Almost

Dudley Dursley waddled into his cousin Harry's room, bored. His parents had guests downstairs, and Harry was in the bathroom. Looking around curiously, his eyes fell upon a leather-bound book on the desk. He opened the inside cover and saw To Harry, from Hagrid inscribed upon it in gold. As he turned the page, he saw something that scared him out of his wits.

There were pictures inside the book that were moving, all by themselves. The people were waving at him from inside the photographs. Dudley looked at the pictures closely and saw a man that resembled Harry, with the same black untidy hair and glasses, and a red-haired woman with the same bright green eyes: Harry's parents.

The fat blonde boy flipped through the pictures idly, recovering from the shock of the discovery. He knew he should have expected something strange or unusual in his cousin's possessions. His cousin was a w--no, he couldn't say that word. His cousin was a freak. That was it, a freak.

He shut the photo album and glanced over the things in Harry's open trunk. Inside were the long black robes wizards wore, a gleaming, polished broomstick with the word Firebolt on its handle, and a long, silvery cloak. Dudley picked it up and felt it. The material had a texture of water, yet it was not a liquid. The cloak dropped from his hand to the floor, lying in glittering folds.

As the young Dursley waddled around the room, he began to examine some of the objects in it. Several sheets of thick parchment were stacked up on the floor, and a pile of books next to them announced that they homework. Dudley picked a thick piece of parchment up and read it.

Harry Potter

Veritaserum is a very strong potion that forces people to tell the truth. Just three drops of it can make one spill all their secrets. It comes in a crystal vial and is a clear liquid. Its use is strongly controlled by the Ministry, but in some cases, it is necessary for interviewing certain people accused of being criminals--

At this point there was a hastily blotted line. The writing became shakier and marks stood out from the paper.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Mason." Mr. Dursley's bass voice floated up the stairs. "I am glad the business offer worked out this time. Never mind that disaster three years ago!" Vernon chuckled. "No, no, the boy's gone now. It was all his doing, of course. Quite the troublemaker."

"It was lovely meeting you," answered Mrs. Mason.

The faint sounds of the lock and click signaled that Dudley could now come down and watch the telly. Just as he was about to get up and leave, there was a horrified exclamation at the door.

"Dudley?!" Harry's green eyes were wide with surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Er..." He backed away from his cousin fearfully.

"Don't tell me you're trying to get me in trouble with your parents," Harry said flatly, "saying I exposed you to magic."

Dudley winced at the word. "No, no, I'll leave now." He stood up as quickly as his bulk would allow. "I--I was just curious."

Harry looked startled.

"I--I wanted to see what, you know, your life was like," said Dudley quickly. "And--" He cowered as a mass from outside flew through the window.

Harry smiled at the snow-white owl that landed on top of the cage on the desk, which ruffled its wings disdainfully. "Hey, Hedwig," he said softly. He stroked her feathers gently. Dudley watched him, fascinated.

"You can go now," Harry told him. "I expect you'll be wanting to watch the telly or play some computer games."

Dudley nodded, but didn't move.

"Well?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"What--" It hurt to ask the question. "What is it like to be a wizard?"

"What?" Harry looked at him in disbelief.

"What--what's it like?" Dudley repeated.

Harry sighed and shook his head, turning his back on his cousin. "I'm tired, Dudley," he said. "Go away." He looked down and rubbed the scar on his forehead, frowning.

"Well--why won't you tell me?"

Harry turned around and looked at him with weary green eyes. "You don't need to know."

"But I do!" Dudley insisted, unreasonably frustrated.

"Why?" Harry looked annoyed.

"Because...because...."

"You don't want to know," said Harry firmly. "Trust me."

"Why won't you tell me?" Dudley asked.

Harry shook his head and turned away. He opened the photo album and began to flip through it, his finger lightly brushing the photographs.

A small gray ball flew in through the window. Harry got up and caught it, untying the letter on the small owl's leg before. It twittered and flew out quickly, zooming around the room. Harry grinned and pointed to the window. It flew out into the open night sky and disappeared into the distance.

Harry opened the letter and sat down, glancing at his cousin briefly before beginning to read it.

Dudley sensed that Harry would not talk to him any more that night. He left the room.

The next morning after breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley went to the supermarket. Dudley found Harry sitting on one of the benches in the garden. Staring straight ahead, he drummed his fingers lightly in a relaxed sort of manner until Dudley's shadow fell over him.

"What do you want?" The question was expressionless, neither angry nor annoyed.

"Erm..." He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Don't tell me you're going to ask me what it's like to be a wizard again," said Harry in a bored voice.

"Well..."

