Dudley Slytherin - Chapter 14

Petunia washed the dishes, a daily chore she enjoyed little as she peered outside, scowling in disapproval.

Dudley had found another snake, one which would prove equally as troublesome as the first. She was sure, seeing them now as they hissed in the garden.

It was raining, they didn't seem to care as Petunia watched the blue one playfully bite towards the rain.

This one, Dudley's recent addition, was the source of renewed ire. It was venomous, obvious even if Dudley hadn't explained that she was.

She.

Petunia didn't want to know, assuming he'd simply asked. As if the creature could know such things.

She sighed, it had been trying few days as she dried her hands, thinking of Dudley and his little trip.

How distraught she'd been, seeing the note on her way downstairs - as if, to say goodbye.

Petunia would never say goodbye, not for any reason as her chest tightened… she leaned forward, letting her hands rest against the counter for support.

Dudley was just a boy, yet he wasn't. He was her son, yet wasn't when it suited him.

What could she do?

As she watched him laugh happily, somehow flicking Nigel's tail, laughing again as the snake tried to bite it.

Her son had plans, ambitions that pushed far beyond her own little world. And if that meant leaving, for an entire day, only to return in the dead of night with a snake.

Well, she- she-

She started crying, turning away towards the sitting room.

Vernon was at work, far away from where he was needed.

Dudley didn't listen when she'd said not to bring that snake inside, nor when she'd asked where he'd been.

The note had said he had gone to London, and that he'd be back by supper.

Petunia wanted to pull her hair out, sobbing anew as the telly rattled on… Dudley wouldn't listen.

It was lucky then that he wasn't without control; or logic. She knew her son was intelligent, beyond any she'd met before.

The things he could do, it worried her.

…

The door opened.

Dudley walked in, the snake hanging loosely around his neck.

It looked bigger, as she wiped her eyes.

"Mum?" he asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Petunia sniffled, looking away.

Dudley moved around, letting Ghenni slide to the floor.

The snake looked at her.

"Dudley," she said, sounding tired as he appeared before her. "What's going on?"

Petunia looked at him, her eyes red as her son tried to find the words.

"I won't be left behind," he began, sensing the issue as paced across the sitting room. "All I've done since leaving Hogwarts, is pursue a way back. That's it."

He met her eye, trying to convey the way he felt.

"But Dudley," she said, finding her eyes glance at the snake. It wouldn't bite her, she knew that. "The snake? Why? You couldn't tell me what you'd planned?"

Petunia couldn't understand why he excluded her, she knew only the smallest amount; enough, she assumed, to stop her worrying.

It did the opposite, only haunting her with what ifs and whys.

If Dudley would just tell her-

"I can't."

She blinked, looking as her son turned away.

Had he?

"Dudley!" she admonished. He'd promised.

He shook his head, stopping. "No, I didn't," he denied. "I can just tell."

Petunia huffed, only half-convinced as Dudley continued. "I can't tell you," he said, continuing with guilt.

"I can't tell you what I've done."

He wanted to tell her.

"I can't tell you where I've been."

Really.

"I can't tell you," he found her eyes. "Who I've hurt."

Petunia felt weak, looking up as her son stepped closer.

"And I can't tell you," his eyes piecing her own. "What I will do, to achieve everything I've ever wanted."

…

Dudley nodded, as if convinced of his cause before heading out, towards the door.

"I won't be left behind," he finished. "I'll show them all."

Click.

Petunia heard the door close, yet didn't look, simply staring ahead at where her son had once been.

Lost.

Break

Dudley appeared with Ghenni, swooshing into view within the hallway of his second home.

"Dudley," greeted Gorble, always a smile for his favourite heir.

He'd picked, it was official.

Dudley grunted a reply, looking sad as he held a letter.

"What's that?" asked Gorble.

"Gringotts," he said, showing him the seal. "They accepted, we're on."

Gorble clapped.

"Yes! I knew you could do it."

Dudley approached, opening the letter as he read it aloud.

Gorble nodded, pleased the Goblins were keeping to their side. They'd discussed it upon his return, including Ghenni who slithered near his feet.

A fine snake, that one.

Dudley finished with a sigh, drawing a raised brow from Gorble.

"You don't seem pleased."

Gorble would find the truth of it, seeing as Dudley found a seat. They'd arranged the hallway as it had once been, clearing the clutter and restoring much of its previous state.

It reminded Dudley of the Gaunt House, particularly the door that stood behind, closed to the world.

"It's my Mum," said Dudley, running a hand along Ghenni's back. "She worries, wants to know what I am doing. I can't tell her."

Dudley shook his head, already regretting what he'd said at home.

He'd hoped it would keep her away, yet now thought the opposite to happen.

It would be another difficult conversation when he returned.

"Well," tried the portrait, perhaps seeing the issue. "She is a muggle."

…

Oops.

Dudley gave him a sour look.

"That's not it, Gorble."

He waited, letting the boy think it through. "I just can't tell her," he said, running a hand through his blonde hair. "For one, I've already broken the law a dozen times, and assaulted Britain's premier Wandmaker."

Gorble nodded, as if to say 'so?'

Dudley huffed.

"So," he emphasised, looking as if trying to find something. "She's a muggle! They'd discover it easily; a quick look, and I'd be done."

…

"You don't trust her."

"I do!"

"No," said Gorble. "You think little of her ability. Which I admit, is lacking."

Gorble peered closer, seeing it now. "You fear she will betray you, if you tell all you've done. And plan to do."

…

"No."

"Yes."

Ghenni hissed, agreeing with her Gorble.

Dudley slumped, leaning against his chair.

"Fine."

He'd try to include her, tell her a bit more. Nothing that would in-danger her though.

"Good," said Gorble. "Now that's cleared up. When do you begin your training?"

Dudley had already said, reading it out.

Gorble was getting better, but still a little forgetful. "Tomorrow," said Dudley, reading the address once again. "Paris, 12 Façade du studio."

