"Neighbours and Friends" (Arabella Figg, Dudley Dursley)
This is the last story of the 2013 HP_friendship fest. Tomorrow we'll post the anonymous masterlist, and next Saturday we'll post the reveals, so you'll have plenty of time to catch up with stories before reveals go up. Dear friends, I give you, last but not least, Arabella and Dudley.
Author: Anonymous
Prompt/Prompt Author: Harry saving his life when the Dementor attacked has begun to change Dudley's opinion about Magical people. He wants to know more about the Wizarding world now, but who can he ask? Then he recalls somebody else was there, - Mrs. Figg! She must be a witch (he has no idea she's a squib, of course). So Dudley tries to gain her trust - by offering to mow her lawn and such. Slowly, he succeeds - maybe Arabella just can't keep silent about the injustice of Harry's trial? In short, two people who are placed at the border of the Wizarding world (but can never truly enter it) find some common ground. / sehlat_charmer
Title: Neighbours and Friends
Characters: Arabella Figg, Dudley Dursley
Rating: G
Warnings: Gosh, I can't think of any!
Word Count: 7034
Summary: Dudley turns to his neighbour hoping to learn more about his cousin.
Author's Notes: Dear sehlat_charmer, I was delighted to see your prompt, being the Dudley fan that I am. I don't like the way JKR portrayed him in the cannon but I can see why Harry would view him like that. This prompt allowed me to put things in a different perspective, so thanks. Despite my disagreement with JKR, I am still in awe of her for creating this world and allowing me to play with Her characters. Last but not least, massive thank you for the work of my betas; you don't only improve my writing, but you also teach me so much on the way.
A short explanation: In UK boarding schools children go on holidays, Midterms and exeats. The term 'exeat', a Latin word, is still used in relation to going home for two weekends, per term: one before and one after Midterm.
*****
Neighbours and Friends
Dudley was never really the same after that summer, or, in fact, after that particular summer evening. Although, truth be told, his world did not exactly fall apart either. Came September, he went back to school, but like his close friends from Little Whinging, his school mates could not avoid noticing that Dudley was changed. He remained the same bully he had been before, all right, but there was some added sadness in his eyes, something that his old mates simply could not comprehend. "He probably matured," they thought; after all, he was fifteen now. They couldn't possibly imagine the reasons behind Dudley's quietness. Dudley himself was simply struggling to make sense of the events of that particular night and didn't quite know whom he could turn to. Dudley Dursley, the teenager that had always had anything he'd wanted and more, was, for the first time in his life, at loss.
Whenever he thought of that particular evening the facts hit him hard: Harry had saved his life. He still wasn't sure what from. After all, there had been nothing in that alley; nothing, not just in the sense of nothing-that-he-could-have-spotted, but also nothing in the sense of nothingness: no light, no air, no heat, and, well, no happiness. Dudley was usually a happy lad, but for few minutes, in the blinding darkness in that alley, he had been the most miserable human being in the world. He didn't even know that such sadness existed, and yet, for moments that had felt like eternity, he had felt as if he would never be happy again. It had been like his life had been about to be sucked out of him. And then his cousin had performed some magic and suddenly an enormous, beautiful deer-like animal, made of light, had surrounded them and everything seemed to have gone back to normal. Well, as normal as could be when a very slim Harry had been dragging a still terrified, big heavyweight boxer that was Dudley, all the way home. It had been an odd kind of 'normal', because Harry hadn't left him in the alley, hadn't deserted him when troubles had met them; no, he had been... well... a loyal cousin. It had felt as if the world had gone really mad.
Dudley thought that he might have been able to leave it all behind him, if it hadn't been for his mother. His mum seemed to have known what Harry had been saying when he'd said what the damned things in the ally had been (and damned they'd been!). Clearly, she'd known more than she'd been letting on. She'd been surprised, terrified nearly, but in the know. Dudley always thought that his mum had never engaged with all this nonsense, but clearly she had. And then take that talking envelope that had made such a change to his mum! She had stood up to his dad after that, and that had hardly ever happened.
It was all too much for him to take in. Dudley really wanted to understand what had happened on that fateful night, but he knew better than to ask his mum. He would have considered asking Harry, but he had no idea whether he could be reached wherever he was, or what was the address; he was pretty sure there was no telephone line there. And even if he knew the school's address, he couldn't convince random birds to take any letters to his cousin now, could he? No, if he wanted to ask Harry about it, he'd have to wait until the summer. Still, the unsolved riddle kept bothering Dudley, who had never been a very patient guy.
Back in Smeltings Academy, every evening, after they finished dinner in the main hall and before bed; every Sunday, after the weekend activities were over and they had some free time, Dudley would drown in thoughts that kept going nowhere, until one bright day a new thought emerged: there had been another person with them on that night, and she, too, seemed to know what had been going on. If Dudley recalled correctly, his neighbour, Mrs. Figg, had even told Harry to keep his wand out and had shouted other things that suggested that she had understood what had been happening all along. Could it be that Harry had told her who he was on the times he'd stayed at her house? Was there another explanation altogether? Dudley sighed; there was only one way to find out: he would have to try and talk with his neighbour on his next exeat from the boarding school. Until then, he would have to work out a way to approach her. He wasn't good at working out things that didn't involve his fists, but he knew that for his own peace of mind, this time, he would have to come up with something.
*****
On his next visit home Dudley subjected himself to the usual homecoming drill. His mother prepared his favourite food, and a lot of it; she ignored the school nurse's diet on exeats. As usual, she was all over him, smooching and hugging him with her slim arms. Dudley always suspected that it had been his father's idea to send him to a boarding school and that his mother had never really approved of it. In the evening, he went out as usual. 'To see my friends', he told his parents who seemed overjoyed by the fact that he still had friends from his primary school days. Only he didn't see his old friends. Not quite knowing how to approach Mrs. Figg, Dudley decided to lurk at the end of her street. After what seemed like a long wait, he spotted Mrs. Figg leaving her house, mumbling to herself. Clumsily, he approached her.
"Good evening Mrs. Figg. Can I help you... emmm... with... emmm... crossing the road?" He felt triumphant at his quick thinking.
"Crossing the road? Do you think I need help crossing the road?" she replied, and muttered, "I am not that old."
Not so triumphant, it seemed. "Can I help with... anything else, then?" he nearly begged. "Anything at all?"
"Young Mr. Dursley, I am very capable of looking after myself and I would very much appreciate it if you leave me alone now."
With these definite words, and seeing her waving her walking stick at him, Dudley conceded defeat and went back home. To the surprise of his worried parents he even skipped dinner.
There had to be a way to get his answers from his neighbour, he thought; he just needed to find it, even if it seemed to be not happening on that exeat as he had hoped.
On the following day he went playing with his friends, showing off some new boxing drills he'd learned from his new coach. On Monday he went back to school, where he was to stay until Midterm.
*****
Came Midterm, Dudley arrived home with a plan. Having a whole week to work it out, he spent the weekend with his friends, and on Monday he came knocking on Mrs. Figg's door.
"Hello Mrs. Figg. I came to help you with the garden; mow the lawn, perhaps?"
This felt like an ideal plan, but he was still hesitant, knowing Mrs. Figg's suspicious nature and remembering the threatening stick. Mrs. Figg measured him as if she wasn't quite sure what to say.
"Young Mr. Dursely, we are at the end of October! Surely even you know that there is no need in cutting the grass at that time of the year??"
"Emmm, is there not? I can't quite remember what we did when I was still at home. Well, can I, maybe, emm, trim your roses?" Dudley had no intentions of giving up so quickly.
"Do you even know what roses look like? I have no roses!" Dudley could easily see that she wasn't impressed. It wasn't going well at all. He tried his best 'show daddy's boss how charming you are' smile; Mrs. Figg just narrowed her eyes.
"Look, Dursley..."
"It's Dudley, Mrs. Figg. Please," he interrupted.
"Fine, Dudley. I really don't know what business you have coming here. Harry is in school now, and there is no need for your parents to send you here to check on me. I am as fit as I have ever been to look after him if needed, despite last summer's events!" And with that, she shut the door on Dudley.
Dudley knocked again.
"Mrs. Figg, my parents didn't send me here," he tried again in a less convinced voice. "In fact, they don't even know I am here; I told them that I went to the local boxing club."
