The Potter Heir and the Nobody Pig

It was an excellent start to the day after Dudley got his brand-new uniform for Smeltings. As he reflected on the praises he had received from his parents the night before, he was still full of energy. They looked so proud. He looked so grown up, like his father. Following his father’s footsteps, he was on his way to a successful life and a dream job.

Well, Dad’s life wasn’t all roses. He constantly complained about Harry and what the neighbors must think, but Dudley didn’t have any siblings, so he shouldn’t have to worry about awful nephews ruining all that.

Even the smell of whatever awful thing Mum had in the pot on the stove couldn’t ruin his mood.

Their ears heard the mail passing through the letter slot. While Dad was still trying to make Harry get the mail, a knock came from the door.

Petunia and Vernon exchanged glances, and then Petunia answered the door.

Vernon returned to his paper, and Harry and Dudley stared at the door even though they couldn’t see through Petunia.

Mum opened the door to find a tall woman standing there. Dudley knew he had to retreat, catch Harry doing something terrible to get her attention or pretend tears to escape her scolding by asking, “Can I help you?” in that calmly angry tone.

The woman replied, “Thank you. Is this the residence of Dudley Dursley?”

Standing rigidly in the doorway, Petunia asked, “Who is asking?”

“The extremely elite school for gifted students has invited Mr. Dursley to join. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I would like to inform you that he has accepted the invitation.” She said.

In no way had the term gifted been used to describe Dudley. The letters were constantly flickering and spinning, making it difficult for him to quickly follow what everyone else was doing. In Dudley’s opinion, doing homework was not fun because there were more exciting things to do.

An elite school? No, it was not Eton. Even the smeltings were not all that special, despite what Dad claimed.

Harry stared skeptically at Dudley, who returned the stare. Even though Dudley thought the woman was off her rocker, Harry had no right to rub it in.

Mum’s voice got cold. “He’s already accepted a place at Smeltings. You may leave now.”

“Mrs. Dursley, you must hear me out,” McGonagall insisted. As Petunia tried to shut the surrounding door, she shoved her way inside. Despite her tall stature, she wore a tartan-colored dress and appeared sternly more stern than Mrs. Petersen. As soon as Dudley saw her, he disliked her.

As McGonagall picked up the yellowish envelope from the pile of mail, he frowned. Petunia was standing next to Harry and hadn’t collected it yet. A moment later, her eyes widened. “I don’t think I need to tell you how critical it is that Dudley attends Hogwarts,” she said, gesturing at the envelope.

Petunia shouted over McGonagall, “Boys, please play out back!”

Then Dudley whined, “But Mom.” No matter how loud he protested, Petunia would back down. He wanted to know what was so special about this school that she would argue with her.

It didn’t work. When Dudley threw his biggest tantrum, Mum remained firm, and Dad escorted him outside.

Harry had ducked outside when Dad raised his voice and had already disappeared.

“Now, do you remember that I read all the addresses on the letters before they get delivered to students?” McGonagall asks.

Petunia and Vernon quickly paled. They were afraid of being turned into a frog or something.

“Things will change, or you will lose custody of both of them,” McGonagall said sternly.

Petunia exclaimed, “Don’t take my Diddykins!”

“Dudley will go to Hogwarts whether you like it or not. You should remember that if a younger witch or wizard does not attend Hogwarts, they endanger everyone around them. The untrained magic of a child can also be dangerous, especially after puberty. It would constitute criminal negligence if they were not allowed to attend.” McGonagall said, getting more frustrated.

Vernon starts turning purple in the face and shouting, “My son’s not sending him to some freak show school run by a bunch of freaks!”

“You do have the option to send that Dudley to a different magic school. You have no say in the matter regarding Harry; his tuition has been taken care of since he was a baby, and he will attend Hogwarts,” McGonagall said.

“I am not sending Dudley to Hogwarts. Let Dudley go to a different school!" Petunia exclaimed.

“Well, let’s talk about Harry now,” McGonagall had barely finished her sentence.

“I am not talking about that FREAK,” yelled Vernon.

“Harry Potter is not a freak! Then I will forcibly silence you until the discussion is over, or I will leave if you repeat it,” McGonagall said.

Vernon paled and quickly shut up.

“Now, continuing where I left off, I warn you if Harry doesn’t have a room or isn’t fed properly, I will make you regret it,” McGonagall said. “Want to talk to them.”

Petunia called Dudley back in from the back door. As Dudley entered the house, he sat eagerly on the couch when Mum directed him.