French, he liked the language. When Harry and he had learned during their time at primary school, they'd enjoyed the lessons very much.

Dudley was fluent, though he rarely used it.

Gorble hummed, not knowing the place. "You speak French, don't you?"

"Yes, Harry and I both do."

"Should be fun then," he offered, excited for him. "How are you getting there?"

Dudley looked around, seeing his broom tucked near the coat hanger.

"I'll fly to the Gaunt Estate, then walk to Gringotts. They've arranged a Portkey."

Gorble's eyes lit with interest.

"How was it?" he said. "Was it still standing? The cellar yes?"

Dudley smiled brightly, agreeing on both counts as Gorble cheered.

"Ha ha! Brilliant!"

It was funny, just how forgetful the portrait was.

He'd already said this twice. Otherwise, how could he explain Ghenni?

Dudley didn't mind though, not when he improved with each passing day.

"I'll take you there, one day."

Gorble nodded, liking the sound of that as he pictured the incredible estate. "It's magnificent, the best estate of its day. They even had one of the first Quidditch pitches."

Dudley nodded along, letting the man ramble as he whispered to Ghenni.

"You'll have to stay tomorrow," the snake hissed, upset. "I'll see you later, you can keep Gorble company. Nigel will be here too."

That seemed to placate her, the two snakes were friendly, for snakes as Dudley headed off.

"More Duelling?" called Gorble, watching him walk towards the east corridor.

"Yes," he said, feeling Ghenni follow. "I need to practice."

Break

Dudley walked towards the front door, expecting the conversation ahead to be a difficult one. He could feel Petunia inside, worrying over washing as she folded it neatly.

He knocked on the door, wondering for the umpteenth time why he didn't have a key.

"Dudley?"

She opened the door, looking at him as if he'd just survived a car accident.

"Yes Mum?" he asked, stepping through as Petunia shook her head. Her son could be quite literal sometimes as she clicked the door shut, following him in towards the sitting room.

"Dudley," she said, having thought about what to say. "I am so-"

She stopped, seeing Dudley calmly raise his hand.

"No. I am the one who's sorry."

Petunia looked at him, not having expected that as Dudley took a deep breath.

"I did not trust-" he began, seeing his guilt reflect in his mother's eyes. "I am afraid that if I tell you more, that you will be at risk. To both me, and our family."

He went on, as Petunia stood across from. She'd not expected this, having assumed Dudley would be as single-minded as ever.

If he decided not to tell her, then that was that.

Usually.

"I'll include you where I can," he said, offering a small smile. "Some it isn't illegal. Just a little…"

He moved his hand, tilting it as if to say 'grey area'.

Petunia wanted to jump for joy, though not about the illegal part.

Dudley had just apologised to her, and changed his plans to try to include his worrying mother.

He was growing up as she hugged him, sniffling a little as he uncomfortably hugged back.

"Thank you, Dudley," she said, as they broke apart. "I won't push, even if I'll still worry about you."

She watched him go, heading upstairs as the evening drew in.

Vernon would be home soon, then dinner and perhaps a clock repair session.

He and Dudley still enjoyed the tedious task, ever birds of a feather.

Petunia returned to her washing, feeling better about the whole thing. She may not know exactly what Dudley was doing, but at least he wasn't cutting her out-

Dudley appeared in the doorway, leaning in as he met her eye.

"I am going to France tomorrow," he said, already away. "Don't wait up, I'll be back at some point."

He was gone, his footsteps already flowing up the stairs.

Petunia blinked, giving up as she slumped on the sofa.

Well, at least he spoke French. No issues there.

Break

Dudley dressed the following morning, taking his time as he thought about the day ahead.

Paris.

He'd never been, the thought ironic as he pulled his socks on. His Dad didn't like France, said it was dirty and everyone smoked.

But, London was dirty and lots of people smoked.

Dudley shook his head, smiling as he felt sure he'd heard his father grumble about both countries in the same way. Dudley thought he just didn't like French people, even if he'd insisted Dudley learn their language.

Him and Vernon.

They were similar, yet so very different as Dudley stepped across his mirror, feeling satisfied with his sports top and joggers.

"Ghenni," he hissed, smiling as the snake hissed from beneath his covers. "Time to go."

The snake appeared reluctantly. "But Nigel issss…"

She trailed off, she and Nigel were now somehow in a fight. Something about her having difficulty climbing them.

Dudley shrugged, picking her up anyway.

"Off we go."

Swoosh

They appeared within the familiar hallway as Dudley let Ghenni down, hissing comfortably as she saw Nigel.

The show off, he was sitting on the lowest step. Mocking her.

Dudley rolled his eyes.

"Gorble," he greeted, moving before the sleeping portrait.

"Gorble!"

The man jolted away, making a piggy noise through his nose.

Most unsightly.

"Dudley," said Gorble evenly. "Nice to see you."

"Yes," smiling as the man cast him a warning look. "You slept well I trust?"

"Of course."

"Hmm."

…

"When do you leave?" stated Gorble, sniffing before looking at Ghenni. "Such a pretty snake."

Dudley didn't comment, losing count how many times he'd heard it.

"Now, I just came to collect my broom," he said, turning away as he retrieved it from the corner.

Dudley smiled, turning back.

"Wish me luck."

Swoosh.

"…bloody boy."

Nigel hissed.

"Don't you start," the portrait said, shifting within his frame. "I am going back to sleep."

…

Dudley appeared with a thud, plopping with a huff to the forest floor. The broom had unbalanced him as he flicked it off him.

He needed to learn Apparition, pronto as he mounted his broom. Having to portkey here and there, then fly was a drain on his precious time.

Not being able to simply exit the Slytherin Estate was also a serious hindrance, what with the house effectively cut off from the world.

Dudley would fix that one day, but for now he'd have to make do as he mounted his broom, waving a hand idly as he settled in the seat.

He'd been practicing the Disillusioning Charm, needing now only a moment to cast it as his body blended with the trees behind. It felt better too, as he pushed off, soaring as he weaved through the branches.

