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Someone was shaking Dudley, which was unfortunate. He had been having a very pleasant dream involving a flying car, a talking dog, and a giant cake that didn’t seem to get smaller no matter how many pieces he ate.
–Piss off, Harry,†he mumbled, swatting vaguely at the form gripping his shoulder.
–Not Harry,†replied a voice that was entirely too chipper for this time of day. –Justin, remember? And you’re going to be late if you don’t get up. Got to start off on the right foot, old chap.â€
Dudley groaned, but as he opened his eyes and saw the yellow quilt and black bed-hangings, he couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across his face.
–Yeah, I felt the same way,†Justin said, and Dudley turned to see him grinning, already dressed. –Afraid it had all been a dream. But it’s not!†He paused for a moment. –Come on, then! Get dressed so we can go to breakfast. Ernie says the house elves really outdo themselves on the first day!â€
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Ernie was right. Dudley couldn’t have imagined how breakfast could possibly be more impressive than last night’s feast, but it managed somehow. His mouth was full of sausage before he even sat down, and a plate of kippers was calling his name.
–Good morning, Mr. Dursley, Mr. Finch-Fletchley!†a cheery voice greeted from behind them. Dudley turned to see a fat, smiling woman with dirt smudging her face beneath her wild grey hair. His mother wouldn’t have let her anywhere near the living room, but Dudley thought she looked nice.
–Good morning, Professor!†Justin replied promptly. Dudley’s face must have shown his confusion, even through his bulging cheeks, because Justin then whispered, –Professor Sprout, Dud. Head of Hufflepuff House.â€
Professor Sprout didn’t seem bothered. She laughed--a full, throaty laugh. –Don’t worry, Mr. Dursley. I shouldn’t expect you to remember a face you saw only briefly during what was perhaps the most overwhelming night of your life. No need to be embarrassed, no need at all.†She beamed at them. –Well, here are your class schedules. If you need anything, anything at all, please come see me. Otherwise, I’ll see you after lunch for Herbology!â€
As she made her way along the table passing out schedules, Dudley felt a sharp finger dig into his ribs. Justin was indicating their schedules with excitement.
–Transfiguration!†he intoned excitedly. –Charms! History of Magic!†He said this last as if it was a great treat. Dudley wasn’t so sure. He had never been fond of history in school, and he didn’t see that magical history could be much different. He was about to tell Justin this when a blonde boy across from them interrupted.
–Don’t get your hopes up for that one,†he advised. –Professor Binns is a ghost--†Justin’s eyes bugged –--and you’d think that would make it interesting. But it doesn’t. Take my advice: brush up on Alertness Potions.â€
Justin was undiscouraged. –Potions,†he breathed, his eyes half closing in pleasure.
Dudley shook his head, half amused at his friend’s enthusiasm and half dismayed that he’d gotten stuck with a boffin for a friend.
–Don’t worry,†the blonde boy muttered to Dudley. –He’ll snap out of it when McGonagall assigns your first homework. Stebbins,†he added, extending his hand.
Dudley shook it. –Dursley,†he replied.
–Welcome to Hogwarts, Dursley,†Stebbins grinned. –If you survive this week, you’ll be fine.â€
–What’s that supposed to mean?†Dudley retorted, a bit more aggressively than he’d meant to. Stebbins’ comment had made him nervous.
–Magic isn’t all wand-waving and funny words,†Stebbins explained. –And Hogwarts is still a school. You’ve got to learn which students to avoid, which professors are helpful, which ones favor their own House, things like that. Take McGonagall, for example. She gives the most homework, but there’s not a fairer teacher in the castle. Should have been a Hufflepuff, if you ask me. Quirrell’s not too hard but he marks on a curve, so you want to watch out for that. Slughorn’s a bit of a pushover if he likes you, but if he doesn’t think you’re anything special then you’re screwed. Flitwick’s classes are usually fun and pretty easy, but if you pay close attention, you’ll learn a lot.â€
Dudley’s head was swimming with all this information, and he was grateful when the bell rang and interrupted Stebbins. He managed to snatch two more waffles from the table before Justin seized his book bag and tugged him from the Great Hall.