"So what are you doing here?" Mrs. Figg looked truly puzzled.
"Well, emmm, it's to do with school," he said cautiously, trying to remember something he had heard at the beginning of the school year.
"We... I... am doing a module on service learning, and what that really means is that we need to engage with our community; help out with things and all."
It was a lie, of course. Indeed, Smeltings Academy, that - despite what his father might have liked - took pride in embracing new pedagogical ideas, had introduced service learning that year, but Dudley had never bothered joining in to this new initiative; it involved weekly work in the community near school, which only nerds chose to take. It wasn't his thing at all, and in any case, it was not something to do just during holidays, Midterms, and the odd exeat; it was a bigger commitment. Dudley pitied those who did it. Not only were the pupils supposed to go to the community on a weekly basis, but those who were crazy enough to do that also had to 'reflect in writing' and present their journals as their homework. That, too, didn’t quite suit Dudley. Sure, he was able enough - unlike what people had thought of him, his written work had always been more than reasonable - but he still preferred spending his free time in the boxing club and not by his desk. In any case, he hoped and believed that Mrs. Figg, who had no children, had never heard about service learning and therefore could not spot that lie.
Or could she? She seemed to consider this.
"And you decided to help me with 'things and all'?"
Relieved beyond belief, Dudley said, "yes, that's exactly it. Part of my school work."
"And if this is part of your school work, may I ask why your parents think that you went boxing? Do they not want you to do well with this new... module?"
Dudley noticed that Mrs. Figg had a quick mind indeed. Despite himself, he was impressed. Still, he needed to convince her.
"Ahh.. well, Mum and Dad, especially Dad, don't quite approve of such things; they don't see how it may contribute to me, so I didn't tell them I had taken it." While still a lie, Dudley was pretty sure that it wasn't far from truth.
If Mrs. Figg still didn't believe him, she didn't show it; she just sighed and assigned him some maintenance tasks in her small garden. He spent a few hours every day of his midterm break working in her garden and on the last day promised to call back on his next exeat.
*****
On Dudley's next exeat not much was needed to be done in the garden, and Mrs. Figg invited him in for tea. It was Dudley's first time inside Mrs. Figg's house. It was small but comfortable, with funny crochet covers and mismatched chairs.
The place was stuffy and smelled strongly of cats, which wasn't surprising given the amount of cats that were there. Dudley found that he didn't care much; the boxing club was equally stuffy and the mattresses always smelled of teenage boys' sweat, which was far stronger. As for the cats, after years of suffering from Aunt Marjorie's vicious dogs (everyone would endure her dogs to receive her generous gifts), Mrs. Figg's cats seemed gentle and kind.
Tea was awkward but manageable even though there weren't any cakes, and over it Mrs. Figg showed him pictures of all her cats, past and present. Dudley wondered whether this was what Harry had had to go through on each of his visits to this place all those years ago.
After tea, Dudley insisted on performing some household chores for Mrs. Figg - so he could have something to put on his report, he said - and she happily accepted his help in cleaning the skylight windows. It felt strangely good to use his muscles for a good cause, and, of course, it would help him in getting the answers he needed soon enough.
*****
For Christmas, Dudley decided to put some money aside and buy Mrs. Figg a present. Not quite knowing what he could possibly bring her, he went for a fishing rod cat toy, hoping that for a cat loving person, this would be an appropriate present.
"Thank you Dudley, you really shouldn't have."
Mrs. Figg seemed moved, but Dudley noticed that the cats ignored the toy and was somewhat insulted.
"Is that not a suitable cat toy?" He asked, "They said in the shop that it was one of the all-time favourites for cats."
"It certainly is, but my cats are a bit different; they are... special."
Dudley didn't know what to say to that. He supposed that all cat owners thought their cats to be special. After a short pause, he decided to try to go for the question he had wanted to ask for months now.
"Mrs. Figg," he started cautiously, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... are you a witch? Like, a real witch?"
Mrs. Figg heaved a big sigh, and Dudley was suddenly not so sure it had been the right question to ask.
"And you are asking it, because?"
Dudley wondered why he'd thought that taking the direct approach would be the easiest.
"Well, you know, because of what happened in the summer?" He hoped that that would be enough of an explanation.
"And is that the real reason for your being here?" Mrs. Figg looked at him with raised eyebrows and an expression that made him feel very small. He really hoped that even as a witch, she wouldn't be able to read his thoughts.
"Well, no. I mean, I told you already that it was a school thing." But Dudley couldn't lie any more about that. "However, yes; this is why I chose you as my community project."
"You were so grey that day - I didn't think you remembered anything." Her voice was near whispering.
"I don't remember everything," Dudley said, "but at some point I realised that you had been there too, and that you'd told Harry to keep his wand out. You must have known what was happening; I didn't think that people outside your world knew about any of that. And I just thought...well... I don't really know what I was thinking."
Dudley felt very embarrassed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, talking about it with Mrs. Figg.
"And why is it of importance, Dudley? It is not likely to ever happen to you again; why are you bothering yourself with it?" Mrs. Figg didn't seem to be angry at all, Dudley noticed.
"It's because of my Mum..."
Mrs. Figg cut him, her words quick and angry: "I knew all along that your parents had sent you here!"
"No, Mrs. Figg, it is not like that at all!" Dudley was desperate to clarify. "It's just that Mum seems to know what these... things... that were in the alley... were. She explained it to Dad. And then this letter came and exploded and spoke to Mum, and that made her all of a sudden very decisive and supportive of Harry. I have never seen her like that.
"So obviously, Mum knows something... quite a few things... about... your... that... world. She always behaved as if she didn't believe any of it ever existed, and then, suddenly, she explained a lot to Dad, and he wasn't impressed at all!. And... I don't know!
"Mrs. Figg, I found it all so confusing and I just want to understand. Please, help me understand."
There, he said that; the bare truth of what he was feeling for a very long time.
Mrs. Figg seemed to respect that.
"You do know that your aunt, your mother's sister, was a witch, right?"
"'I suppose. The big man that came and took Harry said something along these lines, but I never really thought about it. Mum always referred to her sister and her husband as 'those freaks'. Especially to my uncle; she called him 'that freak boy'. I suppose I accepted that this was what they really were: freaks."
"And you know that your cousin is the son of a witch and a wizard, and a wizard himself?"
"Well, yes, of course, but I don't quite know what that even means. Besides doing odd things that you lot call magic, I guess. We did see some examples at home, none that I liked, mind, but we understood that he was actually not allowed to perform magic outside of school."
With that realisation he added, "was Harry punished this summer too? Was he expelled for performing his magic like that letter said and didn't return home because he chose to live elsewhere? Cause that would be unfair; he saved my life back there!"
The last sentence was said passionately. Mrs. Figg looked at Dudley as if she saw him for the first time. She sighed, "Harry has not been expelled, but not thanks to me; he was charged, but the Wizengamot, our court, accepted that he had used magic to protect the two of you. You would have thought that it had been an easy case, but it wasn't. Harry is not loved by many, and some were all too happy to find fault in him."
"Well, he is not always nice, I suppose. He was never nice to us, for example." Dudley tried to contribute to the conversation - after all, he was the one who had lived in the same house with Harry Potter for ten years, until both of them had left for school; they still shared a house over the summers.
"Harry is a very talented boy, who is chased in our world for telling the truth, but that is a long story."
Dudley was already busy contemplating his next question.
"When you talk about 'your world', does that mean that you are a witch?"
"I am not a witch, unfortunately." Mrs. Figg sighed, "I was born to a wizarding family, but just as some Muggles, that is, non- wizard families, have a wizard child, from time to time, a wizarding family would have a child that has no magic. That, unfortunately, is my fate. It is not easy to be different, Dudley."
Later, when he went back to school, the thought of Harry being chased for telling the truth haunted Dudley. Sure, Harry was a real asshole at times; Dudley knew better than anyone what an annoying, righteous boy Harry was. But to be chased for telling the truth?
Dudley could easily believe that Harry would be occasionally beaten up at school for being a righteous ass; it made sense, but the thought that he was accused for it by a court? And at the age of fifteen? Dudley knew that the wizarding world was a weird place, but this? How weird was that?
