Half Evans

Dudley has never liked traveling.

He remembers getting sick out the car window while on a trip to visit his Aunt Marge, whom he always remembered really liking, but his mother now tells him was a nasty bitch.

Not that she condones that sort of language.

He had hoped he’d grown out of it, but his mother had given him a tonic that morning anyway, just in case, but as the train rattles and rolls on, he feels himself growing queasier and queasier.

“You feeling alright, Dud?” Harry asks. Dudley shakes his head, clutching his stomach with his hands.

“Think I’m gonna be sick.” He mumbles, and Harry leaps to the carriage door, flinging it open.

“Down the corridor!” He points, and Dudley stumbles towards the door marked “Loo” at the end. He barely makes it in time before he is retching in the toilet, heaving the contents of his breakfast. Finally, after what feels like an eternity he stands up, rinsing his mouth in the small sink and makes his way back down the corridor.

“Hey! Didn’t realize we were carting livestock.” Dudley freezes and slowly turns. A small boy with pale blonde hair is grinning at him cruelly. A group of people behind him all laugh, as if on cue, and Dudley feels his face flush. He turns back around and starts back down the corridor. If he can just get to his carriage..

“I’m talking to you, piggy!” The boy calls again, and Dudley feels his stomach turn. “Or can you not hear me through all your layers of fat?” The group laughs again. “Turn around when I’m talking to you, Piggy.” Dudley doesn’t want to. He wants to continue walking. He wants to find Harry and disappear into new comic. He wants to do a great many things that don’t involve turning around.

But he still turns.

“Merlin, have you ever seen a boy this big?”

“He’s the size of an elephant!”

“Honestly what does your mother feed you?” Hot tears well in Dudley’s eyes and he furiously blinks, trying to prevent them from falling. He will not cry in front of these people. Not here. Not in front of them.

“What’s going on out here?”

Harry’s voice cuts through the laughter and he pushes past Dudley to face the group of laughing kids.

“Having a go at my cousin, are you?”

“Your cousin?” The boy spits, before dissolving into another fit of laughter. “Miracle you’ve survived this long with this one around! Surprised he hasn’t accidently eaten you for Christmas dinner!” The group laughs loudly again and Dudley burns with shame.

“C’mon, Harry.” He mumbles, tugging on Harry’s arm. But Harry doesn’t move.

“Don’t talk about my cousin that way.” He snaps, and the boy narrows his eyes.

“I’ll talk about whoever I want however I want.” He says haughtily. “Do you know who I am?” Harry rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

“Obviously no one too important.” He says, and the boy bristles at this.

“I can have you thrown out of Hogwarts before you even get to the sorting ceremony. You’ll want to think twice before messing with me.”

“I wouldn’t even think once about you.” Harry says noncommittally. “You’re irrelevant.” The boy’s face becomes flushed at this, but whatever he’s about to say, Harry and Dudley don’t hear, as Harry grabs Dudley’s hand and drags him back down the corridor, talking loudly about the comic panels he’d read while Dudley was gone.

When the door slams shut behind them, Dudley wilts, collapsing onto the bench.

“He’s going to get us thrown out!” He moans. “Before we’ve even been sorted!” Harry snorts and tears open a chocolate bar from his rucksack.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dud.” He says through a mouthful of chocolate. He tosses a bar towards him. “What would they even throw us out for? Not letting ourselves be bullied by some tosser on the train? ‘Sides, if they did try to throw us out over that Aunt Petunia’d go absolutely nuts.” Dudley laughs wetly at this, wiping tears from his cheeks.

“Yeah, I s’pose.”

“No suppose about it, Dud. You’ve seen her. Remember when old Mrs. Figg accused us of stealing her peonies?” Dudley can’t help but laugh at this. Petunia had marched over to the elderly lady’s house and reduced her to tears. Both boys dissolved into laughter, and Dudley tore open his chocolate bar, feeling slightly better.

“You think they’re all like this?” He asks, after a moment.

“Who?”

“Wizards. Witches. Magic people.” Harry pauses thoughtfully.

“No,” He says after a moment. “I mean, we’ve already met Hermione, and she’s a bit… mouthy, but she’s nice, right?” Dudley nods slowly.

“I guess..” He says. Harry shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s just one group of assholes, Dud. They can’t all be that bad.”

As it turns out, Dudley does not have time to dwell on this. Hermione arrives in their carriage shortly after (“I’ve been looking everywhere for you two!”) to inform them that they’ll be arriving in no time and they should change into their robes. And by the time they locate their robes, change into them, and stow their other clothing, the train is slowing to a stop.

“Hey! It’s that man from the pub!” Harry elbows Dudley hard in the ribs and points to the giant, bearded man, waving gaily and yelling for first years. He grabs Dudley and pulls him to the growing crowd of kids who, Dudley notes, are all wearing similar looks of fear and bewilderment. He’s less pleased to see the cruel boy from the train, but does take small comfort in the fact that he, too looks lost.