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Someone was shaking Dudley, which was unfortunate. He had been having a very pleasant dream involving money raining from the sky and the sausages from breakfast dancing a jig.
–Dudley,†Justin hissed. –We have to go!â€
Dudley started awake, his face reddening as he realized he’d fallen asleep in the middle of class. On his first day. He wondered if Hogwarts went in for the cane, or if punishment was more along the lines of dunce caps. Everything else in this place was like something out of Kingdom Crusade, after all.
His embarrassment was short-lived, however. He counted no less than two other students with telltale cloth-patterned red patches on their faces, and another four who had apparently managed to stay awake but whose eyes were glazed over. Stebbins had been right.
–Transfiguration had bloody well be better than that,†Dudley muttered to Justin as they made their way through the corridor. –Otherwise I’m saying, ‘Sod it’ and going home straight off.â€
–I suppose it could have been slightly more stimulating,†Justin allowed, his eyes aglow. –But the stuff we’ll be covering sounds simply smashing. And not just because there are trolls involved.†He chuckled at his own joke. –Get it? Trolls? Smashing?â€
–Justin,†Dudley said evenly, stepping around a lost-looking fat boy, –don’t make jokes.â€
–Excuse me,†came a timid voice from behind them. They turned around to see the lost boy, clutching his books as if he were drowning and they were the only thing keeping him afloat. –Can you tell me how to get to the History of Magic classroom?â€
–It’s just back there,†Justin told him with a smile. –You’re not far. Where’s the rest of your year?â€
–I, er, had to stay behind in Transfiguration to get my t-toad back to normal,†the boy stammered.
So that’s the boy who lost the toad on the train, Dudley thought.
–Oh, I say!†Justin said excitedly. –That’s fabulous! What did you change it into?â€
–Er, well,†the boy started, his face reddening. –We were supposed to be changing matchsticks into needles, only Trevor got out of my bag and when I tried to catch him, my wand went off or something and he ended up with no legs.â€
–Oh dear!†Justin exclaimed, with rather more feeling than Dudley thought strictly necessary. The toad had been put back to normal, after all.
A bell rang. The fat boy blanched and started running toward the corridor Dudley and Justin had just come from.
–Thanks!†he called back. –Sorry!â€
–Anytime!†Justin yelled after him.
–Come on!†Dudley growled, tugging at the sleeve of Justin’s robe.
Transfiguration was perhaps the worst class to be late for. Professor McGonagall didn’t bother saying anything when they puffed into the room, red-faced and out of breath; she just fixed them with a piercing stare until they sat down and looked guilty.
–Welcome,†she said curtly. –As it is your first day at Hogwarts, I will not deduct House points for being late, nor will I assign you a detention. However, rest assured that should it happen again, I will not hesitate to do either of these things.â€
–Yes, Professor,†Justin replied promptly.
–Uh, yeah,†Dudley echoed. –Got it.†Professor McGonagall frowned slightly at this but didn’t comment.
–If there will be no further interruptions, let us continue. What, at its core, is Transfiguration?†She paused, looking around the classroom. –Miss Abbott?â€
–Erm,†a girl with blonde pigtails squeaked. –Changing things…into other things?â€
–Ye-es,†Professor McGonagall drew the word out, her eyes narrowing slightly. –But is it merely the form that is changed, or the essence? Is Transfiguration, in other words, the art of disguise, or the science of elemental manipulation?â€
There was a long silence. Ernie MacMillan was trying to look as though he was thinking deeply about the question, but Dudley was willing to bet Ernie hadn’t understood what she meant any better than he had. He could still see the pattern of Ernie’s bookbag faintly on his cheek. Justin probably was thinking hard about the question, but Dudley was relieved that his hand wasn’t waving in the air.
