harry was gone, really gone, and it was just him and his rather dull parents.

Petunia had stopped crying by now and was looking at Dudley with hurt in her eyes. How could he question them like this? Everything they’d done was to protect their family. They didn’t want Harry thinking he had them for support, or could come running to them. They wanted the blasted boy to run the other way and leave them alone. Finally, he was gone. Petunia had kept her promise to Albus Dumbledore, and in return, he’d kept her secret.

”Duddikins, it’s good he’s out of our lives. He never really belonged. None of his kind do,” Petunia said to her son, a note of pleading in her voice. Dudley couldn’t afford to have even an ounce of sympathy for those people. It might . . . it might . . .

”He’s my cousin, and I want to know what’s happening to him . . . or . . . or help him,” Dudley stated flatly. “He’s my family. Everyone else I know has relatives that they hang about with and do things with. Harry and I never got a chance to do that when we were growing up, but I see things differently now. It doesn’t matter that he’s a wizard, Mum. He’s family and family is supposed to stick together when there’s trouble. Harry’s in trouble.”

Dudley stood up.

”I’m going to try and find him,” he announced, “just to see if he’s all right.”

Vernon huffed, puffed and rose from the sofa to intercept him.

”You’ll do no such thing, boy. If he’s dead, the world’s better for it,” he blustered as Petunia nodded in agreement. “Besides, if he’s not all right, there’s nothing you could do about it. They’ll cut you to pieces with those wands of theirs.”

”I’m going to look for him,” Dudley said again, stubbornly. Then he walked into his room, grabbed a bag and began stuffing clothes into it. He pulled open a drawer and took out his wallet. It was full of pound notes. He stuffed that into the back pocket of his jeans.

Vernon and Petunia stood in the doorway, watching him, his mother begging him to stop packing.

”Dudley, you’ll get yourself killed!” she sobbed. “Vernon, stop him!”

Vernon looked at his wife, then barreled into the room and grabbed Dudley’s bag by one of the straps. Dudley looked at his father with narrowed eyes.

”Dad, don’t do this,” he said to his father. “I’ve never lifted a hand to you once, even when you used to hit me. But I’ve got to do this, and I’m not going to let you stop me. I’ve never been there for Harry . . . he didn’t have anybody . . . but I thought he was okay because he was in his own world. But now, he’s in it, and he’s in trouble. Yes, he’s got people to help him, maybe, but he needs his family, and even if you don’t want to admit it, we’re his family. It’s time one of us starts acting like it. Now, let go of my bag, Dad, and let me pass.”

Father and son stood looking at each other, determination in Dudley’s blue eyes. Petunia stood in the doorway, biting her hand as they faced off.

”You’d . . . you’d hit your own father to go after him?” Vernon hissed, his eyes narrowing. “After all I’ve done for you, given you? Why, you ungrateful pup! Turncoat! Wizardlover! Go on then. Go on and get yourself killed. You’re not the son I raised. I don’t know who you are. Get out! GET OUT!”

Vernon angrily released the bag and watched as Dudley hoisted it over his shoulder and walked to the bedroom door, meeting his mother’s streaming eyes.

”Please, Dudley . . . don’t do this. You have no idea where to go, how to find him,” she said to her son, who kissed her cheek.

”I can always tell wizards and witches, Mum. They don’t dress right. All I have to do is walk around and look for people who don’t dress right, and ask some questions. Harry’s famous, remember? Someone will know what’s going on and where he is. Maybe he’s fine, and I’ll come back . . .”

”You won’t be coming back here!” Vernon snarled at him as Petunia sobbed.

”Well, I’ll see you sometime,” Dudley altered. Then he walked past his mum and out the door.

Petunia looked after him, then fainted, Vernon rushing to her side.

* * *

Dudley wandered around London for a while, stopping to get some fish and chips. He kept his eyes peeled as he turned down Charing Cross Road, in the very heart of London. There were quite a few people walking about and he saw a wizard in what looked like pajama bottoms, a red smoking jacket and a top hat.

”Bingo,” he thought, walking after the wizard quickly. He found it strange that no one else seemed to notice how odd the man looked as he moved through the people. Still, he followed him, trying to catch up.

Dudley watched as the wizard turned into a small, grubby-looking pub sandwiched between a book store and a record shop. He looked up at the sign.

The Leaky Cauldron.

Hm. That sounded like a place wizards and witches would congregate. Who else cared about cauldrons? Dudley entered and found himself in a dark, shabby pub. But it was crowded with people, all evidently having a good time. There were a number of tables and a bar. A handsome wooden staircase led up to another floor. Maybe there were rooms up there.

Dudley looked about. Many people were dressed in robes and pointed hats. They were smoking, drinking, playing cards and chatting. The place might be rather shabby-looking but there was a welcoming air about it.

”My, you’re a big one, aren’t you?” a sultry voice rang out.

Dudley looked down to see a witch with red hair, brown eyes, freckles and wearing a pointed hat looking up at him with a crooked smile. He reddened.

”Ah . . . “ he said, unable to form words. She was very pretty.

”And you have a way with words too,” she purred at him, flirting. She liked to flirt, even though her heart belonged to someone very special.

Dudley turned an even deeper crimson.

”I’m . . . I’m looking for Harry Potter,” he blurted out at her.

A few heads turned to look in his direction when he said this.

”I’m his cousin,” Dudley added.

Now, people began whispering, looking at him consideringly, some getting up and walking over to him.

An old wizard with sharp eyes walked up to Dudley, eyeing him. He certainly didn’t favor Harry Potter at all.

”Potter’s cousin, eh? A lot of people have tried to connect themselves with him to get some of the glory. How are you related?” he asked the young man.

The pub had become hushed as everyone eyed the strongly built young man with a bag thrown over his shoulder.

”His mother Lily Potter is . . . er . . . was my mother’s sister,” he said. “I just want to find out if he’s all right. We left Privet Drive a few months back, and he didn’t come with us. He was in some kind of danger and I’ve come to find out if he’s all right, or help him if I can.”

Everyone stared at Dudley. Didn’t he know that Harry didn’t need any help? He’d killed Voldemort, after all. What was wrong with him?

”Any wizard worth his salt knows that Harry Potter is fine,” the old man snapped. “Where have you been all these months? It’s the biggest news around.”

”Well, I’m not a wizard,” Dudley admitted, and now the room went completely silent as everyone looked at him in disbelief.

”What do you mean, you’re not a wizard? Of course you’re a wizard, or you wouldn’t have been able to walk into the Leaky Cauldron on your own. Muggles can’t see this place,” the old man told him. “They have to be escorted in.”

Dudley stared at him for a moment, then at everyone staring back at him. He blinked several times, then his bag slid off his shoulder and dropped heavily to the floor as he wavered.

”Quick! Somebody get him a chair before he topples like a tree!” the old wizard ordered.

A chair was brought and Dudley was helped into it.

”Get him a drink!”

Dudley felt a small glass pushed into his hand and quickly, without looking to see what it was, swallowed it down. He coughed madly, water streaming from his eyes as the Firewhisky burned its way down his throat and to his belly.

The old wizard chuckled as Dudley continued to cough and rasp.

”Guess that was his first Firewhisky,” he said to the crowd, who laughed in response, some patting Dudley on the back.

”Imagine that,” the redheaded witch mused to herself as she stared at the still-choking blond. Now, she knew who he was.

”Dudley Dursley. A wizard who doesn’t know he’s a wizard. Oh, I can’t wait to tell Harry this!” Ginny Weasley said with a broad smile.

* * *
A/N: I’ve always wondered about the promise Albus reminded Petunia about when they were going to throw Harry out of their house at Privet Drive. Then the idea of Dudley being a wizard came to me. Then I wondered, what if Dudley found out and had to enter the wizarding world? That sounded kind of interesting, so I started this story. This beginning chapter is actually a combination of shorts that I wrote. "One Day in the Park," "Murder at Godric's Hollow" and "Petunia's Promise." After reading them all again, I decided to put them together to form this starting chapter. It lends an interesting history to the story, I think. This will definitely be the longest chapter of the story. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 2 ~ Unwelcome News

Severus Snape, who was still recovering in St. Mungo’s from his close call with death via Nagini, read the newspaper headline with more than a little disgust.

