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Dudley was in the garage tinkering with the car when Rosemary came home. She parked her bike in the corner and silently walked into the house.
“Hey Honey, how was…”
When he looked back up, he found himself in an empty room.
“Rosemary?”
Dudley wiped his hands on a cloth and went to look for her. He checked her bedroom, the kitchen, the lounge room and finally the playhouse out back. She was curled up in a ball in the corner her messy brown hair covering her face.
Her quiet mutterings were the only sound in the room.
“Mary?” he tried again.
“THEY DIDN’T BELIEVE ME!” she yelled, as she uncurled, her hands flying wide in indignation.
“Apparently it’s preposterous and highly unlikely,” she continued as she stood up and kicked the small wooden chair Dudley had painstakingly made from a flat pack box with instructions invented by mimes.
Dudley squeezed himself through the tiny door and sat on the floor. He tried very hard to school his expression from one of amusement to concern. Rosemary had a fiery temper and his place, holding her council, was not unusual. It was best to be sympathetic.
“What did they not believe?” he asked genially.
“I didn’t even want to talk to the stupid thing!” she hissed. “I was there minding my own business when it started talking my head off about mice.”
Dudley frowned. He was trying to follow along but this tangent into rodents was making less sense by the minute. There was a gerbil in the fifth-grade class at Saint Teresa’s school in Effingham but he had thought it expired at the end of the last term because a child had tried to feed it a lollypop.
“Who started talking to you?” Dudley asked, thinking maybe a more direct line of questioning would be fruitful.
“Julius Squeezer,” she hissed. “He’s been in class for two weeks and hasn’t said a word until today.”
“That’s a funny nickname,” Dudley offered. “I take it he’s a great hugger?”
She gave him a look of profound disbelief. “No, Dad. The whole point is that you don’t want Julius Squeezer to hug you.”
Dudley felt like he was understanding less and less about the situation by the minute. There was an impossible thing, a conversation about rodents and a new classmate who was terrible at hugs.
He had always known Rosemary was smarter than he was. Her mother had been such a bright spark in his life. She was witty, brilliant and used to tell him how much she loved that she could always tell what he was thinking. She got pregnant and disappeared only to show up on his doorstep nine months later to say she was in trouble whilst she pushed the newborn into his arms.
Dudley had tried to find her, but she always was very smart. He was never going to find her if she didn’t want to be found.
“Isn’t that a bit mean?” Dudley asked.
Teaching Rosemary not to be mean had always been very important to Dudley. He had grown up thinking there were two different types of people. The kind of people you were nice to and the kind of people you weren’t. It was the way things were.
It broke him a little inside when he realised there weren’t. The memories of other children crying filled his mind’s eye and now that he knew they didn’t deserve it, they settled like a waste around his soul.
Rosemary stopped her furious stomps to tilt her head to the side in thought. “I hadn’t really thought about it. The lack of hugs certainly didn’t seem to be bothering him.”
“Okay. Okay,” Dudley gestured with his hands to slow down. “What didn’t people believe?”
“That Julius Squeezer could talk!” she exclaimed. “Haven’t you been paying attention!?”
Dudley closed his eyes and counted to ten. He was fairly sure he had been paying attention.
“Is he mute?” Dudley tried.
“No,” Mary replied. “Is it possible for snakes to be mute?”
The realisation of her words crashed into Dudley like a freight train. He was reminded of a quiet exhibit at a zoo where he looked into the glowing eyes of a python. His first thought had been awe, but when the glass disappeared and it slithered toward him, was the last thing on his mind. Abject terror had been pretty prominent at that time.
He only knew of one other person in the world who could talk to snakes.
Freak!
Weirdo!
Liar!
Over the years he had heard every offensive word under the sun levelled at Harry Potter. It made him sick to his stomach to think of those same words used against his Mary. His sweet little girl.
He caught her hands and pulled her toward him as he tried to make his expression as sincere as he could. “I believe you.”
Her green eyes widened before they started to shine, and she crumpled into his arms. Sobs shook her little body as he pulled her closer and laid his head atop hers.
“They told me I was ridiculous,” she muttered angrily.
“Mmmhmm,” he consoled.
“What would a snake have to say anyway?” she said in a squeaky voice obviously meant to imitate one of her tormenters.
“Apparently mice,” Dudley supplied helpfully.
“Yes,” Mary agreed. “I never said what he was talking about was very interesting. Downright morbid actually. He liked to eat them best when they were wiggling.”
“I am at once, very glad I’m not a snake,” Dudley quipped earning a snort and a wriggle from Mary.
The tension bled out of the air as she laughed and snuggled into him. It was not the first time he had vowed to do anything to protect her, but it was the first time that prospect looked a little more challenging than scraped knees and bee stings.
“Sweetheart,” he started, his voice suddenly serious. She turned to look up at him. “It’s probably best not to talk about that sort of thing at school.”
