Time, like a stubborn mountain troll, just kept on going without a stop.
Before long, summer had arrived in the middle of June. All he had to do was get through this summer holiday, and then it would be September—the time for new students to start school.
If all went as planned, Dudley would be heading to Smeltings, Vernon's old boarding school. While Petunia thought Dudley's grades were good enough for a better school, Vernon was insistent that his son follow in his footsteps.
As for Harry, the Dursleys had planned on sending him to Stonewall High, a comprehensive school. The fees were cheaper, and since Harry's grades were nothing to write home about, sending him to a better school would be a waste. However, after much deliberation, they had decided to send him to Smeltings as well, right alongside Dudley. Harry was overjoyed at the thought of going to school with his big cousin.
To be honest, the Smeltings school uniform was... well, it was a bit of an eyesore. A brownish-red tailcoat, orange short knickerbockers, a flattened straw hat, and a knobbly stick—it all looked ridiculous, and Dudley was not a fan. A man ought to wear black overalls. But Harry was excited about the prospect, as he had never even owned a proper tailcoat before.
It was June 23rd, Dudley's birthday, but Dudley didn't have time to even glance at the mountain of presents piled up in the living room.
"Go on and open them for me, will you, Harry?" he said, grabbing a bag of clothes in a hurry. He then picked a random present from the mountain and turned to Harry. "If Mum and Dad ask, just tell them I'm playing ball with some mates. I'll be back for lunch."
The Dursleys had planned on taking him out for a whole day of fun to celebrate his birthday, but Dudley could only spare half a day. They were all going to the zoo in the afternoon anyway.
"You're going... there again, Big D?" Harry asked.
"Of course. I'll bring you back a Gandalf figurine when I come home."
Besides the Hobbit trio and the Elven Prince, Gandalf the white wizard was easily the most popular character from Lord of the Rings, though some people also had a soft spot for Saruman.
"Okay!"
Harry knew what Dudley was up to; he knew many of his cousin's secrets, as Dudley never bothered to hide anything from him. Harry practically worshipped the ground his big cousin walked on. Dudley excelled at everything, from sports and academics to running his own company. Dudley had promised Harry a management position at his company if he got through school, and Harry was very much looking forward to it.
Harry was currently at the dining table, doing battle with a slice of smoked bacon. Smoked bacon was a delicious treat for any good Englishman, and Harry was wolfing it down with gusto. It was one of his favourite foods, at least when Dudley wasn't doing the cooking. But for Dudley, it was a far cry from a salt-pan seared chicken breast with a little chili powder.
"Don't eat so much smoked food. It's too heavy and not good for you."
"You should drink more milk."
Dudley patted Harry's head and straightened his messy hair. "Time for a haircut again."
Harry's hair grew at an alarming rate—he had to get more haircuts than all the other kids in his class combined. In fact, strange things were always happening to Harry, and they were only getting more frequent as he got older. For instance, any electronic device he touched or used would stop working for no reason at all. The Dursleys had forbidden Harry from touching any electronics, as no family could afford to replace a new television every week or two. Dudley knew it was just Harry's magic playing up, and he knew Harry couldn't help it.
"I'm heading out. See you at lunchtime."
"See you, Big D!"
Harry looked on with envy as Dudley left. Harry didn't know it, but while he envied his cousin's incredible skills, Dudley envied his wizarding talent just as much.
Dudley had changed his appearance completely before he even opened the front door, his disguise skills were getting better and better. He arrived at the meeting spot, where a small car was waiting. Dudley opened the door and got in. If he hadn't been so young, he would have been driving himself.
"Let's see what this is," Dudley muttered, picking up the present he had grabbed earlier. A large 'H' was written on the box, the first letter of the sender's name.
He tore off the wrapping to find a scarf. Without a second thought, he wrapped it around his neck. After weaving through the streets of London, the car pulled up in front of an apartment building. Dudley wasn't actually going to his company—it was running smoothly with professional management. He only had to concern himself with counting his money. He didn't even have to worry about anyone stealing his business secrets, as there was no technological innovation to steal. The brand was the product, and you couldn't steal that.
"Same time, same place, sir?" the driver asked.
Dudley nodded, then grabbed a small briefcase from the seat next to him and got out of the car. He put on a brown top hat, scanned his surroundings, and walked into a small alley. He was here for a transaction.
Dudley had been studying potions for some time, and he was no longer satisfied with the basics. He needed more. But many potion ingredients were impossible for Muggles to get, so he had to find... other methods.
This meant making deals with certain... unconventional people. From the way he and the driver spoke, it was clear this wasn't his first time here. When you had enough money, a lot of things became easier, even finding the right social circles.
He walked to the end of the alley and knocked on the door in the corner. A small hatch opened in the middle of the door, revealing a pair of eyes.
"Who's there?" a muffled voice asked.
"Shadow," Dudley said curtly.
With the password confirmed, the door slowly opened, and a mix of strange smells wafted out. Dudley scrunched his nose, pulled his hat down low, and covered his mouth and nose with his scarf as he walked in.
The room was about the size of a snooker hall, and it was packed with people—men and women, all in strange outfits. The air was thick and murky. There were no windows, only a few candles giving off a dim light. It was dark, a place you'd expect to see at some sort of addict's den. Rubbish covered the floor; no one had bothered to clean up. It was all a complete mess.
When they noticed a newcomer had arrived, all eyes turned to Dudley. There was a look of greed and ill-will in their gaze, but as soon as they realized who it was, they all quietly looked away.
"The esteemed Mr. Gargamel, please follow me," a servant in medieval attire said, rubbing his hands together and greeting Dudley with a sycophantic smile.