Dudley knew the way, choosing a height that kept him safely away from things. It was a few hundred feet high, perfect as Dudley glanced at the things below.

The world looked so strange from up here, very angled and tiled. It was much better flying over the magical world, which compared to the muggle saw far more greenery.

It was Dudley's preference, as he eventually passed through the wards of the Gaunt Estate. They didn't so much as quiver, accepting him back with open arms.

This would be his too, vowing to keep it from the Dark Lord's hands.

Dudley landed by the broom shed, flicking aside the wards he'd repaired before as he stowed his broom. There wasn't much time, as he locked it again before running towards the road, wondering if he should cut this grass the next time he came.

It had occurred to Dudley to simply hide his broom near the edge of the Gaunt Estate, saving him this arduous run. But, as he ran with heavy breaths. He just didn't want to, not willing to risk damaging his lovely antique broom.

Besides, as he saw Gringotts peak into view, having run for just under an hour through the thick grass. Dudley enjoyed running, always had as he walked through the dirty streets, heading quickly up the steps of Gringotts.

It was still very early, the reception of the bank empty as Dudley headed in.

Lockla was already here, dressed smartly as he lingered near the teller's desks.

"Lockla."

The goblin had already seen him, offering a nod. "Mr Dursley, you're early."

"A second late may as well be an hour."

"Indeed," grinned Lockla, reaching into his pocket. "The Portkey. It will take you straight there, then back when reactivated."

Dudley took it, inspecting the item with interest. It looked to be a metal cufflink, small enough to fit in a goblin's pocket.

"The tutor, a Mr Dupont, will determine the length of your course. We'll meet in-between where necessary."

Dudley nodded, enclosing the cufflink as he lowered his hand. "It could take years," he said, meeting Lockla's dark eyes. "What of the rest?"

He watched something akin to a pleased smile grace the goblin's lips, as if he appreciated Dudley's discretion.

"All in good time, is this not your most pressing need?"

"It is."

Dudley needed to get back to Hogwarts. "More than anything."

Lockla had made his point. "Then succeed, we'll begin the rest when the time is right," he explained, before adding. "Though, do feel free to begin preparations in your own time. As you please."

Dudley could agree to that, nodding as he went for a handshake

"Thank you, Lockla."

The goblin paused, looking at the extended limb.

Did the boy know what he was doing?

Lockla didn't think so, and would treat it thusly as they shook hands.

"Good luck, Mr Dursley."

Lockla offered nothing else, turning sharply as his voice echoed.

"Locomotes!"

Dudley vanished in a swoosh, tumbling past the channel as he arrived in France.

Ooof

…

He looked around cautiously, seeing the large and somewhat familiar room.

It looked like the Duelling Room, back at Slytherin's. With the tall walls etched in stone that rose, connecting to wooden beams in ceiling.

"You'll need to work on your landings," said a voice idly from behind. "Balance is important."

Dudley whipped around, drawings his wand as he clambered to his feet.

He hadn't noticed him, but he did now as he watched the man's assessing eye.

"I don't always fall."

The man made a face, sniffing as he critiqued Dudley's clothes.

"Curious," he said, his eyes shifting to Dudley's wand. "You have no holster, yet you summon your wand. How?"

Dudley clutched it tightly, unwilling to relax as the man tried to circle him.

"Don't move," said Dudley, aiming his wand. "Who are you?"

He heard the man chuckle, switching to French.

"Come now," he said mockingly, appeasing as he stilled. "Didn't Lockla tell you, hm?"

…

"Say it. What's your name?"

…

The man grinned, surprised the boy could understand.

Lockla hadn't mentioned any French.

"Excellent," he mused, preferring his native tongue as he noticed Dudley's eyes. They were a strange green, not something the experienced man had seen before.

Though, he was only in his 40s.

"My name is Pierre Dupont," he said, moving as Dudley followed him round, wand still raised. "I am to be your teacher. As requested."

And a strange one at that as Pierre thought of the missive he'd received from Gringotts. He'd had dealings with them before, offering his services as a sublime yet deeply leveraged duelling instructor.

But, as he watched the boy continue to guard against him. He'd never taught one so young, he wasn't even a teen.

Most who came to him came for the finishing touches, the cherry on top.

"How old are you? Lockla didn't say."

The boy frowned, lowering his arm somewhat now his identity had been confirmed. "11. I'll be 12 in April."

Good lord, Pierre would need to re-think his method.

"You want to be a champion, yes?"

He needed to know what the boy was made of.

Dudley twitched, feeling his doubt. "That is the plan," he said, deciding to lower his wand.

A spell careened towards him, bright and burning as Dudley shielded it off to the side.

It cut against the wall, neither looking as stone clattered down.

Pierre tilted his head.

Dudley didn't wait, sending his salvo of cutting, gutting and breaking curses straight to him.

Pierre batted one aside, before revaluating as he dodged and shielded expertly.

Dudley increased his output, pouring it on as his arm swiped and thrashed the air, the temperature of the room beginning to rise.

Pierre was impressed, surprised too as he shielded a series of spinning blades, blocking the worst of it with a conjured wall as they dug deeply into it… he was sweating. Sweating!

The boy sure packed a punch, as he glanced from behind his wall.

Smash.

He hissed back, feeling something graze across his nose.

Pierre banished the wall with an aggressive sweep of his wand, grinning as he fired a series of overpowered bone breakers. He was glad, fascinated as he watched the boy draw his arms towards his chest, focusing as a white light swelled.

It released, the boy forcing the shockwave away as his feet struggled to stop him sliding back. The magic spread like a wave, disintegrating the rocks and the floor as it chewed a path from Dudley.

Pierre apparated, appearing behind as Dudley spun quickly… Pierre smashed into the wall behind, plopping to the floor on his hands and knees.

He tried to get up.

"Your win," said Dudley, breathing heavily too as he looked at the man. "I am disqualified. I think."

Pierre wheezed, stumbling as something helped him up.

