All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
- J.R.R. Tolkien
Dudley was not afraid to admit he was frightened, if only to himself. It was like the first day of primary school again, surrounded by strangers and so far away from his parents. Only it was worse, because unlike in primary school, every kid on this train could do magic. Dudley supposed he could, too, but he didn't have the first idea about how. Besides, whatever Mum said, he couldn't help wondering if maybe Dad had been right…
"I will not pay for some crackpot old fool to teach him magic tricks!" Dad yelled, quite purple in the face. Dudley pressed closer to the keyhole he was peering through.
Mum was determined, though. Dudley had never seen her stand up to Dad like this before. "Vernon, it's not like that! Dudley is special, he can do things --"
"Like what?" Dad snorted. "Turn hankies into pigeons?"
"Remember that time he got in a fight with that awful Polkiss boy? We thought Piers must have punched the pavement by accident to break his fingers like that, but Dudley swore he hit him square in the stomach!"
"So what?" Dad replied gruffly, shifting uncomfortably.
"So that's the sort of thing that turns up around underage wizards!" Mum explained passionately. "Strange things, unexplainable things --"
"Freakish things," Dad growled. "Petunia, what if the neighbors found out?"
"Hang the neighbors!" Mum exploded. "Dudley's going to be able to do things we can't even dream of, Vernon! We mustn't stop him!"
"I just don't want my son to be some sort of weirdo," Dad insisted. Dudley thought this was rather brave, as Mum looked like she could murder someone.
"Vernon Dursley," she hissed, hands curled into tight fists at her sides. "You have a choice. You can either let your son go to this school, and be proud of him, or I'm taking the boy and leaving. I will not have my son called a weirdo or a freak by anyone, and that includes you!"
Dad stared at Mum, then nodded dumbly. Dudley suppressed a cheer…
"Anyone sitting there?" a voice broke through Dudley's reverie. He sat up straighter, arranging his face into something he thought looked cool, maybe slightly bored.
"Nah," he shrugged. "Go on."
A pale, blonde boy slid into the seat across from Dudley. He, too, wore an expression that said he was not impressed by his surroundings. He was already wearing his black robes and twirled his magic wand in his hands. He seemed to be sizing Dudley up.
"Draco Malfoy," he said finally, though he didn't extend his hand.
"Dudley," Dudley replied, suddenly and dreadfully conscious of his very normal name. "Dudley Dursley."
Draco frowned slightly. "Dursley..." he murmured. "I've not heard of your family. You're not a --"
He was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open. A bushy-haired girl stood there, also in robes.
"Excuse me," she said in a bossy kind of voice. "Have you seen a toad?"
"You brought a toad?" Draco sneered. "God, toads were out of fashion when my father was in school!"
Dudley was enormously glad now that his mum hadn't bought him that toad he'd wanted.
"It's not mine," the bossy girl retorted. "Besides, who cares if they're fashionable? The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One says they're very useful to practice spells on."
"Ooh, look who's reading her books before term even starts," Draco taunted. "Someone's aiming to be teacher's pet."
"Oh, honestly!" the girl huffed, slamming the compartment door.
"Some people," Draco shook his head. "Probably a Muggleborn. They're always trying too hard."
Dudley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Aunt Lily had explained about Muggles and Muggleborns…
"Listen, Dudley," Aunt Lily said seriously, turning to face him from the front seat of the car. "You'll probably run into some people who think they're better than you because you're a Muggleborn -- your parents aren't wizards. Don't let them get to you."
"But if their parents are wizards," he said slowly, "won't they be ahead? They've learned m-magic their whole lives!" The word 'magic' still felt uncomfortable in his mouth.
Aunt Lily shook her head. "You can't start learning magic properly until you've got a wand," she said. "And you can't get a wand until you start school. So they're no further along than you, and," her green eyes blazed at him, "they are no better than you. No matter what they say, magical power is not related to how many wizards are in your family tree. Understand?"
Dudley nodded, though he wasn't sure he did…
"Why haven't you changed into your robes yet?" Draco was asking. "I couldn't wait to get out of those Muggle things."
"Oh…yeah," Dudley said, standing up to get his robes out of his trunk. He pulled them on quickly, trying to look like he wore this sort of thing every day. As he stuffed his jeans into his trunk, he saw Draco looking approvingly at his robes.