Harry Potter’s Cousin Enters the Wizarding World.

The story gave a little background on how Dudley Dursley, a wizard who was raised as a Muggle, which was considered the equivalent of being raised in the wild by wolves, entered the wizarding world, searching for his cousin, Harry Potter, to assist in the fight against Voldemort. He was now sequestered at Hogwarts.

“Dear gods . . . not another one,” the Dark Arts teacher hissed to himself, staring at the muscular young man looking at the camera, his blue eyes somewhat bewildered as he stood surrounded by witches and wizards. “Well, it’s easy to see he’s a Gryffindor. More brawn than brains. I’ll be giving him a wide berth at any rate.”

Snape planned to return to his Dark Arts position. Hopefully, they’d get the boy a magical tutor or something. He was of graduation age.

Suddenly the door flew open and Snape shaded his eyes as if there were a sudden burst of sunlight.

”Hello, Professor Snape,” a bright, cheery voice called out. “How are you today?”

Snape’s pale hand slid from his eyes to the bridge of his nose, which he clasped in reaction.

”I am alive and enjoying my solitude, Miss Granger,” he snapped.

Hermione pulled up a chair, ignoring his reply and smiling at him. She had a Daily Prophet clasped in her hand.

”Have you seen the morning paper?” the witch asked him.

Hermione visited Snape several times a week as if he were her private charity case. No doubt she felt entitled, since it was she who returned to the Shrieking Shack and found him barely alive. She cauterized his wounds, fed him potions, and had him transported to St. Mungos.

”Yes, I’ve read the dismal news,” Snape said heavily.

”Isn’t it exciting? Harry’s cousin is a wizard,” Hermione gushed.

”It’s incredible,” Snape replied, making a face. “Incredible in that the boy has lived for almost eighteen years without recognizing he was a wizard. The thickness of his skull must be record-worthy. It’s easy to see he’s related to Potter.”

Hermione shook her head. Snape still acted as if he hated Harry, but she knew about the Pensieve and his memories. Well, he did nearly die still trying to protect him, so he was entitled to act the bastard.

”The Healers say you’ll be out tomorrow. Would you like me to straighten up your private quarters at Hogwarts so you’ll be comfortable?”

”No. Stay out of my blasted quarters. I want every cobweb, every speck of dust left in place! Do you hear me, Miss Granger? That is my domain and you will not encroach upon it as you’ve done here several times a week,” Snape snarled.

”All right. All right,” Hermione said in a soothing voice as if she were placating a surly child. Of course, this only served to piss Snape off more.

“And when I leave here, I expect us to go back to a normal teacher/student relationship. We are not friends, Miss Granger, despite you returning for me and saving my life.”

Hermione nodded.

”No, we aren’t friends, but you do owe me, you know,” she replied.

Snape looked at her in amazement.

”Owe you? What do you mean, owe you? I owe you nothing,” he snarled at her.

”Well, that depends on how you look at it, Professor. According to the rules of magic, you only owe me if I require it,” she responded, “and I do. You owe me a Life Debt, Professor Snape, and I’m calling you on it.”

Suddenly, magic swirled around the room. Snape looked outraged.

”A Life Debt . . . why you little conniving, manipulative . . .”

”Witch,” Hermione finished for him. “I’m a witch, Professor, and as one it’s my right to claim a Life Debt. But don’t worry, I don’t plan to turn you into my personal servant or anything.”

. . . and live, Snape thought furiously.

”I just want you to teach me certain spells and techniques related to the Dark Arts. Private tutoring for say, two years,” the Gryffindor said.

”I’m not a tutor! I am a tenured professor at Hogwarts,” Snape huffed.

”You’re a tutor now, unless you want that debt hanging over your head for years, never knowing when I’ll request something much worse of you,” Hermione purred at him.

Snape looked as if he were going to explode. He willed himself to calm.

”Our visit is over, Miss Granger. I don’t expect to see you again until I return to Hogwarts,” he said in a deceptively soft voice. One could feel the fury beneath it, however.

Hermione rose.

”Very well, Professor. I’ll be leaving now,” she said, rising with a smirk.

Snape’s dark eyes followed her until she left the room, then he let out a string of obscenities that wilted the small plant on the stand beside his cot.

”Damn that witch!” he snarled, tossing the Prophet on the floor and sullenly falling back on the cot.

He’d just gotten rid of his life debt concerning Harry. Now this? Shit.

The gods were against him. That was the only possible explanation.

* * *
A/N: Just a little look at the Potions master. I love Snape. :) Hermione's a manipulative little witch, isn't she? lol. Thanks for reading.

I do not own any of the HP characters and am not making any money from the writing of this fanfic.

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Chapter 3 ~ Dudley at Hogwarts

Harry watched as Minerva lowered the Sorting Hat on Dudley’s head. They were in her office, just the two young men and the Headmistress. From his portrait, Albus watched Petunia’s secret get blown wide open. Ah, well. He'd kept his promise until the very end. Petunia should have known the truth would come out one day.

Many years ago, there had been an incident at the zoo where Dudley tumbled into a snake’s cage, the glass disappearing as he pressed against it. Harry had been blamed for the incident, since it was known he had magic. Not even Petunia suspected that Dudley’s magic had manifested because he wanted to see the snake up close. Harry was completely innocent.

And the night the Dementors pursued them, Dudley had seen the black-robed creatures bearing down on them with his own eyes, although he had been too traumatized to actually describe to anyone the terrible sight he saw. He never spoke of them again, having no idea only magical folk could discern them.

Harry watched as the hat was set on Dudley’s head. The young man was sitting on a stool, still wearing the bewildered expression he donned at the Leaky Cauldron. He had some idea of what was going on . . . he knew he was supposed to be a wizard, but not much else had sunk in, yet.

The hat began to speak and move. The moment it did, Dudley leapt up, tore it from his head, and threw it into a corner.

”Oh my gods!” Minerva screamed, running after the writhing hat as Dudley stared at it in horrified fascination. Harry was too shocked to say anything as Minerva picked it up, dusted it off and looked at Dudley with disapproval.

”Young man, we do not treat the Sorting Hat in such a manner. It has been here for centuries,” she said tightly.

”But . . . it talked and it . . . it squirmed on my head,” Dudley responded rather accusingly, looking at the dirty old hat with disgust. “It felt horrid.”

The hat did feel rather creepy when it moved. It was a lot like being touched in the wrong way.

”It is supposed to speak and move. How else could it tell what house you are supposed to be in?” the Headmistress snapped at Dudley, who shrugged his big shoulders. He was the last person that should be asked that kind of question.

”Now, you sit there, Mr. Dursley, or I’ll petrify you in place!” Minerva threatened, approaching him with the hat again.

Dudley’s blue eyes shifted toward Harry, who splayed his hands in a “There’s nothing I can do” display. Dudley sat back down and watched as Minerva approached with the now squirming hat. He closed his eyes as she set it on his head.

”Not too bright, this one,” the hat said immediately. Whether or not it was angry about being thrown across the room was anyone’s guess. “But he’s fair-minded, loyal, patient and hard-working."

Harry blinked at this assessment of Dudley. He had never done work a day in his life, growing up, and he certainly wasn’t fair-minded in any manner, and threw tantrums all the time when he had to wait for anything. Had the hat lost its edge?

But, the hat was right about Dudley. He had taken up boxing while in Smeltings and was quite good at it, but it required discipline and restraint. At first, he was rather a bully, but the coach straightened him out, and told him he needed to lose the fat and get muscle mass if he wanted to be the best he could be. So, for the first time in his life, Dudley followed a structured program and thrived under it. He had to learn to be patient, because results wouldn’t happen overnight, and he had to work out everyday, focusing on areas of his body. Ego and self-importance had to go out of the window. The best athletes were humble and not full of themselves. So, yes, Dudley had changed, not only outwardly, but inwardly. He learned how important support was and that realization carried over to his cousin, Harry, who had never received any support.