"Not so," he laughed, almost giddy when he saw the boy's raised hand. "Some of those curses might be banned, but the rest is skill. You can't ban that."

Not to mention the one's he hadn't recognised.

The Duelling Circuit, particularly at the junior level, had strict spell policy. Which didn't mean you had to use certain spells, but any you did would could not be illegal in any ICW country.

The rest, well. That was down to the referee's discretion.

"What was that last attack?" he asked, looking for answers as Dudley smiled.

"The Gouging Charm, modified slightly to form the wave."

Pierre blinked.

"I see. Good work," Pierre was feeling better now as he stood strongly. "Well, we'll have lots to practice. Most I think, you won't have any trouble with… what was your name again?"

"Dudley Dursley."

The boy stood upright, nodding as Pierre presented his hand.

"Welcome, Dudley Dursley. I am Pierre Dupont, two-time World Duelling Champion."

…

"It's nice to meet you," said Dudley, shaking his hand.

A few days later.

"Don't forget this section."

…

"Will do."

Dudley waved his wand, standing in the hall as Pierre instructed him from afar.

"Here?" asked Dudley, glancing back as Pierre sipped his drink.

Coffee. It was nearly 17:00

"Yes yes," he called lazily, not looking as he savoured his French Coffee. "Over there. Yes, good."

Dudley's eye twitched, annoyed as he tried to repair yet another section of the room. The building belonged to Pierre's newly formed establishment, a soon to be duelling fraternity.

It had one member, Pierre; and now Dudley who'd been tasked with maintenance.

"Why can't you hire a professional for this?"

Dudley heard him sip.

"Too expensive."

Another beam straightened, repairing the break as Dudley directed his wand, sending it up. The roof had caved in, almost crushing him before Pierre had banished him out of the way.

Which is why, as Dudley used his other hand to steady the beam, he was now repairing it. Using his precious time as applied a final Repairo. This was just one section too, as he glanced through the hole in the roof.

"How far are we from the Eiffel Tower?" he asked, seeing little bits of Paris beyond. Dudley had never seen it in person, this being only his fourth day in France.

"Not far," he heard, glancing back to Pierre. "Somewhere over there."

Pierre pointed over his shoulder. "You'll see it soon."

Dudley nodded, turning back as he continued his work. The Duelling Season began in November, running across multiple cities and countries all the way up till September. A long season, since the scene was so popular.

The World Championships too, held once every three years was the pinnacle of the various Junior and Senior leagues held in-between. Dudley had just missed seeing the last championships, having been at Hogwarts when a man from Cyprus defeated an American for the win.

He was already famous, only the second to win it from the small country.

Dudley pictured what his own win would be like, as the remaining beams floated slowly into place. There was too much to fix to simply cast a single charm, so Dudley had to do it in stages, one by one.

Great Britain hadn't won a World Championship in over 200 years, with a man named Dolohov coming closest in the 70s. Though, he wasn't exactly British with a name like Dolohov. Having moved here in his teens, from Russia.

Flitwick had only won the Senior British Championships, since many countries considered Goblins a menace, disallowing them from competing.

So, if Dudley could win it, he'd go down in history as one of the great British Champions - taught by a Frenchman, but who really cared. Not Dudley as he finally finished repairing the roof, breathing a sigh as he headed back to the man himself.

The man was an addict, already on his third cup.

"Drinking so much is bad for you," said Dudley, standing as he watched the man sip. "Try tea, my mother likes tea."

Pierre sniffed, displacing the steam that wafted from his cup.

"I don't like tea," he said, taking another savouring sip. Dudley hummed, agreeing easily before walking out towards the centre of the hall.

"Shall we resume?" he called, standing at the ready.

Pierre had been showing him spell chains, something he'd already used to an extent. Dudley hadn't really used a pre-planned set of spells, instead just flinging any all at the enemy.

It was rapid, but without strategy. Pierre had explained the issue with that, since Dudley was prone to throwing Dark Magic in the mix.

Pierre was still sipping his coffee, uncomfortable as shoulder spasmed slightly. Dudley was utterly brutal, and lacking the usual restraint. He was improving, very quickly as Pierre decided on a light practical for the rest of the day.

"Yes, but let's change tactics," he said, standing with a slight wince. "What would you like to learn?"

Dudley already knew so much, even if he didn't necessarily know he did. It was like he'd been taught already, when very young. He wasn't conscious of the knowledge, the way he moved or the way he timed his attacks.

The spells too, were different and came naturally; even the one's Pierre taught him. Dudley hadn't known some of the more common spells, like the Wind making spell as Pierre arrived before him.

He waited, watching Dudley as he thought it through. Pierre was already impressed by the boy's intelligence, having discerned things, little things that would usually be overlooked.

Verbalisation, for instance. Dudley never said his spells, not once.

Pierre wondered if it was the same at home.

"Apparition," he heard, seeing as Dudley's face smiled. "I want to learn Apparition."

Pierre hummed.

"Possible," he began, not really caring about the law. "You'd try it wandless?"

Pierre expected the curt nod, knowing already the extent of Dudley wandless abilities.

It was a marvel, edging towards what he'd heard Grindelwald could do.

But they were just rumours, while this was real.

"Fine," he said, taking a step back. "I'll teach you. But only practice when I am here," he finished seriously, making sure Dudley understood.

"Agreed," said Dudley.

"Good," declared Pierre as he retrieved his wand. "Now observe."

Crack.

Dudley looked behind, finding Pierre who stared back at him.

"How do you do that?" he asked, appearing with a crack as he returned. "You know where I am. When we duel too."

It was very disconcerting for Pierre, having not fought another who could do it.

Dudley shrugged, explaining that it was like hearing something. Just, that it was magic that spoke.

"Fascinating," he smiled, adding with a joking lilt. "Anything else I should know about?"

Dudley stiffened.

Pierre looked at him. There was more?

"There is," tried Dudley, moving his mouth as he hummed. "Though I won't be using it."