McGonagall sighed through her nose, pursed lips already in place before Dudley entered. “I want to speak with both boys, Mrs. Dursley.”

Mum didn’t look any happier. A scowl stretched across her face as she nodded to Vernon, who ran to the back door and shouted, “Boy! Get inside this instant!”

After another long moment, Harry scrambled into view of the open door, brushing dead leaves off his clothes and staying cautiously out of Vernon’s reach. He stepped towards Harry’s doorway as if he were about to grab him but stopped suddenly and backed away.

After hesitation, Harry rushed inside, past Vernon, and out of reach again. He toed off his shoes before stepping off the kitchen tile and silently, cautiously, walking into the living room where the rest of them were sitting.

Despite Harry standing warily near the couch, McGonagall’s scowl didn’t waver as he didn’t dare track dirt across its surface. Harry would have to do extra chores for a month; even Dudley knew that.

She said, “Mr. Potter, Mr. Dursley, I am here to offer you each a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“Magic isn’t real!” Dudley blurted. Dad said that at least once a month.

“I assure you, Mr. Dursley, magic exists. There are normally strict laws about revealing magic to muggles - to people who aren’t magical - but exceptions exist for the family. Your mother had known this before you were born, considering her sister was a student at Hogwarts.”

Dudley stared at his mother. Despite looking furious, she didn’t correct the professor. “In taking the boy in, we swore we would stamp out any freakishness he might have with honesty and diligent work. We didn’t sign up for him to infect our precious Dudders like this!” Mum exclaimed.

McGonagall glared disapprovingly at her. Turning back to Dudley and Harry, she looked at them momentarily. “Is a demonstration in order?” McGonagall suggested. She did not wait for an answer. Suddenly, a cat appeared on the floor, with its paws hidden under its curled, twitching tail, where the woman had been standing.

Dudley eyed the cat. If that was the woman upsetting his parents, she was much easier to bash at that size.

McGonagall stepped back in front of them before he could grab the cat. McGonagall stood before them again before he could catch the cat.

Harry breathed, “Wicked. Is anyone capable of doing that?”

McGonagall’s face finally exhibited a hint of a smile. “You have a curious mind, like your mother, Mister Potter. To answer your question, most witches and wizards have not taken the time to become animaguses - people who can turn into animals. Animagus transformation is a specialized variant of transfiguration, the discipline I teach. There are many other forms of magic, of course.” She pulled a long stick from under her loose sleeve. “If I may?”

“You absolutely may not!” Mum exclaimed, practically shaking. “I wouldn’t want either of them to do that...”

The purple face and clenched fists in the kitchen puzzled Dudley as he looked away, not seeing him. His hands tightened into fists, but he didn’t seem to be approaching them. Dad caught Dudley looking away before he could see him.

McGonagall’s smile vanished as she insisted firmly, “Hogwarts is the most prestigious school of its kind. Young witches and wizards must attend magical schools when they are old enough to prevent unintentional violations of the Statute of Secrecy. A child’s untrained magic can also come out dangerously, especially after puberty. Failure to allow them to attend would constitute criminal negligence.”

When Mum and Dad didn’t protest, Dudley suspected they’d already argued before calling him back inside.

Petunia explained, “We’ve already paid for Dudley’s tuition—non-refundable fees. We cannot afford the fees of another school. How can we afford them?”

“You are not the only family with such concerns,” McGonagall said stiffly. “Hogwarts has an agreement with many private muggle schools. A transfer of funds is likely to happen.”

“Dudley cannot be magical. You’re wrong. There’s nothing abnormal about him.” Petunia screamed in frustration. Her first sign of weakness was audible to Dudley.

Petunia was furious. “He isn’t a wizard,” she declared.

“Often, accidental magic manifests during times of high emotion,” McGonagall explained patiently. Her gaze returned to Dudley. “When you are scared, frustrated, or angry, do you ever experience unusual things around you that you cannot explain?”

“It’s Harry’s fault!” Dudley insisted, taking his mother’s side despite not being sure. Harry got blamed and punished when Mrs. Reed’s hair turned blue. She was still raging against Dudley for being unable to read smoothly in front of the class when her hair changed color. After falling into the snake enclosure just a few weeks ago, when he’d been so mad, he thought for a moment that the glass had reappeared behind him. Nothing that would have caused him to run into the glass had happened to him. He’d toppled right onto the concrete floor of the reptile house when he tried to slam himself against it in his panic.

Dudley wasn’t sure what Harry had feared so much that he tried to escape into the snake tank. However, the glass vanishing in the first place had nothing to do with him.