Besides, the night Harry fought off the Dementors and saved his life, Dudley saw first hand the evil that existed in Harry’s world and how brave Harry really was. He’d been traumatized, but he learned to appreciate Harry that night. Whereas his parent laid blame, Dudley didn’t feel that way after he’d thought about it for a while. Harry was all right.

”Hufflepuff!” the hat announced.

Minerva looked a bit disappointed, but Harry didn’t. Dudley had never been too bright. But it was commonly thought Hufflepuffs weren’t bright, when in fact they were. True, they weren’t showy or overbearing, but they were good, solid students, most of whom thought before they acted.

”What’s a Hufflepuff?” Dudley asked Harry as the squicky hat was removed from his blond head.

”Well,” Harry explained as Minerva summoned Professor Sprout via the Floo, ”Hufflepuff is the house you belong in. There are other students there that have the same qualities you do. Anyone who stays there is called a Hufflepuff.”

”The name sucks,” Dudley observed, getting off the stool and tossing his head side to side. His thick neck cracked, and Harry blinked at him.

”Don’t let Professor Sprout hear you say that if you want to get off to a good start, young man,” Minerva said disapprovingly. “Your house’s namesake, Helga Hufflepuff, was an amazing witch. She is well respected and one of the founders of Hogwarts."

”You probably would have appreciated her more when you were still fat, Dudley,” Harry said, unable to help himself taking a little dig at his cousin. Dudley was on his turf now. “She was great at food-related magic.”

Dudley stared at Harry for a moment, then shrugged.

Harry hadn’t had a chance to sit down and talk with Dudley yet, but he had gotten the news from Ginny by owl about him entering the Leaky Cauldron on his own, looking for him. Harry had dropped down on his bed in shock.

Ginny had Apparated with Dudley to the gates of Hogwarts from Diagon Alley, which was quite a jump for a first-time Apparator, and Dudley promptly expelled his fish and chips meal when they arrived. He’d felt like he was being crushed to death, then dragged through space before the sensations stopped. It had been disorienting, but not painful, really. Sort of like being caught between two walls and pulled through them.

Ginny took him straight to the Headmistress, who summoned Harry. The cousins only had the opportunity to greet each other. Minerva wanted to get him sorted and into his house. Dudley wasn’t even sure he wanted to attend Hogwarts, but Minerva didn’t bother asking him. Of course he wanted to attend the premiere wizarding school in the magical world. Who wouldn’t?

Now, they stood in Minerva’s office, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry wanted to get some kind of information from Dudley before he was whisked off. So, he asked him why he went to the Leaky Cauldron.

”I—I wanted to find you, Harry. To see if you were all right,” Dudley admitted, looking at the floor and reddening at this admission. “You’re my only cousin, you know.”

Harry stared at Dudley, just as amazed as when he shook his hand and thanked him for saving his life the night they departed from Privet Drive.

”But that was dangerous, Dudley. You didn’t know what was going on,” Harry said to him. “I could have been in a lot of trouble.”

”That’s why I came,” Dudley replied, “to see—to see if I could help you, Harry. I didn’t like the way Mum and Dad just abandoned you like that. It wasn’t right.”

“Dudley, did you drop barbells on your head or something?” Harry asked, trying to come to terms with this—this very different Dudley Dursley. One who seemed to actually care about him.

"No, I didn’t drop barbells on my head!” Dudley snapped at him. “You’re just as bad as Mum and Dad, Harry. Can’t I check up on you if I want? We’re family.”

When Dudley said this, Harry felt a tightening in his chest. Yes, they were family, but Harry had never felt it because of how they came up. He had always felt alone in the world up to this point. The Dursleys were just—caretakers, or that’s what they felt like, and reluctant caretakers at that. To hear Dudley say they were family, and obviously mean it, made Harry feel like jelly inside.

Minerva’s eyes filled a little at Dudley’s simple statement. Harry had felt alone for so long. It was wonderful he was connecting with his cousin. Everyone needed family. Yes, a lot of people loved Harry Potter and cared for him, but there was something special about a blood relative, and finally Harry had that.

Albus’ portrait also watched the pair with watery blue eyes. At last, Harry and Dudley were on equal ground, and the boy who lived had the family connection he’d always longed for. This was wonderful.

”Yeah, we are family,” Harry agreed, looking away from Dudley for a moment and blinking rapidly. “Thanks for looking for me, Dudley.”

There was an awkward silence between the cousins. This was all so new for them. It would take a little time to get settled into their new roles. It was too bad Dudley wasn’t a Gryffindor. The bonding would probably go much faster if he had been.

Minerva sat down at her desk briskly, shuffling through a few parchments.

”Mr. Dursley, about your tuition,” she said to the young man, “how to you intend to pay for it?”

Dudley stared at her. There was no way his father would pay for him to attend wizarding school. In fact, Vernon might disown him completely, once he found out he was one of “them.”

Harry was thinking the same thing.

”I’ll pay for it, Headmistress,” Harry offered.

Dursley looked at Harry with wide eyes.

”How can you pay for it, Harry? You’re a student, too,” his cousin said to him.

Harry grinned.

”Yeah, I am. But I’m a rich student, Dudley. I have lots of money. My parents left it to me. That’s why Uncle Vernon never had to pay for me coming to Hogwarts,” Harry told him. “I’m bloody loaded.”

Harry had never talked about his money to anyone before. He liked having it, but believed it would be like bragging. He never spent much of it either, just mostly for school supplies. But he liked telling Dudley this, not to brag, but to let him know he could help him out.

”You’re—rich?” Dudley stammered. “Dad will have a cow when he finds out.”

Harry’s smile grew even broader.

”I know,” he said. “He’ll be thinking about all the room and board fees he missed out on.”

Dudley chuckled. Harry was right. His father was going to be furious.

“Well, I’ll pay you back, Harry,” Dudley promised, glad he wouldn’t have to go to his father. Since he was a wizard, he might as well find out what he could do, and Hogwarts would teach him.

”That’s settled then. There’s the matter of you getting a wand . . .” Minerva said.

”I’ll take him to Ollivander’s,” Harry said quickly. “He’ll get one.”

Minerva nodded.

”Now, because Mr. Dursley has absolutely no background in magic at all, he’s going to have to take remedial courses. In other words, you’re going to have to take first year classes, Mr. Dursley, which means you’ll be the oldest wizard in the class.”

Not to mention the biggest.

Harry looked down at the floor to hide his grin, imagining huge Dudley trying to squeeze into a first year desk, and it catching around his waist so when he stood up, it rose with him. Oh, this was going to be rich.

“Perhaps you could tutor him as well, Harry. If he catches on quickly, we’ll be able to move him up in grades by examination,” the witch suggested.

”Yeah, I’ll teach him, and I’m sure Hermione will help him with the academic parts,” Harry said, smiling at Dudley rather evilly.

Hermione would love it. She’d bring her whip.

Dudley’s brow furrowed. That name was a bit familiar. Hermione.

”And eventually, he’ll need a broom,” Minerva continued.

Dudley’s eyes went wide for a moment.

”A broom? What do I need a broom for? Will I be cleaning around here?”

Harry and Minerva laughed.

”No, it’s for flying, Dudley. We get about on brooms,” Harry told him.

Images of hook-nosed hags flying on brooms past the face of the full moon filled Dudley’s head.

”Flying? I don’t know if I want to fly, Harry. I can catch a bus or something if I want to get around,” Dudley replied uncertainly.

Harry chuckled. He wanted to tell Dudley not to be a pussy, but he couldn’t say that in front of the Headmistress.

”Well—if you’re scared, Dudley . . .” he said.

”I’m not scared—I just don’t see a need for a broom,” his cousin retorted.

”You’re a wizard. Wizards have brooms. It’s—tradition,” Harry replied. “You want to be a proper wizard, don’t you?”