A look of betrayal crossed her features. “But you believe me.”
Dudley winced. “I do but that’s because I think you are actually very special. Special like someone else in our family.”
“Like Uncle Reynold?” She frowned.
Uncle Reynold was an amateur race car driver. He wasn’t strictly related, but he was the kind of close friend that had earned the right to be called Uncle. Special in the best way.
“No.” He tilted his head to the side. “Not quite.”
“And the people at school aren’t special?” she asked like a dog wearing down at a bone.
“I’m sure they are all very special in their own way,” Dudley stated diplomatically. “I doubt they are this kind of special.”
She nodded her head as though absorbing all this information. Outside the trees were losing their leaves and the wind had turned chill. He was about to prompt her to move inside when she spoke up.
“Can I meet him? The special person?”
Dudley’s heart melted. He would try. Like many of his relatives he hadn’t seen or spoken to Harry in a while. There had been a point where they had tried to stay connected the way relatives should, but life gets in the way and then before he realised it had been almost a year.
“I’ll ask,” Dudley assured her as he held her close. “I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
***
Harry walked up the steps to the old weatherboard house with consternation. His relationship with Dudley was good now. They saw each other a couple of times a year normally, but this year he’d been promoted, and James had gone to Hogwarts. It wasn’t until he had received Dudley’s sms asking to meet, that he realised they hadn’t seen each other at all.
The message itself had been a shock. He knew magic had a genetic component and that his mother was muggleborn, but he had thought it was some kind of fluke. A genetic throwback to some wizard far down the line. From the content of Dudley’s message, it was highly likely Rosemary was magical. Muggles were never Parseltongues.
That said, she could be imagining it. Lots of children went through phases where they thought they were capable of marvellous things. It was the product of a very active imagination and a wish to be something more. From what Harry remembered of Rosemary, she was very bright.
Harry knocked on the door and waited.
“Harry!” Dudley greeted enthusiastically. “It feels like it’s been ages!”
“Hey Dudley,” Harry replied awkwardly.
“Come on in!” Dudley motioned for him to follow as he headed inside the little cottage.
Harry followed him into the kitchen where Rosemary was sitting at the table drawing a snake and eating cookies.
She looked up at Harry and scanned him from head to toe before she asked. “I thought you said he was special? He doesn’t look any different from last time.”
Harry laughed, the sound filling up the small room with noise. “She’s got you there Dudley. I never did look the part. How are you doing Rosemary? Your father said you’ve made a friend of the scaley variety.”
“If you’re here to tell me it’s ridiculous, hold your breath,” she stated bluntly.
Harry sat down opposite her on the table and tilted his head.
“What’sss hisss name?” he asked in Parseltongue.
Her eyes went wide and she sat up straight. She looked up at her dad and then back at Harry.
“Juliussss Sssqueezer,” she replied in Parseltongue.
Dudley gasped. “Harry!”
“Yes,” Harry confirmed, “she’s a witch.”
Dudley’s eyes were shining as he reached down and hauled his little girl into his arms. “My little girl,” he murmured into her hair.
She pushed back, her expression incredulous. “I’m going to be a what?”
“A witch,” Harry repeated before standing up and pulling out his wand.
Rosemary flinched away from him, but he held it out and closed his eyes. “Expecto Patronum.”
Harry’s silvery blue Patronus clattered onto the wooden floor and danced around in a circle before disappearing through the nearest wall.
“What was that?” she whispered.
“It’s magic, sweetheart,” Dudley confirmed gently. “Your uncle Harry is a wizard, and he can do all sorts of marvellous things.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. He would never hurt you.”
“But Grandma said ―”
“NO.”
Harry and Rosemary both turned to look at Dudley. His face was red, and his hands were clenched into fists.
“Don’t listen to her,” he spat out. “She spent years trying to make me afraid and hateful and it is my biggest shame that she succeeded. I was an awful, bigoted person. I couldn’t see Harry for what he is, but he’s good Mary and so are you.”
She nodded dumbly and he wrapped her in another hug. He sighed. “Why don’t you go play outside for a bit while I talk to Harry.”
“Okay,” she muttered as she ran out the door.
Dudley sat down heavily at the table and put his head in his hands. He looked tired. With his head bowed Harry could see the strands of grey that had become to sneak in. When he sat back up his face was grave.
“I’m going to have to cut them off,” he said wearily. “I don’t ever want Mary to go through what you did.”
Harry gave him a thin smile. “Maybe they won’t? She’s their blood.”
“So were you.”
The two men stared at each other, the weight of their shared childhood heavy between them. If he had told his childhood self that he would be sitting in Dudley’s kitchen amicably discussing his niece, he would have thought he was bonkers. He wished he could show Dumbledore the man that he had become. That his parents had not ruined him forever.
He rather thought the old man would have been proud.
Just like he was.