*****
At Easter break Dudley brought a box of chocolates when he came to visit Arabella. He had a growing feeling that she was actually enjoying his visits. She insisted that he didn't continue calling her Mrs. Figg; there was no longer need to pretend that he was coming to visit her as part of his school work, after all.
"Arabella, what are the things that Harry is saying? The truth that Harry is being chased for saying, what is it?"
By now Dudley felt at home in Arabella's house, sitting there with Snowy purring in his lap and Tuffy rubbing against his big arms. His mum had protested against the cat hair that had been caught in his clothes, but Dudley didn't quite care; the cats were really lovely.
"Harry says that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, but very few believe him."
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named??"
"Dudley, what do you know about your aunt and uncle?" Arabella asked, alarmed.
"Mum and Dad say that they were freaks. They say that my uncle never worked. They told Harry and me that his parents had died in a car crash, but the big man that came to take Harry had said that this was nonsense; that they were magicians and that..." Dudley stopped. Some memory in him awakened.
"Now I remember: he mentioned something like that; said that someone he'd called 'you-know-who' had killed Harry's parents... and then he'd tried to kill Harry too and failed... but why did he kill them?" Dudley was puzzled.
"There was a war in our world at the time; a war between the supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and those opposing him. He recruited a group of followers that killed Muggle-born wizards, as well as simple Muggles. It was terrible. Those were very scary times. Nobody knew what was coming next. It was thought that he would also attack squibs..." fear crept into her voice.
"Squibs?" asked Dudley, even more puzzled; he didn't recognise this term.
"Squibs are wizard-born individuals that have no magic, like me."
Dudley nodded, to indicate he was listening; it must have been very hard for her.
Arabella continued: "Anyway, the general fear was that we were going be his next target. That's why my husband left me. He was too afraid. It didn't help him much," she added bitterly, "he was murdered regardless."
"I am sorry to hear that, Arabella." Dudley really meant it.
"It was a long time ago, but thank you, Dudley. It means a lot, from you.
"As for your aunt, she was a Muggle-born; your grandparents had no connection to the magical world. Perhaps that's why she was killed; perhaps she and your uncle were targeted because they were clear opposition to Him. Such a tragedy, such a sad story...
"As I'm sure you know, your cousin, too, was attacked when his parents were killed, but he miraculously survived while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named disappeared. Many thought that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had died, but Dumbledore was certain that this wasn't the case."
"Dumbledore...the big man mentioned that name." Dudley was surprised that he remembered that; so surprised that he nearly jumped off the sofa. Tuffy and Snowy protested loudly and left him, looking for a safer perch.
"Dumbledore, yes. Professor Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Harry's school, Hogwarts, and he is one of the greatest wizards of our time. After Harry's parents were murdered and he was placed under your mother's care, Dumbledore had asked me to move to Little Whinging and keep an eye on Harry. It was shortly after I lost my husband to fear, and I was all too glad to take part in the resistance movement that still fought for justice even after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named disappeared mysteriously. As Dumbledore had anticipated, soon enough your parents were looking for someone to babysit Harry and I came forward. Clearly, I looked harmless enough to them, and they agreed to take me as a childminder exactly the way Dumbledore had planned it to be."
Dudley sat in silence; he was lost for words. It was a lot to take in: first, the horrible truth about those serial killings, and then the fact that his parents had been manipulated like that by wizards - well meaning as they may have been - it was all a little too much.
Arabella recognised that he was in distress and came up with a new idea.
"Wait, I'll bring you some photos." She returned after a few minutes with a yellow paper.
"Here. This was the picture they had in the paper when your aunt and uncle were murdered."
"They are moving!" Dudley shouted, and this time he did jump fully off his seat. Tuffy and Snowy eyed him critically, both happy to be seated elsewhere.
"Oh, I forgot to warn you. Yes, pictures in our world are moving. Look, here they are, the two of them, holding your baby cousin." She pointed at the figures in the photograph.
"These are my aunt and uncle? This is Mum's sister?" Dudley said slowly, "she looks so different from Mum. And my uncle! Wow, Harry looks so much like him! And who is that, on the left?" Dudley pointed at a smiling figure in the photo. Actually, that man wasn't merely smiling; he was beaming as if the child had been his.
"That's your cousin's godfather, Sirius Black."
"Isn't that the dangerous man that had escaped from jail a couple of years ago?" The thought sent shivers down his spine.
"We thought he was dangerous, but we were wrong." Arabella sighed, "You've probably noticed that we are too quick to judge in our world. We thought that he'd betrayed your uncle and aunt and that when he'd been found, he'd killed every person that had been in his vicinity. But last year it was revealed that the traitor had actually not been him after all. He is now back with the ranks who are trying to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"But I still don't understand; why did they even try to kill a young baby?" Dudley couldn't come to terms with that; it seemed that the morals of his world were not applied to the wizarding world at all.
"Who knows; so many innocent people were killed in those days, and Harry was the son of people who were very active in the resistance. I think that is enough of a reason for people who'd killed as a way of life. What is more surprising is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to kill Harry himself, rather than send one of his supporters for the job.
"And now Dumbledore thinks that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is out for revenge. Harry has already had some near escapes over the last few years, although I suppose he does not want you to know about that.
"For many years Harry had been considered a hero in our world. Then, when he'd said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, people chose not to believe him and begrudge him for carrying such news, because the real truth is too terrible to consider. But there is accumulating evidence that suggests that Harry was speaking the truth after all."
They remained silent for a long while before Dudley had to go.
*****
Dudley came back for the summer holiday determined to talk to Harry when he finally returned from his own school.
The previous summer Harry had left soon after the incident, and anyway, Dudley had been too shocked to even think about discussing anything with his cousin. However, after all he had heard this year, Dudley wanted to say something to Harry; acknowledge the fact that he had saved his life; thank him even.
But when Harry had finally come back from his school, he seemed distraught and even more disengaged than ever, and Dudley couldn't find a way to sneak even one sentence to him. To make things worse, soon after the summer holiday begun, the headmaster came to pick Harry up and take him back to their world.
Dudley thought that Dumbledore may have been the greatest wizard of their time, but his manners were certainly under par. He had arrived very late, then blamed it on Harry for not informing the Dursleys of his arrival, as if any of that would have justified such a late visit. He had invited himself into their living room, pushed the sofa under their legs and created those goblets that had attacked them. He'd then criticised them for not drinking whatever it was in their goblets, and then, to top it all up, Dumbledore had even blamed Dudley's parents for maltreating him, Dudley, as if Dudley had ever been maltreated.
At first, Dudley was simply in awe to see the man that Arabella had been speaking so highly of, but as the evening progressed he just found the whole visit rude and inconsiderate. He was, however, saddened to hear that Harry's godfather, that handsome man from the photo he'd seen at Arabella's, had passed away. No wonder Harry had seemed so down, even if it did mean that he'd become the recipient of a large property.
*****
In the following year, Dudley visited Arabella Figg regularly. He told his parents that he was doing the service learning module, hoping that they wouldn't bother verifying it with his school and indeed they didn't.
He found a strange sense of closeness to Arabella. She was, after all, a very intelligent woman, and they had interesting conversations. It made him feel that he now understood Harry better and that seemed important to him since Harry had saved his life.
"Arabella, when Dumbledore was in our house the other night, he said that Harry needed to come back home for just one more time before he could leave for good. Do you know what he was talking about?"
"I am not sure I know all the facts and figures, and Dumbledore surely doesn't share everything with me, but he did mention something when he'd asked me to move near you. He said that due to an old charm, Harry would be protected in your house as long as he could call it home."
"Yes, he said something like that, and something else about Harry coming of age next year. Why do wizards come to age at seventeen?" Dudley was only coming to age in two years' time and Harry was his age; why should it be different for wizards?"
"Wizarding adulthood is at seventeen so that young magical folk could complete their last year in school as adults. It allows them to practise more advanced magic while still under supervision. So yes, for your cousin that would be next summer."
Dudley nodded; he'd checked Harry's birth date when he realised he couldn't even recall the season it had been in. Lately, he felt ashamed more and more of the treatment Harry was getting in their house, rude headmaster or no.
Arabella continued: "At that stage, when Harry is considered an adult, whatever protection he'd had in your home will expire, and he will be exposed. By the rate of things and the growing ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, there is reason for concern."