Harry was imagining what it would be like to see Dudley on a broom for the first time. He was sure it would be hilarious.

”I guess so,” Dudley said resignedly.

”So, we’ll get you a broom. Don’t worry—it’s easy,” Harry lied. “I caught on like that.”

He snapped his fingers. Dudley brightened a little. If Harry caught on easily, maybe he would too. Of course, Vernon was no Seeker like Harry’s father had been. Actually, there probably hadn’t been a broom made that could hold Vernon’s bulk. It would have to be customized.

”Okay,” Dudley agreed.

Suddenly, the door to Minerva’s office opened and in walked Professor Sprout. She was a squat little witch, with rather wild gray hair pushed under a patched pointed hat. Her fingernails were a bit dirty and her robes were . . . earthy looking. But she had a pleasant, motherly look about her as she smiled at Dudley.

”This is Professor Sprout, Mr. Dursley. She teaches Herbology and is Hufflepuff’s Head of House. She’ll be taking you there,” Minerva said by way of introduction.

”Ah, my newest Hufflepuff,” Pomona said to the young man, looking him up and down. “A big one, too. You’ll be a great help moving my larger plants about that are sensitive to magic. Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Dursley, and to Hufflepuff house.”

Dudley blinked at her.

”Ah, thank you?” he responded as Harry grinned.

Having Dudley at Hogwarts was going to be a hoot.

****************************
A/N: Just felt like adding a chapter to this story. Thanks for reading.

I do not own any of the HP characters and am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter 4 ~ Figuring Things Out

“You know, Harry, I find it really strange that Dudley never received a letter from Hogwarts. I mean, you lived in the same house with him. How couldn’t they know there were two wizards there?” Hermione said to Harry as they sat in the common room discussing how weird it was Dudley was a wizard.

Harry shrugged.

”I don’t know. Maybe his magic isn’t that strong,” he suggested.

”I don’t doubt that,” Ron chimed in. “It was probably buried under all that fat. He was nearly as wide as he was tall.”

Hermione scowled at Ron.

”Fat wouldn’t dampen his magic, Ron. That’s ridiculous,” she snapped at him.

”I don’t know, Hermione. You didn’t see how fat he was. There were layers of it. Flaps, rolls, everything. I don’t know how he managed to get it all off. It looked like someone had cast a huge Engorgio spell on him,” Ron replied, spreading his arms and inflating his cheeks for emphasis.

”It doesn’t make a difference. His being fat wouldn’t dampen his magic. There are plenty of obese wizards and witches,” she said firmly, looking thoughtful. “It’s like he was just—ignored for some reason.”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he remembered his Aunt Petunia receiving an owl that brought her a mysterious Howler. And the message that boomed through the house . . .

Remember my last, Petunia!

And how his aunt told Vernon that he would have to stay with them when the angry Muggle had wanted to throw him out into the street. He had asked her if she were in touch with wizards, and both she and Vernon ordered him to go to bed. He never found out who the owl was from. But it meant something.

Muggles didn’t usually receive owls unless they had a magical child. But then again, Harry stayed there, too. He had initially thought she received the owl because of him. But—what if it wasn’t because of him? What if it was because of Dudley?

Remember my last, Petunia!

It had sounded like a threat as well as an admonishment. But what wizard could threaten his aunt? And threaten her with what?

Then, he also remembered when Albus came to the Dursleys’ house and told them they had mistreated Dudley. Dudley. The most pampered git on the face of the earth. Harry had always wondered what the old wizard had meant by that. And wondered about how oddly Aunt Petunia had flushed when Dumbledore asked that he be allowed back at their home one more time before his seventeenth birthday. It was really noticeable and seemed—out of place, somehow. It was as if her reaction ran deeper than it should.

Suddenly, Harry knew.

He knew.

”Hermione,” Harry said slowly, his eyes dark. “I think you might be right. I think someone knew Dudley was a wizard, but ignored him. And I think I know why.”

Hermione and Ron looked at him with interest.

”Well, spit it out,” Ron urged.

”Have you ever wondered why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept me? I mean, I was family, but they clearly didn’t want me there. I wondered why they didn’t just send me to an orphanage. It would have been easier. It’s not like they loved me or anything. What if, if Aunt Petunia knew Dudley was a wizard, and made an agreement with Dumbledore not to reveal it in exchange for raising me?”

”That’s quite a stretch, Harry,” Hermione said.

”But, it makes sense. She knew what Dementors were, and when Voldemort came back, she was really terrified. And then she got that threatening Howler when Uncle Vernon was about to throw me out. And Dumbledore said himself that they ‘mistreated’ Dudley. Dudley was pampered all his life. How else could they mistreat him other than hiding his magic from him? I’m not sure if Uncle Vernon knew. I don’t think he did or else he wouldn’t have talked about wizards so badly. Aunt Petunia called us ‘freaks’ but never really said much more than that. I really think she knew Dudley was a wizard and with the Headmaster’s help, hid it from everyone.

”Oh, that would be awful, Harry,” Hermione breathed.

”Yeah, raising a wizard like a Muggle. Isn’t that a crime or something?” Ron interjected, frowning slightly.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look but didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t make a difference. Ron was so thick.

”I need to talk to the Headmaster’s portrait,” Harry said, “and find out if this is true or not. If it’s true, I’m going to have to tell Dudley.”

Both Hermione and Ron blinked at him.

”Do you have to, Harry? I mean, it could ruin his relationship with his mother,” Hermione said. “Maybe you shouldn’t interfere. I mean, he knows he’s a wizard now.”

Harry sighed.

”You know, I was blamed for a lot of stuff that happened to Dudley, like when he fell into that snake pit, and the Dementors going after him. Dudley believed I did that stuff to him. What if his own magic removed the glass and made one of the Dementors go after him rather than both stay on me? I could be cleared.”

”Harry, that happened ages ago,” Hermione argued. “I don’t see any reason why you should tell Dudley, even if his mother did know and hid the truth from him. She probably thought she was protecting him.”

“Well, I think you should tell him, Harry, if it’s true. He has a right to know his mum hid his heritage from him,” Ron said, frowning. “I know I’d be madder than a wet phoenix if my mum made me into a Muggle.”

Hermione scowled at Ron, then looked at Harry, willing him to see her point. Enough lives had been ruined over the years. Telling Dudley about this wouldn’t serve anything good.

”Harry, if you do this—not only might you ruin Dudley’s relationship with his mum, but you might cause trouble in his parents’ marriage. From what I know about your uncle, he’s not a very understanding man. They could divorce,” Hermione said to him. “Think about that. Do you really want to do that to them?”

No, Harry didn’t. But he felt Dudley should know the truth. He’d want to know something like that.

”I need to talk to Dumbledore. It could be I’m completely wrong and for some reason Dudley’s powers didn’t show up until now. But I want to find out. If I’m right, I’ll decide what to do then,” Harry said.

Hermione fell silent. It would be an awful situation if what Harry surmised was true. She wouldn’t blame Dudley for being furious, but she wasn’t sure that Harry should be the one to tell him. It would be different if he figured it out for himself.

At that very moment, Dudley was in his room in Hufflepuff house, staring at himself in the mirror and thinking about this strange, new development. He wanted to be by himself for a bit before he met the other students. He needed to try and sort this out.

He was a wizard.

A wizard.

How could that possibly be? His parents weren’t magical. They were normal. Still, his mum’s sister had been a witch, and his grandparents had been normal people too. So, maybe non-magical people could have magical children. Maybe his mum carried the gene or something. Like a latent disease, and his dad too. Vernon would go berserk at the very thought that HE were tainted. No doubt, he’d blame his mum, because her sister was a witch. Yes, his father would blame her for ‘infecting’ him with magic.

Now he was at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in Harry’s world, a part of it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Dudley had always been secretly envious of Harry having magic, although he wouldn’t dare tell his parents that. It was cool to be able to do things normal people couldn’t. That might have been part of the reason Dudley picked on him so much, because he was jealous, and knew Harry couldn’t use his powers on him. Or wouldn’t.

