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Time is like a wild horse — once it starts running, it never stops.
Before long, summer arrived (late June).
All they had to do was get through the holidays, and September would come — the season when new students entered school.
If nothing changed, Dudley would attend Smeltings, Vernon's old school.
Petunia believed that with Dudley's grades, he could easily enroll in a better institution.
But Vernon insisted: his son would study where he himself had studied.
As for Harry, the Dursleys' original plan was to send him to a regular secondary school — Stonewall High.
It was cheaper.
And since Harry's grades weren't anything remarkable, spending more on a better school would be a "waste."
However, after reconsidering, the couple decided to enroll Harry at Smeltings alongside Dudley.
When Harry learned he would continue studying with his cousin, he was overjoyed.
…
To be honest… the Smeltings uniform was terrible.
A maroon tailcoat, orange puffed knickerbockers, a stiff flat straw hat, and a segmented wooden cane.
No matter the angle — it looked ridiculous.
Dudley definitely didn't like it.
A real man should wear black suspenders.
Harry, on the other hand, found it fascinating.
He had never worn a tailcoat before.
…
Today was June 23rd.
Dudley's birthday.
But he had no time to worry about the pile of presents stacked like a small mountain.
"Harry, open the gifts for me when you have time. I need to head out for a bit."
Dudley dressed quickly.
He grabbed one of the packages at random and said,
"If they ask, tell them I went to play ball with a friend. I'll be back before lunch."
Originally, the Dursleys had planned to spend the entire day celebrating with him.
But Dudley could only spare half a day.
That afternoon, they were all going to the zoo.
"D… you're going there again?"
"Of course. I'll bring you a Gandalf action figure when I get back."
Among the licensed products from The Lord of the Rings, aside from the trio of hobbits and the elven prince, the most popular character was the White Wizard, Gandalf.
Though there were also fans of Saruman.
"Deal!"
Harry knew exactly where Dudley was going.
He knew many of his cousin's secrets — Dudley had never hidden them from him.
To Harry, his cousin was practically legendary.
Sports, academics, even his own company.
In everything, he excelled.
Dudley had already promised him: if Harry graduated successfully, he could work at the company as a manager.
Harry looked forward to that day eagerly.
…
At that moment, Harry was battling a piece of smoked bacon at the breakfast table.
For the English, smoked bacon was a delicacy.
Harry devoured it happily.
When Dudley wasn't cooking, it was one of his favorite foods.
For Dudley, however, nothing beat grilled chicken breast with salt and pepper.
"Eat less smoked food. The flavor's too strong. It's not good for growth."
"Drink more milk."
Dudley ruffled Harry's messy hair and tried to smooth it down.
"Time for another haircut."
Harry's hair grew at an absurd rate.
He went to the barber more often than all his classmates combined.
And that was only one of the strange things about him.
As he grew older, the odd phenomena became more frequent.
For example, any electronic device Harry touched would often malfunction for no reason.
Because of that, the Dursleys banned him from handling electronics altogether.
No one could afford to replace a television every two weeks.
Dudley knew it was the magic inside Harry acting unconsciously.
It wasn't his fault.
"I'm heading out. See you at lunch."
"See you at lunch, D."
Harry watched his cousin leave with admiration.
Unaware that while he admired Dudley's extraordinary abilities, Dudley envied Harry's innate magical talent.
…
By the time Dudley stepped out of the house, he already looked different.
His disguise skills were becoming increasingly refined.
At the arranged spot, a car was waiting.
He entered the back seat.
If he weren't so young, he would have preferred to drive himself.
"Let's see what this is."
Dudley opened the gift he had grabbed at random.
A large "H" was printed on the package.
Inside was a scarf.
Without hesitation, he wrapped it around his neck.
The car weaved through the streets of London before stopping in front of a residential building.
Dudley wasn't going to the company.
It was already running perfectly without him.
Professionals handled everything.
All he had to do was count the money.
And there was no real risk of industrial espionage — the product was brand and intellectual property.
That wasn't something you could simply steal.
"Shall I pick you up at the same time and place, sir?"
Dudley nodded.
He picked up a small briefcase from the seat beside him and stepped out.
Placing a brown top hat on his head, he glanced around before entering an alley.
He was there to negotiate.
His study of potions had progressed to the point where simple formulas no longer satisfied him.
But many magical ingredients were inaccessible to Muggles.
That meant resorting to… special methods.
Which, in turn, meant dealing with… peculiar people.
From the conversation with the driver, it was clear this wasn't his first time.
With money, many things became easier.
Including access to certain social circles.
…
At the end of the alley, Dudley knocked on the door of an old building.
A small hatch opened, revealing only a pair of eyes.
"Who is it?"
A deep voice echoed from inside.
"Shadows," Dudley replied coldly.
After confirming the password, the door slowly opened.
A mixture of strange odors drifted out.
Dudley wrinkled his nose slightly, lowered his hat, and covered his face with the scarf before stepping in.
The place was about the size of a billiards hall.
Men and women dressed in eccentric outfits filled the space.
The air was thick.
No windows were open.
Only a few candles cast dim light across the room.
From the outside, it might have looked like a gathering of addicts.
Trash littered the floor.
No one bothered cleaning.
Filth and chaos.
That was Dudley's impression of the place.
When they noticed a newcomer, everyone turned to look at him.
There was greed.
There was resentment.
But once they recognized him, they quickly looked away.
"Respected Mr. Gargamel, please follow me."
A man dressed in medieval attire approached, rubbing his hands together with a servile smile.
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