Pig Tails and Magic Spells

Pig Tails and Magic Spells--Chapter One

It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Professor Dumbledore finally found Harry sitting cross-legged in the dark corner of the playground on Magnolia Crescent.

"I must admit, Harry," he said after a moment. "You are not easy to find when you do not want to be found."

Harry gave no response except a short exhale and the short drop of his head to his hands.

"Though I admire your talents," the Professor continued, lowering himself to sit next to Harry. "That was a dangerous thing you did back there, Harry."

Harry snorted ungracefully. "What else is new?"

Dumbledore smiled briefly, but his expression grew somber as he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I can't pretend to know just how difficult this summer has been for you, Harry, and I know that what I've asked of you will make it even more difficult, but I implore you to hear me out. However unpleasant, it is necessary."

"I just don't understand!" Harry exploded, jumping to his feet. He strode a few steps away and jerked angrily at the chain on a swing set. "I've never been welcome in his home! Why should we bring him to ours, Professor?"

"Because, Harry, Hogwarts is safe from the dangers posed to you both. While you are not here, Privet Drive is not, and the school he attends even less so."

"How do you know they even know about him? He's always been in danger before, but we've never brought him home with us for a whole bloody school year!"

"He has been targeted, Harry," the old man said softly, looking Harry straight in the eye. "Several sources confirm a break-in at the Smeltings registration office. The only files missing were the records of one Dudley Dursley, Number Four, Privet Drive."

Harry looked at him, eyebrows raised. "How did you--?"

Dumbledore simply looked at Harry expectantly. Of course Dumbledore would have all of his family watched, thought Harry. Of course he would be ready for every possibility. He was Dumbledore, always five paces ahead when everyone else was three behind.

The air between them was silent for a moment, and then was filled with the sound of Harry's trainers dragging glumly in the gravel. He slumped back into a sitting position and looked Dumbledore in the eye. "There's no other way?"

"I'm afraid not. Lord Voldemort knows that you are protected as long as you dwell in the house of your mother's blood."

"And if he can get rid of my mother's blood--"

"He can get rid of you, Harry."

Harry sighed. "It's weird, thinking of Dudley as related to my mother."

When Dumbledore said nothing, Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair and rearranged his glasses. "I'm sorry I ran away."

"I can hardly blame you. I had to physically restrain your uncle."

"And Aunt Petunia?"

"Upset, naturally. But Petunia made a similar journey herself, long ago."

"Aunt Petunia stayed at Hogwarts?"

"Not for long," said Dumbledore, who took his glasses off and began to clean them on his sparkly purple robes. "But long enough to know, that however much she disliked it, the old castle and its inhabitants protected her. Long enough to know it will protect her son."

Harry said nothing and instead tried to imagine prudish, horsey-faced Aunt Petunia amongst the talking portraits and singing suits of armor that littered the Hogwarts halls. He tried to imagine her beside his mother, talking and interacting with James Potter and Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, and seeing wizard things and not being able to ignore them all. He failed miserably and only ended up with a dull throb in his temple for the trouble. Finally, he rested his head against his raised knee and let out a long, slow breath.

"Oy. Dudley is really coming to Hogwarts?"

"Quite reluctantly, but yes, Harry. Your cousin is really coming to Hogwarts. I daresay that Hedwig will be interrupting the nighttime quiet of both the Weasley and Granger households?"

"Yeah," said Harry, running his hand through his hair again. He stood up. "Yeah, I need to write Ron and Hermione. And maybe Ginny too."

Dumbledore reached out a hand and Harry helped him up from the ground. "Then let us be off. It's dangerous to be out in the open at times like these."

"What about my aunt and uncle?"

"Let us just say that they have been...persuaded to cooperation."

***

"Now, sweetums," Petunia said placatingly, adjusting Dudley's shirt collar for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon. "They'll been sending your Smeltings lessons in the post, and you'll have a private tutor. You be sure to study hard and make Mummy proud!"

Dudley finally batted her hands away in annoyance, crossing his muscular arms over an equally muscular chest. Dudley remained stony-faced and silent, mentally going over the list of things he'd be missing during the year--boxing, his girlfriend, Moira, the boys--and loathing Harry Potter a little more for every new entry on the list.

Harry himself was sitting on his trunk reading a letter that the ruddy bird had brought him. He was murmuring quietly to himself something that Dudley couldn't make out, frowning and tracing the edge of the paper with his fingers. Barking mad, Harry was. Absolutely, completely nutters.

Vernon had adopted much the same stance as Dudley, arms-over-chest, except in his case it was more arms-over-belly than anything else. He was turning quite an interesting shade of purple and seemed as if any minute he might explode. Dudley looked at him hopefully, but soon realized that not even Dad could help him out of this one. He was completely and utterly stuck.

It had been just over a year since Dudley's last encounter with magic--he still had nightmares about the cold and the empty and the smell. Not to mention the things he remembered. Things he desperately wanted to forget. He knew, with every passing second and the accompanying chill that ran up his spine, that Harry was going to make him endure even more horrible things than he had with the dementors.

Damn, he wished he had a beer now. Dudley rubbed his forehead; it was starting to ache.

"Here we are," said the old man, touching Harry on the shoulder and looking expectantly at Dudley. "Arthur has brought us a car."

This seemed to bring Harry round a bit; he looked up from his letter and smiled, standing up and stuffing it in his pocket. For a moment he looked at the Dursleys in silence, then he managed a small "Bye, then." and was dragging his trunk and his owl out towards the old black car.

"Be careful, Dudders," Petunia cooed, brushing a piece of imaginary lint from Dudley's massive shoulders. "You're so brave, baby. Be strong for Mummy. We'll bring you home in no time."

Vernon grunted in agreement. "Sooner if I can help it," he glared at Dumbledore, who merely grinned. "You show those nancy boys what a real man is, Dudley."

Dudley nodded solemnly and shook his father's large, outstretched hand. "They'll never know what hit 'em, Dad."

Vernon clapped Dudley on the shoulder. "Atta boy."

Dumbledore coughed subtly; Petunia hugged Dudley one last time. She gave his large cheek a tears-wet kiss and said, "You'd better be off, sweetums. You be careful, and write me as soon as you get there."

Both of the elder Dursleys glared at Dumbledore as if he had single-handedly brought about the destruction of humankind. He smiled at them rather unrepentantly, tipped his large purple hat, and followed Dudley out the door.

***

Harry's trunk was already in the car by the time Dudley reached it with his. A tall, redheaded man that seemed vaguely familiar to Dudley offered to take it from him, but Dudley kept a tight hold on the handle when he saw that Harry's trunk took up all the space there was to be had.

"There's no room," he said, frowning. "My stuff won't fit."

"Of course it will!" The man took the handle at the other end and swung the trunk up to land on top of Harry's. It immediately sank into the storage compartment with a perfect fit.

Dudley gaped open-mouthed. Harry's trunk had no-where to go. How...?

Right. Magic.

"There we are," said the redheaded man, and Dudley suddenly realized that he'd been one of the men at the train station with Harry, and before that he'd brought his twin sons and blown up the Dursleys' fireplace. The man smiled at him as if nothing had ever happened before, and Dudley had two urges hit him at the exact same time. One told him to punch the man in the face as hard as he could, and the other told him to get as far, far away as possible.

He did neither. Instead, he crawled into the backseat with Harry and sat on his hands.

It was going to be a long, long ride.