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SIYE Time:9:22 on 28th March 2024
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Friends and Foes
By Northumbrian

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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Drama, Fluff, Romance, Tragedy
Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations, Violence
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 176
Summary: Harry and his friends finally know who killed Ginny and Luna's classmate, Colin Creevey. It is 2001, and the search has been ongoing for a year. Will those final few foes who escaped justice at the end of The Battle ever be brought to justice?
Hitcount: Story Total: 56287; Chapter Total: 4890
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thanks as always to Amelie




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To the North

After more than two hours of flying, Harry was cold and uncomfortable. Behind him, Ginny had been fidgeting for some time. Ignoring the buffeting wind he stood up on the foot pegs and stretched his stiff legs. When he sat back down, Ginny slid her arms back around his chest and hugged him tightly.

They had travelled due north from Little Whinging, not reaching the east coast until they had crossed most of the random patchwork of greens and browns which made up the North York Moors. Harry was now following the coast and the moors had given way to the industrial smog of Teeside. He found himself flying over oil refineries and chemical plants, a sudden change from the wild and bleak moorland they’d been above only minutes earlier. He knew that if he followed the coast north he’d reach the River Tyne in less than quarter of an hour. Keeping his right hand on the throttle, he took his left off the handlebars and squeezed Ginny’s knee.

‘Not long now,’ he called back over his shoulder. Ginny hugged him again. She didn’t speak, but simply squeezed his thighs between her knees in reply.

Several minutes later, Harry arrived at the river and turned west. The wide river mouth was flanked by yellow sandy beaches and a ruined priory stood, black and jagged, on its north bank. He began his descent. He’d pinpointed Dudley’s street easily on his map, it was next to a large area of railway sidings. He moved north of the river, found the railway line and began to follow it.

‘I hope he’s got the kettle on,’ Ginny shouted, ‘I’m starting to get cold.’

Harry patted her thigh in reply and pointed down.

‘We’re here, I think,’ he called over his shoulder.

The street next to Dudley’s was quiet. Harry slowed the bike to about thirty miles an hour and dropped it onto the ground. While turning the corner into Dudley’s street he simultaneously removed the invisibility booster and switched on the engine noise.

Although the street sign said Tosson Hill Terrace, there were no houses, terraced or otherwise, to be seen. Harry rode down the quiet tree lined road. The trees, and thick bushes screened the railway sidings on the left. There were a few small industrial buildings ahead and on the right several rows of terraced houses stretched off at right angles. Harry slowed and looked for more street signs.

After about a quarter of a mile the main street curved to the right and another road continued straight ahead. Sitting on the wall of a semi-detached house on the corner was Dudley Dursley. There were three other people with him; all four were drinking beer from bottles.

One side of Tosson Hill Terrace was an imposing line of what appeared to be Victorian terraced houses, most in very good repair. On the other side, side where Dudley sat, the properties were newer, and semi-detached. They were probably no more than seventy years old. The street continued off into the distance.

Harry pulled the bike to a halt directly in front of Dudley and his friends. Dudley stood, but did not approach; he was obviously uncertain, which was also how Harry felt. Dudley’s three companions remained seated on the wall, staring curiously at the motorcyclist and his pillion. They all looked to be about Harry’s age. There was a very tall young man with wild, light brown hair and a tangled beard; a tall and skinny girl with short, spiky blonde hair and a long, straight nose; and a thin-faced curly haired young man who was only a couple of inches taller than Ginny.

Dudley watched worriedly. Harry wondered why, then realised that his cousin could not be certain who was under the helmets. Ginny kicked up the foot peg and slid from the bike. Harry hastily lowered the bike onto the side stand and dismounted. They removed their helmets together.

‘Harry,’ Dudley finally smiled in recognition and held out his hand.

‘Hello, Dudley,’ Harry replied shaking his cousin’s hand. In the years since Harry had last seen him, Dudley had changed, he was still a big man, but burly rather than overweight. It looked like his nose had been broken. His blond hair was longer, and he was unshaven. He wore a black rugby-shirt with the word Falcons on the front.