McGonagall let out another sigh. “Is that description of accidental magic familiar to you, Mr. Potter?”

Looking cautious, Harry nodded carefully. He didn’t elaborate and only said “some things.”

“The invitation list, however, is written with an enchanted quill that makes no mistakes. A letter addressed to Mister D. V. Dursley, who will attend Hogwarts this year unless you want to apply to Beauxbatons?” replied Mum McGonagall.

If Dudley had to guess, the last word sounded French, but it might be another school.

Dudley didn’t know enough French to attend a French school! He glanced at Mum in a panic, but at least she didn’t appear to be considering sending him that far.

Through gritted teeth, Mum replied, “Very well. Did you plan to take them shopping?” She grabbed her purse and dug around until she stopped and looked coldly at McGonagall. In her bag, her hand remained still. Asked her, “Well?”

“I am willing to show you the shopping district, although I am sure you have been there before.” McGonagall’s face flashed with many muted emotions before she said stonily, “The school is not responsible for escorting summer students or buying their supplies.”

Mum immediately pulled a wad of bills from her purse and handed them to McGonagall. “Is this enough?”

Despite McGonagall’s flared nostrils, she accepted and thumbed through the bills, considering them. “It will get one student a new wand, a uniform, and enough supplies for the year if you buy most of them second-hand,” she said.

Mum looked torn for a minute, and Dudley expected her to pull out another wad of cash. She would never let Dudley embarrass himself in second-hand clothes.

“I’ll pay for Dudley’s items with that. Since it’s mandatory, not all students can afford everything. There has to be a fund set up for those who cannot afford everything, so use it to buy Potter’s stuff.” Petunia said.

McGonagall’s nostrils flared up. “I see.” She refolded the bills Mum had given her and put them in a pocket.

Dudley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Mum, you wouldn’t!” He whimpered, trembling his lips. “You make me wear second-hand clothes to school,” he whimped, trembling. “But why—”

Seeing Dudley’s tantrum, McGonagall yelled, “Enough!”

“I can’t do anything to your parents for wanting to put in the minimum effort,” she said scathingly, “but this shopping trip falls outside my job responsibilities if you give me any trouble. I’ll make sure you regret it. At the same time, I will take you shopping as a favor for your parents. At least you’ll have detention for the first week of the school year!” She narrowed her eyes briefly at Harry but fixed her scowl on Dudley.

Dudley protested, “That’s unfair!”

Dudley was also warned that he might be given detention for nothing in addition to his tears being resisted twice a day. Besides, “Everyone knows Harry is a delinquent.”

She said, “I will judge students based on their actions, not hearsay. Please, Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley, prepare to leave as soon as possible.”

Harry had to put his shoes back on to get ready. McGonagall had a quiet argument with his parents, but Dudley couldn’t hear them. Dudley and Harry were both waiting in the kitchen when McGonagall answered quietly.

Dudley and Harry did not get the chance to ask what all that was about before McGonagall grabbed them both firmly by the wrists. Squirming was the only warning included in the sign. It was like Dudley’s entire body was being pulled, crushed, and twisted simultaneously. It was a narrow alley paved with cobblestones unknown to them.

“What was that?” Harry wondered.

“The method you used to travel is called apparating. It is one of the quickest ways of traveling magically, but it can be uncomfortable. Are you both OK?” McGonagall answered.

After being pulled inside out like that, Dudley was feeling queasy. However, the sensation was subsiding, and he hated the idea of acknowledging weakness.

“Where are we?” Harry asked quickly. “I’m fine,” he replied. Dudley wasn’t feeling well enough to confront him about it while he was ill.

“It’s a pleasure to be in Diagon Alley, in London. It’s a popular shopping district and one of the few places where you can obtain all of your school supplies within walking distance of one another,” she explained.

She led them out of the shady corner. “The first thing we need to do is exchange your money at the bank, Mr. Dursley.”

Bank trips are not fun. Dudley was merely trying to comment on the bank’s unattractive dwarf employees. He couldn’t make a sound. Despite his best efforts, Dudley did not manage to complete the statement. It wasn’t his words or his feet that made noise. Almost too late, he realized that McGonagall had explained that the employees were goblins but was distracted from throwing a tantrum because he could not. It was vital for them to be polite.

Angry goblin eyes tracked them up to the counter, where McGonagall exchanged the wad of bills Mum had handed her for a small leather coin purse. She also quietly asked Harry Potter to trust the vault he could visit.