Dudley shivered. He was worried for Harry but not least for himself. He had been attacked because he had been with Harry, after all, so what if...
"And what will happen to Harry then?" Dudley preferred to leave the other half of his concern outside of this conversation. Somehow, he wasn't sure how Arabella would take it.
"I wish I could tell you," sighed Arabella, "I wish I knew.
"One thing I am sure of is that Dumbledore and his people are working on a plan, and whether and once I need to know about it, I will be told. But who knows, Dudley, it is a whole year ahead. Maybe somehow things will improve; maybe the war will not develop after all..."
She didn't sound quite as optimistic as she perhaps wanted to.
*****
"Arabella, what was your school like? Could you tell me a bit about it?" Dudley had a longer break for Christmas, and he used the time to meet with Arabella and try to learn some more about her world.
"I didn't attend it, actually," she said as a matter of fact.
"Ah?" Dudley wasn't ready for that answer; he'd imagined so many things about that school that the possibility that Arabella had not attended it had never even occurred to him.
"Do you remember that I told you I wasn't a witch? You can't attend Hogwarts unless you are a wizard or a witch."
"And how did you know you weren't one?"
"You know. Normally, children show signs of magic at an early stage. Weird things happen to them. They can't control their magic and they are not fully aware of it, but when they are from a wizarding family, their parents are aware of any magical ability as much as they are aware of the lack of it."
Dudley tried to recall if any such incidents had happened to Harry. In the meantime, Arabella continued.
"I showed no signs of magic whatsoever. My parents hoped that I was a late bloomer; that my magic would come out at some point, but when I turned eleven and no letter arrived, we knew that I was most likely a squib. Still, my parents entertained the thought of sending me to a school abroad..."
"You mean to say that there are more schools like this one?" Dudley was truly surprised.
"Of course there are! There are wizards all over the world, and they all need to study somewhere."
"Oh." That was a stupid question, Dudley realised, why wouldn't there be? He took a sip from his tea to hide his embarrassment. Arabella brewed fabulous teas and made great cakes. There was no sign of the old cakes that Harry had used to complain about.
"Anyway, my parents took me to buy a wand, and we couldn't find anything that would fit."
"It's like with my clothes; it's hard to find something that would fit me. Why didn't your parents take you to a different store, then?" Dudley honestly couldn't understand; her parents loved her, didn't they?
Patiently, Arabella replied, "You don't buy wands in just any shop; you buy them from the maker. There is a saying in our world that the wand chooses the wizard and not the wizard chooses the wand. I saw it with others: when you find your wand, you feel the magic running through it. You can't miss it.
"I went through all the wands in the store and I didn't get anything more than a meek sense of magic. We had to accept that I was a squib."
"And isn't there anything that can be done about it?" Dudley couldn't accept that his kind friend had such an incurable disability.
"Generations of wizards had made fortunes off the hopes of squibs to find a cure, but there just isn't one. As much as you can't take the magic out of someone, you can't also inject it into another. We accepted the situation and I went to a regular school, just like you. But don't you worry about me: I am still in touch with the wizarding world not only for being your cousin's old watchful neighbour, but also through breeding these wonderful creatures."
"You mean your cats?" Dudley asked as he scratched Mr. Tibbles behind his ear.
"They are not exactly cats, Dudley; they are part cat and part kneazle, and they are magical creatures of high demand. I have done well so far in providing that demand."
*****
"Arabella, Harry just came from school. He says we will soon have to leave home and that the Order will arrange a shelter for us," there was a sense of urgency in his voice.
"Yes, I have heard that, too."
"Where will we go then? Will we be living with Dumbledore in that school of his? Where does he stay over the summer?"
Arabella wiped a tear. "No, my boy, you won't. Dumbledore is dead. He was murdered by one of his staff."
"What? But how? You said he was one of the greatest wizards ever! How did they allow it to happen??"
Dudley was shocked beyond belief; he had always got the sense that Dumbledore would be there forever and would eventually put things right. How could anything be right when he's gone?
"I don't know dear, I don't know. It is a huge shock for our ranks. It is important that your family takes shelter. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may want to take his revenge on you even after Harry leaves."
This idea wasn't new to Dudley, but the idea not to fight back was. Yet, he knew enough by now to understand that there was nothing that he could do to defend himself or his family from evil-meaning magical people. But what was it about Harry leaving them?
"You mean Harry is not coming with us??"
"Harry has to go back to school. It is the safest place for him."
Dudley laughed bitterly. "The school is the safest place for him? After a staff member murdered the headmaster? Was he at least sacked?"
"Not quite. He is actually running the school now," Arabella replied in exasperation.
Dudley felt his frustration building; he wished he could just punch someone; anyone.
"Your world is very odd. How can you call a school that's being run by the murderer of its previous headmaster safe for anyone? In our world it wouldn't have been allowed!" He certainly hoped he was right about that one.
"It's the power of politics, Dudley. Never underestimate the power of politics. However unjust this may seem to you, this is the law, and in any case, Harry must return to school finish his last year and qualify for his final exams; Merlin knows that we need him qualified."
"Well then, I should probably go and prepare for our evacuation. I hope I will see you again Arabella. Please keep safe." Dudley knew he couldn't keep the sadness off his voice.
"I will do my best, Dudley. Let me know how you are getting on."
Upon leaving, Dudley shook Arabella Figg's hand, but she pulled him in for a hug.
"I do hope we will see each other again," she repeated in a muffled voice.
*****
When the couple came to take the Dursleys for shelter, Dudley was the first to say that he would go with them. He knew that they had no alternative. He was devastated that he hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry that summer, to tell him how sorry he had been about... well... everything really. But Harry had never left his room and ignored all the gestures Dudley had made.
At the farewell Dudley just had to say something. He asked why Harry couldn't join them even though he knew exactly why. It just seemed so unreal that his cousin was now in peril while they were going to safety. He knew it probably sounded silly. But at least he managed to thank Harry there and then. That was the least he could do.
He could see Arabella outside her house, tears streaming down her face, as they drove through her street. He waved at her until they rounded the corner.
"Dudders, my little bunny, such a good neighbour you are, being kind to your old neighbour even after your school work has finished..."
Clearly his mother had no idea about anything, he thought as they left Little Whinging, not knowing if they would ever see it again.
*****
A few weeks later Dudley asked Hestia if he could borrow an owl.
"Letter to whom?" she asked suspiciously.
"To Mrs. Figg, our neighbour." He got on well with Hestia and he had nothing to hide.
"OK, but remember: no owls to Harry; no names mentioned. Many owls are intercepted these days."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Hestia."
He went to write his letter.
Dear Neighbour,
I am writing this letter to let you know that we are all well. Apologies for not writing immediately, but it took us some time to adjust to our new home. Well, Dad wouldn't still call it a home, but I know we are as safe as can be here and that our hosts are doing their utmost for us.
Dad is not coping well. Even after almost a month he still sits in the corner and looks rather withdrawn. Our hosts told him that as far as the Firm was concerned, he had been asked to relocate to the headquarters for a while, and assured him that it had been agreed that on foot of that, he would be promoted upon his return, but Dad doesn't seem able to even listen. I am worried about him.
Mum is in her element. After few arguments with our hostess, it was agreed that Mum, and not charms, is responsible for the cleanness of the house, so she busies herself with cleaning just as she did all my life. But she also reads the newspaper daily, and I found her chatting with our hostess in one of the rooms. I overheard the conversation (OK, I admit, I eavesdropped...) and they seemed to be talking a lot about my aunt and my uncle. I think that Mum really misses her sister and is happy to talk with someone who knew her, even if just remotely.
I am OK too. The place is nice and our hosts are doing their best for me. They arranged a room for me with a boxing bag stand so I can still train, and arranged my registration for home schooling so that I won't miss the year. When the school year starts I will get all the material and will be able to sit my exams after all. I am not very happy about that, but I do appreciate it.
I, too, read the daily paper, and have read that the Minister was killed. The news sounds really dire and I am worried about my cousin. I am not sure whether in this case no news is good news. I do hope he is well and that we will get to see him soon. I hope that the right side wins this.