Harry got up and strode past him, going to the sidewalk that lined the houses and the street. "I'm going to take a walk," he said, pulling up his oversized pants carelessly.

"Wait! I...I can go with you," said Dudley. Harry stared at him with a somewhat perturbed expression, then shrugged.

"God knows you need the exercise," he muttered, and began taking long strides down the street. Dudley struggled to keep up with him, panting.

"Can't we slow down?" the blonde called, gasping.

Harry shrugged and stopped, bending down to tie his shoelace as Dudley caught up with him. Then they continued at a slower pace that Dudley was barely able to keep. Harry stared ahead silently, his back straight and gait steady.

"So...so how was your school year?" Dudley asked uncertainly.

Harry looked at him in alarm. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just wondering."

Harry cleared his throat and quickened his pace. Dudley ran to keep up with him.

"Wait! Why...why won't you tell me?"

Harry said nothing, but broke into a run that Dudley couldn't catch. Dudley stood there hopelessly, watching him go out of sight around a corner. He frowned in confusion. Why wouldn't his cousin tell him?

He struggled on back to the house alone, sinking down on the sofa. Harry returned a few minutes later, filling a glass of water for himself. Dudley got up to see him. His face was red and his hair was messier than usual, and his green eyes were filled with happiness. They dulled as soon as they spotted Dudley.

"Hello," said Harry brusquely.

"Hello."

"Did you have a nice walk?"

"Yes."

"Good." He turned to go up to his room.

"Why won't you tell me?" asked Dudley, before he could leave the room.

Harry walked over to Dudley and scrutinized his face. He moved away to a comfortable distance and said, "Tell me everything you know about me."

"You're Harry Potter. Your parents died in a car crash. Your mum was my mum's sister. You're a you're a..."

Harry waited patiently.

"You're a wizard," Dudley whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"That's all you need to know, isn't it?" asked Harry.

Dudley opened his mouth to say "no," but at that moment, his parents came home. Harry departed quickly, taking the water with him.

"Hello, Dudders," his father greeted, grunting as he placed a load of groceries on the counter. "How was your day?"

Dudley grunted. "Fine," he said, looking around for boxes of sweets. There were none, and he frowned disappointedly.

"Go get that boy down here," said Vernon. "With all we do for him, he could at least help and load the food."

Dudley nodded obediently. He shuffled up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"What?" Harry asked.

Dudley opened the door and looked at him. "Dad says you have to help load groceries."

Harry looked annoyed. He was sitting at his desk writing something with an eagle-feather quill. Sighing, he dropped the quill into a vial of dark liquid and got up. "Why can't you do it?" he asked. "You have nothing to do."

"Er..." Dudley paused and thought. This had never occurred to him before. Harry had always been the one who had done the dirty work and chores in the house.

"Never mind," Harry frowned. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, then ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Dudley stood there and peered inside the room. It was the same as his last visit. Cautiously he went over to the desk and read the parchment.

Ron,

Dumbledore says I can't stay with you until the last two weeks of summer. Apparently there are protection spells on the house, and I'm safer here than at the Burrow. There's not much to say. I really miss Quidditch, but of course I can't play it around here. I've used the Broomstick Servicing Kit ten times already. The Dursleys are still on that diet of theirs, too. Help! I would ask Hermione, but she's going to send me sugar-free sweets and you know how those are. I'm not even going to try to ask Hagrid. Tell your mum I need food, now! Hope you're having a great summer--maybe try to call me again? The Dursleys are letting me do whatever I want now, and I think--I hope!--that you know how to use a telephone this time. If you're unsure about any part, write me back before trying to call me.

Hope you're having a great summer, and I can't wait to see you again. Watch out for anything, and send me more news--

It cut off here.

The wheels of Dudley's small brain turned slowly. Quidditch? Isn't that what Harry went to see last year?

He heard Harry's quick footsteps on the stairs and hurriedly backed out of the room, turning around and coming face to face with his cousin.

"Er...hi," he said.

Harry looked at him as if he were a monkey and stepped into the room, shutting the door abruptly. Dudley stared at the blank white door and felt something foreign inside of him: hurt.

He went into his room and looked at everything there: the newest computer on the market and his stash of computer games, the small television his parents had given him last summer, the huge casual clothes, and his Smeltings uniform and knobbed stick. The shelves along the wall were filled with broken toys he had destroyed when he was younger.

It was so boring, he realized. Toys, machines, clothes--they were all possessions, nothing compared to the friends Harry had. Harry's things were so interesting: moving pictures, a Broomstick Servicing Kit, and that strange cloak of his. Harry had friends, Harry had magic--Harry had life. He remembered the spark in his cousin's green eyes after he ran, the longing in the letter he had written, the gentle strokes along the white owl's wings. He felt a sudden yearning to be his cousin, and he wondered at this.