“Does you needs anything, sir?” a squeaky voice said out of the blue.

Startled, Dudley spun around and looked around the room, seeing nothing.

“Down here, sir,” the voice said.

Dudley looked down and saw a little creature looking up at him. It had huge bat-like ears, big, protuberant brown eyes, and an abysmally long nose. It had on some kind of towel or something, and seemed to cringe slightly as it looked up at him.

”Arrrrgh! A monster!” Dudley yelled, leaping from in front of the dresser straight into his bed that rested against the wall, where he huddled in the corner, horrified.

The elf looked around the room.

”Is no monster here, young master. Just me, Arrowtail. I is a house-elf,” the elf informed him.

”Get out of my room!” Dudley blustered at it. “I don’t bloody care what you are!”

The house-elf winked out immediately.

Dudley slowly uncurled, looking around the room to make sure the little whatever-it-was, was gone. He let out a long breath, then climbed out of the bed. He had nearly pissed himself.

”Damn, this place is bloody weird,” he muttered, checking under the bed for more house elves. He checked the wardrobe too, and his tiny bathroom.

But, his troubles weren’t over yet. When he walked out of the bathroom, he froze, petrified. There, standing in the middle of his room was a fat, pearly man, with a fringe haircut and wearing a ghostly frock, tied with a rope. Dudley could see straight through him.

”Welcome to Hufflepuff house. I’m the Fat Friar, the residential ghost,” the Fat Friar said, introducing himself to the new student.

”ARRRRRGH!” Dudley screamed again, flying into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. He stood there, panting and holding the door with his hands as if that would help keep the ghost out if it wanted to come in.

This time, he did piss himself.

* * *

”How was your first night at Hogwarts, Dudley?” Hermione asked Harry’s cousin as they all walked to breakfast. Harry, Ron and Hermione had waited by the still life painting for Dudley to emerge from Hufflepuff house, which was near the kitchens and at dungeon level. Dudley was wearing a grey sweat suit with his Hufflepuff tie around his thick neck. He hadn’t gotten his robes yet. He had bags under his eyes and yawned a couple of times.

”It was awful,” Dudley said, frowning. “I couldn’t sleep at all, watching out for ghosts and little monsters.”

Ron and Harry tried not to laugh, but burst out in hysterics anyway, falling against the walls and using them for support. Both Hermione and Dudley scowled at their hilarity.

”You could have told me there were ghosts and monsters here, Harry,” Dudley groused as Harry lifted his glasses and wiped at his wet eyes. Ron was standing with his knees tightly clenched together, swearing he was going to piss himself if Dudley said another word.

“There are ghosts here, Dudley, but they aren’t really the scary kind. They are a part of Hogwarts and help protect the castle,” Hermione explained. “They’re just like everyone else—except they’re dead. And there aren’t any monsters at Hogwarts . . .”

Hermione paused as she frowned at Ron.

”Unless you count Ron,” she said witheringly.

”Hey!” Ron exclaimed indignantly.

Hermione ignored him.

”I think you saw a house-elf. Was it little with big eyes and ears?” she asked Dudley.

”Yeah, that’s exactly what I saw,” he told her, shuddering a little as they all started walking again.

”Yes. That was a house-elf. They’re servants here at Hogwarts. It probably came to see if you needed anything. They’ll bring you what you want, as long as it’s nothing illegal. Food, drinks—anything. They’re harmless.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, Hermione,” he said, then frowned at a smiling Harry. “At least someone around here will keep a bloke on the up and up.”

”Speaking about the up and up, I need to schedule some time with you, Dudley, to start working on your academics. There’s a lot you need to learn if you want to get out of those first year classes. I’m just the one who can help you,” Hermione said, looking a bit teacher-like.

“She’ll have facts and figures dripping out of your ears, Duds, believe me,” Ron said in warning.

Dudley didn’t want to be in a class full of first years any longer than necessary.

”All right,” he said as they walked up the stairs and into the entrance hall. “We’ll do it as soon as—”

Suddenly, Dudley stopped speaking, staring at someone passing in front of them.

”What—who—is that?” he asked in nearly a whisper as Potions master Severus Snape billowed by, black eyes narrowed, and large hooked nose in what seemed to be a perpetual wrinkle. His lank black hair barely moved as he walked, and students all cleared out of the way as he approached, giving him a wide berth as he pulled open the doors of the Great Hall and entered.

“That,” Ron said, “is the greasy git of the dungeons, better known as Professor Severus Snape. He’s the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. You’ll meet him soon enough, thanks to Hermione. He’s going to love you.”

Hermione frowned at Ron’s description of the professor.

Dudley stared at the door. Professor Snape was the creepiest person he’d seen in a long time. Then what Ron said about his meeting him thanks to Hermione sunk in.

”What do you mean ‘thanks to Hermione?’” he asked Ron.

”Oh, I saved him when he was bitten by a snake,” Hermione said nonchalantly.

”And so, several more generations of Hogwarts students will suffer for it,” Ron added, dodging a punch aimed at his shoulder by Hermione.

Harry just smirked. No matter how much of a hero Snape was, Ron would always hate him. It was just one of those things.

”What kind of snake?” Dudley asked, interested as they approached the Great Hall.

”Voldemort’s snake, Nagini. Voldemort sicced it on him,” Harry said. “She was huge, but she’s dead now.”

”That evil wizard that was after you?” Dudley asked, feeling a little cold inside.

”Yeah, that’s him. But he’s dead too,” Harry replied, pulling open the door.

”Yeah, Harry killed him,” Ron piped in as Dudley’s eyes rounded.

”You—you killed someone, Harry?” he asked his cousin.

”I had to, Dudley,” Harry replied as they entered the Great Hall. All eyes were on Dudley, and chuckles arose at the way he was dressed. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Dudley started to follow them to the Gryffindor table, when Hermione stopped him.

”You have to sit at the Hufflepuff table, Dudley. We eat with our housemates,” she told him, pointing to the Hufflepuff table.

”Oh, all right. But, I need to get to ‘Charms’ after breakfast,” he said, somewhat disappointed he couldn’t sit with Harry and his friends.

”We’ll walk you there,” Harry promised. “I’ll talk to you later, Dudley.”

”Bye, Duddikins,” Ron quipped, heading for the table.

”I’ll see you later, Dudley. But, I have to tell you, it’s nice having another Muggle-born at Hogwarts,” Hermione said to him with a smile.

Dudley didn’t know what a ‘Muggle-born’ was, but nodded, then turned and headed for his house table. His fellow students made room for him good-naturedly and began to introduce themselves.

* * *
A/N: Felt like writing another chapter. Lol. Dudley’s big, but he’s not very courageous is he? But you can’t blame him. He’s not used to house elves and ghosts. Harry and Ron are just terrible. :::shakes head::: Lol at his reaction to Severus. Thanks for reading.

I do not own any of the HP characters and am making no money in the writing of this fanfic.

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Chapter 5 ~ First Year Charms

“Now, Dudley,” Hermione said as they walked him to first year Charms, trailed by several other young students on their way to the class as well. “I want to prepare you for Professor Flitwick. You see, he’s a little . . . “

”Tough on students,” Harry cut in, grinning.

Hermione frowned at him, then looked back at Dudley.

”That’s not what I was going to say,” she said. “Professor Flitwick is short . . .”

”On patience but long on wind,” Ron interjected. “Gods, Hermione, stop trying to tell Dudders everything. Let him be a man and discover some things on his own.”

”Yeah, Hermione,” Harry said, smiling rather evilly.

Hermione looked reproachful as she responded to Harry and Ron.

”But, Dudley’s never seen . . .”

”I know. First year Charms class. He’ll get through it, Hermione,” Harry said furrowing his eyebrows at her. “He’s a big boy.”

”That’s not what I’m talking about. He needs to know about the professor before he sees him,” Hermione said, “because Professor Flitwick is . . .”

Suddenly Ron caught her by the arm.