‘Do you play rugby these days, or are you simply a fan?’ Harry asked.

‘I play for the university,’ Dudley said proudly.

‘Ginny,’ Harry said, ‘this is my cousin, Dudley Dursley. Dudley this is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley.’

They shook hands.

Dudley was staring at Ginny’s hair.

‘Are you related to…’ Dudley began.

‘Harry’s friend, Ron, is one of my many brothers,’ Ginny interrupted, ‘I think I’ve seen you before, at King’s Cross with your Mum and Dad when they were collecting Harry. If I have, you’ve changed.’

Dudley chortled. Harry was disturbed to discover that Dudley’s laugh was disconcertingly like Vernon’s. Behind him the girl noisily cleared her throat.

‘Oh, sorry,’ said Dudley. He introduced Harry and Ginny to his friends. The beard belonged to John Pickles; the thin-faced young man was Jamie Garrick, and the blonde girl was Dudley’s girlfriend, Daisy Milburn. After the introductions were made there was an uneasy silence.

‘Do you want a beer?’ Dudley asked, lifting his bottle hopefully.

‘We’ve just spent hours on the bike,’ Harry replied, remembering Ginny’s words as they’d flown above the Tyne, ‘I’d rather have tea, if that’s okay. I need to warm up.’

‘Tea for me, too, please,’ Ginny said.

Dudley looked hopefully at Daisy, but she simply folded her arms and returned his gaze. Dudley gave in.

‘I’ll go and make you some tea then,’ Dudley said. ‘Why don’t you take Harry and Ginny into the garden, Daze. It’s a nice day.’

Daisy nodded.

‘Folla me,’ she said.

She led Ginny and Harry around into a triangular garden at the side of the house. It was unkempt and overgrown. Only a small area of rough grass was in the spring sunshine, the rest, shaded by trees and by the house, was noticeably cooler. There were three old, sun-faded plastic chairs in the garden, Daisy sat on the grass, John and Jamie who had followed, took chairs. Harry and Ginny stood.

‘Si’ doon,’ suggested Daisy, indicating the remaining chair.

‘We’ve been on the bike for hours. Right now, standing is good,’ Harry replied. ‘Have you known Dudley long?’

‘No’ as lang as this twa,’ Daisy spoke rapidly, and nodded at John and Jamie. ‘They’ve been sharing the hoose wi’ Dud since second term o’ uni. Me’n Dud’ve been gannin oot fer aboot six months, we me’ a’ a bonfire par’y las’ year. Wha’ aboot ye twa?’

‘Pardon?’ Harry said, rather taken aback by the speed of her speech and the impenetrability of her accent.

‘Ah’ve been with Dud for six months,’ Daisy tried again, this time talking more slowly and moderating her thick accent. ‘We met at a bonfire party, what about you two?’

‘We’ve been together for four years,’ Ginny said smiling. ‘I was fifteen; we met at school.’

‘Actually,’ said Harry, grinning at Ginny, ‘we first met at Kings Cross Station when you were ten.’

‘And he remembers,’ Ginny laughed.

‘Dudley never talks about ‘is family,’ Daisy said. ‘He’s met me Mam ‘n Da’, but ah’ve never met his. And he’s never mentioned any other family.’

‘I’m it, so far as I know,’ Harry said. ‘Apart from Dudley’s Aunt Marjorie.’

‘Marge?’ Dudley said, as he arrived with two mugs of tea. ‘Please, let’s not talk about Aunt Marge. She’s good for a few quid, but not much else.’

‘This is the only tea we have,’ Dudley said apologetically, ‘Earl Grey, Daisy drinks it. She takes it black but I’ll bring milk and sugar if you want. Except–I think the milk’s off.’

‘Local lad,’ Daisy said.

Harry looked puzzled.

‘Earl Grey! There’s a monument to him in the Toon,’ she explained.

‘Town,’ Dudley translated.

Harry and Ginny sipped the hot, perfumed black tea, glanced at each other, and decided that neither milk nor sugar were required.

They spent a pleasant hour in the garden, making small talk. During a rambling conversation Harry and Ginny discovered a lot about Dudley, his house mates and girlfriend.