–Mr. Dursley?†Professor McGonagall called. –Care to take a guess?â€
–Uhh…†Dudley squirmed, trying to remember anything he had ever learned about elements and whether or not you could change them. Trying to ignore the part of his brain that was screaming, It’s bloody magic! –Is it…both?â€
Professor McGonagall allowed a small smile. –Very good, Mr. Dursley. And why do you say it is both?â€
Dudley should have known that wouldn’t be enough. –Uhh…†His brain was still foggy from his little nap in History of Magic, and he was starting to feel like he had last night: overwhelmed. –Because…†He had no idea what she wanted. Nobody did. It was only their first day; how could they possibly know? It wasn’t fair! He didn’t say all this, however. He merely mumbled, –I don’t know, Professor.â€
–Bravo, Mr. Dursley!†Professor McGonagall said, a larger smile cracking her lined face. –Five points to Hufflepuff, for being willing to admit when you don’t know. Many a witch and wizard has caused grievous injury to themselves or others by blundering ahead when they didn’t know what they were facing. Courage in the face of adversity is admirable, of course, but caution in the face of the unknown is often more advisable.â€
She waved her wand, and a matchstick appeared on everyone’s desk. –We will begin with something very simple. You have before you a matchstick. What I would like on your desk is a needle. The key to Transfiguration is focus. Form an image in your mind of the object you are Transfiguring, and of the object you are Transfiguring it into. Hold the two images tightly, concentrating on the form and the substance of each. Then recite the incantation and bring the two images together mentally. The incantation for today is--â€
–Hang on,†Justin burst out. –You can’t just leave it there!†Professor McGonagall stared at him over her spectacles and he backtracked. –I-I mean, what’s the answer? To the question? Is it form, or essence? Disguise or elemental manipulation?â€
–Did the Sorting Hat mention the possibility of putting you in Ravenclaw, Mr. Finch-Fletchley?†Professor McGonagall asked wryly. –Your question is a fair one, but alas, the answer is too complex for one class period. You will study this more at N.E.W.T. level, should you decide to, but I can recommend some articles in Transfiguration Today if you are interested.â€
She turned back to. the rest of the class. –The incantation is parum mutare. I do not expect any of you to fully achieve needles today, but let us see how far you can get.â€
Dudley stared at his matchstick hopelessly. This was it, his first try at magic, and he was spectacularly unsure what would happen. Confidence wasn’t usually something he was short on, having been assured constantly by his parents since age two that he was the best at everything he tried. But he had never tried to defy the laws of physics before, and his father’s doubts about this whole magic thing came creeping back into his mind.
–Mr. Dursley, is there a problem?†Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice pierced his musings and he jumped, startled, knocking into his desk and sending his matchstick rolling onto the floor.
–N-no, Professor,†he stammered, bending quickly to retrieve the tiny piece of wood. His large fingers struggled to pick it up and when he finally straightened, he saw Wayne Hopkins and Megan Jones smirking at one another out of the corner of his eye.
Reddening, he concentrated on his matchstick. He tried to recall the magical, tingling feeling he had experienced when he bought his wand, but that seemed like ages ago now. He took a deep breath, trying to picture a needle in his head. –Parm muttery,†he mumbled, poking hesitantly at the matchstick with his wand.
Nothing happened. He supposed it was a relief, actually, that nothing had burst into flame or--he thought of the boy in the hallway--lost its legs, but he was surprisingly disappointed. He knew he shouldn’t be; it was only his first day, after all. But something about the way Professor McGonagall had smiled at him when he answered her question made him want to do something amazing for her.
–Think about the shape of both the matchstick and the needle,†Professor McGonagall reminded the class from the front of the room, –and what each is made of. Feel the wood between your fingers; imagine the prick of the steel. And enunciate! Parum mutare.â€
Dudley did as she suggested, rubbing the match between his pink fingers, concentrating on how it felt, how it looked. He thought of his mother’s sewing kit, of the time Harry had convinced him to prick his finger and sign some paper in blood like he had read in a book. He put the match down, staring at it as he imagined a needle: steel, silver, sharp. He raised his wand and whispered, –Parum mutare.â€
There was a yelp from his left and he looked over at Justin, whose arm was waving in the air to Dudley’s lack of surprise. –Professor, Professor!†he squealed. –Professor McGonagall, come and look!â€
She did, sweeping majestically past the curious stares of the rest of the class. She examined Justin’s match--it still looked like a match to Dudley--closely, frowning slightly. –Mr. Finch-Fletchley,†she began, not unkindly.
