SS12, Role-Reversal
Title: The Best-Laid Plans
Summary: Role Reversal! Dudley got accepted for Hogwarts while Harry did not, much to the suprise and chagrin of Vernon and Petunia. How might the most ordinary of Muggle families adjust to their favourite boy going away to wizarding school?
Characters/Pairings: The Dursleys, Harry, Hagrid, Mrs Weasley.
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, cos of a scene near the beginning that may or may not count as domestic violence, idk, it caused bruising, but wasn't anything too upsetting/triggering, I hope....
Word Count: 4677. I was procrastinating from an essay and got carried away, so yeah, sorry. :/ ALL ABOARD THE GOOD SHIP TEAL-DEER, ME HEARTIES! YARRR!
Harry collected the post one morning while Dudley stuffed his face full of chocolate cereal. His aunt and uncle were gossiping over something particularly inexciting, and Harry was relieved to be excused from the table for a moment.
He picked up the letters, and turning round on the spot to give them to Uncle Vernon: a postcard from Aunt Marge, a bill, and some peculiar letter addressed to Dudley.
"Here you go," Harry said, passing the letter to Uncle Vernon, who snatched all three without discrimination. Harry sat down in his chair.
"Marge's ill," Vernon informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk..."
"That last one's for Dudley,"
Uncle Vernon held the envelope, realised it was indeed addressed to his son, and offered it down the table. "Take it."
"I'm eating," Dudley said, stuffing his face full of cereal again. Uncle Vernon's arm sort of hovered outstretched until Aunt Petunia took the envelope and inspected it.
Suddenly she shrieked. Dudley dropped his spoon and gawped at her.
"Mum?"
"This... this can't be..." she gasped, clutching weakly at the table. "Vernon, this is..."
Dudley was finally interested, exchanging confused looks with Harry. "Can I open it?"
"Pass it here," Uncle Vernon grumbled, tearing the envelope open despite Dudley's objections. Sure enough, Harry looked in astonishment as Uncle Vernon's face turned ashen with fear. "Impossible..."
The man turned on Harry. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, ISN'T IT?"
Harry opened his mouth in horror. "But, I..."
"NO EXCUSES! YOU DID SOMETHING, DIDN'T YOU?"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry protested. "I just picked the letters up from the hall like you asked."
"Can I read the letter, Dad?"
"No," Uncle Vernon snapped. "Go... both of you. Leave the room for a minute."
"But I-"
"Do as your father says, Dudley," Aunt Petunia said, finally rediscovering her voice. Harry and Dudley sat in the hall, listening through the door:
"But look at the address, Petunia," Vernon hissed. "They addressed it to Dudley Dursley, South-facing bedroom, 4, Privet Drive... how do they know his bedroom?"
"I don't know..." Aunt Petunia whimpered, "watching the house?"
"Watching it, spying on us... they must know about the boy..."
"That's the other thing," Petunia whimpered. "If.... if they got in touch with Dudders, why didn't they contact Harry? I would have thought..."
There was a silence. Harry backed away from the door; he had a horrible feeling what was about to happen. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon swung the door open, the handle contacting with Dudley's nose, who had not become quite as astute at sensing danger over the years. He howled, falling backward, while Uncle Vernon, totally oblivious, towered over Harry.
"You had one too, didn't you?" he whispered in his most dangerous tone.
"No?"
"DON'T LIE TO ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!" Vernon bellowed, spit flying everywhere. "WHERE DID YOU PUT YOUR LETTER?"
"I didn't get one!" Harry pleaded, but it was too late: Vernon had grabbed Harry by the wrists, ignoring his nephew's squeals of discomfort and indignity.
"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "Check his cupboard!"
Harry wriggled with protest while Aunt Petunia ransacked his few possessions, eventually coming out with cobwebs stuck to her shoulders. "Nothing, Vernon."
"WHERE IS IT?"
"I didn't get one!" Harry repeated, genuinely scared as his uncle slowly turned purple.
"It's under your shirt, isn't it?" Uncle Vernon said slowly. "You stuffed it in your clothes. Petunia!"
Harry writhed and squealed as Aunt Petunia frisked him down uncerimoniously; after finding nothing she tugged at his sweater to remove it while her husband still held his wrists in a vice-like grip.
"Stop it! Stop!" Harry was screaming, but he realised he wasn't the only one: Dudley was yelling at his parents to stop the attack, but they ignored him, pulling Harry's shoes off. The two boys were wailing in fright, and then:
There was a crack, and Dudley's parents went flying in opposite directions; Harry tumbling down on the floor in a heap. Only Dudley remained upright, blood trickling from his nose, vaguely sobbing, "s-s-stop, ple-e-ease", through ragged breaths. Dudley's parents got back to their feet along with Harry, the three of them looking at the chubbier boy with unease.
"We're going away," Uncle Vernon announced once he got his breath back. "Dudley, Petunia, grab your things."
====
They stopped in a hotel first, but a dozen letters arrived at the front desk, all of which Uncle Vernon took and systematically destroyed. Harry and Dudley sat in the back of the car, silently watching the English countryside fly past. They tried three more hotels in three different cities, all of which they left at the first possible chance after the parchment envelopes appeared at the front desk. Finally, they seemed to find a Bed and Breakfast in the middle of Wales, and at once settled themselves down, tired of the travelling. The only person who didn't sleep was Uncle Vernon, who was too busy listening out for the slightest noise. If Dudley's reckonning was true, today was Sunday, meaning Tuesday was Harry's birthday. He didn't expect much from the Dursleys of course, but Harry still felt a pang of sadness that none of them would even realise he was turning eleven.
Harry woke to a roar from Uncle Vernon. There was a series of explosions as the windows blew open, letters tumbled down the chimney, all identical emblems and green ink. Harry watched Dudley scrabbling around trying to open one, when suddenly:
"Out! All of you, we're moving again!"
Even Petunia didn't argue: she was trying to prise the envelopes from Dudley's hands, while Harry scrambled about on all-fours, trying to put his shoes on. He noticed the bruise on his wrist was starting to subside; Uncle Vernon had still not apologised to him about it. He didn't expect him too, either.
"Mum, I want to go home," Dudley whined in the car as his father drove wildly down some unknown B-road. "I want to go home. I want to go home..."
