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In the early evening, just as rush hour was beginning and driveways were filled with cars as people began returning home from their jobs, one Harry Potter was on his way back to Privet Drive.
Hands shoved into his pockets, he stayed on the side of the road, blowing out a puff of air. It was still plenty hot out; the sweltering heat hadn't let up yet and likely would until well after the sun went down for the day.
Like any other day, Harry spent his time out of the house. Ordinarily, he'd be cooped up in his bedroom, only leaving for the loo and a food. But recently, Aunt Petunia had gone back to work, and neither she nor Uncle Vernon trusted him to be in the house when they weren't there. As it was now the summer holidays, Dudley was there as well. While Harry could surely withstand his cousin - if he had to, he'd just brandish his wand to see Dudley's little piggy eyes go wide - but that would mean his aunt and uncle would be told, which would inevitably lead to more conflict than it was worth.
So Harry tended to head off towards the park or somewhere else to give himself peace and quiet, only wandering back near dinner time. Aunt Petunia always threatened to send him to bed with no dinner if he couldn't make it on time.
A yawn escaped his lips. The heat made him more tired than usual. His shirt was clinging to his clammy skin, and not for the first time that afternoon, he regretted not throwing on one of the few pairs of shorts he owned.
The house came into view, the driveway empty. Harry crossed the road, nodding over to Mrs. Number Six with a half attempt at a closed mouthed smile. Like many of the neighbors on Privet Drive, she did not like him. Her expression was full of disapproval, as if he'd done something particularly nasty just now, and turned back to her garden.
This didn't bother Harry. He hardly cared what any of these people thought of him. He was used to it, Snape hadn't changed his opinion of Harry in the five years they'd been acquainted with each other, and he likely never would.
I should probably reply to Ron before Aunt Petunia gets back , he thought. This morning, Hedwig brought back a letter from the Burrow, there'd been no time to write a response back. Aunt Petunia had snipped at him from the time he woke up until she showed him out the door.
But just as Harry grabbed the knob to open it, he found that the door was locked.
Great , he groaned. Dudley probably did it on purpose. It was just like him to think leaving Harry out there to get heat stroke was bloody hilarious.
Not even caring that Mrs. Number Six was still outside to witness this, Harry banged on the door. “Dudley, open up!” He snapped. There was no sound from the other side of the door, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. “I'm serious, open the door!”
He stepped back once frustrated. He hadn't seen Dudley peeking through the curtains with an obnoxious grin or heard any laughter either.
Don't tell me he's gone too . That was the last thing he needed. In that case, Harry'd have to wait for Aunt Petunia to get back, as none of the neighbors would let him into their homes to wait.
Mrs. Figg might , he suddenly remembered. Now that he knew the truth about her being a squib, going over there was easier since she didn't have to hide anything and could speak freely. I could just go over there .
Just as he was contemplating this, footsteps caught Harry's attention. His hand instinctually hovered above the pocket his wand was in, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a figure approaching him. Squinting, Harry briefly wondered who it was, but he didn't have to think about it for long. As soon as the sun was out of his eyes, it became clear that the figure was just Dudley.
“What are you doing?” His cousin demanded.
“Not very smart are you, Diddykins?” Harry said. “I know it's tough, but think: what would I be doing right outside the door at this time?”
“Shut it!” Dudley snarled, elbowing him hard in the ribs to shove him aside.
Harry refrained from hissing in pain, not wanting to give Dudley the satisfaction. He rubbed the spot gingerly. “Where’ve you been?” He said, while Dudley rummaged through the enormous pockets of his cargo shorts.
“None of your business,” Dudley glared darkly at him. Harry hummed, not taking it personally.
“Making your mum and dad proud, yeah?” Harry said mildly. “I'm sure Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would like to know where you've really been and not the hogwash you've been telling them.”
Dudley's humongous biceps flexed threateningly. Harry simply raised a brow. Over the past couple of years, his cousin lost a tremendous amount of weight, replacing it with muscle. This didn't intimidate Harry in any way, though, which greatly aggregated Dudley to no end.