”Come on, I’ll walk you to Advanced Arithmancy,” the redhead said as Hermione struggled.

”Ron! You Neanderthal! You let me go right now!” she yelled at him.

Ron let her go for about two seconds before he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder.

”You know you love my ‘caveman’ approach,” he said to her with a rakish grin.

Hermione and Ron were an item. It was a rather strange match, and Hermione gave him what for constantly, but . . . there was something there. Exactly what was a mystery.

”Oh! You oaf!” Hermione seethed, kicking her legs and beating Ron on his back ineffectively as he said goodbye to Harry and Dudley and carried her away.

She wasn’t going to ruin this for Harry.

The first years behind them laughed as Hermione was toted away, protesting and calling Ron every kind of prat there was.

Dudley looked after them, then at Harry.

”Does he always treat her like that?” Dudley asked.

Harry shook his head.

”No, not always. Sometimes he’s worse,” Harry responded. “But they go out, so Hermione must not mind that much.”

Dudley looked amazed.

”They go out? Wow. I wouldn’t have thought it by the way they talk to each other,” he said, looking perplexed. “She seems so smart. And Ron, well, he’s a git.”

Harry laughed.

”I can’t explain the attraction, Dudley, so don’t ask me,” the boy who lived said, stopping in front of a classroom. “Wait here.”

Harry entered the Charms classroom first, followed by the first years. He looked around but Professor Flitwick wasn’t there. He hadn’t been at breakfast either, so Dudley hadn’t seen him yet. Harry really wanted to be there when he did.

”Drat,” Harry hissed, walking back out the classroom. He was going to have to miss Dudley fainting or something, because he had to go to class.

”The professor isn’t there yet, Dudley. I had wanted to introduce you—but I have to get to class. So just go in,” Harry said a bit sullenly. “I’ll see you later.”

Harry walked off, his shoulders slumping a little. Dudley blinked after him. Harry had seemed very disappointed about such a little thing as not introducing him to a teacher. Why would he do that anyway? New students didn’t need to be introduced to teachers.

Harry was either really overprotective or just plain weird. Dudley believed it was the second choice. He walked into the classroom.

Hufflepuffs shared classes with Ravenclaws, and several youngsters of that house looked at Dudley with curious stares as he walked in and looked down at the little desks. They were the kind with an open front so books could be slid inside. The chairs were tiny too.

”What are you doing in here?” one of the Ravenclaw students asked him, her little face frowned up distastefully. Her name was Celeste Trial. She had long blonde hair, blue-green eyes and attitude.

But her having attitude was no surprise. First year Ravenclaws were usually arrogant little know-it-alls. They became less obnoxious over time, once they understood they weren’t the only brilliant people on the face of the earth.

”I’m taking this class,” Dudley replied as the Ravenclaws all looked at each other then back at Dudley. The Hufflepuffs frowned at them.

”Wow, you must be really stupid,” said another student, a boy named Sylvan Cudlow, who had brown hair and matching eyes

“He’s not stupid!” one of Dudley’s little housemates, Evan Diddles, chirped up in his defense. “He’s a new wizard. He doesn’t know anything about magic. He has to start somewhere!”

The Ravenclaws all laughed, and Sylvan said, “He didn’t know he was a wizard? That proves he’s dumb as a rock.”

Dudley glowered at the smug little prat. Would it be horrible if he picked the little wanker up and turned him upside down for a bit? Probably, but Dudley was tempted to do it anyway.

”Where’s he going to sit? He’s huge,” another Ravenclaw asked, gawking at the muscular wizard.

”Not next to me,” Celeste said, shifting her desk over for emphasis.

”He’ll sit next to me,” Evan declared, looking up at Dudley, who blinked down at the pudgy little wizard. As far as he could see, he couldn’t sit anywhere comfortably.

”The desks are too small,” Dudley said to Evan.

”Duh,” Celeste said witheringly, making her housemates laugh.

Dudley didn’t know what to do. He was being picked on by first years. He couldn’t grab them and put them into headlocks or anything. He just had to take it.

Evan frowned at Celeste.

”If I was allowed, I’d fix it for him. I know the Gorgio spell,” Evan shot at the witch, whose blonde eyebrows rose.

”The ‘Gorgio’ spell?” she repeated, trying to keep a straight face as the other first year Ravenclaws chuckled.

”Yeah, the Gorgio spell,” Evan said rather proudly, waving his wand about importantly.

Dudley just listened. He had no idea what a Gorgio spell was.

Suddenly, the Ravenclaws all gathered around Celeste and some serious whispering went on. They separated, every one of the students looking at Evan with challenge in their eyes.

”I bet you can’t do it,” Celeste said tauntingly. “You’re just saying you know that spell. You don’t.”

”But I do!” Evan declared.

”So cast it on the desk,” Celeste said, pointing to the desk in front of Dudley. “You can change it back before Flitwick comes, unless, you’re lying.”

”I’m not!” Evan said, although he looked a little hesitant.

”So, show us, Hufflepuff,” Sylvan demanded.

”Fine, I will,” Evan said, rolling up his little robe sleeves and pointing his wand at the desk. Dudley looked on, fascinated. It was going to be the first display of wand magic he’d seen since coming to Hogwarts.

Evan made a series of choppy wand motions as he focused on the desk.

”Gorgio!” he cried.

A dark green burst of light emerged from the tip of the shocked little wizard’s wand and bathed the desk in magic. Dudley backed up as the desk began to shudder and grow.

”See!” Evan cried victoriously. “I told you I could do it!”

”That shouldn’t have worked. The proper spell is ‘Engorgio’ not ‘Gorgio,’” Celeste said, wide-eyed as the desk doubled in size. Dudley would definitely be able to fit his legs under it. Then the green light faded and everyone stared at the desk.

Suddenly, it let out a roar, the open part forming a mouth, and it ran forward on its legs straight at Dudley as the other students screamed and fled, turning chairs and desks over.

”Help!” Dudley cried as the vicious desk pursued him around the classroom, apparently oriented on the biggest thing there, which was him.

Desperately, the first years fired “Finite Incantatum” spells at the desk, but they had no effect.

”I’m dead,” Evan groaned as Dudley leapt up on Professor Flitwick’s desk. It was no help, however, because the animated desk climbed up on it using its front legs, and the mouth grabbed Dudley by the foot.

”AAAAARGH!” Dudley screamed, kicking at it with his other foot as the little witches and wizards continued to try and hex it off of him.

”Wingardium Leviosa!” Celeste cried.

Suddenly, the desk floated up into the air, taking Dudley with it. He found himself hanging upside down by his ankle, dangling about five feet from the floor.

”Oh, that helped a lot!” he hissed at Celeste, who shrugged.

She had tried.

”What in the world is going on in here?” a rather squeaky voice demanded.

The students all scuttled away from the dangling Dudley, straightening out the scattered desks and sitting down quickly, trying to look angelic.

Next thing he knew, Dudley was slowly floating down to the floor. When he touched ground, the desk released his foot, becoming inanimate again. Professor Flitwick lowered the desk to the floor and walked up to Dudley, who was gingerly feeling his ankle. It was sore, but not broken.

”Are you all right, young man?” Flitwick asked him.

Dudley looked to see who had addressed him and found himself eye to eye with what was the smallest man he’d ever seen. He had a shock of white hair, wore a rather worn pointed hat and looked absolutely ancient. But, he was perfectly proportioned. He didn’t look like a dwarf—just a very small human being.

Dudley couldn’t answer him. He’d never seen anyone this small before and his tongue seemed as if it were attached to the roof of his mouth. Flitwick cocked his head at him.

”You must be Mr. Dursley,” the diminutive wizard said. “I am Professor Flitwick, your Charms professor. Are you hurt?”

Dudley shook his head, still unable to speak.

”Good. I suggest you pick yourself up then and take a seat,” Flitwick said, pointing his wand at the closest desk and chair and wordlessly enlarging them. He then walked to the front of the class, around his desk and climbed up the pile of books on his chair and settled in.