Nobody was saying anything; Harry had a great mental image of the house drowning in envelopes now, and imagined the front door heaving under the strain until it burst and a stream poured down Privet Drive like a cartoon waterfall. He saw Aunt Petunia in the passenger's seat, wondering whether she was thinking the same thing, wondering how her house-pride was making her feel right now. She seemed to be sitting stock-still, deep in thought, with sadness in her eyes.
They eventually stopped at a service station, not because Uncle Vernon wanted to, but because Dudley had been insisting he needed to use the toilet for an hour, and on passing a service station the car took a left, drove into the wrong lane, into the car park and refused to budge. The four of them piled out and walked together in a pack, as though expecting somebody to attack.
"You two stay here," Uncle Vernon said to the boys as he went into the restrooms by himself. Dudley and Harry looked at one another uneasily; they both knew he was checking for envelopes. Harry looked at Aunt Petunia, who was standing guard over them; she didn't seem especially happy to be either of the children right now, like she was biting her tongue. After a good five minutes, Uncle Vernon came out.
"Right, you two, in," he said, escorting the boys to adjacent cubicles. "Dudley, go in there. Harry, that one. Try to be quick."
Harry heard Dudley urinating at once with an audible sigh of relief, while he himself stood in the cubicle. Steeling his nerve, and knowing this would probably be the only time the two of them were out of his aunt and uncle's sight, he silently untucked his shirt.
Tucked into his belt was a lone parchment envelope addressed to his cousin.
Harry looked at the address: Dudley Dursley, Room 2, Miners' Retreat, Pont-Rhyd-y-Groes, Ystradmeurig, Ceredigion, Wales. It had arrived that morning, when the Dursleys were busy trying to stop Dudley from opening one, Harry had snatched one and stuffed it down his shirt. Ironically, it had been Uncle Vernon who had given him the idea.
Quietly, he bent down and slipped it beneath the adjacent cubicle with a cough to cover the noise. He felt the envelope contact Dudley's shoe. Knowing his cousin would probably want to open the letter in there too, Harry decided to make some noise.
"Uncle Vernon?"
The man sounded alarmed. "What?"
"Errrrr," Harry said coughing, realising Dudley was understanding the distraction's purpose. "I can't go."
"What do you mean you can't go?"
"I mean I can't go," Harry said. "I need to go but I can't. I think I need some water."
"We're not spending longer here than we need to," Uncle Vernon growled. "Try to concentrate. Dudley, are you finished?"
"Uh, nearly?" Dudley said, his voice weak and a little confused. "Give me a moment."
Harry finally decided he would have enough time to take a leak now; whatever was in the letter, Dudley had had enough time to read it. Clearly it wasn't a danger. He heard the chain flush in Dudley's cubicle, and listening through the rushing water he heard a folding of parchment. Harry sniffed loudly, hoping his cousin would finally admit to what had happened. What all the fuss had been about.
Dudley went back to the car in silence, and sat looking out the window quietly.
====
The night had been extraordinary; Harry had been forced out to a hut in the sea along with his family; Uncle Vernon stocked up on supplies and looked rather happy. None of them had showered since leaving the Welsh B&B; Harry couldn't remember Aunt Petunia ever smelling of anything other than camomile and mint shampoo. But the most extraordinary thing of all occured the following morning.
No letters came whatsoever.
Uncle Vernon shrieked with joy, his face wild and excited; were they not in a hut out at sea, any neighbours coming past would have thought he had won the lottery. Petunia didn't smile anywhere near as broadly as her husband, and Harry suspected if she believed the reason they had stopped receiving letters was because Dudley had read one.
The four of them went back to the mainland for the afternoon; Harry dared to hope they were going to remember his birthday, but he realised there wasn't much likelihood of that. There was a slight respite from the chaos caused by week of running around like a bunch of idiots, without explaining why.
And then, on the stroke of midnight, a bang at the door of the shack woke the slumbering family.
====
A giant figure crossed the threshhold, looking at the group of four, all of whom quailed in terror.
"Cor, awful weather out there, eh?" said the giant. "Any chance of a cuppa?"
There was an awkward silence as the man set to work lighting a fire in the old grate, muttering under his own breath as he started to heat a fire.
"Sorry 'bout tha'" he said, sliding down on a vacated sofa. "And these must be the boys here, right? Dudley and Harry. Ahh, it's been a long time since I seen you Harry. You were jus' a baby a' the time..."
"You know me?"
"Oh, of course! I should introduce meself," said the man. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. And, uh... well. Here's a quick birthday cake for you, Harry. Sorry it's a bit squashed."
Harry looked at the cake, made with deep chocolate and oozing with icing; his name written on top in clumsy-yet-thoughtful lettering. Smiling, he watched the giant turn his attention to Dudley.
"And, yes.... Dudley. Dudley, Dudley, Dudley. You've been givin' us quite the runaround up at Hogwarts, eh? But I'm sure you have a ton of questions now you've read your letter..."
"Excuse me," Uncle Vernon interjected. "But I don't believe Dudley did receive any such letter."
"Oh don't talk nonsen' Dursley," Hagrid said. "'Ee's had about an 'undred of the ruddy things. I should know, I helped send some of 'em."
"You sent them?" Vernon said forgetting himself, only to clasp his hand to his mouth when he realised he'd let slip the admission. "Whatever. The important thing is Dudley didn't see any of the claptrap you sent him, right, Dudley?"
The two Dursley parents looked at their son hopefully, but Dudley squirmed in his seat. Harry knew this question put Dudley in an uncomfortable spot.
"Duddykinns?" Aunt Petunia asked nervously. "Your father just asked you a question. You didn't... you haven't, have you?"
Dudley looked at his mother, not knowing what to say; she moaned in anguish as she understood the silence to mean her worst fears.
Harry raised his hand stupidly: "Errr, sorry, but.... can someone tell me what's going on? What is this letter about?"
"It's his acceptance letter to Hogwarts," Hagrid explained. "You know, the school your parents went to."
Harry looked at the giant blankly. "I, uh, I don't know much about my parents other than they died in a car accident."
"YEH WHAT?!" Hagrid rounded on the Dursleys, Vernon turning a marvellous shade of puce as the beard ran off a tirade at the adults. Finally, Aunt Petunia winced and Hagrid, satisfied, turned back to the boys.
