Care of Magical Creatures was easily the second most popular class at Hogwarts, right behind Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why? Because it was hands-on.
Ever since Hagrid kicked things off with Hippogriffs in the first lesson, the students had been buzzing with excitement. The second class didn't disappoint either—Hagrid brought in a massive, majestic Griffin, the father of the Hippogriffs. Sure, its temperament was nothing like its kids, and it wouldn't let anyone but Hagrid near it, so no one got to ride it. Still, just being close to such a fierce, awe-inspiring creature had everyone thrilled.
The third lesson featured an old friend of Dudley and Harry's: Fluffy, the three-headed dog. Its sheer size was intimidating, radiating a pressure that made even standing nearby feel overwhelming.
That is, until Fluffy spotted Dudley.
Three-headed dogs, it turns out, have excellent memories. The moment Fluffy saw Dudley, its ferocious demeanor melted into something almost… puppy-like. All three heads started nuzzling him, one after the other, as if trying to win his affection. In Fluffy's mind, Dudley was probably on the same level as Hagrid—someone to cozy up to, not challenge.
"Dudley, you two know each other?" Hagrid asked, scratching his beard.
Dudley gently pushed away the massive heads and gave a casual shrug. "Sort of."
Fluffy's popularity was off the charts. With Hagrid keeping watch, several students even got to pet the beast, which sent their excitement into overdrive. Every class brought a new magical creature, and sometimes they could even get hands-on. No wonder the kids loved it—the class's reputation was soaring.
Oh, and those carnivorous slug eggs from Hagrid's breeding project? Still hadn't hatched.
On another note, the three-week deadline for Dudley's Potions assignment had arrived. In class, he handed Snape a flawless result: a new and improved Shrinking Solution. Not only was it more stable, but it didn't taste like something scraped off a cauldron's bottom. It even had a faint, refreshing water chestnut flavor.
"Perfect," Snape declared, holding up Dudley's potion with a rare hint of pride. "As agreed, Mr. Dursley may now pursue his own research during Potions lessons."
He turned to the class, his voice sharp. "If any of you manage the same, I'll grant you the same privilege. Fail, however, and you'll be scrubbing every toilet in Hogwarts."
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The bell rang, signaling the end of Ancient Runes. Dudley and Hermione stood, packing up their books. The professor, Bathilda Babbling, was a stern, no-nonsense witch, and the class itself was… niche. Barely anyone took it—fewer students than even Trelawney's Divination class, where you could score points just by muttering something about seeing "death" in a teacup.
Most of the students in Ancient Runes were Ravenclaws or Slytherins. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs? They steered clear, with one exception: Hermione. She was the only Gryffindor in the entire school taking the subject.
Speaking of Hermione, she'd recently dropped Divination, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies after taking Dudley's advice. Why spread herself thin when she could master a few subjects? So, she joined Dudley in Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes.
Ancient Runes sounded impressive, but it was honestly pretty dry. It wasn't like the fanfiction Dudley had read, where you'd dive straight into arranging runes or chanting in ancient tongues. That stuff came later—much later, probably not even before graduation. For now, it was all about learning an ancient magical language and translating old texts into modern English. In short: language study, translation, and a bit of magical archaeology.
Dudley and Hermione, though, soaked it up. Ancient magical languages were the foundation for using runes. Without them, you couldn't cast so much as a spark with a runestone. It'd be like trying to master the Nine Yin Manual without knowing what the words meant—you'd end up with nothing, not even a half-baked spell.
"Finally done for the day," Dudley said, stretching his neck with a series of loud cracks.
The students behind him and Hermione flinched, half-convinced he might accidentally snap his own neck.
"Any plans for tonight, Dudley?" Hermione asked, tucking her books into her bag, charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm. "Want to watch the Quidditch match? I heard it's Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Harry's been invited by Wood to be a special guest."
Dudley's face fell at the mention of Quidditch. "Quidditch? What's the point? Even dogs wouldn't bother watching that."
He'd rather play a round of Wizard's Chess or do some pull-up reps. Wizard's Chess was catching on fast—rumor had it, it was nearly as popular as Quidditch now, and the Galleons were rolling in.
"Oh," Hermione said, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
Dudley caught it immediately. In their three years at Hogwarts, Hermione spent most of her time training, studying in the library, or sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest with him for a game of Wizard's Chess. She'd never once been to a Quidditch match.
Dudley had gone once, jotted down a couple of notes about things to "fix," and called it a day.
"You want to watch Quidditch, Hermione?" he asked.
"Well, not really… I just thought it'd be nice to go together. We've never watched a match as a pair."
Her interest wasn't in Quidditch—it was in sharing the experience with him.
"Alright, let's go," Dudley said, clapping his hands and standing up.
"Wait, didn't you just say dogs wouldn't even watch Quidditch?" Hermione teased.
"Exactly," Dudley grinned. "I'm not going for the Quidditch."
Hermione's words caught in her throat as her face flushed bright red, realization dawning. What else would they be going for, if not the game? Certainly not to stare at the Dementors circling the pitch.