Jamie was on the same course (Mechanical Engineering) as Dudley and, like Harry’s cousin, he was a southerner, a Londoner. Jamie said very little and spent most of his time gazing at Ginny’s chest. As a consequence, Harry decided that he didn’t like him much.

John was a Computer Science student. Ginny nodded wisely at this, but Harry realised that he’d be doing a lot of explaining later, not that he knew much about the topic himself. Dudley called John “the mad Yorkshireman” and John did his best to live up to this description, rattling off a series of bad jokes and terrible puns. He soon discovered that he’d met his match in Ginny, whose dry wit had them all laughing.

Daisy was, as she put it, a local lass. She wasn’t a student, but worked “just up the road at the Ministry” as a clerk. She shared a flat with another girl a few miles away. Both Harry and Ginny had a lot of problems with her accent, she seemed to have an aversion to the letter ‘t’, which she dropped at every opportunity. Dudley would teasingly provide translations for the newcomers. Daisy accepted Dudley’s translations with a good natured smile.

When the conversation turned to Harry, he used his usual cover story. He told them that he worked for the Home Office in the Auror Office, an office, he explained, which monitored police statistics nationally. It was close enough to the truth, and boring enough that no one asked him any questions. Ginny claimed to be a shop assistant, simple and easy.

When they’d first started frequenting Muggle London together Harry had suggested that she claim to be a professional footballer. That idea had gone disastrously wrong the only time they’d tried it. It took them only seconds to realise that neither of them knew anything about football. When asked, both had showed complete ignorance of the offside rule, and neither was able to make any sensible comments about whether the golden goal was a good idea. At a DA reunion, months later, they’d discussed the incident. Dean Thomas had enthusiastically attempted to explain the finer points of the game. He’d given up only when Ginny had looked him straight in the eyes and thanked him for reminding her how boring his football conversations had always been.

As the conversation continued, Harry was surprised to discover how ordinary Dudley was. He was far from the arrogant, selfish bully Harry had grown up with. It was even possible to hold a relatively normal conversation with him. Dudley and Harry’s relationship as children was much discussed by both Daisy and Ginny. Both Harry and his cousin were circumspect, but there was no doubt that Dudley, unlike his father, had changed.

When the sun dropped behind the houses the temperature in the garden dropped quickly. As it got colder they went indoors, and Harry got his first look at Dudley’s house. The living room was extremely untidy, with clothes, textbooks, dirty cups and plates scattered about the room. Harry looked around in astonishment.

‘Your mum wouldn’t like this mess,’ he observed.

‘She came up at Christmas, and went absolutely crazy! She spent three days tidying up.’ Dudley grinned. He cleared the sofa by simply picking up the clothes scattered across it and throwing them into the corner of the room.

Once they sat, the conversation finally turned to Dudley’s twenty-first birthday party.

‘It’s two months away, on a Saturday,’ said Dudley. ‘Mum and Dad are desperate to organise something for me.’

‘You should hev a ceilidh,’ Daisy announced, ‘Ah like ceilidh’s.’

‘They’re a bit owd fashioned,’ John announced.

‘But they ge’ folk dancin’, John,’ argued Daisy. She turned to Dudley. ‘If yer mam ‘n’ da’r gannin, Dud, they’re bound te wanna dance an’ aal.’

‘Mum and Dad are going, but I’d be amazed if they’ll want to dance,’ said Dudley, both replying to, and translating the end of Daisy’s sentence. ‘Can you imagine Mum and Dad dancing, Harry?’ He chuckled, and Harry joined in the laughter.

‘Aye, well, they might surprise you,’ said Daisy cheerfully.

Harry watched the skinny blonde girl carefully. She was sitting on the arm of a chair, grinning down at Dudley, and poking him. Petunia and Vernon would hate Daisy, he realised; she was a friendly chatterbox with an almost impenetrable accent.

‘Why can’t you come?’ Dudley asked Harry.

‘Because your mum and dad don’t want us,’ Ginny replied. ‘Your dad made that very clear.’