I hope you are keeping well and that all is quiet in our little village. Please say hello to Mr. Tibbles, Mr. Paws, Snowy, and Tuffy and give everyone a good rub from me. I do hope to meet all of you when this is over.
Take good care,
Yours,
Big D
Author: Anonymous
Prompt/Prompt Author: Harry saving his life when the Dementor attacked has begun to change Dudley's opinion about Magical people. He wants to know more about the Wizarding world now, but who can he ask? Then he recalls somebody else was there, - Mrs. Figg! She must be a witch (he has no idea she's a squib, of course). So Dudley tries to gain her trust - by offering to mow her lawn and such. Slowly, he succeeds - maybe Arabella just can't keep silent about the injustice of Harry's trial? In short, two people who are placed at the border of the Wizarding world (but can never truly enter it) find some common ground. / sehlat_charmer
Title: Neighbours and Friends
Characters: Arabella Figg, Dudley Dursley
Rating: G
Warnings: Gosh, I can't think of any!
Word Count: 7034
Summary: Dudley turns to his neighbour hoping to learn more about his cousin.
Author's Notes: Dear sehlat_charmer, I was delighted to see your prompt, being the Dudley fan that I am. I don't like the way JKR portrayed him in the cannon but I can see why Harry would view him like that. This prompt allowed me to put things in a different perspective, so thanks. Despite my disagreement with JKR, I am still in awe of her for creating this world and allowing me to play with Her characters. Last but not least, massive thank you for the work of my betas; you don't only improve my writing, but you also teach me so much on the way.
A short explanation: In UK boarding schools children go on holidays, Midterms and exeats. The term 'exeat', a Latin word, is still used in relation to going home for two weekends, per term: one before and one after Midterm.
*****
Neighbours and Friends
Dudley was never really the same after that summer, or, in fact, after that particular summer evening. Although, truth be told, his world did not exactly fall apart either. Came September, he went back to school, but like his close friends from Little Whinging, his school mates could not avoid noticing that Dudley was changed. He remained the same bully he had been before, all right, but there was some added sadness in his eyes, something that his old mates simply could not comprehend. "He probably matured," they thought; after all, he was fifteen now. They couldn't possibly imagine the reasons behind Dudley's quietness. Dudley himself was simply struggling to make sense of the events of that particular night and didn't quite know whom he could turn to. Dudley Dursley, the teenager that had always had anything he'd wanted and more, was, for the first time in his life, at loss.
Whenever he thought of that particular evening the facts hit him hard: Harry had saved his life. He still wasn't sure what from. After all, there had been nothing in that alley; nothing, not just in the sense of nothing-that-he-could-have-spotted, but also nothing in the sense of nothingness: no light, no air, no heat, and, well, no happiness. Dudley was usually a happy lad, but for few minutes, in the blinding darkness in that alley, he had been the most miserable human being in the world. He didn't even know that such sadness existed, and yet, for moments that had felt like eternity, he had felt as if he would never be happy again. It had been like his life had been about to be sucked out of him. And then his cousin had performed some magic and suddenly an enormous, beautiful deer-like animal, made of light, had surrounded them and everything seemed to have gone back to normal. Well, as normal as could be when a very slim Harry had been dragging a still terrified, big heavyweight boxer that was Dudley, all the way home. It had been an odd kind of 'normal', because Harry hadn't left him in the alley, hadn't deserted him when troubles had met them; no, he had been... well... a loyal cousin. It had felt as if the world had gone really mad.
Dudley thought that he might have been able to leave it all behind him, if it hadn't been for his mother. His mum seemed to have known what Harry had been saying when he'd said what the damned things in the ally had been (and damned they'd been!). Clearly, she'd known more than she'd been letting on. She'd been surprised, terrified nearly, but in the know. Dudley always thought that his mum had never engaged with all this nonsense, but clearly she had. And then take that talking envelope that had made such a change to his mum! She had stood up to his dad after that, and that had hardly ever happened.
It was all too much for him to take in. Dudley really wanted to understand what had happened on that fateful night, but he knew better than to ask his mum. He would have considered asking Harry, but he had no idea whether he could be reached wherever he was, or what was the address; he was pretty sure there was no telephone line there. And even if he knew the school's address, he couldn't convince random birds to take any letters to his cousin now, could he? No, if he wanted to ask Harry about it, he'd have to wait until the summer. Still, the unsolved riddle kept bothering Dudley, who had never been a very patient guy.
Back in Smeltings Academy, every evening, after they finished dinner in the main hall and before bed; every Sunday, after the weekend activities were over and they had some free time, Dudley would drown in thoughts that kept going nowhere, until one bright day a new thought emerged: there had been another person with them on that night, and she, too, seemed to know what had been going on. If Dudley recalled correctly, his neighbour, Mrs. Figg, had even told Harry to keep his wand out and had shouted other things that suggested that she had understood what had been happening all along. Could it be that Harry had told her who he was on the times he'd stayed at her house? Was there another explanation altogether? Dudley sighed; there was only one way to find out: he would have to try and talk with his neighbour on his next exeat from the boarding school. Until then, he would have to work out a way to approach her. He wasn't good at working out things that didn't involve his fists, but he knew that for his own peace of mind, this time, he would have to come up with something.
*****
On his next visit home Dudley subjected himself to the usual homecoming drill. His mother prepared his favourite food, and a lot of it; she ignored the school nurse's diet on exeats. As usual, she was all over him, smooching and hugging him with her slim arms. Dudley always suspected that it had been his father's idea to send him to a boarding school and that his mother had never really approved of it. In the evening, he went out as usual. 'To see my friends', he told his parents who seemed overjoyed by the fact that he still had friends from his primary school days. Only he didn't see his old friends. Not quite knowing how to approach Mrs. Figg, Dudley decided to lurk at the end of her street. After what seemed like a long wait, he spotted Mrs. Figg leaving her house, mumbling to herself. Clumsily, he approached her.
"Good evening Mrs. Figg. Can I help you... emmm... with... emmm... crossing the road?" He felt triumphant at his quick thinking.
"Crossing the road? Do you think I need help crossing the road?" she replied, and muttered, "I am not that old."
Not so triumphant, it seemed. "Can I help with... anything else, then?" he nearly begged. "Anything at all?"
"Young Mr. Dursley, I am very capable of looking after myself and I would very much appreciate it if you leave me alone now."
With these definite words, and seeing her waving her walking stick at him, Dudley conceded defeat and went back home. To the surprise of his worried parents he even skipped dinner.
There had to be a way to get his answers from his neighbour, he thought; he just needed to find it, even if it seemed to be not happening on that exeat as he had hoped.
On the following day he went playing with his friends, showing off some new boxing drills he'd learned from his new coach. On Monday he went back to school, where he was to stay until Midterm.
*****
Came Midterm, Dudley arrived home with a plan. Having a whole week to work it out, he spent the weekend with his friends, and on Monday he came knocking on Mrs. Figg's door.
"Hello Mrs. Figg. I came to help you with the garden; mow the lawn, perhaps?"
This felt like an ideal plan, but he was still hesitant, knowing Mrs. Figg's suspicious nature and remembering the threatening stick. Mrs. Figg measured him as if she wasn't quite sure what to say.
"Young Mr. Dursely, we are at the end of October! Surely even you know that there is no need in cutting the grass at that time of the year??"
"Emmm, is there not? I can't quite remember what we did when I was still at home. Well, can I, maybe, emm, trim your roses?" Dudley had no intentions of giving up so quickly.
"Do you even know what roses look like? I have no roses!" Dudley could easily see that she wasn't impressed. It wasn't going well at all. He tried his best 'show daddy's boss how charming you are' smile; Mrs. Figg just narrowed her eyes.
"Look, Dursley..."
"It's Dudley, Mrs. Figg. Please," he interrupted.
"Fine, Dudley. I really don't know what business you have coming here. Harry is in school now, and there is no need for your parents to send you here to check on me. I am as fit as I have ever been to look after him if needed, despite last summer's events!" And with that, she shut the door on Dudley.
Dudley knocked again.
"Mrs. Figg, my parents didn't send me here," he tried again in a less convinced voice. "In fact, they don't even know I am here; I told them that I went to the local boxing club."
"So what are you doing here?" Mrs. Figg looked truly puzzled.