–It’s lighter than it was, Professor!†he beamed. –More silvery, what?â€
Professor McGonagall looked skeptical, but she nodded politely. –Excellent progress, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. Keep trying.†She glanced over at Dudley’s desk and raised her eyebrows. He dropped his gaze, embarrassed, and was shocked to see that his match had turned completely silver. It was still clearly a match, but it appeared to be made out of steel.
–Well done, Mr. Dursley,†Professor McGonagall praised him, keeping her voice low. Everyone else had gone back to their matches and didn’t seem to hear her. –Most students manage to change the form before the substance, but you have done the opposite. Very interesting.â€
–Er, thank you?†Dudley managed, unsure if –interesting†was something he really wanted to be, but grateful she had at least not pointed it out to the entire class.
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Transfiguration was exhausting, and Dudley was glad he had nothing to worry about for the next hour other than how to fit as much food as possible onto his plate. Justin, undaunted even by the two rolls of parchment McGonagall had assigned for homework, kept up a steady stream of commentary in Dudley’s ear as they walked to the Great Hall. Dudley wasn’t listening, nor even paying much attention to where he was going, until he felt something brush past his arm.
–Watch where you’re going, you great oaf!†a familiar voice snarled. Dudley turned and saw Draco’s scowl turn to surprise. –Oh, Dursley, it’s you,†he said blandly. –All right, then?â€
–All right,†Dudley answered, grinning despite his wariness. Draco had been distant since Dudley’s sorting last night, but he had been great fun on the train--and Dudley’s first friend here, besides. –You want to sit with us at lunch?â€
–‘Us’?†Draco echoed questioningly, and Dudley realized that Justin had disappeared. –Looks like your little friend didn’t want to be seen with big, bad Slytherins,†Draco laughed. –Come sit with us instead, Dursley. God knows why that hat put you in Hufflepuff.â€
Dudley felt as if a huge weight had lifted off his chest. Draco didn’t care that he was in a different house after all. They could still be friends. Lunch was enormously enjoyable, if a bit lighter than dinner and breakfast, and Dudley laughed as Draco described tiny Professor Flitwick and performed a hilarious impression of nervous Professor Quirrell. He felt a bit bad for Draco’s other friends, the hulking boys he had seen last night who Draco had introduced as Crabbe and Goyle; he thought Draco might be ignoring them a bit in favor of Dudley. But on the other hand, they didn’t seem to be his friends so much as his…bouncers.
Lunch was over all too soon and Dudley made his way to the greenhouses, wondering where Justin had got to. He didn’t have to wonder long, as Justin was already at Greenhouse One when he arrived. Dudley waved at him as he approached, but Justin only smiled weakly and scuffed the toe of his trainer in the dirt.
–Where were you at lunch, mate?†Dudley asked. –I couldn’t find you.â€
–I daresay you weren’t looking very hard,†Justin muttered stiffly, staring at the small ditch he was making with his toe.
–What?†Dudley was taken aback at Justin’s tone; it was the first time he hadn’t sounded excited or unbelievably happy.
–Pretty chummy with those Slytherins,†Justin scowled. –Ernie warned me about them, that blonde one in particular. His family hate us, Dudley. Muggleborns. They think we’re not worthy to study magic. They think we’re less than them,†he spat.
–Draco’s not like that,†Dudley protested. –He’s friends with me, inne?â€
–Have you told him who your parents are?†Justin asked shrewdly. Dudley’s silence was answer enough. Justin sighed, patting Dudley on the arm and looking into his eyes seriously. –Just be careful, Dud.â€
All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter by ljmckay
Chapter Notes: Sorry for the delay; I honestly didn't think this was going anywhere. But upon revisiting it, I decided I really want to explore Dudley and Draco's relationship (as well as Dudley's experience of Hogwarts), so here goes! No idea when chapter 3 (and beyond) may be forthcoming.