"Good to see you have taste," he drawled. "Madam Malkin's special collection?"
"Yeah," Dudley replied proudly. "My mum always gets me the best clothes."
"Must be hard, strapping lad like you," Draco said. It was an odd comment, something an adult would say, not an eleven-year-old. But Draco appeared to be sizing him up again, and liking what he saw. "I think you'll just about do, Dursley," he smirked, an odd gleam in his eye.
"Do for what?"
"Listen, Dursley," Draco leaned forward conspiratorially. "My father is on the Board of Governors. He has a lot of influence at the Ministry, and he knows all the right people. I'm going places, and if you stick with me, you can go places, too."
Dudley was intrigued. A voice in his head, which sounded an awful lot like his father, was saying, Always useful to make friends with powerful people. He grinned at Draco, nodding slightly.
"All right," he said. And just like that, he had a friend.
The rest of the train journey passed pleasantly. Dudley and Draco swapped jokes and stories and ate their way through a large quantity of snacks bought from a tubby old lady pushing a trolley. They were interrupted a few times by various people popping into the compartment, looking for someone or something, or just to meet new students.
As the sky outside darkened, Draco picked up his wand from where he'd placed it on the seat next to him. There was a definite air of tenderness as he waved it experimentally through the air, producing a few red sparks.
"Hawthorn and unicorn hair," he informed Dudley proudly. "Ten inches."
Dudley understood the pride and affection. He pulled his own wand from inside his robes, remembering last month when they'd gone into London to do his school shopping…
"Now, Lily said to get your wand from," Mum muttered, consulting the little slip of paper in her hand, "Ollivander's. So that's just…"
"There!" Dudley pointed. Then, "Oh, Mum, look!" he squealed. The display of shiny new broomsticks in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies had caught his attention. "Can I get one, Mum, please?"
"It's much too dangerous, Diddy," she refused. "And it says in your letter you're not allowed one your first year."
Dudley pouted all the way to the wand shop, which was dingy and faded and not at all as impressive as the broom shop. He forgot his frustration as soon as they entered the dim little store, however. There was a sort of thickness in the air that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his blood felt like it was tingling.
"Good day," a misty voice greeted them. "Try this one. Chestnut and dragon heartstring, 12 inches." An old man with long, white hair and strange silvery eyes pressed a thin box into Dudley's hands and gazed at him expectantly.
Dudley glanced at his mother questioningly, but she merely shrugged. He lifted the top of the box and found a thin strip of wood lying delicately on a cushion. He picked it up, wondering what to do, but the old man snatched it out of his hands, shaking his head.
"No, no," he muttered, shoving another box at Dudley. "Oak and unicorn hair, 12 ½ inches."
Dudley again took the wand out of the box, and again the man -- who must be Mr. Ollivander -- grabbed it out of his hand, though this time he at least allowed Dudley to wave it around a bit.
"Willow, perhaps?" Ollivander pondered.
Again, nothing. Dudley wondered what Ollivander was looking for.
"Hmm," Ollivander hummed, tapping his chin with a long forefinger. "Something a little more unusual…some hidden potential…Ah, yes." He shuffled to the back of the store, returning with a particularly dusty box.
"Larch and unicorn hair," he breathed. "14 inches. A very unusual combination."
Dudley wasn't entirely sure he liked the sound of that, but part of him thrilled to be different, to be special. He picked up the wand, and knew. Knew what Ollivander had been looking for. Knew what Aunt Lily had been talking about. Knew what it was to be a wizard. He swept the wand through the air, letting out a small squeak of delight as blue sparks trailed from its end…
"What wood is that, then?" Draco asked, curious. "I don't think I've seen it before."
"Larch," Dudley answered, not trying very hard to keep the pride out of his voice. It was nice to have an edge on Draco for once.
"Bit long, though, isn't it?" Draco asked conversationally, though Dudley thought there was perhaps a bit of jealousy in his voice.
He shrugged. "'Spect I'll grow into it."
There was a long whistle and the train slowed to a stop. Older students were calling out for the first years to leave their things on the train. Dudley stood, the nervousness that had largely left him during the afternoon with Draco suddenly washing back over him.