The goblin nodded. “Does Mr. Potter have his key?” asked the goblin.

“Yes,” McGonagall says, taking it out of her pocket and handing it to the goblin.

McGonagall left Dudley waiting silently for Harry just by the entrance. Dudley was still forcibly silent and shifted uneasily under the angry-looking glares from the goblins by the door; hopefully, that was just how their faces were.

McGonagall followed Harry and the Goblin down to the carts. She asked, “Do you have muggle clothes? Did the Dursleys buy you? When did you get your eyes checked?”

“No, they only gave me Dudley’s hand-me-downs. One of my elementary school teachers made my aunt take me to the eye doctor, but she just got some donated glasses,” Harry responded.

“We’ll have to include muggle’s clothes in our shopping as well, and I’m guessing we’ll have to get you some formal dress robes. We’ll have to add a stop at the eyeglass shop to check your eyes and get a brand-new prescription and glasses. As well as a book on pureblood customs, an introductory text for muggle-borns, and a book on secondary genders because you are the heir Potter.” McGonagall says with a sigh.

Harry nods, unsure what it means when she says he is the Potter heir. Harry was utterly in awe when he saw what he had in his vault. McGonagall helped him grab enough for school and some extra to ensure he had enough for clothes and some spending money for the year.

Once they’ve returned from Harry’s vault, McGonagall grabs Dudley and proceeds to exit the bank.

The first stop was Trunks. McGonagall explained that this was so they could pack the rest of their school supplies into them as they shopped.

She apologized for silencing Dudley and said something about not starting another war, but Dudley ignored her. He threw another tantrum that would have Mum and Dad falling over to appease him. Unimpressed and unmoved, McGonagall folded her arms and glared at him.

“The first week of school, that will be detention. If you don’t change your behavior, I’ll silence you for the rest of the day.” Her tone was harsh when he had calmed after her refusal to budge.

Harry had picked out a brand-new trunk, monogrammed with his initials, while Dudley picked out a second-hand trunk from the second-hand section.

Dudley was mad when McGonagall said there was insufficient money to get his monograms. He didn’t throw another tantrum. Habit tugged at him, but his lack of energy after the last one, and McGonagall’s warning restricted his complaints to whining and pointed sighs instead of wailing.

The rest of the morning was mostly dull. There was junk everywhere! They headed to a used goods store to buy Dudley’s scales and telescopes, which looked just as disorganized as Dudley’s second bedroom. Harry’s were brand new when they purchased them at a regular store. They bought quills, ink, and stacks of the funny, thick paper called parchment at one store.

Cauldrons were easy to spot in a mess, with substantial dull metal basins. Other junk had built up in drifts around them, but McGonagall insisted they never ought to buy a used cauldron.

Harry’s were shiny and brand new, with not a single dent or scratch in them. There was a significant dent in the side of Dudley’s telescope, but McGonagall insisted those wouldn’t make a difference in the telescope’s function.

“OK, boys, time for your uniform,” McGonagall informed them, leading them out of the junk store. After leaving the bank, she called them ‘boys’ instead of ‘Mr. Dursley and Mr. Potter.’ Occasionally, she would contact Dudley by name, but never Harry. He couldn’t figure out why. “We’re heading to Clare’s to get Dudley’s robes, and afterward, we’ll proceed to Madam Malkin’s for Harry’s.”

She led them to a door so narrowly wedged between two other doors that Dudley couldn’t imagine there was much of a shop inside. But he was proven wrong.

The entrance to Clare’s led to a normal-sized shopping area with robes — which just looked like weird dresses - sorted by color and size, hanging like they were floating unsupported in the air.

McGonagall had explained that they were mandatory as the school uniform, but Dudley wouldn’t touch the dresses with a barge pole unless he was forced.

“Welcome to Clare’s Fashions and Fortunes. How can we help you?” a young man said from behind the front counter, sounding bored.

“We’re looking for Hogwarts uniforms for a new student. Don’t worry, I know the way,” McGonagall answered, waving at the man to sit back down rather than lead them in.

Dudley followed her reluctantly as she weaved deftly between the racks, not wanting to be silent again.

McGonagall whispered to a salesperson in a section of short, black robes. As soon as Dudley had both feet inside the lines, measuring tapes started flitting about him all on their own.

As the salesperson took his measurements, he returned with a large bag full of robes. In the fitting rooms, Dudley shuffled with an armful of robes. As McGonagall sternly warned him, Dudley tried on each heavily worn robe — taking off his shirt but leaving his trousers on underneath - and stepped out to have McGonagall approve each.