"Well, emmm, it's to do with school," he said cautiously, trying to remember something he had heard at the beginning of the school year.
"We... I... am doing a module on service learning, and what that really means is that we need to engage with our community; help out with things and all."
It was a lie, of course. Indeed, Smeltings Academy, that - despite what his father might have liked - took pride in embracing new pedagogical ideas, had introduced service learning that year, but Dudley had never bothered joining in to this new initiative; it involved weekly work in the community near school, which only nerds chose to take. It wasn't his thing at all, and in any case, it was not something to do just during holidays, Midterms, and the odd exeat; it was a bigger commitment. Dudley pitied those who did it. Not only were the pupils supposed to go to the community on a weekly basis, but those who were crazy enough to do that also had to 'reflect in writing' and present their journals as their homework. That, too, didn’t quite suit Dudley. Sure, he was able enough - unlike what people had thought of him, his written work had always been more than reasonable - but he still preferred spending his free time in the boxing club and not by his desk. In any case, he hoped and believed that Mrs. Figg, who had no children, had never heard about service learning and therefore could not spot that lie.
Or could she? She seemed to consider this.
"And you decided to help me with 'things and all'?"
Relieved beyond belief, Dudley said, "yes, that's exactly it. Part of my school work."
"And if this is part of your school work, may I ask why your parents think that you went boxing? Do they not want you to do well with this new... module?"
Dudley noticed that Mrs. Figg had a quick mind indeed. Despite himself, he was impressed. Still, he needed to convince her.
"Ahh.. well, Mum and Dad, especially Dad, don't quite approve of such things; they don't see how it may contribute to me, so I didn't tell them I had taken it." While still a lie, Dudley was pretty sure that it wasn't far from truth.
If Mrs. Figg still didn't believe him, she didn't show it; she just sighed and assigned him some maintenance tasks in her small garden. He spent a few hours every day of his midterm break working in her garden and on the last day promised to call back on his next exeat.
*****
On Dudley's next exeat not much was needed to be done in the garden, and Mrs. Figg invited him in for tea. It was Dudley's first time inside Mrs. Figg's house. It was small but comfortable, with funny crochet covers and mismatched chairs.
The place was stuffy and smelled strongly of cats, which wasn't surprising given the amount of cats that were there. Dudley found that he didn't care much; the boxing club was equally stuffy and the mattresses always smelled of teenage boys' sweat, which was far stronger. As for the cats, after years of suffering from Aunt Marjorie's vicious dogs (everyone would endure her dogs to receive her generous gifts), Mrs. Figg's cats seemed gentle and kind.
Tea was awkward but manageable even though there weren't any cakes, and over it Mrs. Figg showed him pictures of all her cats, past and present. Dudley wondered whether this was what Harry had had to go through on each of his visits to this place all those years ago.
After tea, Dudley insisted on performing some household chores for Mrs. Figg - so he could have something to put on his report, he said - and she happily accepted his help in cleaning the skylight windows. It felt strangely good to use his muscles for a good cause, and, of course, it would help him in getting the answers he needed soon enough.
*****
For Christmas, Dudley decided to put some money aside and buy Mrs. Figg a present. Not quite knowing what he could possibly bring her, he went for a fishing rod cat toy, hoping that for a cat loving person, this would be an appropriate present.
"Thank you Dudley, you really shouldn't have."
Mrs. Figg seemed moved, but Dudley noticed that the cats ignored the toy and was somewhat insulted.
"Is that not a suitable cat toy?" He asked, "They said in the shop that it was one of the all-time favourites for cats."
"It certainly is, but my cats are a bit different; they are... special."
Dudley didn't know what to say to that. He supposed that all cat owners thought their cats to be special. After a short pause, he decided to try to go for the question he had wanted to ask for months now.
"Mrs. Figg," he started cautiously, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... are you a witch? Like, a real witch?"
Mrs. Figg heaved a big sigh, and Dudley was suddenly not so sure it had been the right question to ask.
"And you are asking it, because?"
Dudley wondered why he'd thought that taking the direct approach would be the easiest.
"Well, you know, because of what happened in the summer?" He hoped that that would be enough of an explanation.
"And is that the real reason for your being here?" Mrs. Figg looked at him with raised eyebrows and an expression that made him feel very small. He really hoped that even as a witch, she wouldn't be able to read his thoughts.
"Well, no. I mean, I told you already that it was a school thing." But Dudley couldn't lie any more about that. "However, yes; this is why I chose you as my community project."
"You were so grey that day - I didn't think you remembered anything." Her voice was near whispering.
"I don't remember everything," Dudley said, "but at some point I realised that you had been there too, and that you'd told Harry to keep his wand out. You must have known what was happening; I didn't think that people outside your world knew about any of that. And I just thought...well... I don't really know what I was thinking."
Dudley felt very embarrassed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, talking about it with Mrs. Figg.
"And why is it of importance, Dudley? It is not likely to ever happen to you again; why are you bothering yourself with it?" Mrs. Figg didn't seem to be angry at all, Dudley noticed.
"It's because of my Mum..."
Mrs. Figg cut him, her words quick and angry: "I knew all along that your parents had sent you here!"
"No, Mrs. Figg, it is not like that at all!" Dudley was desperate to clarify. "It's just that Mum seems to know what these... things... that were in the alley... were. She explained it to Dad. And then this letter came and exploded and spoke to Mum, and that made her all of a sudden very decisive and supportive of Harry. I have never seen her like that.
"So obviously, Mum knows something... quite a few things... about... your... that... world. She always behaved as if she didn't believe any of it ever existed, and then, suddenly, she explained a lot to Dad, and he wasn't impressed at all!. And... I don't know!
"Mrs. Figg, I found it all so confusing and I just want to understand. Please, help me understand."
There, he said that; the bare truth of what he was feeling for a very long time.
Mrs. Figg seemed to respect that.
"You do know that your aunt, your mother's sister, was a witch, right?"
"'I suppose. The big man that came and took Harry said something along these lines, but I never really thought about it. Mum always referred to her sister and her husband as 'those freaks'. Especially to my uncle; she called him 'that freak boy'. I suppose I accepted that this was what they really were: freaks."
"And you know that your cousin is the son of a witch and a wizard, and a wizard himself?"
"Well, yes, of course, but I don't quite know what that even means. Besides doing odd things that you lot call magic, I guess. We did see some examples at home, none that I liked, mind, but we understood that he was actually not allowed to perform magic outside of school."
With that realisation he added, "was Harry punished this summer too? Was he expelled for performing his magic like that letter said and didn't return home because he chose to live elsewhere? Cause that would be unfair; he saved my life back there!"
The last sentence was said passionately. Mrs. Figg looked at Dudley as if she saw him for the first time. She sighed, "Harry has not been expelled, but not thanks to me; he was charged, but the Wizengamot, our court, accepted that he had used magic to protect the two of you. You would have thought that it had been an easy case, but it wasn't. Harry is not loved by many, and some were all too happy to find fault in him."
"Well, he is not always nice, I suppose. He was never nice to us, for example." Dudley tried to contribute to the conversation - after all, he was the one who had lived in the same house with Harry Potter for ten years, until both of them had left for school; they still shared a house over the summers.
"Harry is a very talented boy, who is chased in our world for telling the truth, but that is a long story."
Dudley was already busy contemplating his next question.
"When you talk about 'your world', does that mean that you are a witch?"
"I am not a witch, unfortunately." Mrs. Figg sighed, "I was born to a wizarding family, but just as some Muggles, that is, non- wizard families, have a wizard child, from time to time, a wizarding family would have a child that has no magic. That, unfortunately, is my fate. It is not easy to be different, Dudley."
Later, when he went back to school, the thought of Harry being chased for telling the truth haunted Dudley. Sure, Harry was a real asshole at times; Dudley knew better than anyone what an annoying, righteous boy Harry was. But to be chased for telling the truth?
Dudley could easily believe that Harry would be occasionally beaten up at school for being a righteous ass; it made sense, but the thought that he was accused for it by a court? And at the age of fifteen? Dudley knew that the wizarding world was a weird place, but this? How weird was that?
*****
At Easter break Dudley brought a box of chocolates when he came to visit Arabella. He had a growing feeling that she was actually enjoying his visits. She insisted that he didn't continue calling her Mrs. Figg; there was no longer need to pretend that he was coming to visit her as part of his school work, after all.