They follow the main to the edge of a dark lake where they are loaded onto small rowboats that take them to the large, looming castle silhouetted against the night sky.

Since the boy on the train had mentioned it, Dudley has been stressing about whatever the sorting ceremony is. Of course, he couldn’t ask anyone, not after that interaction, and Harry was as clueless as he was, although he seemed perfectly convinced that it was nothing that bad.

But it was that bad.

Dudley is trembling in his new robes as he stands at the front of the Great Hall with the rest of the first years. In front of them, settled on an old rickety stool that he wonders will support him, is a mangy looking brown wizard’s hat that he’s one hundred percent sure his mother would want nowhere near his head.

But that, of course, is where it’s going.

He watches with trepidation as kid after kid sits on the stool to be sorted, all to thunderous applause from the other students sitting watching the ceremony, and for the first time ever he curses his last name. Dursley? He couldn’t have a last name like Harry’s that started with a P, could he?

Only too soon, after Crabbe, Vincent (Slytherin) and Davis, Tracey (also Slytherin), Dudley hears his own name.

“Dursley, Dudley.”

He doesn’t move.

Harry elbows him.

“Dud! You need to go!” Dudley swallows hard and he becomes acutely aware of the thin sheen of sweat that has erupted on his forehead.

Great. He’s going to leave the hat all sweaty for the next kid.

He wipes his hands on his robes and slowly begins the trek to the hat, whose mouth (mouth??) is grinning at him. Gingerly, he perches on the edge of the stool which creaks under his weight, much to his embarrassment, and Professor McGonagall lowers the hat onto his head.

“Well, well, well.” A voice echoes inside Dudley’s head, and he jumps, in spite of himself. “A Dursley, eh? Muggleborn I see, but magic still runs through your veins.”

“My, uh, aunt.” He thinks. The hat hums.

“I remember her you know. Lily Evans, a delightful young witch.”

“You should tell that to my cousin. It’s his mum, you know.”

“You know, this moment’s not really about him."

“I know, but I think he’d really appreciate it.”

“So loyal to your family, even a time that should be all about you... How peculiar..” Dudley swallows hard. He doesn’t want to be peculiar. He wants to be like everyone else.

“You are smart, young Dursley. Smarter than even you know, smarter than you give yourself credit for.” Dudley shakes his head and the hat slips a little lower on his brow. “Oh jostle me all you want, but I can see what’s in your head. I know you, young Dursley, far better than you know yourself. Brave, you are not, bookish, you are not. But smart? That is something you are. It will serve you well, young Dursley, and I know just the place to put a brain like yours. Best be..”

“SLYTHERIN!”

Dudley blinks against the light as the hat is pulled off his head to thunderous applause. Over on the far wall, students decked in green and silver clap and bang goblets on the long, wooden table as he numbly makes his way across the hall to slip onto the bench beside Crabbe, Vincent, who he now recognizes as one of the boys laughing at him on the train. His stomach gives a sickening lurch and he turns back to the ceremony, where Entwhistle, Kevin is promptly sorted into Ravenclaw and Finch-Fletchley, Justin is sorted into Hufflepuff. He nearly loses his lunch when Malfoy, Draco is called up and he recognizes him as the one who called him a pig on the train. His eyes find Harry’s as Draco is sorted into Slytherin, and Harry gives him a thumbs up. Dudley returns the gesture weakly, but feels no comfort as Draco swaggers to the table, much to the delight of his posse, most of whom have been sorted here.

He is granted some comfort when Granger, Hermione is sorted into Slytherin. She slides onto the bench next to him, giving his arm a big squeeze and smiling brightly. He tries to return it, but he can’t stop the roiling in his belly.

Finally, it’s Harry’s turn.

Dudley watches with bated breath as Harry walks timidly up to the stool. The hat slips well over his head, covering him down to his nose, and Dudley wishes he could hear the dialogue between the two of them.

Anxiously, he drums his fingers on the table.

He taps his foot.

He fidgets with the collar of his robe.

Finally, the wide mouth of the hat splits open.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

And Dudley wants to sink through the floor.

The Great Hall erupts into thunderous applause. He is faintly aware of someone screaming “WE GOT POTTER” over top of the din, and a few of the older Gryffindors are shooting sparks into the air with their wands. Dudley watches as Harry turns towards the Gryffindor table, where people are eagerly shuffling and shoving their peers out of the way to create space for him. He turns back and looks at Dudley, who does his best to give him a supportive, brave smile.

He turns back to the Gryffindor table.

Then to the head table, where the professors are all seated.

“Um, Professor Dumbledore?”

Immediately, the noise ceases. Dumbledore appears startled, and peers at Harry over his half-moon spectacles.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if it’s mandatory to sit with your house?”

Dudley’s jaw drops, which is apparently the appropriate reaction, as a low rumble of hushed chatter sweeps across the hall. Even the professors, Dudley notes, look properly stunned.