She frowned more and more deeply at each one but didn’t say anything to him. Harry didn’t say anything either and just sat next to her. Dudley was starting to wonder if this was all a massive prank, forcing him to wear ragged, uncomfortable dresses. Finally, he emerged from the fitting room in his shirt, carrying all eight robes he’d tried on.

McGonagall took the pile from him and approached the salesperson. She talked too quietly to overhear, but her scowl was as vicious as the one she’d fixed Dudley with at Gringotts. He was just glad it was focused on someone else this time.

The salesperson visibly wilted under McGonagall’s quiet tirade before finally squeaking “Yes, Professor,” and disappearing into the racks again, taking all the robes Dudley had been forced to try on with her.

When the salesperson returned with more robes, McGonagall directed him back into the fitting rooms to try them on.

“Why do I have to try on more?” Dudley demanded, outraged. He’d worn enough dresses for the day.

“Miss Fawcett decided to take offense at something you said and brought you the poorest-quality robes they had in stock in your size. Would you prefer the pile of faded and stained robes you started with?” McGonagall inquired.

Dudley didn’t. Poorly used clothing wasn’t his style.

“We can ensure they’re more appropriate after you try them on,” McGonagall suggested.

There was no arguing with her. Dudley tried on more robes. They were still gray, but they didn’t have any stains or tears on them like the last pile. When he tried them on, he noticed that his neck and arms no longer itched from loose threads unraveling from the hems. He instead placed his head and hands around the room. He was amazed at the difference.

Finally, he had tried on all the new pile of robes. McGonagall looked much more approved this time, and sure enough, this time, she paid for the robes rather than sending the salesperson back for another.

The clerk flicked his wand, and the robes nearly stacked while he made a change for McGonagall. The pile of clothes she handed to Dudley was in his dull, plain trunk. She removed this trunk from her pocket and resized it with a tap of her wand and a muttered spell. As Dudley shoved the pile into a corner and closed the trunk, McGonagall shrank it immediately and put it back in her pocket.

McGonagall says, “Now let’s head to Madam Malkin’s.”

They make their way to Madam Malkin’s robes for All Occasions. Being fitted for robes turned out to be some hazing ritual.

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” Madam Malkin says.

“Just helping a couple of First Years get their school supplies,” McGonagall says.

“Do you boys want to get up on my platform so I can start measuring?” Madam Malkin says, turning to the boys.

“No, I already got Dudley’s uniform from Claire’s,” McGonagall says before they can speak.

After whispering with McGonagall for a few seconds, Madame Malkin turns to Harry, taking some over to the podium to measure him.

Harry was distracted by the measuring tape that finished measuring his arms, legs, and torso and was now checking the circumference of his head then ears. Then he shooed it off when it started measuring his glasses.

Madam said that she’d have the finished robes done by the end of the day. A sewing machine in the far corner was already working on a set of robes, a black cat watching the heavy iron treadle wobble back and forth.

“Excellent. Come along, boys. I think it’s time we stopped for lunch.”

As McGonagall left the shop and weaved through the crowds, Dudley and Harry kept pace with her as she left.

When McGonagall pulled out her wand and tapped in the middle of the brick wall at the end of the Alley, the bricks wriggled, stretched, and moved. Eventually, there was a fine brick archway for them to step through.

On the other side of the arch was a bustling pub with a sign declaring it to be The Leaky Cauldron.

McGonagall led them inside and quickly claimed an empty booth in the corner. She ushered them into seats facing each other and instructed them to stay put and behave.

She disappeared into the crowd, heading towards the bar. Despite its dingy appearance, the restaurant wasn’t famous for lunch. Harry and Dudley exchanged nervous glances.

Harry said nothing, and Dudley wasn’t interested in starting a conversation either. His head was already spinning with the revelations of the day. Aside from magic, there were goblins, wars, and many other things to consider.

Eventually, McGonagall returned, followed by a waitress carrying three bowls of stew. McGonagall sat next to Dudley, and the waitress left all the food on the table and disappeared again. She also had plates with butter, chunks of bread, and glasses of something thick and dark orange that Dudley couldn’t identify.

The beef stew was tasty in a familiar sort of way. Dudley couldn’t decide whether he liked the pumpkin juice McGonagall ordered for them - but it was new to him. The story she told - about a terrorist targeting Harry’s parents and Harry surviving and getting credit for killing the terrorist - was also bizarre. It contradicted what Petunia said about Harry’s parents, for one thing. And for another, she kept calling the terrorist “He Who Must Not Be Named,” which was just a mouthful.