“Might want to mind your temper unless you’d like all the neighbors to see,” Harry grinned, imagining the gossips of Privet Drive talking about “What that Dursley boy did,” instead of him. “Aunt Petunia wouldn’t like that, wouldn’t she? Go on, Dudley. Beat me up.”
Dudley’s hands curled into fists. “I’d wipe you on the ground.”
“I don't know, Dudders,” Harry enjoyed the enraged huff he received for the use of the pet name, “I’m not eleven anymore, and I’ve got a wand-” His cousin shuddered. “Looks like we’re not on unequal ground anymore.”
Dudley stared at him for a long time, seemingly considering his options. Ultimately, he decided that it wasn't worth another experience with magic, and turned back around to open the door. Harry was smug as he waited behind him.
That feeling didn't last long as the seconds turned into nearly a minute, and he wondered what was taking so long.
“Are you going to open the door? I'd like to get inside before Aunt Petunia comes back.”
“Quiet!” Dudley said tersely. Harry rolled his eyes.
“I know you've got two brain cells rubbing themselves raw right now, but surely you know how to use a lock and key?”
“I can't find it!” Dudley gave us searching, tossing a scowl in Harry’s direction.
This stopped Harry in his tracks. “What do you mean you can't find it?”
“I don't have it.”
“Oh, hell, Dudley. Did you lose it?”
“No!” Dudley looked like he was nanoseconds away from smashing Harry's face in. “I think I left it on the table.”
“Brilliant,” Harry snipped. “Really brilliant. Now what do you suppose we do?”
His oaf of a cousin shrugged.
Why am I not surprised? Harry couldn't suppress another eye roll. “Well, is there a spare around here?”
“Nah,” Dudley said. “Mum and Dad didn't want you using it to get in.”
Harry was losing patience. “Fine.” He started to go down the walkway.
“Where are you going?”
“Mrs. Figg,” he responded, irritated.
“Can't. She's not home,” Dudley said, pleased that he was able to foil Harry's plans - indirectly, that is.
Harry massaged his forehand. Now what were they supposed to do? Aunt Petunia wouldn't be home for another forty five minutes, and that was if traffic wasn't too terrible.
“Great,” he muttered. Now he'd have to wait out here with Dudley , of all people.
For the next ten or so minutes, they sat on the porch, trying to shield themselves in shade to avoid the scorching sun. Dudley, he noticed, was struggling more than he was. Despite being smaller than he used to be, the extra muscle was doing him no favors. His face was flushed, glistening in sweat. When he spotted Harry looking, he gave him a dirty look in return.
“ What?”
“Nothing,” Harry said blandly.
“Then look somewhere else.”
“What are you getting upset at me for?” Harry retorted. “You're the one that forgot the key.”
“What's your mouth or I'll-”
“You'll what ?” Harry arched a brow. “Who's the one with magic here?”
“You can't say that. Mum said,” the words flew out of Dudley automatically.
Harry didn’t bother suppressing a snort. “Wonder what those friends of yours would think if they knew their fearless leader couldn’t form his own opinions without Mummy’s help?”
“Keep talking,” Dudley towered over him. “I’ll knock your lights out.”
“Yeah? I wouldn't do that, Dud. I have a lot of friends who'd give you something worse than a pig’s tail.” Just to emphasize his point, Harry twirled his wand between his fingers. Dudley was noticeably wary at the sight of it. It was not exactly wise to do so out in the open, but Mrs. Number Six had gone back inside and the rest of the street was cleared too so Harry didn't worry about being sighted.
“I'd like to see them fight me without that... thing ,” Dudley spat. “They wouldn't last one minute.”
“You sure have a high opinion of yourself,” Harry pressed his palms onto the ground, leaning back. “I don't think heavyweight boxing champs mean anything to wizards.”
He closed his eyes, a faint breeze flying across his face. It was still too warm to be comfortable, but if he focused on the slight coolness, it almost wasn't too bad.