"Arabella, what are the things that Harry is saying? The truth that Harry is being chased for saying, what is it?"
By now Dudley felt at home in Arabella's house, sitting there with Snowy purring in his lap and Tuffy rubbing against his big arms. His mum had protested against the cat hair that had been caught in his clothes, but Dudley didn't quite care; the cats were really lovely.
"Harry says that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, but very few believe him."
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named??"
"Dudley, what do you know about your aunt and uncle?" Arabella asked, alarmed.
"Mum and Dad say that they were freaks. They say that my uncle never worked. They told Harry and me that his parents had died in a car crash, but the big man that came to take Harry had said that this was nonsense; that they were magicians and that..." Dudley stopped. Some memory in him awakened.
"Now I remember: he mentioned something like that; said that someone he'd called 'you-know-who' had killed Harry's parents... and then he'd tried to kill Harry too and failed... but why did he kill them?" Dudley was puzzled.
"There was a war in our world at the time; a war between the supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and those opposing him. He recruited a group of followers that killed Muggle-born wizards, as well as simple Muggles. It was terrible. Those were very scary times. Nobody knew what was coming next. It was thought that he would also attack squibs..." fear crept into her voice.
"Squibs?" asked Dudley, even more puzzled; he didn't recognise this term.
"Squibs are wizard-born individuals that have no magic, like me."
Dudley nodded, to indicate he was listening; it must have been very hard for her.
Arabella continued: "Anyway, the general fear was that we were going be his next target. That's why my husband left me. He was too afraid. It didn't help him much," she added bitterly, "he was murdered regardless."
"I am sorry to hear that, Arabella." Dudley really meant it.
"It was a long time ago, but thank you, Dudley. It means a lot, from you.
"As for your aunt, she was a Muggle-born; your grandparents had no connection to the magical world. Perhaps that's why she was killed; perhaps she and your uncle were targeted because they were clear opposition to Him. Such a tragedy, such a sad story...
"As I'm sure you know, your cousin, too, was attacked when his parents were killed, but he miraculously survived while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named disappeared. Many thought that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had died, but Dumbledore was certain that this wasn't the case."
"Dumbledore...the big man mentioned that name." Dudley was surprised that he remembered that; so surprised that he nearly jumped off the sofa. Tuffy and Snowy protested loudly and left him, looking for a safer perch.
"Dumbledore, yes. Professor Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Harry's school, Hogwarts, and he is one of the greatest wizards of our time. After Harry's parents were murdered and he was placed under your mother's care, Dumbledore had asked me to move to Little Whinging and keep an eye on Harry. It was shortly after I lost my husband to fear, and I was all too glad to take part in the resistance movement that still fought for justice even after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named disappeared mysteriously. As Dumbledore had anticipated, soon enough your parents were looking for someone to babysit Harry and I came forward. Clearly, I looked harmless enough to them, and they agreed to take me as a childminder exactly the way Dumbledore had planned it to be."
Dudley sat in silence; he was lost for words. It was a lot to take in: first, the horrible truth about those serial killings, and then the fact that his parents had been manipulated like that by wizards - well meaning as they may have been - it was all a little too much.
Arabella recognised that he was in distress and came up with a new idea.
"Wait, I'll bring you some photos." She returned after a few minutes with a yellow paper.
"Here. This was the picture they had in the paper when your aunt and uncle were murdered."
"They are moving!" Dudley shouted, and this time he did jump fully off his seat. Tuffy and Snowy eyed him critically, both happy to be seated elsewhere.
"Oh, I forgot to warn you. Yes, pictures in our world are moving. Look, here they are, the two of them, holding your baby cousin." She pointed at the figures in the photograph.
"These are my aunt and uncle? This is Mum's sister?" Dudley said slowly, "she looks so different from Mum. And my uncle! Wow, Harry looks so much like him! And who is that, on the left?" Dudley pointed at a smiling figure in the photo. Actually, that man wasn't merely smiling; he was beaming as if the child had been his.
"That's your cousin's godfather, Sirius Black."
"Isn't that the dangerous man that had escaped from jail a couple of years ago?" The thought sent shivers down his spine.
"We thought he was dangerous, but we were wrong." Arabella sighed, "You've probably noticed that we are too quick to judge in our world. We thought that he'd betrayed your uncle and aunt and that when he'd been found, he'd killed every person that had been in his vicinity. But last year it was revealed that the traitor had actually not been him after all. He is now back with the ranks who are trying to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"But I still don't understand; why did they even try to kill a young baby?" Dudley couldn't come to terms with that; it seemed that the morals of his world were not applied to the wizarding world at all.
"Who knows; so many innocent people were killed in those days, and Harry was the son of people who were very active in the resistance. I think that is enough of a reason for people who'd killed as a way of life. What is more surprising is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to kill Harry himself, rather than send one of his supporters for the job.
"And now Dumbledore thinks that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is out for revenge. Harry has already had some near escapes over the last few years, although I suppose he does not want you to know about that.
"For many years Harry had been considered a hero in our world. Then, when he'd said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back, people chose not to believe him and begrudge him for carrying such news, because the real truth is too terrible to consider. But there is accumulating evidence that suggests that Harry was speaking the truth after all."
They remained silent for a long while before Dudley had to go.
*****
Dudley came back for the summer holiday determined to talk to Harry when he finally returned from his own school.
The previous summer Harry had left soon after the incident, and anyway, Dudley had been too shocked to even think about discussing anything with his cousin. However, after all he had heard this year, Dudley wanted to say something to Harry; acknowledge the fact that he had saved his life; thank him even.
But when Harry had finally come back from his school, he seemed distraught and even more disengaged than ever, and Dudley couldn't find a way to sneak even one sentence to him. To make things worse, soon after the summer holiday begun, the headmaster came to pick Harry up and take him back to their world.
Dudley thought that Dumbledore may have been the greatest wizard of their time, but his manners were certainly under par. He had arrived very late, then blamed it on Harry for not informing the Dursleys of his arrival, as if any of that would have justified such a late visit. He had invited himself into their living room, pushed the sofa under their legs and created those goblets that had attacked them. He'd then criticised them for not drinking whatever it was in their goblets, and then, to top it all up, Dumbledore had even blamed Dudley's parents for maltreating him, Dudley, as if Dudley had ever been maltreated.
At first, Dudley was simply in awe to see the man that Arabella had been speaking so highly of, but as the evening progressed he just found the whole visit rude and inconsiderate. He was, however, saddened to hear that Harry's godfather, that handsome man from the photo he'd seen at Arabella's, had passed away. No wonder Harry had seemed so down, even if it did mean that he'd become the recipient of a large property.
*****
In the following year, Dudley visited Arabella Figg regularly. He told his parents that he was doing the service learning module, hoping that they wouldn't bother verifying it with his school and indeed they didn't.
He found a strange sense of closeness to Arabella. She was, after all, a very intelligent woman, and they had interesting conversations. It made him feel that he now understood Harry better and that seemed important to him since Harry had saved his life.
"Arabella, when Dumbledore was in our house the other night, he said that Harry needed to come back home for just one more time before he could leave for good. Do you know what he was talking about?"
"I am not sure I know all the facts and figures, and Dumbledore surely doesn't share everything with me, but he did mention something when he'd asked me to move near you. He said that due to an old charm, Harry would be protected in your house as long as he could call it home."
"Yes, he said something like that, and something else about Harry coming of age next year. Why do wizards come to age at seventeen?" Dudley was only coming to age in two years' time and Harry was his age; why should it be different for wizards?"
"Wizarding adulthood is at seventeen so that young magical folk could complete their last year in school as adults. It allows them to practise more advanced magic while still under supervision. So yes, for your cousin that would be next summer."
Dudley nodded; he'd checked Harry's birth date when he realised he couldn't even recall the season it had been in. Lately, he felt ashamed more and more of the treatment Harry was getting in their house, rude headmaster or no.
Arabella continued: "At that stage, when Harry is considered an adult, whatever protection he'd had in your home will expire, and he will be exposed. By the rate of things and the growing ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, there is reason for concern."
Dudley shivered. He was worried for Harry but not least for himself. He had been attacked because he had been with Harry, after all, so what if...