Dudley got up and walked over to the desk and chair Flitwick had charmed to fit him and sat down.

Flitwick scowled at the class.

”Obviously, someone cast a spell they had no business casting, and erroneously at that. Now, who was it?” he asked the class.

All the Ravenclaws pointed at Evan, who sank down in his seat.

”Mr. Diddles. What spell were you trying to cast and why?” the professor asked him, frowning slightly.

”I was casting the Gorgio spell, Professor. I wanted to make a desk larger so Dudley could sit down,” the boy replied, his face red.

Flitwick clucked his tongue.

”Mr. Diddles, the spell you wanted to use is called the ‘Engorgio’ spell. Because of the mispronunciation, you invoked the ‘Gorgio’ spell, a spell that makes whatever object you charm grow larger and ravenously hungry. Mr. Dursley is lucky the desk did not sprout teeth. You will report to me this evening for detention.”

Evan dropped his head.

”Yes, sir,” he muttered, shifting his eyes toward Celeste, who was smiling at him nastily. She had known he was mispronouncing the word, but she hadn’t known Gorgio was a real spell. She thought nothing would happen.

Flitwick looked at Dudley, who was looking at Evan. He had only been trying to help him, poor little guy.

”Mr. Dursley, you have just received your first lesson in Charms, and that is not to cast a spell unless you know what you’re doing,” Flitwick said to him.

Dudley nodded. Flitwick pointed his wand at a bookshelf on his left and a book pulled itself out of the shelving and floated over to Dudley’s desk, dropping down on it.

”Now, open your books to page forty-one, The Proper Pronunciations of Spells,” the professor directed.

Dudley and the rest of the students did as he asked. If the young man hadn’t nearly been devoured by a ravenous desk, his reaction to Flitwick might have been more pronounced. But a little man was light action compared to a desk that had been brought to life by magic. So, his reaction was rather muted.

Still, what an introduction to Charms.

Harry would piss his trousers with laughter when he found out what happened to his cousin. Ron would probably pass out completely from lack of oxygen, unable to inhale properly because of hysterics.

Of course, Hermione wouldn’t find it funny at all and yell at the both of them. But that didn’t matter.

Dudley was nearly better entertainment than a Quidditch match.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter. Thanks for reading.

I do not own any of the HP characters and am making no money in the writing of this fanfic.

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Chapter 6 ~ Friday Night’s Happenings

The rest of Dudley’s day wasn’t as exciting as Charms, but he found it interesting. His first year curriculum included Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions and Transfiguration.

Not every class was daily, however. Most were every other day, with the exception of Astronomy, which was once a week, at midnight. And he had one study period each day. His DADA class had fallen on Thursday, and today was Friday, so, he missed meeting Snape face to face. He’d cross that moat on Monday. He did go to Charms, Herbology and the History of Magic class, staring at Professor Binns the entire time as his classmates nodded around him. A ghost for a teacher? Wow. And he had never seen plants like the ones Professor Sprout was breeding.

Dudley was fast learning to expect the unexpected. When Peeves zipped by him, pursued by a number of irate and rather wet wand-waving Slytherins, he only batted his eyes a few times, and his jaw didn’t drop nearly as low as it should have.

Little Evan Diddles had latched on to Dudley, and the seventh-year didn’t mind. Evan was a chubby little wizard, with black neatly cut hair, big rosy cheeks and guileless blue eyes. He was very friendly and helpful. He showed Dudley where to go for the rest of the day.

However, after supper Dudley recounted the desk incident to the Gryffindors, and as expected, Harry and Ron nearly died of laughter, Hermione hissing at them not to laugh at Dudley. Ginny, who was with them, did her best to keep a straight face, but had to turn away from Dudley to hide her smile.

”That’s all right,” Dudley told Hermione, frowning at Harry and Ron as they held each other up, guffawing. “They’ll get theirs, once I’ve trained up.”

This only made Harry and Ron laugh harder. That would be when? Next century?

Finally Harry calmed down enough to inform Dudley they were going to the Three Broomsticks to have a few pints. They were old enough now, and never had to pay for anything, since they were heroes.

”Can I come?” Dudley asked him.

Harry was about to say yes, when Hermione pulled a book out of her knapsack and pushed it into Dudley’s hands. Dudley turned it over and read the title.

“A History of Hogwarts,” he said, frowning slightly.

”That’s right, but that book contains more than Hogwarts history. It contains a lot of the important history of the magical world. You need to read it from cover to cover, Dudley. That’s your assignment for the weekend. No Three Broomsticks for you . . . or for me, either. I’m going to be with Professor Snape, receiving my first tutoring lesson,” Hermione said importantly.

It was rather important because Hermione was the only student in the history of Snape’s employ to receive such preferential treatment. She hadn’t told anyone she had claimed a Life Debt from him.

Ron shook his head.

”Hermione, you say that like it’s something to be looked forward to or something. Snape is going to be a complete arse to you, and you know it. He hasn’t changed a whit since Voldemort died. You should just come have a few drinks with us, and keep me company,” Ron said rather sullenly.

“I don’t really like a lot of drinking, Ron, you know that,” Hermione said, sounding rather apologetic. “Drunk people irritate me. They just get louder and . . . well, more silly sounding. And they just want us to tell the story of how we did everything over and over, and that’s not my idea of fun. I’d rather be learning something, don’t you see?”

Ron blinked at her, and his blue eyes softened.

”Yes, I see. You’d rather work your brains than brag about being a hero,” he said to her with a half smile. “One of the pitfalls of dating a brilliant witch, I suppose. It’s all right, Hermione. I can brag enough for both of us. I just hope Snape isn’t too much of a git to you.”

”I can handle him,” Hermione said.

Dudley was leafing through the history book and saw pictures of Ron, Hermione and more than a few of Harry, from when he was a baby, throughout his younger years and as he was now. That Snape teacher was in there too, looking perfectly evil as he stared back at him. He nearly dropped the book when a full page picture of Voldemort fell into view. He was hideous! How did Harry face him?

Now, Dudley was anxious to read the book Hermione gave him. He began to wander back toward his house, not even saying goodbye as he returned to the front of the book.

Ron watched him walk away, students having to walk around him. Hermione smiled as she watched him go.

”Do you think Dudley’s going to be a brain, Harry?” Ron asked him.

Harry shook his head.

”I don’t think so, Ron. You have to have a brain to be a brain. All I think Dudley has up there is more muscle,” Harry said with a smirk, knowing Hermione wouldn’t like it.

She didn’t.

”Really. It wouldn’t hurt the two of you to show interest in a book about something other than Quidditch or half-dressed witches,” she spat at them.

”I have something more interesting than books to capture my attention,” Ron said, swooping in and stealing a kiss from Hermione, who reddened, but stopped yelling at them.

”Stop it,” Hermione murmured, waving her hand at Ron, who smirked.

”She loves me,” he said to Harry before looking back at Hermione and grabbing her around the waist, pulling her against him so she gasped.

”You do love me, don’t you, Hermione Granger?” he asked her.

”Don’t ask such silly questions, Ron, and let me go. I have to get down to the dungeons,” she said softly as Ron looked down at her. He gave her another quick kiss but it was easy to see by his eyes that he would have liked a longer one.

”Get a room, you two,” Ginny said with a smile.

Hermione scowled at her as Ron reluctantly let go. He’d been trying to “get a room” with Hermione for a while now, preferably at the Three Broomsticks, but she wasn’t ready.

In fact, that was one of the real reasons Hermione didn’t like to go to the Three Broomsticks. After a couple of pints, Ron would want to rent a room and spend the night at the inn the way Harry and Ginny did. But Harry and Ginny were on a different level than Ron and Hermione. They were engaged.

Ron didn’t try to force her, or become abusive when she turned him down. He just became rather sullen and uncommunicative. At these times, Hermione had the feeling Ron believed she didn’t care about him as much as she said she did. That she didn’t really love him.

She believed she did, but just wasn’t ready to go any further.