Dudley shrugged. ‘They don’t want this lot to go, either,’ he nodded at his flatmates. ‘I’ve no idea who they will want to invite. Marge, of course, and Piers and his parents, I expect. But I haven’t spoken to Piers in more than three years. I don’t see why they should decide who goes. Although it would be nice if Dad would cough up the cash for a proper party.’

‘Just tell ‘em, Dud,’ advised Daisy. ‘After all, you told your Dad that you wanted to see Harry, and he should stop rabbiting on about him.’

‘Sod it, I will,’ said Dudley. ‘If Mum and Dad are going to decide who to invite it won’t be my party, will it? I’m going to invite the people I want. Give me your address, Harry, and I’ll send you an invitation. My birthday is on a Saturday, so that’s when it should be.’

‘Which Saturday, when?’ Ginny asked.

‘Twenty-third of June,’ said Harry and Dudley simultaneously.

‘I’m surprised you remember,’ said Dudley.

‘I could hardly forget. That was the day I got your hand-me-downs, remember?’ said Harry with a little more sarcasm than he’d intended.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Dudley, looking rather embarrassed. ‘Will you come, anyway?’

‘I’d be annoying your Mum and Dad, and apart from you lot, I wouldn’t know anyone,’ Harry mumbled, but despite his concerns, he gave Dudley the address and phone number he’d given to Aunt Petunia.

‘Oh, come on, Harry,’ Ginny cajoled him. ‘Twenty-one, you can make an exception for a twenty-first birthday. I’ll be able to go, there’s no matches scheduled for that day, and there won’t be, because I’m playing on Sunday the twenty-fourth. I’m sure that you can switch shifts, even if you’re supposed to be at work.’

‘Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia will go mad,’ Harry announced, still unsure.

‘Bring that friend of yours, too, Ginny’s brother,’ Dudley suggested.

‘Thanks, Dudley,’ smiled Ginny gratefully. ‘That’s one more reason for us to come. I’ll tell Ron; he’s got to go. Between us we can persuade Harry to come. But Ron won’t come without Hermione.’

‘That will be another job, persuading Hermione to come. She’ll have important reports to write,’ observed Harry wryly.

‘It’s my job to persuade you to have some fun occasionally, Potter,’ Ginny told him. ‘And it’s Ron’s to persuade Hermione. He can do it, you know he can.’

‘So, you’ll come?’ Dudley asked.

‘Definitely,’ Ginny said, as Harry gave a non-committal grunt.

‘I’ll get him there, don’t worry,’ Ginny grinned as Dudley looked uncertainly between them.

‘Right, good,’ Dudley said. ‘Er, do you want to stay for dinner? I don’t think that we’ve got much in, but we could get a take-away. You could even, er, stay overnight and go back tomorrow. It’d be sleeping bags on the floor in here I’m afraid.’

Harry looked at Ginny. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked.

‘We can’t really stay over,’ said Ginny apologetically. ‘We need to be at Mum and Dad’s tomorrow. It’s Easter Sunday and we’re having a big family reunion. My brother Charlie is over from Romania, and he’s only here for a few days. And one of my other brothers, Percy, is bringing his fiancée to meet Charlie. He’s the only one of us Audrey hasn’t met. We would be in real trouble if we weren’t there. We should get back to Harry’s tonight, but we don’t need to leave until later.’

Ginny turned to Harry. She opened her eyes wide, wrinkled her nose, and pouted. ‘I don’t know about you, Harry, but I am getting hungry.’ She leaned in close, teasing him. ‘If you love me, you will wine and dine me.’

‘How can I resist?’ asked Harry.

Ginny kissed him triumphantly. ‘You can’t. I promised you that today would work out okay. I was right, wasn’t I?’

‘Yes,’ Harry admitted grudgingly.

‘We’ll take you out to for a meal, Dudley, our treat,’ said Ginny.

‘She means my treat,’ Harry explained, ‘Ginny never has any Mug–ney.’

Harry turned to Dudley’s flatmates.

‘I haven’t seen Dud for a few years, do you mind if Ginny and I take him out for a meal?’

‘And Daisy,’ said Dudley in response to a firm poke from the blonde girl.