“But I can’t have done that!” Harry protested. “I was just a baby! And I don’t know any magic!”

“I believe you will find, Mister Potter, that the magical world lacks common sense. The fact that you were a babe in arms gets forgotten. Instead, compare that to the fact that you survived something that no one else has.” She took another bite and dabbed her perfectly clean lips with her napkin.

While eating something messy like a stew, Dudley found it easier to focus on the small things. For example, it was silly to clean your mouth while eating. What was the point? It was just going to be more food and more mess.

As a celebrity, Harry suffered through so much all at once. A terrorist killed his parents. How could he stand being thrown as far as he was?

Dudley sometimes had trouble understanding what he was hearing. At least this discussion revolved around food. It was far less stressful to listen while eating something and not be expected to participate in conversation as heavily as to be told things directly and respond promptly.

When they finished eating, McGonagall folded her napkin on the table beside her plate. “Well, boys, we should continue shopping if we want to complete our shopping by this evening. Flourish, and Blotts is next for your textbooks.”

“Ugh, books,” Dudley complained as he and Harry scrambled out of the booth and followed McGonagall back to the shopping Alley. “You have my list. Do I have to follow you through some dusty old bookstore?”

“If you behave, I’ll buy your course books and your cousin’s while you wait at the front of the bookshop,” McGonagall said, sounding sympathetic.

“I will behave!” Dudley promised quickly, his head spinning from the morning’s events, finding out magic was real and McGonagall’s story over lunch. The chance to sit down and not deal with life-shattering revelations sounded nice.

“Very well,” McGonagall said. She led the way to the bookstore without further comment.

A few armchairs and a couch were off to the side inside the bookstore, where they wouldn’t get in the way of new customers coming in. One chair was already occupied by an older gentleman reading a magazine with an attractive cover image.

“Now stay here and don’t cause a fuss,” McGonagall instructed, returning to being the stern teacher. “Or I’ll make you regret it.”

After that, she and Harry disappeared between the shelves.

Dudley sighed and looked around. The man at the counter had a clear line of sight on him, so he couldn’t fidget with anything without the risk of being scolded. The only thing in this store were boring books, even if the ones here did come in an incredible variety of sizes and colors. Dudley hated books, just like he hated school. Smeltings would have been OK because he was following in Dad’s footsteps, but all of today was just frustrating instead. Why did he even have to be alone to buy all these weird things?

Mum gave Dudley whatever he asked for simply by whimpering like he was about to cry. Harry was always polite, as the teachers told them, but Mum never gave him anything he asked for.

When the teachers told Dudley that asking politely would affect his grades, he thought they were nuts. It worked with any teacher who tried to tell him to act that way because that’s what they wanted him to do with them. However, he had never seen asking his parents politely accomplish anything that whining did not.

He would have to think about that. Was his family the unusual one?

McGonagall and Harry emerged. Harry carried a large stack of brand-new books. The pile of books McGonagall was holding appeared to be torn and used. Harry’s accumulation of books seemed to be more significant.

McGonagall said, “Come along, Mr. Dursley.” After the stacks of books had disappeared into charming bags that did not indicate their contents' size and weight, they were put into their trunks. “Only a few more stops.”

After the awful, boring bookstore, the apothecary was a delightful place full of fascinating things, even though Dudley would probably have loved the site anyway. There was a whole barrel of beetle’s eyes and another of mayfly wings. There was a neatly labeled shelf with slimy, stained baskets with slimy frog livers, toes, hearts, eyes, tongues, and legs. Brown waxed paper was nearby to wrap up each slimy purchase.

For once, it seemed like Dudley and Harry were thinking the same thing as they wandered through the shelf of different kinds of blood and jellyfish stings.

For each of them, McGonagall chose a cauldron - a little smaller than Dudley had seen at the junk store - and a stirrer set from the back wall. A solid gold cauldron caught Harry’s eye just before Dudley noticed it, but she didn’t allow him to touch it. Then she took them to the side counter and asked for two first-year potion ingredients kits from a young woman behind the counter.

McGonagall nodded. “Very well.”

“There will be two first-year kits on their way,” Jigger promised and rushed into the shop to collect whatever could be included in the kits.

Dudley couldn’t see what ingredients he had until after she returned with two folding cases that were disappointingly sealed. McGonagall and Harry paid for the supplies, and McGonagall pulled out their trunks again, packed with their latest purchases, before closing them and storing them away.