Dudley couldn't imagine anything worse than hissing like an animal on stage, or controlling one as all those people stared and remarked at him.

No, he'd leave that to Harry as Pierre looked at him.

"Go on then," he said, grinning as Dudley shuffled. "It'll come out eventually, so I may as well know now."

Pierre tried to guess what it would be. "Metamorphia."

Dudley looked at him, shaking his head.

"Hm," he said, defeated already. "So, what is it then?"

Dudley huffed. "Fine, I can control animals. Tell them what to do and feel where they are."

Pierre blinked, intrigued. "Any animal?"

That could be spectacular, as he pictured the Dragons he'd seen in Romania.

Profitable too as Dudley shrugged. "So far. I've not met many, especially Magical Creatures."

Pierre was getting excited, thinking about how useful the skill was.

He could farm precious and rare creatures, like Nundu! Then sell their teeth-.

-or!

He could milk Acromantula venom!

"Pierre?"

"Oh," he said, blinking back to attention. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

Dudley smiled.

"Shocking."

Pierre soured.

"Well, why don't you try Apparating," he said, raising his wand as he disappeared again.

He called from across the room.

"Try reaching me!"

Dudley looked at him, askance.

"Isn't there more to it?" he shouted back, his voice echoing as Pierre shook his head.

"No!"

Dudley sighed, widening his stance as a start.

"Just picture arriving here!"

He closed his eyes, remembering what it had felt like with Severus.

Crack.

The floor stung as Dudley's collided with it.

Pierre laughed. "That's it," he offered, hooking Dudley's arm to help him stand. "A bit rough. You alright?"

Dudley steadied himself, grasping Pierre's arm as the world spun.

That was unpleasant.

"Try again."

He did, taking a breath. "Don't hold it, just relax."

Dudley tried again, disappearing with a muted snap as he appeared across the room.

He wobbled, but remained standing.

"Again!"

Dudley appeared again, getting a feel for the sensation.

"Good," said Pierre, doing his best to disguise his shock. "Rest when you need to, just get comfortable with it."

Dudley did, continuing for the next hour as Pierre watched from the side.

It was like jumping from post to post, back and forth as Dudley worked well into the evening.

When Dudley finally stopped, he slumped to the floor in exhaustion.

Pierre approached, his feet tapping softly. "Done?" he asked, crouching as he handed Dudley a water bottle.

Dudley nodded gratefully, taking great gulps of the cool water. "Yeah," he breathed. "Done."

Pierre stood, checking the time. "We best be off," he said, heading back to his table. "I'll drop you off."

Dudley climbed to his feet, feeling better as he walked over to him. "Thanks. Can you take me to Diagon Alley?"

It would be easiest for Dudley, even with the walk back to the Gaunts'.

"Sure, I know it well."

Pierre grabbed his shoulder, the two disappearing with a crack.

…

They appeared in a street near Gringotts, where Pierre often arrived. "You good from here?" he asked, letting Dudley go as the boy steadied himself.

"Yeah, all good."

Pierre nodded, bidding him goodnight as he watched Dudley trail away, heading off to who knows where.

"That boy," he whispered ruefully, turning on his heal as he headed up the steps of Gringotts. "Lockla, you lucky Goblin."

Pierre and Lockla had known each other for some time, the clever Goblin having financed a few of his previous, failed ventures. Pierre owed him, hence why a former World Champion was teaching an 11-year-old boy.

Which didn't bother Pierre, since the boy would dominate, that he didn't doubt as he headed towards the tellers.

Lockla was there, still manning his post as Pierre approached.

"Pierre."

Lockla hopped from his chair, appearing quickly. "Follow me."

Pierre did, keeping pace as the two wove through the tunnels of Gringotts. It didn't surprise Pierre, knowing how competitive this place was.

Goblins would kill for a client like Dudley, Pierre knew now as Lockla closed the door to his office.

"How is he?" he asked impatiently, heading in towards his chair. "Well?"

Pierre let him wait, collecting his thoughts as the Goblin stared.

"You're a lucky Goblin, Lockla."

The goblin slumped in relief, closing his eyes briefly.

"How good?"

It was a question he'd asked himself many times, as he'd reflected within the walls of his small office. Dudley was just a boy, albeit an insanely ambitious one.

Pierre smirked. "He had me down for the count when we first met," he began, recalling the white spell the most. "It's incredible. The boy fights like a man three times his age."

Lockla listened, nodding as Pierre stepped towards his liquor cabinet.

"Pour me one."

Pierre grunted, taking two glasses. "It's not just his power, which is beyond anything I've encountered," he poured, glancing at Lockla. "He's intelligent – dangerous, yet still holds back where it matters."

Lockla nodded, glad the boy wasn't sadistic as he took his drink. "Dudley is certainly so," he said, watching as Pierre paced. "Dangerous. You did read the Newspaper I sent?"

"Yes," said Pierre. "Of course, even in France it was reported."

It didn't hit the front page, more as snub to Britain than not being worthy. "Why was he expelled anyway?"

Pierre had seen Dudley use Dark Magic, more than enough without any issues.

Lockla chuckled. "The tattoo," he said. "And attacking his teacher, I'd imagine."

Something akin to understanding flashed across Pierre's eyes. "I see, so that's what did it."

Pierre had felt something when helping him up, a niggling touch of… darkness.

He should have realised as Lockla finished his glass.

"Good," he stated. "Continue as planned, get the boy ready for the Juniors in November."

Pierre nodded, not seeing an issue. "He'll win easily," he stated, before thinking of something.

"What is it?"

He looked at Lockla, sighing. "Dudley speaks French."

"So?" said Lockla. "All the better."

Pierre pursed his lips.

"He can control animals too, command them. I wondered…"

Pierre was a greedy man, yet not ill of heart.

"I'll look into it," said Lockla, thinking too of the possibilities. "Don't pursue it yet. The Duelling first."

Pierre finished his glass.

"Agreed."

He left, closing the door behind him as Lockla steepled his fingers.