Dudley's vulgar mutter under his breath didn't escape him. In fact, Harry's lips pulled into a small smile.
“Now, now, what would Aunt Petunia think if she heard her precious Dudleykins using that kind of language?” He didn't give Dudley a chance to respond. “Why are you still here anyway?” Harry opened his eyes back. “Don't you have friends you could stay with until she's back?”
“Piers is on vacation,” Dudley said shortly.
“What about Gordon and the others?”
“What do you care?”
Harry shrugged. He didn’t, really.
Some more minutes passed. Harry couldn't be sure precisely how many, he didn't have a watch and neither did Dudley. They were stuck there, no way of getting into some much needed air conditioning. One of the neighbors - Mr. And Mrs. Number Five - across the street came home not too long ago, they'd seen both Harry and Dudley there but didn't offer to let them come inside at least for a little bit.
After some time, Harry's mouth was awfully dry. He licked his lips, wishing for some water right about now. Dudley must be thinking along the same lines; he looked miserable sitting there, head leaning against the wall beside the door.
“Dudley?”
“What?” His cousin grunted.
“How's Smeltings?”
“Why do you care?” Dudley said, suspicious.
“I don't.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Just thought I'd passed the time,” Harry said.
“Piss off.”
“Fine,” Harry said, a saccharine smile forming. “Then I'll tell you about mine.”
“You can't,” Dudley said, alarmed. “Mum and Dad said-”
Harry pretended to look around. “I don't see them around, do you?”
“ Fine !” Dudley said through grit teeth. It was clearly the last thing he wanted to do, but hearing about Hogwarts was too much for him to consider. “What do you want to know?”
“Dunno. Are you still boxing?”
Dudley was suspicious of the question. He stared at Harry. “Yes.”
“How’s that going?”
“Fine,” Dudley replied cautiously.
“Yeah? Anybody beat you?” That was a nice image. Dudley getting overthrown by someone bigger than him, laying in a heap on the ring, while Uncle Vernon shook a fist, loudly making his displeasure known.
Given the way Dudley’s jaw was clenched, Harry wagered he’d struck a nerve. “You did lose,” he couldn’t keep the glee out of his tone. For years, Dudley was a formidable presence in primary school and within the neighborhood. Knowing that someone had beaten him at his own game was like an early Christmas present for Harry. “Does Uncle Vernon know?”
“No,” Dudley snapped. “And you’re not telling him.”
Ordinarily, Harry would have taken the mickey out of him, using this as an opportunity to squeeze something out of Dudley - extra food, keeping a greater distance away from him, anything of that sort - but upon taking a closer look at his cousin, he could see that Dudley was well and truly bothered. “What do you care if Uncle Vernon finds out?”
Dudley’s face contorted into an expression of distinct discomfort. “What do you care?”
Harry sighed. “ Dudley -”
“He can’t know!” Dudley’s voice rose to a snappish degree before quieting down significantly. “He can’t, alright? Just drop it.”
Harry’s interest was piqued. Dudley acted embarrassed , but what could he possibly have to be embarrassed about? Surely losing a match wasn’t that bad? “Why can’t he know?”
“I said drop it.”
“Well, I’m not,” Harry said. “So you might as well tell me.”
“Or what?” Dudley sneered.
“Or I might accidentally let it slip to Uncle Vernon,” Harry didn’t care that much, not enough to say anything to his uncle, but he couldn't help but wonder what Dudley was so afraid of that he didn’t want his own father knowing. Like Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon doted on his son and believed he could do nothing wrong. Dudley had no reason to act this way.
“You wouldn’t,” Dudley said, voice holding a slight hint of fear.
“Do you want to find out?” Harry said.
Dudley stared for what seemed like a long time, studying Harry, struggling to make a decision. Then, against his better judgment, his cousin said curtly, “He weighed less than me.”
Silence stretched over them. Harry blinked.
“And?”
Dudley’s nostrils flared. “You don’t get it.”
Unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his cousin’s dramatics, Harry said, “Then help me understand. Why does that matter?”
“The guy was a skinny wimp! Don't know why he’s even there. He looks like he belongs to the chess club.”
Harry’s lips twitched. He would have given all the galleons in the world to have had a spot at that match. If only to see his cousin lose to someone so much smaller than him. “Okay, so he beat you. Why can’t you tell Uncle Vernon?”
“Are you mad? He can’t know. He’ll go up to the school himself and demand a rematch. Plus he’ll-” Dudley trailed off, averting his eyes.
“He’ll what ?” Harry prompted after some seconds passed.
“Forget it.”
“No, just tell me-” Harry abruptly cut himself off as the truth dawned on him. “You don’t want him to be disappointed in you, do you?”
His cousin shot him a weak glare. “Shut your face.”
Harry had to admit, this was surprising. Dudley generally didn’t care what anyone thought, not even his parents so long as they were giving in to his every whim. What was even more unexpected was the flush that crept up his cousin’s large neck and into his still slightly round face. “Oh,” he said dumbly. It was all he could say, as this very idea seemed unfathomable.
This had fallen too close into feelings territory. Neither of them wanted it to go any further.
“Look,” Harry muttered, not looking at Dudley, who was doing much of the same. “I won’t tell your dad, alright?”
For years, Harry dreamed of having blackmail against Dudley, but now that it was finally here, dropped right in his lap, it wasn’t as glorious as he’d imagined it to be.
“You won’t?” Dudley didn’t believe him.
“No.”
Their eyes met, devoid of any usual hostility and instead sharing a brief moment of understanding.
“....Thanks,” Dudley said, as if uttering the word was physically painful.
Harry nodded.
And the silence returned, both of them doing their best not to look in each other’s direction.
He wasn’t sure why, but he felt somewhat compelled to share a piece of his life in some sort of solidarity action. It was completely bizarre, as he’d never felt any reason to do so before, especially not for Dudley. “I was given a lifetime ban for quidditch after getting in a fight,” he said abruptly, Dudley’s head swiveled over to him. “But since the headmistress is gone now, I should be able to play again next term.”
He could see conflict written in Dudley's face. He didn't want to talk about it, but curiosity was winning.
“You can ask if you want to,” Harry said. Dudley was doubtful. “Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia aren't here to stop you. Don't you think it's about time you've made your own decisions?”
Dudley thought it over, Harry tamped down on the urge to remark on how much effort that must take. Finally, his cousin said, “You were in a fight?”
Harry couldn't keep himself from letting out a bit of laughter. “That's what you decided to ask?”
His cousin shrugged, defensive and a little embarrassed. “So what? I've never seen you fight anybody.”
“This one deserved it,” Harry muttered darkly.
“Why?”
“He's a git,” Harry said shortly. He'd rather not talk about Malfoy if he could help it. “Look, the point is, me and George - you remember Fred and George from a couple summers ago- fought him and got banned. That's it.”
But Dudley did not care about who Harry fought, he was far too focused on one particular detail. “You mean those twins who dropped the candy that made my tongue swell?”
He sounded angry, a complete switch from just a second ago.
“It’s not as if you didn't deserve it,” Harry said coolly.
“That bloody thing could have killed me!”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Mr. Weasley fixed it. You weren't in any real danger.”
He was on the receiving end of a dirty look from Dudley, whose fists were tightly curled again. “I couldn't even breathe, you know.”
That put a pause on Harry's annoyance. He opened his mouth but Dudley kept going.
“I was getting dizzy, nearly passed out from it.” He started to get quieter towards the end, contemplating whether or not to finish. “I thought I was going to die.”
Harry knew that feeling all too well. There’d been that moment in the Chamber of Secrets when he thought it was all over, Ginny’s lifeless body laying there, Riddle standing above them, all smug and satisfied. He hadn’t considered Dudley might have been affected by the toffee.
“I didn't know.”
Dudley shrugged, mouth tight, eyes looking elsewhere.