As they left the shop, a cheerful voice boomed, “Minerva! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

A man towered over the crowd and moved toward them with messy hair and a vast dark beard taller than Harry’s.

As McGonagall sighed, she muttered something about their “lack of subtlety.”

Then she raised her voice to an average level, instructing, “OK, boys.” Olivander’s Wand Shop should remain the reference.

They were warned to “Stay together.” She also told them to “Wait just inside the door. I’ll join you soon.” As she pointed to the shop across the street, an outline of a wand was displayed.

While Dudley and Harry stared at one another in confusion first, she urged them, “Come on.”

Seeing Dudley over his shoulder, Harry took a glance at McGonagall. McGonagall stepped briskly away from the pair towards the man calling her name, and Dudley followed after him.

When Dudley glanced past the counter, McGonagall led them into a dark, dusty shop, much more prominent than the robe shop.

“Who could you be?” he asked, suddenly turning towards Dudley as though he had been summoned.

“Er, I’m Dudley Dursley,” Dudley said, though he was still a tad frightened. The man’s large, pale eyes stared into the depths of his soul.

“A new customer is no problem, Mr. Dursley. Every child is unique, so knowing what wand their parents bought won’t help me fit a wand to them.”

"Um, yeah," Dudley replied, not knowing what to say.

“Now.” Olivander asked them, “Which is your wand arm?”.

“How would I know?” Dudley asked.

“Is it your right hand that you use to write or your left hand to throw a ball?” Olivander asked.

“I’m right-handed,” Harry answered quickly.

It was more difficult for Dudley. “Well, I write with my right hand,” he said; his writing was challenging for teachers to read, just as difficult for him to read the books. “I throw a ball with my left hand,” he replied honestly - so they were suitable for making him write his homework.

He looked at Dudley uncomfortably. “Try your left arm first,” he instructed. “Hold it out.” Olivander frowned at him for a moment.

The man had barely taken a step back when a wild tape measure flew around Dudley even more wildly than the one at the robe shop. McGonagall frowned and warned not to swat the pesky thing away, but it took some effort. In addition to measuring the circumference of his head and the length of his nose, the measuring tape also measured the distance between his nostrils.

In the back of the store, Olivander had disappeared when the tape measure shifted. He reappeared promptly with a small pile of boxes, which he quickly sorted into two piles. “Try this one, Mister Potter,” he said, picking a package from the pile and placing it in front of Harry. “Beechwood and dragon heartstring.” The wand was nine inches long and relatively flexible. He revealed it to Dudley, “Mister Dursley, let’s try this one.” The hair is made of aspen and unicorn and is 8 1/4 inches long. Firm”

After a while, Dudley held a warm wand in his hand, and purple sparks shot out of it. However, he grabbed the wands back from them before anything happened and placed them in their respective boxes. In this way, Olivander presented and rejected wands for each of them moments after they had barely taken hold of them. He gagged them

“Well done, Mr. Dursley! Black Walnut wands tend to attract those with sound instincts. I'm looking forward to great results," Olivander said.

Dudley asked, “From me?” It was easier for Dudley to believe the kooky old Wanamaker about his potential than McGonagall’s statement this morning that he was welcome at a “gifted” school, though it should be equally absurd.

“Mister Dursley,” Olivander replied, tucking the wand back into its box. Despite his strong reluctance to give up, Dudley finally gave in. Dudley felt like he belonged in the magical world for the first time since he had picked up the wand. “Especially with a unicorn hair core supporting you. It’s the most loyal. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

After sliding the wand back into its box, Olivander wrapped it in brown paper before handing it over to Dudley. He grabbed it eagerly. “The total will be seven galleons and eight sickles.”

McGonagall paid for the wand without fanfare, giving Dudley an appraising look without the distrust he had seen most of the day.

Well. At the apothecary, Dudley had used this ‘manners’ thing. It surprised Dudley that he meant it so sincerely when he said, “Thank you, Mister Olivander.” It meant he fit in here and was believed to be a capable wand wielder. Not just passable, but great. As encouraging as it was intimidating, that was.

Dudley felt oddly proud when McGonagall graced him. He cared so much about earning her approval, so why did he care so much? It should not matter what anyone else thinks. Mum and Dad said so.

Harry took another dozen wands before a red and gold spark erupted from a wand in his hand.

Olivander babbled something about greatness and terrible things and Harry’s scar while Harry paid for his wand. Harry’s scar caught the attention of many people.