‘Of course,’ said Ginny. ‘If you two are going to talk about old times, I demand a girl friend.’

‘Great,’ Daisy said. ‘What d’yer fancy? Chinese? Indian? Italian? Or maybe something a bit different?’

‘You’re the local, you decide, Daisy,’ suggested Harry.

‘Stowell Street,’ Daisy said.

Harry looked at Dudley, puzzled.

‘It’s full of Chinese restaurants,’ Dudley explained, ‘I’ll just get my jacket, it’s a ten minute walk up to Chilli’ Road Metro.’

The Metro, Harry and Ginny discovered when they arrived there a quarter of an hour later, was Newcastle’s rapid transit system. They bought tickets and caught the next train into the city centre. Dudley and Daisy argued about the best place to get off. Dudley suggested St. James’, as it was the closest stop to Stowell Street, Daisy suggested the stop before, because she wanted Harry and Ginny could see “the monument” and walk past “the square”. When Ginny agreed with Daisy, Dudley immediately capitulated.

Daisy was an enthusiastic advocate for her home (she said “hyem”) city and on the short walk from the Metro station she showed them Earl Grey’s monument and pointed out the magnificent buildings of Grainger town. The city’s stunning Georgian architecture was named for its designer, but the name brought peals of laughter from Ginny and a confused look from Daisy and Dudley. Daisy bemoaned the 1970’s shopping centre which had been dumped in its centre and insisted that they walk the length of Stowell Street to see the city walls. When they reached the walls she tried to persuade them to double back to visit the site of the castle which had given the city it’s name more than nine hundred years earlier. But by then everyone else was hungry, so instead of a trip to the keep they returned to a fine, and expensive, Chinese restaurant.

Harry was glad of Daisy’s company over the meal, as he discovered that he and Dudley had little in common. They very rapidly ran out of things to talk about. Dudley was happy to criticise his parents. But Harry, although he agreed with most of Dudley’s comments, was uncomfortable to discover that this was the easiest topic of conversation for them. As the conversation began to peter out, Daisy provided a distraction.

‘Dudley already knows,’ she said confidentially, leaning over the table to tell them. ‘I’m a witch.’

Dudley caught Harry’s eyes and shook his head frantically when she made the announcement.

‘Really?’ Ginny asked, ‘where…’

‘What sort of witch?’ Harry hastily interrupted his girlfriend. ‘The kind that sticks pins in effigies or the kind that dances naked under the light of the full moon?’

Daisy looked affronted. Ginny looked puzzled and seemed about to ask for an explanation. Harry quietened her with a glance.

‘Neither,’ said Daisy, huffily, ‘I’m surprised at you Harry, bigoted stereotypes, that’s all they are.’

‘It would be silly to dance naked under a full moon,’ Ginny observed as she realised what was going on. ‘After all, there could be werewolves about.’

‘Just because I believe in magic,’ Daisy rounded on Ginny angrily. ‘It doesn’t mean I believe in werewolves, or vampires, or…’

‘Trolls?’ Harry asked, ‘Sorry, Daisy, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ve done some research on witchcraft for my job. A lot of this stuff is just fakery, designed to part people from their money.’

Harry glanced at Dudley, who was looking very uncomfortable.

‘Dudley’s Mum and Dad hate all this magic stuff, you know,’ he continued confidentially. ‘If you ever meet his parents, don’t say anything to them. They’ll go mad, won’t they, Dud?’ Dudley nodded gratefully.

‘They hate anything out of the ordinary, or different,’ Dudley told her, while spooning shredded chilli beef into his rice bowl. Daisy waved her chopsticks angrily.

‘Why?’ she asked.

Dudley looked at Harry in horror.

‘It’s a long story,’ Harry said. ‘But basically my Mum, Dud’s mum’s sister, was a witch and she and Aunt Petunia fell out over it. It was a family quarrel that happened before Dud and I were born.’

‘Yeah, that’s about it,’ Dudley confirmed.

‘Had Mum not died, she might have made up with Petunia, but it’s still a sore topic for the Dursleys,’ explained Harry. Dudley nodded gratefully to Harry, finished a third beer and ordered a fourth.