“Um, it’s not mandatory, no.” Dumbledore says after a moment. “Most choose to, however.” Harry shuffles his feet.

“It’s just.. I’d kind of like to sit with my cousin, if I could.” Dumbledore’s eyes raise in amusement, and Dudley feels his heart pound in his chest. Please, he thinks, Please don’t say no.

“I certainly don’t see why not.” Harry beams at the kindly headmaster and Dudley feels a wave of relief wash over him as Harry squeezes himself in on Dudley’s other side, between him and Vincent.

“Congrats, Dud!” Harry says brightly. “I always said green was your color, eh?”

“Looks like we’ve got Piggy and his guard dog Potter.” Draco Malfoy saunters over to their spot and slings an arm across Dudley’s shoulder. "Listen, Piglet. Try to save some of the feast for the rest of us, yeah?" Dudley can see Harry squaring up when a large, brown haired boy grabs Malfoy by the back of his robe and yanks him off.

“Hey!” Draco snarls.

“Oi! Listen here Malfoy! Like it or not, Dursley’s a Slytherin now, and in Slytherin, we watch out for our own, you hear? I won’t have any in-fighting or nonsense like that. You’ve got a problem with him? Take it to me or Verity. And don’t think I won’t report you to our head if you keep causing trouble.” Draco glares at the boy, but still slinks back to his seat. Dudley looks up in amazement at the boy.

“Thank you,” He breathes, and the boy nods curtly.

“We look out for our own.” He says, before taking his seat.

The rest of the ceremony passes without much fanfare, although a few of the Gryffindors, Dudley notices, do shoot Harry some less than pleased looks.

“I think you might have problems with some of your housemates.” Dudley whispers to Harry. Harry merely shrugs and continues eating from the magnificent feast that had appeared before them.

“S’not my problem.” He says. “You can’t honestly tell me that this school expects siblings or family members to just.. not talk to one another if they’re sorted into different houses. I mean, what happens if your brother or sister is put in another house? Do you only communicate on holidays?”

“That’s what happened with my uncles.” Dudley swivels to face Draco, who’s apparently decided to drop the bullying for the moment.

“It did?” He asks in amazement. Draco shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“One brother was sorted into Gryffindor, one into Slytherin. Kind of like you two, I guess. Our houses are enemies, you know. Anyway, they couldn’t get past their differences and it tore their family apart. The Gryffindor was disowned, you know.” Fear settles over Dudley’s shoulders as he glances at Harry. Was this their destiny? Two cousins separated into enemy houses, forced apart, torn between their familial loyalties and –

“That’s a load of nonsense!” Harry’s voice broke through Dudley’s frantic spiralling. “Honestly. Who would let something as stupid as house loyalties come between family?”

“It’s true!” Draco insists. Another boy across the table snorts.

“I think you’re leaving out some key details, Malfoy.”

“Shut up, Nott!”

“What details?” Dudley finds himself asking.

“The details where the kid in Gryffindor was a blood traitor and spit in the face of every family tradition they ever had. Also he hated his brother long before they ever came to Hogwarts.” He thrust a hand across the table. “Name’s Theo, by the way.”

“Dudley.”

“And I’m Harry. Seems like some pretty big details to leave out of the story, Malfoy. Unless the point of your story wasn’t actually to share knowledge, but rather to try and freak me and Dud out.” Malfoy flushed and focused his attention on shoveling more creamed corn into his mouth. “Doesn’t matter anyway. We’d never let anything come between us, right Big D?” Dudley smiles in spite of himself.

“Right, Big P.” Hermione, who up until this point had been sitting silently, claps her hands over her mouth.

“Those are adorable!” She squeals through her fingers, and Harry shoots her a dirty look. “I’m sorry!” She exclaims. “But they are.”

Finally, the feast ends, and they make their way with their houses to their dormitories. Harry bids Dudley a farewell, promising to find him at breakfast, and reminds him to write to his mother right away before she figures out a way to drive to Hogwarts and give them a proper lecture.

The dormitories, much to Dudley’s dismay, are in the dungeon of the castle. As they descend deeper and deeper, Dudley feels his creeping sense of dread growing and growing until they finally arrive in their common room, and his feeling gives way to awe.

It’s gorgeous.

A fire roars in the oversized fireplace, and is surrounded by several large, plush chairs, complete with foot rests. There are plush couches lining the walls, as well as tables and chairs. It is lit almost entirely by low hanging chandeliers with candles hanging from them, and on the walls are large windows that open to the lake they had crossed earlier. Dudley finds himself standing in front of one and watching as creatures he has never seen nor heard of bob by, and he swears one waves at him with a hand that looks positively human.

He is then directed to his dormitory, where he finds himself sharing a room with Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. Dudley doesn’t interact with any of them, though, instead opting to climb into the four poster bed, drawing the curtains around himself and drifting off to sleep.

It’s been a day.