"I'm really sorry, Harry, but I thought this would be a lot easier, considering your family, but... if tha' lot--" he jabbed a finger at the Dursleys-- "didn' explain to you, I can't see why they might have explained to yer cousin either."
"Explained what to him? What was the letter about?"
"Harry," Dudley said slowly, fidgeting in his large frame. "I'm... uh, I'm a wizard."
In spite of himself, Harry sniggered.
"Sure, and I'm Action Man," Harry replied. "What was it about?"
"Hogwarts is a school for magic," Hagrid explained. "Your cousin got an invitation to attend it; we are particularly keen to have him come, given the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
Hagrid faltered, and sighed. "Ah... yeah, Yeh don' know. They never told yeh about your parents' murder."
Harry listened in bewilderment as the giant explained the story of Lily and James Potter, witch and wizard, fighters of the evil dark wizards, and how their death marked the end of the wizard; how Harry got his scar.
Finally, there was silence; the crackling fire twitched and popped occasionally. It was Dudley who spoke.
"I think there is some mistake," he said in a quiet voice. "If Harry's parents are magic, why isn't Harry going instead of me?"
"Too right, Dudley," Vernon bristled. "If you're taking anybody, you're taking that boy. You're not taking Dudley; he's not one of your lot."
"Trust me, Dursley, if I had the choice I'd be more than 'appy to oblige," confessed Hagrid. "But 'ere's the thin': It's a righ' puzzle why Harry didn' start producin' magic but Dudley did. Muggle parents- I mean, Muggles are non-wizardin' folk like you pair- Muggle parents don't tend to have witches and wizards very often. 'Arry, your mum was an exception to the rule."
"My mum," Harry repeated, before looking up at his aunt. "You knew she was a witch, didn't you, Aunt Petunia? All these years and you didn't say anything."
"What good would it have done, hmm?" Petunia hissed. "She forgot all about her family, and my parents were too star-struck to know any different. Her and that prat Potter skipped off to the sunset and suddenly we weren't good enough for her. We hoped taking you in would stamp out all of that wizard nonsense."
"And it worked," Uncle Vernon said smugly.
"But yeh're of the same bloodline as Lily Evans, Petunia," Hagrid said. "Your son got the gift, while Harry.... Harry is what we call a Squib."
Uncle Vernon chuckled. "We've been saying he's a bit of a damp squib for years."
"For once, Dursley, I'm not surprised by tha' statement," Hagrid said. "It's... unfortunate, though. It's more remarkable that You-Know-Who was destroyed by a baby with no magical powers, but... such a shame, such a shame."
Harry felt like he'd let Hagrid down somehow. "I'm... is there any way I can get magic powers somehow?"
"Ahh, Harry, I'm afrai' not. Yeh're either born a wizard or yeh're not."
"But! If my mum and dad were magical, then surely I..."
"Oh, Harry. I don't know what to tell yeh. You're not going to Hogwarts, and that's... a loss. A lot of the staff there knew your parents well."
The deep discomfort in Harry's stomach made him writhe akwardly; it was not enough to see that he had disappointed Hagrid, but he now felt inadequate. Impotent.
"Listen... you," Uncle Vernon said to Hagrid. "Dudley is not going to your school. He is going to Smeltings. We've already bought his uniform and everything."
"I should point out tha' Dudley produces magic on reflex. "Have you ever seen anythin' unusual happen when Dudley gets upset or angry?"
An uneasy silence fell on the hut. All of them could think of times when this had happened; Harry more than any, because he was usually Dudley's vent of choice.
"That doesn't change anything; Smeltings will sort him out just fine," Uncle Vernon said.
"But here's the thing, Dursley: it won'. He'll just get more and more powerful, and withou' proper magic trainin' the magic'll start comin' out o' his ears. He'll be burnin' that school down every time 'e sneezes! Then there'll be more an' more pressure by the wizardin' authorities about why he's no' in proper magical education..."
"You mean there'll be more of them coming.... coming here?"
"Yeah, too righ'" Hagrid growled. "And they won' even give you the courtesy o' sending you letters t'ignore first."
Another uneasy silence. Dudley was the one who spoke this time:
"If there's... if it helps me to control... to control this, then perhaps I should accept?"
"It's a trap, Dudley! Don't let them hoodwink you!"
"Huh, it's a shame yeh're got these Muggles for parents, Dudley," Hagrid said. "Well, I suggest yeh think it over overnight. I can take yeh to collect your school equipment tomorrow. Have a think."
And oddly, for the first time in his life, Dudley Dursley said something completely unselfish.
He looked at his parents, and then looked at Harry. He knew his father was probably going to go ballistic at him, but he had to do the right thing.
"I already decided when I read the letter," he confessed. "How about this? I go to... I go to Hogwarts, and.... and Harry can go to Smeltings?"
Uncle Vernon blinked. "That's preposterous."
"But it's right, isn't it?" Dudley said. "Stonewall High's a really bad school, and if there's already a place there..."
"I'm not paying for Harry to go to Smeltings," Uncle Vernon said flatly. "Unless you've got a pile of money you're not telling us about, boy, you're going to Stonewall."
"His father and mother left him money, Dursley," Hagrid said, interrupting. "And before yeh get any ideas: that money is Harry's inheritence, he won't own it until he's seventeen; and more precisely, neither will you."
"Would it be enough to cover a Smeltings scholarship?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Probably," Hagrid shrugged. "They worked hard, yer mum and dad, even if they did die young. And James Potter had money from his family, too, so..."
Harry looked over at Uncle Vernon, who was looking at Harry with an alien expression; it was like he suddenly preferred his nephew to his son. "But then Dudley's education. That list of stuff. Magic wands, spellbooks..."
"There's a fund a' Hogwarts for children from Muggle families. We can help support him if there's a problem."
"Absolutely not."
It was Aunt Petunia this time; she stood up, face bristling. "If... if Dudders is going to that place, then... then we should look after him ourselves."
Uncle Vernon was scandalised. "Petunia!"
"It won't do to ask somebody else to support our son, Vernon," she rang out, "imagine the scandal if people found out. We should support him no matter what. And we do have a place reserved there."
"But, but Petunia-"
"No, we should let Harry go to Smeltings," Petunia said. "It's a boarding school- he'll be away from under our feet for good. And like you say: it should knock all of that wizarding nonsense out of him."