"Come on, then," Draco urged from the doorway, all cool eagerness. If he was nervous, he certainly hid it well.
The next half hour was a blur for Dudley. There was a giant of a man, leading them toward some boats; a terrifying journey across a bottomless black lake; a fierce-looking teacher who led them to a small room and told them to wait; a huge hall filled with students; and a…singing hat?
He was overwhelmed. He vaguely registered that they were going up one at a time to put on the hat, but it wasn't until Draco elbowed him in the ribs that he realized his own name had been called.
He stumbled out of the line of first years, trying not to trip over his robes, and sat on the small stool. He had enough time to take in the hundreds of faces staring up at him from the tables before the teacher placed the hat on his head and it covered his eyes.
Ooh, I do love Muggleborns, a voice whispered in his ear, or was it in his head? None of the prejudices the other sort come with. Now, let's see. Where to put you? You've got a liking for influential friends, I see, and a desire for power. Good Slytherin traits. But dearie me, I haven't put a Muggleborn in Slytherin for years. There's also this need to be liked…interesting…and a willingness to work, though that's a bit buried. Yes, yes, I think it ought to be…
"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted, and as it was plucked from his head, Dudley saw the table second from his right cheering heartily. He couldn't help grinning, though his smile faltered when he saw Draco's disappointed face.
Dudley took a seat next to an older boy with friendly grey eyes who made a space for him. He was joined almost immediately by a curly-haired boy who he thought may have been sharing a boat with him and Draco; he had been far too distracted by the icy blackness of the lake to pay much attention at the time.
Dudley's stomach began growling as the Sorting dragged on. He clapped automatically with everyone else when "Hopkins, Wayne," "Jones, Megan," and "MacMillan, Ernie" were sent to the Hufflepuff table.
When "Malfoy, Draco" was called, Dudley leaned forward anxiously. While he wasn't really surprised, he was slightly disappointed to hear his first -- and, so far, only -- friend get a resounding shout of "SLYTHERIN!" and trot off to the table on Dudley's left. As he passed, Draco shot him a look that was almost apologetic, before scanning the Slytherin table and sitting between two boys even bigger than Dudley.
By the time "Weasley, Ronald" and "Zabini, Blaise" had been sent to Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively, Dudley was too hungry to even be startled that food had appeared out of nowhere on the table. He grabbed the potatoes and shoveled some onto his plate, then attacked them with gusto.
The curly-haired boy next to him was more appreciative. "I love magic!" he exclaimed in a posh accent, grinning widely. "Isn't it just amazing?"
Dudley nodded mutely, his mouth crammed full of potato. The grey-eyed boy on Dudley's other side looked on curiously.
"Are you a Muggleborn, then?" he asked, and his voice was just as friendly as his eyes.
The curly-haired boy nodded. "I was down for Eton until I got the letter," he explained. "Justin Finch-Fletchley. Pleased to meet you." He extended his hand and the two boys shook across Dudley.
"Cedric Diggory," the older boy returned. "I always think Muggleborns are so brave, coming into this world they've never heard of before. Let me know if you have any questions or need help with something."
"Thanks," Justin replied. He turned to Dudley. "What about you -- Dudley, was it? Where are you from?"
"Surrey," Dudley answered thickly, through the chicken he was now chewing on. He swallowed. "I was going to Smeltings until my birthday." He was pleased by the similarity between himself and Justin; Dad couldn't possibly disapprove of Etonians.
"I say!" Justin exclaimed, apparently just as pleased. He leaned over, just as Draco had done on the train, and muttered so only Dudley could hear him, "Glad to know I'm not the only one. I've felt rather an idiot ten times today already!"
"Now don't go making an idiot of yourself," Dad admonished him gruffly. "Got to uphold the Dursley name."
"Oh, stop it, Vernon." Mum slapped his arm lightly. "All right, Duddy, time to say goodbye."
Dudley wasn't sure if Dad had refused to accompany them to the train station, on the grounds of it being 'crawling with weirdos,' or if Mum had refused to allow him after that comment. At any rate, it would only be Mum and Aunt Lily taking him.
"Well," he mumbled. "Bye, then."
