A Year Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Thirty-Eight: Sometimes It Just Takes a Muggle
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It only took Dudley three days to decide he wanted to try some magic for himself. Harry watched gobsmacked as Draco lent the Muggle boy his wand and talked him through a simple swish-and-flick. Of course, nothing happened; Dudley wasn't going to really learn any spells, but he seemed to enjoy the fantasy of trying. When he was tired of it, he gave the wand back to Draco and turning to Harry, admitted, "Well, I can sort of see why my mum hated yours so very much, I think. It would be pretty easy to get jealous, wouldn't it?"
Harry blinked, realizing he'd never really thought of it in those terms. Something inside him didn't want to, either. "Aunt Petunia wouldn't ever have seen much magic," he protested. "I mean, my mum wouldn't have done any when she was home on school vacations."
"Yeah, well Mum didn't like to talk about it, but she dropped a few hints over the years. She saw enough," Dudley merely said. "I'd probably be jealous of you, you know, if Marsha hadn't talked to me about it, about how people are all different, and that's just how it is."
"Jealous of me," Harry scoffed. "I can't do any more magic than you, right now, unless you count talking to Sals, and I somehow don't think you mean that."
"Defeatist," Draco murmured as he strolled past.
Harry ignored him, but Dudley didn't. "He's right, you know. Or at least, he says the sorts of things I can really see Marsha saying. You probably should have a more positive outlook about your magic. It's like my diet. I couldn't lose weight until I decided to, simple as that."
Draco turned around and beamed. "See, there now! You'll listen to your cousin, won't you? He's been seeing a professional therapist for... how long, Dudley?"
"Almost a year."
"Almost an entire year," Draco stressed. "And even he thinks you're doing this to yourself."
"Oh, that's rich," Harry scoffed. "You're taking a Muggle's word for what's wrong with a wizard?"
"Why Harry," Draco remarked, his smile sly. "You sound as though you have something against Muggles. I'd watch how I phrase things, if I were you."
"I don't have a problem with Muggles and you know it," Harry retorted. "Why don't you watch what you say?"
"I have been," Draco flatly announced. "If you tell me you haven't even noticed, I'll tear my hair out. Just think what a mood I'll be in, then."
Sensing that he'd really upset Draco, Harry murmured, "No, I noticed. I just can't tell how serious you are, about anything." He cleared his throat. "Listen, I heard you talking to Snape when I first got here, and you said it made you practically throw up even to think about having Muggles in your precious pure wizarding bloodline. But then you're actually nice to Dudley here, and he's as Muggle as they come. So which one is the real you?"
"I am actually listening to all of this," Dudley put in.
"Oh, sorry," Harry realized, chagrined. "I don't mean anything, Dudley. It's just that some wizards have a thing against Muggles. Not me."
"You do?" Dudley asked Draco, the question sounding so very hurt that Harry was tempted to go hug Dudley again. He resisted the impulse, but not just because behind the temptation was a wailing sort of mental pain warning him away. It was also the fact that Dudley wouldn't appreciate it. The other time had been different; Dudley had been deep in shock and crying.
Draco sighed. "I can't help it, after sixteen years of indoctrination on the subject. You're actually the first Muggle I've ever spent any amount of time with."
Dudley sighed and lay back on the couch, which Draco re-transfigured each morning.
"It's not so different from Harry's aunt and uncle hating him just because he had wizarding bloodlines, you know," Draco defended himself. He appeared to be talking to the room in general, but Dudley took him up on it.
"Sure it is," the Muggle boy insisted, staring at the ceiling. "They were scared of what Harry could do to them, though now it all seems sort of stupid, the way they went about things. Marsha and I talked about it. Mum and Dad really should have given you the nicest room and all that, and made sure you never had cause to curse them, if you ask me. But anyway, they were scared." Turning on his side, he cast a glare in Draco's direction. "But your kind, what do you have to fear from us?" Dudley made a scoffing sound. "Seems to me you hate us just because we exist, not because we're any kind of threat."
"Have you ever heard of the Middle Ages?" Draco icily inquired. "Witch burning was all the rage."
"Oh, come on!" Harry erupted. "We learned all about that from Binns. The Muggles were burning each other. Mass hysteria, remember? And when they did get a wizard, he'd just use a flame-freezing charm--"
"You need the to study the unedited version of the Middle Ages," Draco retorted. "You think they're going to teach the sweet, innocent little children at the school an ugly truth that just might drive young, impressionable wizards into the Dark Lord's camp? I don't think so, not as long as Albus Dumbledore heads up Hogwarts. There were real wizards burned to death, and plenty of them. Where do you think the contempt for Muggles came from?"
"A real wizard would just Apparate!" Harry shouted. "Or are you going to tell me that the Muggles cast anti-Apparation charms across the burning places?"
"Some wizards aren't so skilled at Apparation, as I'm sure you know," Draco heavily returned. "And there were other factors at work, but if you think I'm going to discuss them in front of a Muggle, you're not thinking much at all. Anyway, it's not just witch-burning that could happen to us these days. At least the killing curse just kills one at a time. We don't have weapons that can level whole cities, killing everybody at once, Muggles and Wizards alike."
"So what's your point?" Harry pressed, narrowing his eyes. "That you were right to be such a hate-filled little shite?"
"That there are real reasons why the Dark Lord's philosophy appeals to purebloods!"
"Even though he's a half-blood himself," Harry scoffed.
"Well, that's the thing about hate," Draco pointed out, his voice markedly quieter. "It's irrational."
"That's true," Dudley put in. "If anybody ought to hate Muggles, it would be you, Harry. How come you don't?"
Harry stared at his cousin, his green eyes shadowed. "I... I don't really know. Maybe because I learned so early on what it's like to be hated for something you are, something you can't help being."
"Oh." Draco paused a moment, then asked rather diffidently, "Did you get the book from Severus? Because it covers emotional abuse too."
"Maybe you should read it," Harry retorted. "I mean, for your own benefit."
"I did," Draco admitted, then turned away. "Dudley, do you play any chess? No? Hmm. Well, let me show you wizards' chess anyway. I think you'll like it."
Sighing slightly, Harry got the book from under his pillow and found his place.
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Ever since that talk in Snape's office, Harry had settled into a new routine. Most nights, after dinner, he'd spend a few minutes, sometimes longer, chatting with Snape. The first night when he went back, things still seemed awkward, but after he realized that his teacher really didn't mind being interrupted, Harry realized he didn't have to have to bring some earthshaking problem into the man's office. It was all right to go in there just for company. To talk about nothing, it seemed. Sometimes, even, just to sit and read while Snape marked essays.