Dudley was doing well, on track for the World Championships in three years. If he were to win, the potential pay out would be mind-numbing.

Sponsorships. Advertisements. Endorsements. And the winnings.

Lockla could manage it all for him, suitably compensated.

Yet, as he moved towards the door. Dudley was young, a lot could happen and, in a way, Lockla had a duty of care for his client.

If he played this right, Dudley would be successful throughout his life.

Lockla was in it for the long-run as the door closed behind him.

Break

Dudley arrived at the Gaunt Estate, feeling tired and weak as he pulled the shed door open.

He slumped a little, huffing as he leant on the frame. He couldn't fly like this, not at all as he took a drink from Pierre's water bottle, now his.

It was dark already, the sun but a shard as it peaked from somewhere behind him. Dudley turned to it, seeing the house as an idea came to him.

He headed over, blinking in the dark before summoning light. It was weak, shining like a dying torch from above as stepped through the overgrown gardens, approaching the door.

"This'll do," he said aloud, pulling his hand as the door creaked open. It was such a large door, almost military as he squeezed inside.

He pushed it shut, straining from the effort as he hobbled towards the cellar. Dudley didn't know if the portal went both ways, but figured if it did there'd be food in London.

The air was musty as he stepped down the stairs, even knowing they were loose. Dudley didn't care, wanting to get home as he stumbled on the last step.

He steadied, walking with effort towards the dirty Fireplace, noticing the pot on the mantle above.

The Floo. Of course.

Dudley hadn't used it before, but had certainly read about it. Gorble had even showed him some powder, left alone on the mantle at home. It wasn't connected anymore, not with how paranoid Gorble had been as Dudley touched the metal grate, trying to feel something…

"Blast."

Dudley sat back, needing to as his world started to spin. He needed sleep, finding this spot as good as any as he laid down.

Plop.

He passed out, lying like a dead man in the cellar of an abandoned estate.

…

Cough.

Dudley woke suddenly some time later, coughing again as he cleared his lungs. The air was foul down here, cloying and thick as he leant up. He looked around, confused for a moment before things came back to him.

Oh.

As he looked below, getting up from the disgusting floor. He felt much better, refreshed – if a little hungry as Dudley collected his water bottle, needing a wee as he headed up. The stairs were just as rickety, yet still he stopped to glance behind.

He'd need to repair it, soon too as he made a mental node. It would be useful, having a back door to this place. Maybe even adjust the magic to link to his house.

Dudley smiled, continuing his climb as the idea grew.

What time was it?

He'd left his watch at home, not really needing it as he flicked his thumb.

03:48

Hmm, he'd been asleep since 20:00; just under 8 hours as he stopped to think.

The house creaked at usual, the noise strangely soothing compared to silence. Dudley could use this time, wondering how as he resumed his walk, heading outside for a wee.

"Ahhh."

The air was crisp, the grass steaming as Dudley sighed. He'd been bursting, relaxing as the mist wafted near him.

He flinched away, gross.

With that done, Dudley headed towards the trees across the way, seeing still as fruits hung from healthy branches.

Plums, some were even floating as he plugged one away.

He wiped it, taking a bite before quickly devouring. An apple came next, then a pear.

Right, thought Dudley as he turned around, cleaning his mouth with a wave of his hand.

Time to work, as he headed back inside.

It annoyed him how messy the house was, having tidied Slytherin's house to a suitable level already. Some bits were left, as he thought of the loft and Gorble's study. The man had oddly adamant about leaving it be, for now at least.

Dudley had no such restriction here, as he entered the house, casting an eye towards the mess littering the ground.

His wand appeared, a grin on his face as he breathed… Scurgify!

He jousted his wand forward, closing his eyes as he spread the spell wide. It wouldn't reach the whole house, having the same restriction as Repairo.

But, as Dudley felt the grime scrub away, the hallway changing as colours returned. An hour or two should do it, as Dudley headed to the nearest room. Then he'd repair the structural damage, not wanting to do so surrounded by filth.

Something moved behind. "Ah!"

A rat, huge and fat flittered into view.

He vanished it in a rush, trying to calm his heart as he checked for more.

None.

Dudley sighed in relief, he hated rats. For obvious reasons as he quickly cleaned the room, seeing the damage the creature had done.

On it went as room after room was cleaned, repaired and checked for vermin. Dudley would look up some wards on his return, see if there were any that would keep them away.

He suspected there would be, considering how few he'd come across. They'd probably weakened, letting a few in as the years tumbled by.

By 06:00, Dudley had cleaned the house, top to button. Repaired the structure and even arranged the furniture, taking particular car when re-attaching the subline Artwork.

Truly, they were spectacular.

Dudley admired them, perhaps because of Gorble. The portrait who'd taught him so much, he treated them all with great care.

"There," he said, stepping back from the portrait. It was the Lord Gaunt, or one of them as Dudley surveyed the ballroom. It was such a grand room, with bouncy polished floors and tall windows.

During the day, Dudley could imagine the light pouring through them, warming the walls and their many paintings.

Maybe one day, he'd have a ball here. At Slytherin's too, which had a smaller yet no less majestic room. Dudley would see it done, one day as he walked away, heading out under warm torch light.

As Dudley closed the front door, sealing it shut as the wards closed around it, he felt at peace. Serene as he retrieved his broom, deciding to keep it at home so Harry could see it.

Crack.

He appeared within his room, taking care not to bash the broom as he wobbled still. It was getting better, every time in fact as he propped it against the wall.

Dudley heard footsteps, knowing who it was as his mother opened his door.

She sighed, perhaps awake all this time.

"Where have you been. It's almost morning!"

Dudley looked contrite as he chose to sit, perching on his bed. "Sorry Mum, I got caught up."

He looked down, sighing as he leaned forward.

Petunia came beside him, sitting softly. "Dudley, you're pushing yourself too hard," she said, placing a hand as she soothed his back. "Have you slept?"

He nodded, looking down at the floor. "Yes, 8 hours. I was spent after training."