Uncle Vernon looked at his son and nephew appraisingly. He was clearly feeling a certain dilemma: he looked at his son in his pyjamas, currently embodying everything he detested about Harry, and Harry, scrunched up awkwardly on the floor, currently embodying all his hopes held for Dudley. It was a strange role-switch.
"Very well," Uncle Vernon said, realising that he couldn't win, even as man of the house. "You, sir. If you're going to take Dudley to... to that place, we want to make sure you're not trying any funny stuff, either."
Hagrid looked at Vernon Dursley like he had come down from Mars.
"I'll go with them, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia. "This whole thing feels like my fault."
"Petunia, dear," he said placatingly, but she shook her head.
"It's Lily, isn't it? Lily and her parents, and my stupid blood being, being infected by their freakishness. If I go, then... then I can at least make sure Dudley is safe."
"Petunia."
"We can pay by credit card, or something," Petunia said simply. "They must have machines for it, and if they don't, I can just get money out before and pay by cash."
Harry looked up at his aunt and uncle, not daring to believe this change in fortune, the chance that he had been offered a chance to board at Smeltings, even if it meant putting up with Piers Polkiss again. And as for Dudley...
Dudley looked at the letter he had stuffed into his sock. He was looking set to embark on a great adventure.
=====
Harry's birthday treat had been to spend the day in the Hut with his Uncle Vernon, and as far away from his cousin as possible. He did have the chocolate cake, which was a marked improvment on the rest of Harry's birthday's put together. He and his uncle took a stroll along the beach; the sea air came as a refleshing relief to both of them, even if they did fail to talk to one another.
Harry got the impression Uncle Vernon looked at him in a different way, now. It was like Hagrid's visit had confirmed Harry to be normal, and suddenly he was worth something. Harry didn't try asking about this, because doing so would surely remind him about Dudley. At the very least, it would be worth travelling back to Privet Drive, to stop being so far away from home, to stop running.
When Dudley did return, he spent the entire car journey in silence. He had waved his magic wand around like a sparkle princess until Uncle Vernon confiscated it as though it were a loaded rifle. Dudley said proudly that he had a twelve incher, which caused Uncle Vernon to smack him round the back of the head and behave. Harry half-expected to see Dudley perform some sort of hocus pocus to get the wand back, but clearly magic didn't work that way.
Petunia didn't say much, either. She talked about some pointy-faced blond boy who tried to give Dudley a bit of cheek in the robe shop. Uncle Vernon asked what happened, to which Aunt Petunia said proudly that Dudley had punched the blond boy in the face until he apologised. Uncle Vernon looked pleased.
The pleased look didn't remain for long, though; once they got home, Dudley ran back to his bedroom and rolled on his bed, happy to be home. When he didn't come back down, Harry realised he must either be playing on his computer or reading his magic books. The Dursley parents were obviously unsettled that their son was so eager to embrace the occult; Harry was uneasy that Dudley had actually found a book he enjoyed.
Uncle Vernon had hidden Dudley's wand out of reach. If it hadn't been for Aunt Petunia saying how expensive that foot-long strip of elder had been, Harry suspected Uncle Vernon would have thrown it in the bin. He didn't complain of course; Harry suspected that Dudley would readily learn these spells purely to test them out on Harry. Harry, clearly, didn't feel like being turned into a toad, so he sat around, watching Aunt Petunia adjust Dudley's old Smeltings uniform for Harry's wear.
Dudley kept hold of the Smeltings stick, though; he was waving it about, saying strange incantations that unsettled the family. None of them dared try challenge him about it; it was like Dudley Dursley had become a ticking timebomb.
Taking Dudley to Kings Cross station showed itself to be a hassle. He had to leave from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, whatever that meant; the Dursleys sat on a bench, miserably watching the clock tick closer to eleven o'clock, and of course, there was no sign of this magical Platform nine-and-three-quarters; the Dursleys had been forced to assume it would show up the minute the clock struck the hour, like a reverse Cinderella.
It wasn't until Aunt Petunia wrinkled her nose at a family of redheads walking past that Dudley got excited; the tallest had an owl. The Dursleys decided to follow the redheads up to a barrier and watch slowly. Harry watched sadly, the eldest boy vanished out of sight, but he wasn't quite sure how it happened, and neither were Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia. It was as if their attention had shifted at the last possible second.
"Errr, excuse me, Madam?" Uncle Vernon said, striding up to the lady.
"Yes?" She had a pleasant smile and a warmly maternal feel to her.
"Yes, hrrm," he continued, clearing his throat and leaning back a little in case he caught something. It was obviously a humbling moment for Vernon Dursley to ask a witch how to walk through a wall.
"Of course, Muggles can get through, too, so long as you're holding the hand of a witch or wizard," the lady said. "So if you want to take your son's hand and let him lead, and, uh, I don't know if your other son has magic or-"
"He's not our son, he's our nephew," Uncle Vernon said bristlingly. "And no, he doesn't. His parents were like your lot, but..."
The woman's lips thinned. "I see. Well, he can hold Ginny's hand and walk through together."
"Actually, Petunia, I'm going to stay on this side," Uncle Vernon decided last minute, realising that Dudley would need one hand to push the trolley through, meaning he would have to hold the hand of the mad woman or her children.
"Okay," said the lady, already deciding not to waste too much time on Uncle Vernon's tantrum, turning to Aunt Petunia and Dudley. "You two go first, then. I'm not sure how it works for Muggles, you might need to walk with your eyes shut."
Aunt Petunia, feeling foolish, held Dudley's hand, and walked forward behind him. Dudley turned around and grinned.
"See you on the other side, Scarface!"
He vanished out of sight, and Harry noticed the kind woman bristle. "Okay, you and Ginny go through with me, dear. What was your name?"
"Harry," he said with a awkward smile. "Harry Potter."
The woman's face faltered briefly, before smiling again. "Come on, Harry, we'll show you the Hogwarts Express. It's a lovely bright steam train."
He turned round to look at Uncle Vernon, who was already looking at the clock, presumably because he had only paid for an hour's parking. He looked at the redhaired girl, Ginny, as she gazed up at him with wonder. He had a feeling she wanted to ask him so many questions, but knew they would never come.
Walking toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, Harry Potter closed his eyes to glimpse a world he would never experience.
4677 words -> 156 points GET!!