‘I don’t have any problems, but the Dursleys will; just remember that,’ Harry told Daisy, helping himself to some sweet and sour pork.

‘Can I ask a question?’ Ginny looked curiously at Daisy. ‘How do you learn to be a witch?’

‘There’s a shop in town,’ Daisy explained. ‘They sell all sorts of magic stuff. Books, scented candles, lotions, potions, crystal balls, tea leaf reading kits, tarot cards.’

‘Divination!’ Ginny gave a dismissive snort as she reached for the plate of chilli beef and spooned some into her rice bowl.

‘Ginny doesn’t think much of the subtle art of divination,’ Harry interrupted, smiling. ‘So, what’s this shop called?’

‘Witchcraft,’ Daisy said.

‘Spelt W-Y-T-C-H-C-R-A-E-F-T,’ Dudley added, rolling his eyes, ‘Daisy left a brochure in my bedroom last weekend.’

Ginny smiled and lifted a mouthful of chilli beef and rice with her chopsticks.

‘The shop’s run by a lass called Millie Flynn. She owns the place with her husband. You should take a look…’ Daisy was interrupted by a gasp from Ginny, who had tears rolling down her cheeks. She grabbed her beer and downed the glass in one.

‘Sorry,’ she gasped as everyone stared at her. ‘That chilli beef is all chilli.’

Dudley laughed. ‘That’s why I like this place. You’d best watch out, it’s a “bum-burner” that one, it’s just as hot when it comes out the other end.’

Ginny grimaced in distaste.

‘This is where the rugby team come after a match,’ Daisy explained to Ginny rolling her eyes, ‘I’ve only been a couple of times. They get very drunk and make a lot of fart jokes. Boys!’

‘Girls who play sport aren’t much better, in my experience,’ Harry replied, making Ginny blush.

‘Yeah,’ Daisy said. ‘What’s with the weird England shirt, anyway Harry? And why “Weasley Chaser”? Didn’t you say you had a match the day after Dud’s birthday, Ginny? D’you play footie?’

The shirt, Harry realised suddenly, had been a bad idea.

‘Ginny got selected to play for England …’ Harry began. He stopped, wondering what to say next. A half remembered conversation with an American wizard sprang to mind.

‘Do you know anything about baseball?’ he asked Daisy and Dudley. Daisy shook her head.

‘Rounders,’ Dudley exclaimed, loudly and knowledgably showing his prejudice. ‘It’s a girls’ game, renamed by the Yanks and played by blokes.’

Satisfied that he was on safe ground Harry continued.

‘There is an England ladies baseball team, and Ginny made the squad. Her brother George got the shirt for me, but he had the word chaser added under Ginny’s name. He’s been calling me “the weedy kid who chases Ginny’” for years. He thought writing Weasley Chaser on the back was a good joke.’

Ginny raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Harry agreed with her assessment, as excuses went, it was rubbish. However, to their surprise, it worked. Dudley changed the subject to rugby and then complained about how American Football, was a ridiculous game and that rugby was much more interesting, entertaining, and physically demanding.

Grateful for the change of subject Harry simply allowed Dudley to vociferously express his biases. He soon realised that Dudley still shared some traits with his father. In fact, Dudley complained for so long that an extremely bored Daisy called a halt.

‘Shut up, Dud, you’re being a prat,’ she told him.

‘Okay, sorry,’ he said.

By then, the meal was over. Harry, Ginny and Daisy were enjoying a drink of jasmine tea while Dudley drank another beer. Harry pulled his pocket watch from his jacket pocket, it was almost ten o’clock.

‘It’s going to be really late when we get home,’ Harry said to Ginny, ‘even if we set off now.’

He caught the waitress’s eye and asked for the bill. Dudley and Daisy reached for cash, but Harry protested, and waved their money away.

‘I said this was my treat,’ he reminded them as he peeled several twenty pound notes from his wallet.

‘Can you afford …’ Dudley began, hesitantly. It was obvious to Harry that the meal would be a huge expense for Dudley, and probably Daisy, but that they felt it only polite to offer to pay.