"Good luck, Dudley!" Uncle Basil said enthusiastically, shaking his hand in a way that made Dudley feel several years older. He appreciated that; he was already dreading the tearful kisses and hugs his mother would undoubtedly smother him with at the station. Maybe he could convince her to stay in the car…
"Yeah, good luck, Dud." Harry was grinning, but Dudley thought his voice sounded a little too casual to be natural. He suddenly felt a surge of guilt. It should be Harry going, not him. It was his mum who'd been the witch, after all. It didn't seem fair that he would get to learn magic while Harry had to endure Stonewall High.
He didn't know how to put any of this into words, though. He settled for a jerky nod and a quiet, "Thanks, Harry."
"Well, son," Dad growled, in that way he did when he came close to crying but wouldn't let anyone know. He gripped Dudley's shoulder, giving it a little shake. "Make us proud, won't you?"
"'Course, Dad," Dudley answered, sincerely hoping he could fulfill that promise.
"Who brought your letter?" Cedric was asking.
Dudley wasn't sure what he meant, but Justin answered, "Professor Snape," nodding toward the staff table. Dudley saw a pale young teacher, looking quite nervous as he chatted with the man next to him. With a jolt, Dudley realized that he recognized the second man -- Uncle Sev!
"…guess Dumbledore thought the Muggle Studies professor would be the best man for the job!" Cedric was saying with a chuckle. "What about you, Dudley? Who brought yours?"
"Nobody," Dudley admitted. "My aunt was a witch. I guess they thought she could explain everything?" He didn't mention that a Hogwarts professor had apparently attended every family event he could remember, but had never said so much as, "Pass the salt, please" to Dudley.
"What d'you mean, was a witch?" Cedric asked shrewdly, but Dudley didn't get a chance to answer.
The headmaster stood up and gave a speech. Dudley had no more attention for this than he had the events leading up to the Sorting, though now it was from a combination of a long, exciting day and a large quantity of good food. He only realized the speech was over when everyone stood up. He yawned and followed Justin without paying attention to where he was going. It wasn't long before he stood with the other first year Hufflepuffs in front of a stack of round barrels. The girl at the front, older even than Cedric, was showing them how to tap on a certain barrel in a certain way to get inside.
Despite his tiredness, Dudley noted the warmth and coziness of the common room as they passed through it. It was very round -- the room itself was circular, with round little windows up high and round doors leading off to what must be the dormitories. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite think what…
"What'll it be today, boys?" Aunt Lily asked, scanning the bookshelf.
"Something with dragons!" Harry requested eagerly. "And swords!"
Dudley scowled. "Dad says books are for swotty nancy-boys."
Aunt Lily raised an eyebrow, a little smile playing around her mouth. "You, Dudley, are quite a lot smarter than your father." Dudley was surprised; people didn't often tell him he was smart. "So what'll it be? Dragons and swords? Or did you have something else in mind?"
He shrugged. "Whatever Harry wants, then. I'm going to play on my Game Boy."
"Suit yourself," she said, in that voice of hers that always sounded like she was about to laugh. As she plucked a book from the shelf, Dudley settled down to enjoy a good game of Super Mario Land. He kept the volume off, though, and Aunt Lily's voice floated over him as she read. "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…"
Finally, finally, they reached the dormitory. Dudley noted, without much surprise, that his trunk had been brought in and placed at the foot of one of the four-poster beds draped with black hangings. He stumbled over to it and pulled out his pajamas, changing into them quickly and making a beeline for the very comfortable-looking bed.
He paused, something on top of the yellow quilt catching his eye. A pair of yellow-and-black-striped socks sat there cheerily, and a small note pinned to them said, "Welcome to Hufflepuff, Mr. Dursley!" in round handwriting. A feeling of intense happiness spread through him; he felt as if he had just swallowed a big gulp of hot chocolate, but instead of staying in his stomach, it was reaching into his fingers and toes.
It was an odd thought, and one he probably wouldn't have had if he was more alert, but it cheered him nonetheless. He pulled on the socks, pleased to find that they were just as warm and soft as they looked.
And finally, finally, after a day that had lasted a lifetime, in which he had traveled hundreds of miles on a train and thousands in his mind, Dudley crawled into bed and fell fast asleep.
All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter by ljmckay
Story Notes:
This story takes place in the same 'verse as my AU, "The Pauper's Tale". This one stands pretty independently, but a couple of things will make more sense if you've read the other one.