If Ron did think she didn’t care about him the way she said she did, he never said it. Ron knew better than to use that line on Hermione to try and corner her into sex. His mother had taught him well what to say to a witch he was courting and it wasn’t, “If you really loved me, you’d have sex with me.”

Ron might act the idiot at times, but he was far from one when it came to important things, like keeping Hermione. He was willing to wait, but was getting rather tired of returning to his room with a hard-on after an intense snogging session with the witch and having to wank off before he could get any sleep.

”Doesn’t she have any sexual feelings, Ginny?” he’d ask his sister, hoping she could help him figure out how to press Hermione’s buttons.

”Hermione's not like most witches, Ron. You’re lucky to be with her at all, you know. She’s a brain . . . usually you have to get to a witch like her through her mind. But I think she likes you because you’re such a dimwit and just run all over her logic when you want something,” Ginny told him. “She likes you being a caveman.”

“That’s fine and well, but when am I going to get to use my club?” Ron asked his sister, who shrugged.

”Maybe on the honeymoon,” she quipped as Ron paled.

Ron wasn’t Harry. He cared for Hermione, maybe even really loved her like he said he did, but there was something about the “M” word that made him want to head for the hillocks. He wasn’t ready to get married.

Hermione did care about Ron very much. He was affectionate and patient when they were alone, not like he was when they were around other people. She enjoyed his embraces, and his kisses, and the corny, sweet things he’d say to her. And sometimes, there was a little heat between them, a little flare of desire that would catch hold of her for a moment and she’d wonder what it would be like to go all the way with him, but something always pulled her back, not letting her get overwhelmed.

Hermione Granger would only put out if she were truly moved to do so, and so far, she hadn’t been. It was hard to explain this to Ron, so she didn’t try. All she told him was that she’d know when the time was right, and when she did, he would know, too.

Ron seemed to accept this, so they continued dating.

”Well, I’d better go. The Dark Arts await. Keep an eye on him for me, Ginny,” she said to his sister, who nodded. “And all of you, don’t forget to alternate your drinks with water to cut the alcohol and eat something too.”

”All right,” Harry said, thinking it might be good Hermione wasn’t coming. She could be a killjoy at times.

Ron gave her one more kiss and watched her walk away.

”She’s something else, isn’t she, Harry?” he breathed softly as his eyes rested on her receding back.

Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny’s slender waist. He knew exactly how Ron felt.

”Yeah, mate. She really is,” he replied, kissing Ginny on the cheek appreciatively.

*******************************

Dudley was soon lost in “Hogwarts, a History.” The book was fascinating as was the history of the castle and of magical folks themselves. There was a time when they were hunted, when children with magic were taken and killed by Muggles, who were normal people or people without magic. The witches and wizards used spells to hide and put up borders and protections around the lands they occupied. Finally, they formed their own society.

He read about the four founders, and how his kind of background wasn’t smiled on by Salazar Slytherin. He only wanted witches and wizards born from witches and wizards to attend Hogwarts, and left the school after placing a monster in it to carry on his cleansing of Muggle-borns.

At the end of that paragraph, there was a little “See Harry Potter” sentence underlined. Dudley touched it with his finger and the pages of the book suddenly turned themselves, showing a picture of Harry, looking all beaten up and a little sickly.

He read on and found out Harry had KILLED the creature Salazar Slytherin hid in the castle, and that at one time people thought he was the heir of Slytherin who let it out in the first place. Wow! Harry was a hero more than once over.

”Wow,” Dudley breathed, flipping back to the front of the book again, so not to miss anything. He read far into the night, learning about not only the world but who his cousin really was.

It was bloody amazing.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Ginny were at the Three Broomsticks, surrounded by wizards and witches, enjoying pint after pint and getting rather tipsy as people chattered around them and at them. Ginny was in Harry’s lap. That way she showed the witches around him that he was definitely taken. Ron was doing a good job keeping them away from him.

”Nope. I’m involved,” he slurred, “and right now she’s probably casting darrrk ssspellssss, so you’d better beeeware.”

Finally, Ron stood up.

”Gotta go to the little wizard’s room,” he said, weaving his way through the laughing throng around him and making his way through the inn to the lavatory. He entered, walked up to the urinal, and went about his business, throwing his head back and sighing in relief as he emptied his bladder. The urinal automatically flushed when he finished, shaking himself off.

”Hello, Won-Won,” a female voice purred.

Ron spun around unsteadily, looking at a sloe-eyed Lavender Brown. He still had his tool in his hand as he blinked at her.

”Lavender, you’re not supposed to be in here. This is the little wizard’s room,” he said drunkenly. He should have chased his drinks with water like Hermione told him.

Lavender’s eyes flicked downward.

”You don’t look like a very little wizard to me, Won-Won,” she said, starting to walk toward him.

Ron tried to get himself situated but Lavender took a big step and caught his hands. She was wearing a low-cut blue blouse that showed her cleavage quite appealingly . . . although Hermione would have said quite sluttishly, and a short little denim skirt and blue high heels. She rubbed her big boobies against Ron, backing him toward one of the open stalls.

”Lav—Lavender, I have to get back,” he said, trying to free his hands, his organ still exposed.

”I’ll let you go back in a few minutes, Ronnikins. First, I’m going to do something very nice for you. I’m going to turn back time,” she breathed, shoving him back into the bathroom stall, where he caught hold of the walls to keep from falling back against the toilet. Lavender closed the door and locked it.

Ron stared at her as if looking into the eyes of a dragon, unable to move. Lavender gave him a naughty smile as she sunk down out of his range of vision.

Ron jerked as he felt her catch hold of him. He tried to protest, but she was determined and he was so drunk and so . . . not in control. But he did try.

”No. Wait—I can’t—we can’t—Lavender! Stop. Oh, Merlin—please stop—please. Oh, gods. Damn. Damn it—that’s good. That’s—arrrgh— that’s so fucking good—”

Ron gripped the top of the stall on either side of him, throwing his head back and just letting it happen. It had been such a long, long time.

Too long a time.

* * *

A disheveled Hermione emerged from Snape’s office. His quarters were still down in the dungeons although Slughorn taught Potions now. Snape hadn’t wanted to move and Slughorn didn’t want to stay in the dungeons so it worked out. Slughorn occupied the DADA teacher’s private quarters. Hermione’s lessons had taken place in the wizard’s book lined study.

“He’s such a bastard,” Hermione hissed, her hair standing up all over her head from the dark wizard shocking her with a Lightning Spell he’d told her to block. She might have been able to do it, if he gave her a chance.

He didn’t. Snape simply said, “Block this spell, Miss Granger,” and hit her with it, watching her hair frizz, teeth chatter and body shudder until smoke rose from it.

”You’ll have to be quicker,” he purred at the sooty witch.

She Scourgified herself, but the effects of being hit by the spell were still evident in her hair.

Hermione’s robes were ripped as well. He’d handed her a book of Dark Magic and didn’t tell her it was guarded by a small book demon, which leapt out when she opened it and shredded her robes before she managed to shriek a banishing spell to put the thing back.

”You should always be on point when it comes to Dark Magic, Miss Granger,” the wizard advised as Hermione glowered at him, strips of fabric dangling from her robes and scratches on the back of her hands. Luckily, she kept the rabid little demon from reaching her face. “Consider this a lesson learned.”

Hermione knew Snape was trying to make her quit the lessons. Technically, he had done what she asked and would be freed of the Life Debt if she did. But she wasn’t going to do it. She was going to be taught by him if it killed her.

It very well might.

* * *
A/N: All right. The rating of this story just went up to R. I touched on Ron and Hermione’s relationship in this chapter, and put our fav redhead in a very compromising position. Well, he’s famous now . . . so . . . ah well. Poor Ron. Dudley’s finding out just how important Harry really is to the wizarding world. It was interesting to write about Hermione and Severus from the outside, rather than intimately. Hmm. Snape’s being a bastard, as usual. Lol. He’s so rotten. Gotta love him. Thanks for reading.