‘My Mum and Dad left me a lot of money, so did my godfather …’ he began.

‘Harry has lots of money, and he never spends it,’ Ginny interrupted. ‘Just let him pay, I’m going to!’

Harry looked at the bill.

‘No problem,’ he said as they stood and prepared to leave, ‘I’ll take care of it.’

‘Thanks Harry,’ Daisy said.

‘Yeah, thanks, Harry,’ Dudley said shyly to his cousin as he took Daisy’s hand and led her from the restaurant.

Ginny linked her arm through Harry’s and leaned in towards him.

‘You got a “thanks”,’ she pointed out in a whisper. ‘That’s better than his Dad. He’s a bit boring, your cousin, but no worse than some of mine.’

‘Which of your cousins are boring?’ Harry smiled as he asked her the question. He knew what her answer would be, as he was feeding her the straight line for an old private joke.

‘Barney, he’s a real stick in the mud,’ smiled Ginny. ‘He didn’t dance with me at Bill’s wedding, I hoped he would.’

‘I told you, he was scared about what Ron might say,’ Harry gave his standard reply almost by rote as he slid his arm around Ginny’s waist and kissed her.

‘Thanks for today, Harry,’ said Ginny. ‘I know you didn’t want to do this, but we’ve tested the bike, and I’ve met your family. It hasn’t been too bad, had it?’

‘No,’ Harry admitted. ‘It hasn’t.’

Arms around each other, they followed Dudley and Daisy past a noisy and busy pub and up towards the nearest Metro station, behind which stood the large glass and steel bulk of St James’ Park football ground. They walked down the steps to the underground Metro station. It was almost deserted.

‘Much too early for folk t’ be gannin hyem,’ Daisy said. ‘The Toon’ll be busy ‘til the small hours, especially aroond the Bigg Market and the Quayside.’

‘Night clubs,’ Dudley explained. ‘Lot’s of people wearing not many clothes and getting very drunk.’

‘Did that last year, but I didn’t like it,’ said Ginny. ‘Neither did Harry.’

When the tram arrived Ginny sat on Harry’s knee, despite the fact that there were plenty of seats. Possibly because of this Daisy did the same with Dudley. The journey back was quiet. Daisy and Dudley sat opposite Harry and Ginny, but they were too busy snogging to talk. Harry watched them for a few seconds before looking out of the window. There was nothing to see except the walls of the tunnels until they reached the second station, where the tram moved above ground.

As they rattled along Harry and Ginny watched the lights of another Muggle city rushing past. It wasn’t as busy and bustling as London, but there was a definite vibrancy about the place. As he watched the streets, Harry thought that he could understand why Dudley had stayed. He also knew why Vernon and Petunia had hated the place. The accents were impenetrable and, worse, everyone said hello. The people were much too friendly for the Dursleys.

When they reached their destination Dudley and Daisy led them up from the station and past another busy pub.

‘That’s our local,’ Dudley said, ‘I don’t suppose you want a pint before you go. John ‘n Jamie will be there.’

‘I’m driving,’ Harry replied.

Dudley looked disappointed. ‘Oh well, maybe next time,’ he said.

The four slowly walked the length of Tosson Hill Terrace. When they reached Dudley’s house Daisy invited them in for coffee. Harry looked at Ginny for guidance.

‘Thanks, Daisy,’ Ginny said. ‘But no thanks. I think we’d better be going. We’ve a long way to go.’

As they stood outside, next to the bike, Harry found it difficult to know exactly what to say to his cousin. Dudley hadn’t been unpleasant, but they seemed to have exhausted all topics of conversation. He wondered what they could talk about if they met again.

‘We should try to keep in touch,’ Dudley said.

‘Yes,’ Ginny agreed.

‘You’ve got my address,’ Harry told Dudley. ‘And you’ve got phone numbers too.’

‘’We’ll see you at your birthday party, if not before,’ Ginny told Dudley. ‘Bye, Dudley; bye, Daisy.’

They put on their helmets. Harry started the bike, and with a wave they roared off into the night as Dudley and his girlfriend waved goodbye.
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