It used to be different

, he wondered dimly. In the past, I got everything Harry wanted. But now he has everything I want.

Once again, he knocked on the door of his cousin's room.

"What?" Harry called.

Dudley opened the door again and looked inside. "Can I come in?* he asked hesitantly.

Harry looked at him with a doubtful expression. "Sure."

"Dudders!" His mum was calling him. "Come down and watch the telly! I know you will love it!"

Dudley struggled down the stairs, and the door slammed behind him loudly.

The day passed. Harry stayed in his room except to go down to meals. Dudley suspected that he had received food and was hiding it somewhere, but there was nothing he could do about that.

His parents went to bed at ten o'clock, leaving him in front of the television. "N"Now don't stay up too late, Dudders," grunted his father. "We still want you growing and healthy." He slapped his son's back and thumped up the stairs.

Dudley turned off the television and listened carefully for the sound of his parents' door closing. His stomach growled loudly.

Harry had food.

He went to the base of the stairs and peered up. His parents' room was dark, and Dudley could already hear his father's loud snores already beginning. Harry's room was dark as well. Dudley felt excitement growing inside of him. He's sleeping...if I find the food...take it...get away...he'll never know!

As quietly as he could, he began up the stairs. The stairs creaked slightly under his massive weight, and for the first time, he cursed the fat he carried. Need to get skinny like Harry. But then how would I beat people up?

He reached the door and opened it silently, mentally patting himself on the back. Now where would he hide it? In the dim light of the hallway, he could not see anything different about the trunk or desk. The cage that held the owl was still empty. Then he spotted the large space under the bed.

Under the bed!

He crept silently to the bed, barely breathing. Almost there...there...

And what he saw stunned him.

Harry was crying. His eyes, exposed without glasses, were shut tightly, and long tears rolled down his face. His breathing was uneven as he tried to prevent himself from making a sound.

Dudley, horrified, stumbled back and hit the door with a loud bang.

Harry's gasp was loud in the silence. He groped for his wand, which was lying on the bedstand, sat up, and pointed it at Dudley. Dudley froze in fear as his cousin turned on the lamp.

"Dudley!"

Harry whispered, hastily reaching for his glasses and wiping his face with the back of his hand. "What are you doing?"

"I was--I was--" he stuttered, staring in fear at Harry's wand, "I was looking for food." That was the truth. "I was--I was really hungry--and I thought--that I--ssmelled sweets from your room--" He halted as Harry slowly lowered his wand.

"Who are you, anyway?" Harry interrupted in a whisper, his eyes searching Dudley's face.

"Wh--What?" Why was Harry so suspicious? Was there something wrong with him?

Harry shook his head and gripped his wand. "I don't have anything, Dudley. Go to bed."

"But you--"

"What?"

Dudley didn't know what to say. "But you do have food," he answered timidly.

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his head, frustrated. "I don't have any. Get it through your head."

Dudley shook his head. "I want to know what it's like to be a wizard," he said meekly.

Harry looked aggravated. "Why?"

"I'm just..." He paused, searching for the word. "I'm just...I'm just curious."

Harry made a rather strangled noise in the back of his throat. "No, Dudley."

"But I--" Dudley's frustration grew. "Please, I--"

"Dudley." Harry's voice was dangerously low. "Get out of my room."

"I..." he weakly protested.

"Out." Harry pointed his wand in the direction of the hallway. His bright green eyes were filled with anger. "Now."

Dudley began shuffling into the hallway slowly. He glanced at his cousin furtively and saw that Harry had dropped his wand and had his face in his hands.

"What's wrong?" Dudley whispered apprehensively.

Harry looked up, startled. "Nothing."

"There must be," Dudley insisted, his voice coming out in a fearful squeak. "W"Why are you crying?"

Harry sighed and turned away. "Go away, Dudley." His voice was muffled.

Dudley stayed there for a few minutes, staring at his cousin, then dragged himself to his room. Harry's door closed behind him quietly.

I was so close

, Dudley pondered, for the first time in his life. Harry was going to tell me this afternoon...before Mum called me down.

The chance presented itself, and Dudley had almost held it in his hand. Yet it was missed.

So close!

He wished he could blame Harry, for he knew it was his fault. However, he couldn't find any anger to throw at his cousin. He realized, then, that it was his parents' fault. His parents, who never cared about Harry, who never dared to find out about Harry, about magic, about new and wonderful things.

So close!

And he himself had never tried to know. He had scorned Harry for his difference, for his lack of love, as he wallowed in his rich gifts. Harry, who had done so much...and received so little.

So close...so close....

Almost.

FIN