Petunia sniffed, having heard about his training a few days before. When he'd come home in tatters.

She didn't know who or what this training consisted of yet, but it was too much.

"Please Dudley, take a break. This isn't good for you."

Dudley grumbled, slipping out as he stood.

"Here," he said, grabbing the broom. "I wanted to show you this. It's a broom."

He brought it between them, twirling it so she could see.

"Dudley, that won't work."

Dudley put it back, having hoped as his mother looked at him.

She huffed, rubbing her face. She'd hardly slept.

"Don't do this again Dudley, your father and I need proper sleep."

Vernon, who'd been at ease when Dudley failed to come, had slept fitfully.

He was probably half-asleep even now.

She stood, passing as she adjusted Dudley's hair. He tried to dodge. "It's messy," she said, smiling as he endured. "There. Much better."

Dudley thanked her, following her out as he headed downstairs.

"I'll be down in a bit," she said, seeing as it was almost morning. "Keep the noise down."

"Will do."

She watched him hop down the stairs, filled with vigour as she returned to bed, sliding between the covers.

"He alright?" mumbled Vernon as he rolled towards her.

"Yes," she said, holding his arm between them. "That silly boy."

He smiled, falling back to sleep with an easy chuckle.

"…our son."

Break

Harry ducked the flying ball of death, swirling down as he followed the Snitch on his standard issue Cleansweep.

"Harry!"

He glanced to the side, seeing George point behind him.

Woosh.

Harry felt something clip his shoulder, veering him off cause as the Ravenclaw Seeker zoomed ahead of him.

He wouldn't be beaten, as he pushed himself on. The Snitch wasn't far as his opponent lost sight of it.

Harry looked below, smiling as his eyes zoomed in on it. Hedwig had excellent vision, sublime as he ducked below a second Bludger.

It was just ahead, the crowd roaring as he whipped past, reaching out as the broom maxed… he leaned too far, tumbling over the broom as the Snitch rocketed towards his face.

He hit the sand, tumbling as his legs kicked up plumes of sand.

…

The crowd waited, watching as Harry pulled himself up, standing as his arms flailed to his mouth.

Pah.

"Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

Harry looked at the ball within his hands, shocked as he heard the crowd roar his name.

"Yeahhhh Harry!"

Fred and George appeared, sweeping down as they hopped from their brooms.

"Nice one-"

"-dear Harry!"

He laughed, receiving their pats as the rest of the team landed, cheering anew.

Harry had never felt like this, as he felt himself rise between a pair of shoulders, his name chanting all around.

He smiled, waving with a cheer as he thought of Dudley. He'd have been here, cheering with the rest, probably having already leapt onto the pitch.

Dudley, he missed him.

…

"Mr Potter!"

Harry lurched, flinching in his seat as his eyes darted around the classroom.

"Sorry!" he said, hearing a few chuckles behind. He was in Charms, having daydreamed like never before as Flitwick explained the unlocking charm.

His Professor approached, looking slightly annoyed. "Mr Potter," he squeaked, noticing Harry's wand. He'd barely touched it, sitting as it was between the folds of his book. "Are you quite well?"

Mr Potter had been daydreaming a lot since his win a few days ago, this not being the first he'd caught him doing it.

"Sorry Professor," said Harry again, grabbing his wand in a show of redemption. "It won't happen again."

Flitwick looked at him, and then Ron who sat beside him.

"See that it doesn't, Mr Potter. It would be a shame to waste such talent."

Harry nodded, not that he agreed with the Professor's shaming method. He could be quite motivated, when it suited him.

Ron leaned towards him. "You sure you're alright?"

Harry nodded, huffing good-naturedly at his friend. "Yes Ron, just daydreaming about our win."

Our win, Ron had insisted as the boy beamed.

"It was epic Harry! The way you caught it, it's never been done before!"

Harry humoured him, having had this conversation before. "It was pretty cool."

Ron nodded, grasping his own wand in the process.

"The best."

Harry followed his example as Ron cast the spell. "Alohomora!"

The padlock stayed closed.

"Alohomora!"

It clicked open.

Ron turned to him, shocked. "I did it!"

Harry chuckled, praising Ron as he tried himself.

Click.

It opened smoothly, prompting an eye roll from Ron.

"Honestly Harry," he said, picking up their padlocks before closing them again. "Is there a spell you can't do?"

Harry had looked away, listening vaguely as he watched Hermione cast her own.

She was good, getting it too.

"Harry?"

"Oh, sorry Ron," he said, turning back. "What did you say?"

The red-head sighed, trying again as his padlock clicked open. "Never mind," he said, as Flitwick called the class to attention.

He was standing on a stack of books, waving his wand as he spoke. "Now that we're familiar with the unlocking spell, which you've all made great progress with, I've been asked by the Headmaster to start on something else."

Interested murmurs, a few raised hands as Flitwick gestured them down. "Not so fast! I haven't told you what it is yet," he smiled, children were too enthusiastic sometimes. "It is called, the Shield Charm."

He turned away.

"Protego!"

A bluish shield materialised around him, taking form like a dome as the Professor held it. "Protego is the incantation, which with a circular thrust," he demonstrated slowly, still maintaining the shield. "Will produce a shield with which to defend yourselves with."

Hermione raised her hand.

"Miss Granger," said Flitwick, letting the shield fate. "Question?"

"Sir, this isn't in the First Year Book of Spell. Do you have any material we can read?"

Flitwick should have known, as he flicked his wand. "Yes, Miss Granger. All is at hand," as thin books drifted out from the desk behind, landing neatly before each student. "Read the material carefully, then try to cast it. I will be walking around to help."

There was a rush of movement, as hands eagerly opened the books. Ron was far ahead of Harry, who took his time as he opened the first page.

"Cool!" said Ron, not even reading it all before waving his wand. Harry didn't even bother looking, knowing it would fail as nothing happened. "Huh?"

Ron tried again, then again as Harry blissfully ignored him. The book wasn't thick, yet contained pages of information about the charm and how it was used. Everything, in full detail.