And then Harry did something he never believed he’d sincerely do to any of his relatives.
He apologised.
“I’m sorry about them,” he said. “They shouldn’t have done it to you.” Because regardless how it had been amusing at one point, looking back on it now, Harry could see it for what it was- a cruel trick.
Dudley didn’t say anything right away, just stared at Harry with the mildest hint of surprise that vanished as quickly as it came. He’d not expected Harry to apologise or mean it, nor did Harry himself for that matter. “Yeah, well,” he grunted, and that was it, the subject was dropped, going back to the topic that was nearly forgotten about. “So you really couldn’t play?”
“What?”
“You said you and-” Dudley wore an expression of distaste, thinking of the twins, “-Them couldn’t play because you were banned.”
“Oh. Yeah. But I should be able to this term.”
“What about the other bloke?” Dudley said. “What happened to him?”
“Nothing really,” Harry grumbled, unable to stop himself from feeling sour at the reminder.
“That’s rubbish.”
“Really is.”
It occurred to Harry that this was the most normal conversation - for a lack of better wording - he’d ever had with Dudley in their lives. He couldn’t remember anything of the sort happening when they were younger, especially not after Dudley found his passion - punching people.
Then his cousin went a step further, asking, “What’s quidditch anyway?”
“Wizarding sport,” Harry replied. “It’s a bit complicated to explain but we fly on brooms and make goals and my job is to catch the snitch.”
“You lot have sports?” Dudley said.
“One, really, but yeah.”
“And you play?”
“We’ve established that,” Harry said. Dudley gawked at him.
“ You? But you’ve never been interested in sports before.”
Harry shrugged. “Never found anything that interests me.”
This stumped his cousin. “Are you any good?”
“If you asked my former captain, he’d say yes. I’m actually the youngest seeker in a century. First years aren’t typically allowed to join the team but I did.”
Was Harry starting to hallucinate from all this heat or did Dudley actually look impressed?
“That’s actually pretty cool,” Dudley admitted, and then to dispel any awkwardness in the air, added, “Doesn’t make it any less freaky.”
Harry snorted, not even slightly offended.
“Does your school have career advisers?” Dudley then said. Harry wondered where all these questions were coming from.
“Err, not really. Our head of house will pull us aside and talk to us about our options after Hogwarts.”
“Like what?”
“Err, well,” Harry hadn’t anticipated giving Dudley a wizarding lesson. “A teacher, wandmaker, a healer- that’s the equivalent of a doctor - quidditch player, auror - basically a magical policeman- journalist, working in our Ministry. Things like that. My mate’s older brother is a curse-breaker.”
“What does he do?” Dudley said, intrigued.
“He used to work in Egypt, removing items from ruins or tombs and removing curses.”
“Used to?”
“He’s back in Britain.” Harry wasn’t going to say a whole lot about it, especially not out in the open. While the likelihood of any Death Eaters lurking on Privet Drive was slim, he wasn’t going to take any chances. “Why are you asking, anyway?”
Dudley shrugged, uncomfortable. “They were badgering me before term ended.”
“Who?”
“The advisers,” Dudley clarified. “They want me to figure out what I want to do but I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of options, anyway.”
That was true. Dudley never put in the work for his grades so they couldn’t possibly be any good, surely not enough to get into a good uni.
“Dunno what I’m supposed to do,” Dudley said glumly. “What about you? Do you know what you want to do?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “An auror.” And that was if he could get into sixth year level Potions. “I reckon Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don’t know about that either?”
Dudley shifted. “Not exactly.”
Harry raised a brow, not surprised. The Dursleys were likely under the assumption that their precious son was on his way to do great things after secondary school. Privately, Harry believed his cousin had more potential to work the corner store. “You don’t think they’re going to find out?”
“Not if no one says anything,” Dudley said, shooting him a pointed look that lacked some of its usual heat.
“Right...”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Dad probably wants me to work with him at Grunnings.”
“You don’t want to?”
“Not really,” Dudley said.