McGonagall led them to another store after leaving Ollivander’s. McGonagall whispered to the salesperson briefly before they took Harry to the back. Dudley had no choice but to stand next to McGonagall. After waiting for around ten minutes, Harry emerged with a bag of colorful clothing, which McGonagall placed in his trunk.

They were walking by the Magical Menagerie when an 8-foot 6-inch man walked next.

“I didn’t expect to see you, McGonagall.” said the giant of a man.

“Hello, Hagrid,” McGonagall said, stopping. “I’m taking a couple of first-year students shopping for school supplies.”

Hagrid looked over at them, then stared.

“Harry. I have seen you since you were a baby,” he said.

Harry asked in consultation, “Who are you?”

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper and Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts.” Hagrid said.

Hagrid turns to McGonagall and asks, “Is it all right if I get Harry a pet as an early birthday present?”

“Yes,” McGonagall announced, leading Harry and Dudley inside the Magical Menagerie.

McGonagall lets Hagrid take Harry to look at the pet.

“I want a pet, too,” Dudley demanded.

“Your parents only give me enough money to buy the bare minimum of all your supplies, most of which are second-hand. If you start to throw a tantrum, I will silence you and give you detention for the first week of school. It is the last warning,” McGonagall said.

Dudley stopped throwing a tantrum and started pouting. Ten minutes later, Harry returns with Hagrid, carrying a cage with a white owl.

After Harry thanked Hagrid, McGonagall ushered them along to finish their shopping.

The last store they visited was a store that had a sign with an eye on it. McGonagall Dudley waited outside when she took Harry inside. Twenty minutes later, Harry appeared with a glasses case in his hand and a small bag, which he quickly stowed into his trunk. And then McGonagall was ushering them into the Alley and back to a quiet corner to Apparate home.

As you had probably guessed, the two of them were standing in front of their living room after another gut-wrenching, crushing experience. While Vernon and Petunia were not present, a sound like a cup shattering on the floor came from the kitchen, and then Petunia appeared. McGonagall pulled out their trunks and restored them to full size, leaving both trunks on the carpet. “Vernon! Vernon, they’re home,” she shouted, aside from the couch.

Indents would be left on the carpet, and Harry would be held responsible even though he didn’t put them there. Harry winced. The day he had already taken a strange turn for Dudley. He wasn’t trying to worry about Harry’s place in the family and the world. Putting his belongings in a thoughtless place would get him in trouble, and Dudley didn’t want to. They knew Harry would do it even though he didn’t want to.

Vernon came thundering down the stairs moments later. He stayed home from work after all.
“Has everything been arranged?” McGonagall asked before Vernon arrived in the living room.

Petunia answered with a single terse nod, a sour expression appearing on her face.

No one explained what they were discussing. “It’s fine,” Petunia and Vernon both said. What was the point of adults always doing that? “It will be great to see you on September first, Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley,” McGonagall said in parting.

Just as Vernon emerged from the front hall, McGonagall disappeared with a loud crack.

A hand rested on Petunia’s waist as Vernon announced, “There are going to be some changes around here, starting tonight. You will be moving into Dudley’s second bedroom. Dudley, I’ve already moved your stuff there. Dudley, don’t make any complaints.”

Harry quickly replied, “Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

Instinctively, Dudley swallowed the protest he wanted to erupt. Having an extra room full of broken toys wasn’t as exciting. Dudley hadn’t been there in months. He only threw something in when it broke.

Dudley sighed. “Fine,” he said. He couldn’t entirely suppress the whine in his voice; it had become a habit, but he didn’t try to fight Dad’s decision.

As Petunia instructed Harry coldly, “You will stay in your room and store all your things there, so they don’t infect the rest of the house with your nonsense.”

She hadn’t looked at Dudley since they returned nor called him any of those embarrassing nicknames she loved using. Her face was twisted with a sneer.

Vernon said, “You both need to put your newly acquired things in your rooms.”

“Let’s sort them, ensure we have everything, and then wash up for dinner, so we don’t have to shop again,” Petunia added.

After breathing a sigh of relief, Dudley rushed to follow instructions. He and Harry carried their trunks full of parchment and magical ingredients effortlessly up the stairs and into their rooms.

Dad had piled broken toys inside Dudley’s door, which he threw away. He closed the door behind him and opened his new trunk to remind himself of what was inside. Dudley couldn’t help but feel that life would only keep changing after such a whirlwind today.

It was exciting but also exhausting. After gathering all his belongings from the cupboard under the stairs, he quickly headed to the second bedroom. Even though Harry was still processing what had happened, he couldn’t wait to attend Hogwarts.