It was as if someone had written their homework for them, someone like Dumbledore.

Harry frowned at the thought, still not happy about Dudley being expelled; even if it had been a month already.

"Protego!"

Boom.

Sheamus again, thought Harry as he glanced across, seeing Dean trying to put the fire out. Harry turned back, continuing to read as he readied his wand.

"Protego!"

A blue shield appeared, shunting back the desk as Harry jostled in his seat. "Wow!"

Harry felt a rush, a pull on something as his body warmed.

"Ron! Look!"

Ron already was, having stumbled out of the way. "Y-yeah."

Flitwick bustled over, looking pleased and excited.

"Hold still now!"

Harry watched the goblin point his wand, the little man grinning evilly. "Stupefy!"

The red spell collided with the shield, ricocheting off as it leapt towards the ceiling.

"Professor!" said Harry, panicked as he gripped his wand with both hands. "What are you doing?"

Flitwick laughed.

"Marvellous! Bravo Mr Potter!"

Harry stared, wanting help not praise. "How do I turn it off!"

He tried to let go of his wand, but it stuck as Flitwick frowned.

"Oh, well. Just picture the shield disappearing."

Harry breathed, blinking as he tried just that as the shield began to wane.

"Well done, Mr Potter."

Harry nodded, slumping in his chair.

"T-thanks."

How Dudley had fought Sprout, he didn't know.

Ron moved beside him. "How'd you do it Harry?" he asked, concerned he looked at the slumping Harry.

"Harry?"

Harry didn't answer, lost once again in his world of wonder.

Ron shook his head, trying again as he waved his wand.

"Protego!"

Nothing happened.

Break.

Later that day, as was standard after a month at Hogwarts, the staff gathered for a meeting as the Headmaster rose from the long table.

"Welcome, everyone," he said, letting the last to arrive settle. "Here we are again, another year and another meeting."

A few smiled, grumbling agreeably as Albus chuckled too. "Minerva," he said kindly. "Would you like to start?"

The Scottish Professor nodded as she shuffled between some notes she'd prepared, not having all that much to report. "The students are working well Albus, nothing untoward," as she thumbed a page. "Though, we might need to assist Miss Thompson. She's been skipping class…"

Albus blinked, surely not. "Which year is she in?"

"Seventh. I believe things are difficult at home."

A few sighed sadly, Professor Sprout the most. "Poor girl, she's a hard worker. I've tried to talk to her."

Minerva could attest to that; the girl was certainly withdrawn. "As have I, it doesn't make sense. Why won't she let us help her?"

Albus hummed, drawing attention as he stroked his beard. He remembered her now, a tall girl with platted hair, and if he wasn't mistaken. "Isn't she involved with, what was his name?"

Minerva scowled. "Mr Langley."

Ah, now he remembered.

Minerva frowned disapprovingly. "She's half his age!"

"What?!" said Sinistra, thumping the table with her fist. "That swine. He should be imprisoned!"

Sprout huffed approvingly, whilst Severus wanted to leave and attend to his Potions.

"Can we move on," he drawled, ignoring the glares. "She will do as she wills."

The women grumbled at him, yet conceded as Albus withheld a snort. Severus was perfect at that, cutting down on people's high opinions.

Mr Langley happened to be a fine chap, his father too who was good friends with Horace.

"Moving on," he said, glancing down at his own notes. "Severus?"

"Nothing of note, aside from Longbottom. He may need remedial classes."

Minerva made a note quickly, having had no idea the boy was struggling. "Thank you, Severus."

The man nodded, he was fond of Minerva as Albus asked Filius.

Nothing forthcoming, as they frowned, expecting the usual squeak but instead.

"Filius?" said Albus, leaning towards him. "Something troubling you?"

Filius looked unsure, tilting as he met Albus's eye. "You could say that," he began, thinking of Harry and by extension, his cousin. "Harry is not performing well, far below what he is capable of."

It was something that bothered Filius, as it would in any student, but particularly Harry.

"The boy is talented," he stated, looking seriously at the Headmaster. "Quite so, like his cousin in some ways."

Severus shifted, the subject a sensitive one for him. He blamed himself for what happened to Dudley, ignoring the boy's need when he shouldn't have.

He was a Muggleborn, in Slytherin. He should have done more.

"Don't blame yourself, Severus," said Albus, the regret clear to him as others looked his way.

Minerva softened, looking at her once student sympathetically.

Severus was a complicated man, who knew what he was really feeling as he expression cleared. "What's done is done, Dudley isn't coming back."

Filius twitched, squeaking as if remembering something. "Speaking of Dudley," he said, looking down at Albus. "I heard something of interest, from my brother at Gringotts."

Gringotts?

Albus frowned, wondering what the Goblins were doing now as Severus tapped the table, impatient.

"And?"

Filius looked, smiling just slightly. "It seems Dudley has been busy. He's been assigned an Account Manager."

Albus jolted, bumping the table as things wobbled slightly. This was most concerning. "Are you sure, Filius?"

"Yes," assured the charms master. "Absolutely. It's not exactly a secret," recalling how his brother had written it. "Fortune favours the lucky."

It was a Goblin saying, yet perfectly apt in these circumstances.

"Is that a proverb?" asked Albus, looking confused yet curious. "Goblins have such a rich culture, I've been meaning to visit…"

Filius and the others glanced between one another, knowing the Headmaster as they did. He liked to follow tangents, enjoying them more than perhaps the original subject itself.

Severus got up, heading for the door as the meeting came to an end.

This was certainly concerning, as his thoughts mirrored the Headmaster's. The Goblins were tricky to deal with, even more so for a Muggleborn genius.

He once again cursed Lucius, and those other bigots. They'd regret it one day, perhaps sooner than he'd thought.

AN

A longer break since the last release, but worth it no? I've been writing chapter 24, such fun.

Hope you like the turn of events in this one, lots of change for Dudley and Harry.

Till next time!

Comment and review, let me know what you think.