“And does Uncle Vernon know about that ?” Harry received his answer by his cousin’s silence. “Christ, Dudley, just tell him you don’t want to.”
“You think it’s that easy?” His cousin demanded. “I can’t tell him that. He’ll-”
He stopped, one large hand dragging down his face.
“You don’t understand. He doesn’t care what you do.”
He doesn’t care whether I come back or not , Harry thought dryly. “Look, Dud, you’ve got to stop caring about what Uncle Vernon says. Do what you want for a change.”
Dudley frowned. It probably hadn’t occurred to him that he could do that.
Harry stretched his arms over his head. His face was glistening in sweat by now, his whole body, really. The sooner Aunt Petunia came back the better, even if she was likely to find a reason or other to screech at him.
“You know, you’re not as freaky as Mum and Dad say you are.”
He glanced over to his left. Dudley had spoken earnestly, he didn’t know what to make of this.
“Err, thanks...?” Harry arched his brow.
“It’s true,” Dudley said, in case Harry did not believe him. Something came over, changing his cousin’s expression just so. He seemed to be growing more uncomfortable, which didn’t make Harry any less wary. “I don’t suppose I ever thanked you.”
“For what?” Harry said, perplexed.
“For saving my life last summer.”
It was spoken so quietly that Harry almost believed he imagined it. “Right. About that. You really don’t have to-”
“You didn’t have to do it either,” his cousin mumbled.
Harry was at a loss for words. He never expected this to come out of Dudley of all people. “I didn’t save your life,” he said, to which Dudley opened his mouth to argue but he pressed on, “it was your soul I saved.”
“Same difference,” Dudley said dismissively.
It really wasn’t. But Harry wasn’t going to get into all that.
Then, a sigh. A heavy one. Dudley looked at him, really looked at him. It was different than all the others. “Mum and Dad kept going on about you after you left last summer, blaming you for what happened.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Harry said with an eye roll. “The dementors got sent after me.”
“Why would anyone send those... things after you?”
“Long story. Basically the last professor - turned - headmistress we had sent them after me to make me quiet.”
“Quiet about what?” Dudley asked.
“Voldemort’s return. He’s back.” Flashes of Cedric dying, of Amos Diggory crying over his son’s body, of Mr. Weasley’s attack and his friends getting hurt, of Sirius came to mind. “Not many believed me at first.”
“But now they do?”
“More do, yeah,” Harry said blandly.
Dudley hesitated. “And that Voldemort bloke-” Harry suppressed a snort at the most feared wizard in all of magical Britain being referred to as that bloke , “-he’s what?”
Dudley had never been told the truth. Harry had never a reason to tell him, and his aunt and uncle certainly weren’t going to.
“He killed my parents and a lot of others.”
He never got to hear what Dudley would have said- Aunt Petunia’s car pulled into the drive and they straightened themselves up, rising to their feet.
“Thank God, Mum,” Dudley said, relieved. “I forgot my key on the table.”
Aunt Petunia gasped - rather dramatically in Harry’s opinion. “My poor Dinky Duddydums!” She cried. Dudley groaned softly in annoyance, if Harry was interpreting correctly, which she didn’t hear. “You must be so hot!”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Out of the way,” she said nastily to Harry, shoving him aside to unlock the front door. He rolled his eyes, but let out a sigh as the much cooler air inside the house washed over him as he stepped over the threshold.
His aunt fretted over his cousin, insisting he get a drink right away, acting as though he was going to perish any second now. Harry smirked, shaking his head. On his way up the stairs, hearing the cabinet doors open and the clattering of pans as she began to get dinner going, he heard someone quietly call out to him.
“Hey, Po-Harry.”
He turned, finding Dudley there, arm extending to hand him a fizzy drink.
Harry’s gaze flickered to the drink, then to Dudley. He accepted it, the cold nipping at his palm. “Thanks.”
His cousin nodded wordlessly, and headed off to the sitting room, presumably to watch the telly.
Something in Harry wondered if this was going to be a very different summer.