Summary: Role Reversal! Dudley got accepted for Hogwarts while Harry did not, much to the suprise and chagrin of Vernon and Petunia. How might the most ordinary of Muggle families adjust to their favourite boy going away to wizarding school?
Characters/Pairings: The Dursleys, Harry, Hagrid, Mrs Weasley.
Genre: Gen
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, cos of a scene near the beginning that may or may not count as domestic violence, idk, it caused bruising, but wasn't anything too upsetting/triggering, I hope....
Word Count: 4677. I was procrastinating from an essay and got carried away, so yeah, sorry. :/ ALL ABOARD THE GOOD SHIP TEAL-DEER, ME HEARTIES! YARRR!
Harry collected the post one morning while Dudley stuffed his face full of chocolate cereal. His aunt and uncle were gossiping over something particularly inexciting, and Harry was relieved to be excused from the table for a moment.
He picked up the letters, and turning round on the spot to give them to Uncle Vernon: a postcard from Aunt Marge, a bill, and some peculiar letter addressed to Dudley.
"Here you go," Harry said, passing the letter to Uncle Vernon, who snatched all three without discrimination. Harry sat down in his chair.
"Marge's ill," Vernon informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk..."
"That last one's for Dudley,"
Uncle Vernon held the envelope, realised it was indeed addressed to his son, and offered it down the table. "Take it."
"I'm eating," Dudley said, stuffing his face full of cereal again. Uncle Vernon's arm sort of hovered outstretched until Aunt Petunia took the envelope and inspected it.
Suddenly she shrieked. Dudley dropped his spoon and gawped at her.
"Mum?"
"This... this can't be..." she gasped, clutching weakly at the table. "Vernon, this is..."
Dudley was finally interested, exchanging confused looks with Harry. "Can I open it?"
"Pass it here," Uncle Vernon grumbled, tearing the envelope open despite Dudley's objections. Sure enough, Harry looked in astonishment as Uncle Vernon's face turned ashen with fear. "Impossible..."
The man turned on Harry. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, ISN'T IT?"
Harry opened his mouth in horror. "But, I..."
"NO EXCUSES! YOU DID SOMETHING, DIDN'T YOU?"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry protested. "I just picked the letters up from the hall like you asked."
"Can I read the letter, Dad?"
"No," Uncle Vernon snapped. "Go... both of you. Leave the room for a minute."
"But I-"
"Do as your father says, Dudley," Aunt Petunia said, finally rediscovering her voice. Harry and Dudley sat in the hall, listening through the door:
"But look at the address, Petunia," Vernon hissed. "They addressed it to Dudley Dursley, South-facing bedroom, 4, Privet Drive... how do they know his bedroom?"
"I don't know..." Aunt Petunia whimpered, "watching the house?"
"Watching it, spying on us... they must know about the boy..."
"That's the other thing," Petunia whimpered. "If.... if they got in touch with Dudders, why didn't they contact Harry? I would have thought..."
There was a silence. Harry backed away from the door; he had a horrible feeling what was about to happen. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon swung the door open, the handle contacting with Dudley's nose, who had not become quite as astute at sensing danger over the years. He howled, falling backward, while Uncle Vernon, totally oblivious, towered over Harry.
"You had one too, didn't you?" he whispered in his most dangerous tone.
"No?"
"DON'T LIE TO ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!" Vernon bellowed, spit flying everywhere. "WHERE DID YOU PUT YOUR LETTER?"
"I didn't get one!" Harry pleaded, but it was too late: Vernon had grabbed Harry by the wrists, ignoring his nephew's squeals of discomfort and indignity.
"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "Check his cupboard!"
Harry wriggled with protest while Aunt Petunia ransacked his few possessions, eventually coming out with cobwebs stuck to her shoulders. "Nothing, Vernon."
"WHERE IS IT?"
"I didn't get one!" Harry repeated, genuinely scared as his uncle slowly turned purple.
"It's under your shirt, isn't it?" Uncle Vernon said slowly. "You stuffed it in your clothes. Petunia!"
Harry writhed and squealed as Aunt Petunia frisked him down uncerimoniously; after finding nothing she tugged at his sweater to remove it while her husband still held his wrists in a vice-like grip.
"Stop it! Stop!" Harry was screaming, but he realised he wasn't the only one: Dudley was yelling at his parents to stop the attack, but they ignored him, pulling Harry's shoes off. The two boys were wailing in fright, and then:
There was a crack, and Dudley's parents went flying in opposite directions; Harry tumbling down on the floor in a heap. Only Dudley remained upright, blood trickling from his nose, vaguely sobbing, "s-s-stop, ple-e-ease", through ragged breaths. Dudley's parents got back to their feet along with Harry, the three of them looking at the chubbier boy with unease.
"We're going away," Uncle Vernon announced once he got his breath back. "Dudley, Petunia, grab your things."
====
They stopped in a hotel first, but a dozen letters arrived at the front desk, all of which Uncle Vernon took and systematically destroyed. Harry and Dudley sat in the back of the car, silently watching the English countryside fly past. They tried three more hotels in three different cities, all of which they left at the first possible chance after the parchment envelopes appeared at the front desk. Finally, they seemed to find a Bed and Breakfast in the middle of Wales, and at once settled themselves down, tired of the travelling. The only person who didn't sleep was Uncle Vernon, who was too busy listening out for the slightest noise. If Dudley's reckonning was true, today was Sunday, meaning Tuesday was Harry's birthday. He didn't expect much from the Dursleys of course, but Harry still felt a pang of sadness that none of them would even realise he was turning eleven.
Harry woke to a roar from Uncle Vernon. There was a series of explosions as the windows blew open, letters tumbled down the chimney, all identical emblems and green ink. Harry watched Dudley scrabbling around trying to open one, when suddenly:
"Out! All of you, we're moving again!"
Even Petunia didn't argue: she was trying to prise the envelopes from Dudley's hands, while Harry scrambled about on all-fours, trying to put his shoes on. He noticed the bruise on his wrist was starting to subside; Uncle Vernon had still not apologised to him about it. He didn't expect him too, either.
"Mum, I want to go home," Dudley whined in the car as his father drove wildly down some unknown B-road. "I want to go home. I want to go home..."
