Chapter 337: Dudley the Goalkeeper
Dudley Dursley was Harry's cousin.
After becoming a wizard, he had changed—slowly, awkwardly, but undeniably. The sharp edges of his old self had been worn down by Hogwarts life, and while he was still loud and occasionally tactless, he was no longer cruel.
More surprisingly, Dudley had proven to be a fairly decent student.
In the Muggle world, Dudley had been hopeless in class. But magic seemed to suit him better than expected. His grades were solid, his spellwork reliable, and his attitude—while hardly scholarly—was at least cooperative.
There was only one subject where Dudley remained exactly the same as before.
Flying class.
Dudley Dursley could not fly.
Not poorly. Not clumsily.
He simply couldn't.
He was one of the rare wizards whose magic actively interfered with broomsticks. Instead of lifting him, his magic applied an additional downward force, pressing the broom toward the ground. Prolonged attempts didn't just fail—they risked damaging the broom itself.
Because of this, Madam Hooch had long since forbidden Dudley from further attempts.
And yet—
"He's the goalkeeper?"
Ron stopped dead in the corridor and spun around to stare at Draco.
"The goalkeeper has to fly," Ron emphasized, as though the word itself disproved the rumor.
"Exactly," Harry said, slowing as well. "Even if he can control that strange magic of his, broomsticks aren't free. He's barely touched one twice in class, and he doesn't have spare Galleons to keep replacing broken ones."
Draco, walking ahead with his hands in his pockets, glanced back at them with a faintly smug expression.
"Cedric Diggory," he said.
"Hufflepuff. Fourth year."
Harry blinked. "Diggory?"
"He can make a basic flying broom himself," Draco continued. "Repairs are trivial for him."
Ron frowned. "Why would he help Dudley?"
"Some people say it was charity," Draco replied coolly. "I don't."
"In my opinion, Diggory noticed Dudley because of you, Potter. And once he paid attention, he realized Dudley's talent for goalkeeping."
Ron frowned deeper. "Then why does Dudley still act like… well, Dudley?"
"That's Lodge's doing," Draco said. "Seventh year. Hufflepuff captain and Seeker. He's been keeping Dudley exactly as he is."
Draco shrugged lightly. "Of course, Marcus Flint figured it out once he sent someone to ask around."
"Inquire?" Ron scoffed. "That sounds more like spying."
Draco didn't deny it.
Harry frowned thoughtfully. "I haven't seen Diggory playing in Hufflepuff matches."
"That's because he only just became their new Seeker," Draco explained. "His position is similar to what Roger Davies had—effectively the second-in-command."
"Lodge's been bringing him along for years but never let him play."
Draco paused, then added, "After your situation, Potter—and after Diggory noticed Dudley—he was promoted early."
"According to Slytherin's analysis," Draco said casually, "Diggory will become both Seeker and Captain in his fifth year."
"By then, Lodge will have graduated."
The conversation carried them all the way to the first-floor auditorium.
Only then did hunger finally catch up with them.
Unfortunately, they were late.
The Halloween feast had already ended.
Thankfully, Draco's earlier confidence proved justified. Crabbe and Goyle had stockpiled enough food to supply a small army, and no one left hungry.
The following days passed quietly.
Harry, still caught in the wake of recent rumors and attention, buried himself in his studies. Of all his classes, only two truly held his interest.
Flying class—and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Flying lessons needed no explanation.
As for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Riddle had begun discussing a topic completely unfamiliar to most second-years.
High-voltage electricity.
He explained what the modern Muggle world meant for young wizards—and how to survive it.
Before being electrocuted, the advice was simple: stay away from power lines and avoid using magic near them. This portion was brief; even Muggle-born students knew electricity was dangerous.
What came after was where magic changed everything.
In the Muggle world, the standard response to electrocution was to cut the power supply—often impossible when dealing with high voltage. Others were forced to use insulating objects to separate the victim from the current.
Wizards didn't need help.
With Transfiguration, a wizard could change the point of contact between conductor and body into an insulating material and then move away.
More importantly, wizards were physically tougher than Muggles.
When facing threats that allowed even a moment of thought—fire, poison, heat, or electricity—magic instinctively reacted to protect its host. This instinct was the foundation of many defensive spells, including the Fire-Avoidance Charm.
As long as a wizard remained conscious, magic would attempt to preserve life.
That was the key.
High-voltage electricity was dangerous precisely because it could cause instant unconsciousness—or death—before instinctive magic could react.
From this, Harry came to a startling realization.
To a wizard, danger was defined not by power, but by reaction time.
A dump truck rushing toward you was less dangerous than a bullet.
The truck could be seen. The bullet could not.
Falling from a great height was safer than high-voltage electricity.
Anything that allowed a wizard time to react—and remain conscious—was survivable.
For the first time, Harry truly understood why Muggle knowledge was taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
From a wizard's perspective, the Muggle world wasn't primitive.
It was terrifying.
Other classes, however, failed to spark the same interest.
In Potions, Harry felt no sense of achievement at all. No matter how he performed, Professor Snape seemed endlessly generous with praise. Harry even suspected that blowing up his cauldron might still earn him points.
Spell-based classes were too easy.
Harry had already learned far more on his own than the curriculum demanded.
Herbology was interesting—but the plants, absent from the Muggle world, reminded him too vividly of being ordered around by Aunt Petunia, pulling weeds and watering flowers.
Astronomy felt outdated.
The material paled in comparison to the books Harry had bought on Muggle streets while staying at Sirius's house.
Magic was vast.
But not all of it moved forward at the same pace.
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