"And what will happen to Harry then?" Dudley preferred to leave the other half of his concern outside of this conversation. Somehow, he wasn't sure how Arabella would take it.
"I wish I could tell you," sighed Arabella, "I wish I knew.
"One thing I am sure of is that Dumbledore and his people are working on a plan, and whether and once I need to know about it, I will be told. But who knows, Dudley, it is a whole year ahead. Maybe somehow things will improve; maybe the war will not develop after all..."
She didn't sound quite as optimistic as she perhaps wanted to.
*****
"Arabella, what was your school like? Could you tell me a bit about it?" Dudley had a longer break for Christmas, and he used the time to meet with Arabella and try to learn some more about her world.
"I didn't attend it, actually," she said as a matter of fact.
"Ah?" Dudley wasn't ready for that answer; he'd imagined so many things about that school that the possibility that Arabella had not attended it had never even occurred to him.
"Do you remember that I told you I wasn't a witch? You can't attend Hogwarts unless you are a wizard or a witch."
"And how did you know you weren't one?"
"You know. Normally, children show signs of magic at an early stage. Weird things happen to them. They can't control their magic and they are not fully aware of it, but when they are from a wizarding family, their parents are aware of any magical ability as much as they are aware of the lack of it."
Dudley tried to recall if any such incidents had happened to Harry. In the meantime, Arabella continued.
"I showed no signs of magic whatsoever. My parents hoped that I was a late bloomer; that my magic would come out at some point, but when I turned eleven and no letter arrived, we knew that I was most likely a squib. Still, my parents entertained the thought of sending me to a school abroad..."
"You mean to say that there are more schools like this one?" Dudley was truly surprised.
"Of course there are! There are wizards all over the world, and they all need to study somewhere."
"Oh." That was a stupid question, Dudley realised, why wouldn't there be? He took a sip from his tea to hide his embarrassment. Arabella brewed fabulous teas and made great cakes. There was no sign of the old cakes that Harry had used to complain about.
"Anyway, my parents took me to buy a wand, and we couldn't find anything that would fit."
"It's like with my clothes; it's hard to find something that would fit me. Why didn't your parents take you to a different store, then?" Dudley honestly couldn't understand; her parents loved her, didn't they?
Patiently, Arabella replied, "You don't buy wands in just any shop; you buy them from the maker. There is a saying in our world that the wand chooses the wizard and not the wizard chooses the wand. I saw it with others: when you find your wand, you feel the magic running through it. You can't miss it.
"I went through all the wands in the store and I didn't get anything more than a meek sense of magic. We had to accept that I was a squib."
"And isn't there anything that can be done about it?" Dudley couldn't accept that his kind friend had such an incurable disability.
"Generations of wizards had made fortunes off the hopes of squibs to find a cure, but there just isn't one. As much as you can't take the magic out of someone, you can't also inject it into another. We accepted the situation and I went to a regular school, just like you. But don't you worry about me: I am still in touch with the wizarding world not only for being your cousin's old watchful neighbour, but also through breeding these wonderful creatures."
"You mean your cats?" Dudley asked as he scratched Mr. Tibbles behind his ear.
"They are not exactly cats, Dudley; they are part cat and part kneazle, and they are magical creatures of high demand. I have done well so far in providing that demand."
*****
"Arabella, Harry just came from school. He says we will soon have to leave home and that the Order will arrange a shelter for us," there was a sense of urgency in his voice.
"Yes, I have heard that, too."
"Where will we go then? Will we be living with Dumbledore in that school of his? Where does he stay over the summer?"
Arabella wiped a tear. "No, my boy, you won't. Dumbledore is dead. He was murdered by one of his staff."
"What? But how? You said he was one of the greatest wizards ever! How did they allow it to happen??"
Dudley was shocked beyond belief; he had always got the sense that Dumbledore would be there forever and would eventually put things right. How could anything be right when he's gone?
"I don't know dear, I don't know. It is a huge shock for our ranks. It is important that your family takes shelter. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may want to take his revenge on you even after Harry leaves."
This idea wasn't new to Dudley, but the idea not to fight back was. Yet, he knew enough by now to understand that there was nothing that he could do to defend himself or his family from evil-meaning magical people. But what was it about Harry leaving them?
"You mean Harry is not coming with us??"
"Harry has to go back to school. It is the safest place for him."
Dudley laughed bitterly. "The school is the safest place for him? After a staff member murdered the headmaster? Was he at least sacked?"
"Not quite. He is actually running the school now," Arabella replied in exasperation.
Dudley felt his frustration building; he wished he could just punch someone; anyone.
"Your world is very odd. How can you call a school that's being run by the murderer of its previous headmaster safe for anyone? In our world it wouldn't have been allowed!" He certainly hoped he was right about that one.
"It's the power of politics, Dudley. Never underestimate the power of politics. However unjust this may seem to you, this is the law, and in any case, Harry must return to school finish his last year and qualify for his final exams; Merlin knows that we need him qualified."
"Well then, I should probably go and prepare for our evacuation. I hope I will see you again Arabella. Please keep safe." Dudley knew he couldn't keep the sadness off his voice.
"I will do my best, Dudley. Let me know how you are getting on."
Upon leaving, Dudley shook Arabella Figg's hand, but she pulled him in for a hug.
"I do hope we will see each other again," she repeated in a muffled voice.
*****
When the couple came to take the Dursleys for shelter, Dudley was the first to say that he would go with them. He knew that they had no alternative. He was devastated that he hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry that summer, to tell him how sorry he had been about... well... everything really. But Harry had never left his room and ignored all the gestures Dudley had made.
At the farewell Dudley just had to say something. He asked why Harry couldn't join them even though he knew exactly why. It just seemed so unreal that his cousin was now in peril while they were going to safety. He knew it probably sounded silly. But at least he managed to thank Harry there and then. That was the least he could do.
He could see Arabella outside her house, tears streaming down her face, as they drove through her street. He waved at her until they rounded the corner.
"Dudders, my little bunny, such a good neighbour you are, being kind to your old neighbour even after your school work has finished..."
Clearly his mother had no idea about anything, he thought as they left Little Whinging, not knowing if they would ever see it again.
*****
A few weeks later Dudley asked Hestia if he could borrow an owl.
"Letter to whom?" she asked suspiciously.
"To Mrs. Figg, our neighbour." He got on well with Hestia and he had nothing to hide.
"OK, but remember: no owls to Harry; no names mentioned. Many owls are intercepted these days."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Hestia."
He went to write his letter.
Dear Neighbour,
I am writing this letter to let you know that we are all well. Apologies for not writing immediately, but it took us some time to adjust to our new home. Well, Dad wouldn't still call it a home, but I know we are as safe as can be here and that our hosts are doing their utmost for us.
Dad is not coping well. Even after almost a month he still sits in the corner and looks rather withdrawn. Our hosts told him that as far as the Firm was concerned, he had been asked to relocate to the headquarters for a while, and assured him that it had been agreed that on foot of that, he would be promoted upon his return, but Dad doesn't seem able to even listen. I am worried about him.
Mum is in her element. After few arguments with our hostess, it was agreed that Mum, and not charms, is responsible for the cleanness of the house, so she busies herself with cleaning just as she did all my life. But she also reads the newspaper daily, and I found her chatting with our hostess in one of the rooms. I overheard the conversation (OK, I admit, I eavesdropped...) and they seemed to be talking a lot about my aunt and my uncle. I think that Mum really misses her sister and is happy to talk with someone who knew her, even if just remotely.
I am OK too. The place is nice and our hosts are doing their best for me. They arranged a room for me with a boxing bag stand so I can still train, and arranged my registration for home schooling so that I won't miss the year. When the school year starts I will get all the material and will be able to sit my exams after all. I am not very happy about that, but I do appreciate it.
I, too, read the daily paper, and have read that the Minister was killed. The news sounds really dire and I am worried about my cousin. I am not sure whether in this case no news is good news. I do hope he is well and that we will get to see him soon. I hope that the right side wins this.
I hope you are keeping well and that all is quiet in our little village. Please say hello to Mr. Tibbles, Mr. Paws, Snowy, and Tuffy and give everyone a good rub from me. I do hope to meet all of you when this is over.
Take good care,
Yours,
Big D