Nobody was saying anything; Harry had a great mental image of the house drowning in envelopes now, and imagined the front door heaving under the strain until it burst and a stream poured down Privet Drive like a cartoon waterfall. He saw Aunt Petunia in the passenger's seat, wondering whether she was thinking the same thing, wondering how her house-pride was making her feel right now. She seemed to be sitting stock-still, deep in thought, with sadness in her eyes.
They eventually stopped at a service station, not because Uncle Vernon wanted to, but because Dudley had been insisting he needed to use the toilet for an hour, and on passing a service station the car took a left, drove into the wrong lane, into the car park and refused to budge. The four of them piled out and walked together in a pack, as though expecting somebody to attack.
"You two stay here," Uncle Vernon said to the boys as he went into the restrooms by himself. Dudley and Harry looked at one another uneasily; they both knew he was checking for envelopes. Harry looked at Aunt Petunia, who was standing guard over them; she didn't seem especially happy to be either of the children right now, like she was biting her tongue. After a good five minutes, Uncle Vernon came out.
"Right, you two, in," he said, escorting the boys to adjacent cubicles. "Dudley, go in there. Harry, that one. Try to be quick."
Harry heard Dudley urinating at once with an audible sigh of relief, while he himself stood in the cubicle. Steeling his nerve, and knowing this would probably be the only time the two of them were out of his aunt and uncle's sight, he silently untucked his shirt.
Tucked into his belt was a lone parchment envelope addressed to his cousin.
Harry looked at the address: Dudley Dursley, Room 2, Miners' Retreat, Pont-Rhyd-y-Groes, Ystradmeurig, Ceredigion, Wales. It had arrived that morning, when the Dursleys were busy trying to stop Dudley from opening one, Harry had snatched one and stuffed it down his shirt. Ironically, it had been Uncle Vernon who had given him the idea.
Quietly, he bent down and slipped it beneath the adjacent cubicle with a cough to cover the noise. He felt the envelope contact Dudley's shoe. Knowing his cousin would probably want to open the letter in there too, Harry decided to make some noise.
"Uncle Vernon?"
The man sounded alarmed. "What?"
"Errrrr," Harry said coughing, realising Dudley was understanding the distraction's purpose. "I can't go."
"What do you mean you can't go?"
"I mean I can't go," Harry said. "I need to go but I can't. I think I need some water."
"We're not spending longer here than we need to," Uncle Vernon growled. "Try to concentrate. Dudley, are you finished?"
"Uh, nearly?" Dudley said, his voice weak and a little confused. "Give me a moment."
Harry finally decided he would have enough time to take a leak now; whatever was in the letter, Dudley had had enough time to read it. Clearly it wasn't a danger. He heard the chain flush in Dudley's cubicle, and listening through the rushing water he heard a folding of parchment. Harry sniffed loudly, hoping his cousin would finally admit to what had happened. What all the fuss had been about.
Dudley went back to the car in silence, and sat looking out the window quietly.
====
The night had been extraordinary; Harry had been forced out to a hut in the sea along with his family; Uncle Vernon stocked up on supplies and looked rather happy. None of them had showered since leaving the Welsh B&B; Harry couldn't remember Aunt Petunia ever smelling of anything other than camomile and mint shampoo. But the most extraordinary thing of all occured the following morning.
No letters came whatsoever.
Uncle Vernon shrieked with joy, his face wild and excited; were they not in a hut out at sea, any neighbours coming past would have thought he had won the lottery. Petunia didn't smile anywhere near as broadly as her husband, and Harry suspected if she believed the reason they had stopped receiving letters was because Dudley had read one.
The four of them went back to the mainland for the afternoon; Harry dared to hope they were going to remember his birthday, but he realised there wasn't much likelihood of that. There was a slight respite from the chaos caused by week of running around like a bunch of idiots, without explaining why.
And then, on the stroke of midnight, a bang at the door of the shack woke the slumbering family.
====
A giant figure crossed the threshhold, looking at the group of four, all of whom quailed in terror.
"Cor, awful weather out there, eh?" said the giant. "Any chance of a cuppa?"
There was an awkward silence as the man set to work lighting a fire in the old grate, muttering under his own breath as he started to heat a fire.
"Sorry 'bout tha'" he said, sliding down on a vacated sofa. "And these must be the boys here, right? Dudley and Harry. Ahh, it's been a long time since I seen you Harry. You were jus' a baby a' the time..."
"You know me?"
"Oh, of course! I should introduce meself," said the man. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. And, uh... well. Here's a quick birthday cake for you, Harry. Sorry it's a bit squashed."
Harry looked at the cake, made with deep chocolate and oozing with icing; his name written on top in clumsy-yet-thoughtful lettering. Smiling, he watched the giant turn his attention to Dudley.
"And, yes.... Dudley. Dudley, Dudley, Dudley. You've been givin' us quite the runaround up at Hogwarts, eh? But I'm sure you have a ton of questions now you've read your letter..."
"Excuse me," Uncle Vernon interjected. "But I don't believe Dudley did receive any such letter."
"Oh don't talk nonsen' Dursley," Hagrid said. "'Ee's had about an 'undred of the ruddy things. I should know, I helped send some of 'em."
"You sent them?" Vernon said forgetting himself, only to clasp his hand to his mouth when he realised he'd let slip the admission. "Whatever. The important thing is Dudley didn't see any of the claptrap you sent him, right, Dudley?"
The two Dursley parents looked at their son hopefully, but Dudley squirmed in his seat. Harry knew this question put Dudley in an uncomfortable spot.
"Duddykinns?" Aunt Petunia asked nervously. "Your father just asked you a question. You didn't... you haven't, have you?"
Dudley looked at his mother, not knowing what to say; she moaned in anguish as she understood the silence to mean her worst fears.
Harry raised his hand stupidly: "Errr, sorry, but.... can someone tell me what's going on? What is this letter about?"
"It's his acceptance letter to Hogwarts," Hagrid explained. "You know, the school your parents went to."
Harry looked at the giant blankly. "I, uh, I don't know much about my parents other than they died in a car accident."
"YEH WHAT?!" Hagrid rounded on the Dursleys, Vernon turning a marvellous shade of puce as the beard ran off a tirade at the adults. Finally, Aunt Petunia winced and Hagrid, satisfied, turned back to the boys.
"I'm really sorry, Harry, but I thought this would be a lot easier, considering your family, but... if tha' lot--" he jabbed a finger at the Dursleys-- "didn' explain to you, I can't see why they might have explained to yer cousin either."
"Explained what to him? What was the letter about?"
"Harry," Dudley said slowly, fidgeting in his large frame. "I'm... uh, I'm a wizard."
In spite of himself, Harry sniggered.
"Sure, and I'm Action Man," Harry replied. "What was it about?"
"Hogwarts is a school for magic," Hagrid explained. "Your cousin got an invitation to attend it; we are particularly keen to have him come, given the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
Hagrid faltered, and sighed. "Ah... yeah, Yeh don' know. They never told yeh about your parents' murder."
Harry listened in bewilderment as the giant explained the story of Lily and James Potter, witch and wizard, fighters of the evil dark wizards, and how their death marked the end of the wizard; how Harry got his scar.
Finally, there was silence; the crackling fire twitched and popped occasionally. It was Dudley who spoke.
"I think there is some mistake," he said in a quiet voice. "If Harry's parents are magic, why isn't Harry going instead of me?"
"Too right, Dudley," Vernon bristled. "If you're taking anybody, you're taking that boy. You're not taking Dudley; he's not one of your lot."
"Trust me, Dursley, if I had the choice I'd be more than 'appy to oblige," confessed Hagrid. "But 'ere's the thin': It's a righ' puzzle why Harry didn' start producin' magic but Dudley did. Muggle parents- I mean, Muggles are non-wizardin' folk like you pair- Muggle parents don't tend to have witches and wizards very often. 'Arry, your mum was an exception to the rule."
"My mum," Harry repeated, before looking up at his aunt. "You knew she was a witch, didn't you, Aunt Petunia? All these years and you didn't say anything."
"What good would it have done, hmm?" Petunia hissed. "She forgot all about her family, and my parents were too star-struck to know any different. Her and that prat Potter skipped off to the sunset and suddenly we weren't good enough for her. We hoped taking you in would stamp out all of that wizard nonsense."
"And it worked," Uncle Vernon said smugly.
"But yeh're of the same bloodline as Lily Evans, Petunia," Hagrid said. "Your son got the gift, while Harry.... Harry is what we call a Squib."
Uncle Vernon chuckled. "We've been saying he's a bit of a damp squib for years."
"For once, Dursley, I'm not surprised by tha' statement," Hagrid said. "It's... unfortunate, though. It's more remarkable that You-Know-Who was destroyed by a baby with no magical powers, but... such a shame, such a shame."
Harry felt like he'd let Hagrid down somehow. "I'm... is there any way I can get magic powers somehow?"
"Ahh, Harry, I'm afrai' not. Yeh're either born a wizard or yeh're not."
"But! If my mum and dad were magical, then surely I..."
"Oh, Harry. I don't know what to tell yeh. You're not going to Hogwarts, and that's... a loss. A lot of the staff there knew your parents well."
The deep discomfort in Harry's stomach made him writhe akwardly; it was not enough to see that he had disappointed Hagrid, but he now felt inadequate. Impotent.
"Listen... you," Uncle Vernon said to Hagrid. "Dudley is not going to your school. He is going to Smeltings. We've already bought his uniform and everything."
"I should point out tha' Dudley produces magic on reflex. "Have you ever seen anythin' unusual happen when Dudley gets upset or angry?"
An uneasy silence fell on the hut. All of them could think of times when this had happened; Harry more than any, because he was usually Dudley's vent of choice.
"That doesn't change anything; Smeltings will sort him out just fine," Uncle Vernon said.
"But here's the thing, Dursley: it won'. He'll just get more and more powerful, and withou' proper magic trainin' the magic'll start comin' out o' his ears. He'll be burnin' that school down every time 'e sneezes! Then there'll be more an' more pressure by the wizardin' authorities about why he's no' in proper magical education..."
"You mean there'll be more of them coming.... coming here?"
"Yeah, too righ'" Hagrid growled. "And they won' even give you the courtesy o' sending you letters t'ignore first."
Another uneasy silence. Dudley was the one who spoke this time:
"If there's... if it helps me to control... to control this, then perhaps I should accept?"
"It's a trap, Dudley! Don't let them hoodwink you!"
"Huh, it's a shame yeh're got these Muggles for parents, Dudley," Hagrid said. "Well, I suggest yeh think it over overnight. I can take yeh to collect your school equipment tomorrow. Have a think."
And oddly, for the first time in his life, Dudley Dursley said something completely unselfish.
He looked at his parents, and then looked at Harry. He knew his father was probably going to go ballistic at him, but he had to do the right thing.
"I already decided when I read the letter," he confessed. "How about this? I go to... I go to Hogwarts, and.... and Harry can go to Smeltings?"
Uncle Vernon blinked. "That's preposterous."
"But it's right, isn't it?" Dudley said. "Stonewall High's a really bad school, and if there's already a place there..."
"I'm not paying for Harry to go to Smeltings," Uncle Vernon said flatly. "Unless you've got a pile of money you're not telling us about, boy, you're going to Stonewall."
"His father and mother left him money, Dursley," Hagrid said, interrupting. "And before yeh get any ideas: that money is Harry's inheritence, he won't own it until he's seventeen; and more precisely, neither will you."
"Would it be enough to cover a Smeltings scholarship?" Harry asked hopefully.
"Probably," Hagrid shrugged. "They worked hard, yer mum and dad, even if they did die young. And James Potter had money from his family, too, so..."
Harry looked over at Uncle Vernon, who was looking at Harry with an alien expression; it was like he suddenly preferred his nephew to his son. "But then Dudley's education. That list of stuff. Magic wands, spellbooks..."
"There's a fund a' Hogwarts for children from Muggle families. We can help support him if there's a problem."
"Absolutely not."
It was Aunt Petunia this time; she stood up, face bristling. "If... if Dudders is going to that place, then... then we should look after him ourselves."
Uncle Vernon was scandalised. "Petunia!"
"It won't do to ask somebody else to support our son, Vernon," she rang out, "imagine the scandal if people found out. We should support him no matter what. And we do have a place reserved there."
"But, but Petunia-"
"No, we should let Harry go to Smeltings," Petunia said. "It's a boarding school- he'll be away from under our feet for good. And like you say: it should knock all of that wizarding nonsense out of him."
Uncle Vernon looked at his son and nephew appraisingly. He was clearly feeling a certain dilemma: he looked at his son in his pyjamas, currently embodying everything he detested about Harry, and Harry, scrunched up awkwardly on the floor, currently embodying all his hopes held for Dudley. It was a strange role-switch.
"Very well," Uncle Vernon said, realising that he couldn't win, even as man of the house. "You, sir. If you're going to take Dudley to... to that place, we want to make sure you're not trying any funny stuff, either."
Hagrid looked at Vernon Dursley like he had come down from Mars.
"I'll go with them, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia. "This whole thing feels like my fault."
"Petunia, dear," he said placatingly, but she shook her head.
"It's Lily, isn't it? Lily and her parents, and my stupid blood being, being infected by their freakishness. If I go, then... then I can at least make sure Dudley is safe."
"Petunia."
"We can pay by credit card, or something," Petunia said simply. "They must have machines for it, and if they don't, I can just get money out before and pay by cash."
Harry looked up at his aunt and uncle, not daring to believe this change in fortune, the chance that he had been offered a chance to board at Smeltings, even if it meant putting up with Piers Polkiss again. And as for Dudley...
Dudley looked at the letter he had stuffed into his sock. He was looking set to embark on a great adventure.
=====
Harry's birthday treat had been to spend the day in the Hut with his Uncle Vernon, and as far away from his cousin as possible. He did have the chocolate cake, which was a marked improvment on the rest of Harry's birthday's put together. He and his uncle took a stroll along the beach; the sea air came as a refleshing relief to both of them, even if they did fail to talk to one another.
Harry got the impression Uncle Vernon looked at him in a different way, now. It was like Hagrid's visit had confirmed Harry to be normal, and suddenly he was worth something. Harry didn't try asking about this, because doing so would surely remind him about Dudley. At the very least, it would be worth travelling back to Privet Drive, to stop being so far away from home, to stop running.
When Dudley did return, he spent the entire car journey in silence. He had waved his magic wand around like a sparkle princess until Uncle Vernon confiscated it as though it were a loaded rifle. Dudley said proudly that he had a twelve incher, which caused Uncle Vernon to smack him round the back of the head and behave. Harry half-expected to see Dudley perform some sort of hocus pocus to get the wand back, but clearly magic didn't work that way.
Petunia didn't say much, either. She talked about some pointy-faced blond boy who tried to give Dudley a bit of cheek in the robe shop. Uncle Vernon asked what happened, to which Aunt Petunia said proudly that Dudley had punched the blond boy in the face until he apologised. Uncle Vernon looked pleased.
The pleased look didn't remain for long, though; once they got home, Dudley ran back to his bedroom and rolled on his bed, happy to be home. When he didn't come back down, Harry realised he must either be playing on his computer or reading his magic books. The Dursley parents were obviously unsettled that their son was so eager to embrace the occult; Harry was uneasy that Dudley had actually found a book he enjoyed.
Uncle Vernon had hidden Dudley's wand out of reach. If it hadn't been for Aunt Petunia saying how expensive that foot-long strip of elder had been, Harry suspected Uncle Vernon would have thrown it in the bin. He didn't complain of course; Harry suspected that Dudley would readily learn these spells purely to test them out on Harry. Harry, clearly, didn't feel like being turned into a toad, so he sat around, watching Aunt Petunia adjust Dudley's old Smeltings uniform for Harry's wear.
Dudley kept hold of the Smeltings stick, though; he was waving it about, saying strange incantations that unsettled the family. None of them dared try challenge him about it; it was like Dudley Dursley had become a ticking timebomb.
Taking Dudley to Kings Cross station showed itself to be a hassle. He had to leave from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, whatever that meant; the Dursleys sat on a bench, miserably watching the clock tick closer to eleven o'clock, and of course, there was no sign of this magical Platform nine-and-three-quarters; the Dursleys had been forced to assume it would show up the minute the clock struck the hour, like a reverse Cinderella.
It wasn't until Aunt Petunia wrinkled her nose at a family of redheads walking past that Dudley got excited; the tallest had an owl. The Dursleys decided to follow the redheads up to a barrier and watch slowly. Harry watched sadly, the eldest boy vanished out of sight, but he wasn't quite sure how it happened, and neither were Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia. It was as if their attention had shifted at the last possible second.
"Errr, excuse me, Madam?" Uncle Vernon said, striding up to the lady.
"Yes?" She had a pleasant smile and a warmly maternal feel to her.
"Yes, hrrm," he continued, clearing his throat and leaning back a little in case he caught something. It was obviously a humbling moment for Vernon Dursley to ask a witch how to walk through a wall.
"Of course, Muggles can get through, too, so long as you're holding the hand of a witch or wizard," the lady said. "So if you want to take your son's hand and let him lead, and, uh, I don't know if your other son has magic or-"
"He's not our son, he's our nephew," Uncle Vernon said bristlingly. "And no, he doesn't. His parents were like your lot, but..."
The woman's lips thinned. "I see. Well, he can hold Ginny's hand and walk through together."
"Actually, Petunia, I'm going to stay on this side," Uncle Vernon decided last minute, realising that Dudley would need one hand to push the trolley through, meaning he would have to hold the hand of the mad woman or her children.
"Okay," said the lady, already deciding not to waste too much time on Uncle Vernon's tantrum, turning to Aunt Petunia and Dudley. "You two go first, then. I'm not sure how it works for Muggles, you might need to walk with your eyes shut."
Aunt Petunia, feeling foolish, held Dudley's hand, and walked forward behind him. Dudley turned around and grinned.
"See you on the other side, Scarface!"
He vanished out of sight, and Harry noticed the kind woman bristle. "Okay, you and Ginny go through with me, dear. What was your name?"
"Harry," he said with a awkward smile. "Harry Potter."
The woman's face faltered briefly, before smiling again. "Come on, Harry, we'll show you the Hogwarts Express. It's a lovely bright steam train."
He turned round to look at Uncle Vernon, who was already looking at the clock, presumably because he had only paid for an hour's parking. He looked at the redhaired girl, Ginny, as she gazed up at him with wonder. He had a feeling she wanted to ask him so many questions, but knew they would never come.
Walking toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, Harry Potter closed his eyes to glimpse a world he would never experience.
4677 words -> 156 points GET!!