It had been a few days since Dudley Dursley had somehow acquired the constitution of that peculiar, blue-haired magician. After the initial shock and gloom, he quickly got his head on straight. Life, after all, had to go on, and rather than moping about, he figured he might as well try to improve himself.
So, Dudley threw himself into his physical training, practicing that 'Ripple Breathing Technique' like a madman.
St. George's Primary School.
"So, Dudley, I heard you went to Oxford Dragon Primary for a bit as an exchange student. How was it?"
A few burly boys in rugby uniforms clapped a hand on Dudley's shoulder, their expressions friendly. Not all the students at St. George's were afraid of Dudley, you see. He wasn't a brawler who went looking for trouble; in fact, he'd often say he hated a fuss. As long as you didn't cross him on his principles, Dudley could be quite "refined and easy-going." Of course, these particular lads weren't from St. George's at all, but from the boxing team at the neighbouring Smeltings Academy, just about to graduate.
"It was a bore," Dudley said, stuffing a hot dog into his mouth and chewing heartily. "They're all just a bunch of brainless swots."
He felt a pang of satisfaction as a system message chimed in his mind: 'Ate one whole hot dog, experience +1'.
His so-called 'Wizard Cultivation System,' aside from the occasional quest, relied on consuming food for energy. Dudley could use these experience points to activate some mundane life skills. Of course, none of them were magical. The system explained that they were all rather ordinary, day-to-day skills. Things like English, maths, science, firearms, boxing, and archery. This system, while incredibly stingy when it came to anything related to magic, was quite generous with everything else.
Dudley's philosophy was simple: just keep eating. That's why he'd earned the nickname 'the Protector of Grub.' Mess with his food, and you'd find yourself an enemy.
"I heard the students there are pretty clever," one of the boys from Smeltings said. "Didn't our Mr. Dursley feel a bit intimidated?"
"Clever? They're just a little better than average, I suppose. Nothing special about being able to stick your nose in a book all day." Dudley waved a dismissive hand, then downed a cup of 'Happy Water' in a single gulp.
'Drank one whole cup of Happy Water, experience +1.'
The thought of his time at Oxford Dragon Primary made Dudley chuckle. He'd certainly taught those swots a lesson or two, both in academics and in sports. He particularly enjoyed remembering the sight of those little boys and girls crying and sniffling as they ran back to their teachers.
Oxford Dragon Primary, a mixed-gender private school in Oxfordshire, was known as a prep school for Oxford University. As everyone knows, "prep school" usually just means "ha ha."
Realistically, with Dudley's grades and abilities, he shouldn't have been at St. George's at all. The reason the Dursleys had him and Harry enrolled there was quite simple: it was a state school, and state schools were cheap. The Dursleys, after all, had to pay for not just Dudley's schooling, but Harry's too. You could tell just by looking at their clothes. Harry's were all Dudley's hand-me-downs, and while Dudley's clothes were new, the quality was nothing special. Add in Dudley's voracious appetite, and their money was even tighter.
In truth, the Dursleys weren't as well-off as they appeared in the films. When Harry first started primary school, they were actually quite frugal. Things only began to improve about two months ago, when Dudley's father, Vernon Dursley, got a new job at a company called Grunnings, thanks to his sister Marge. He'd managed to secure a massive drill order, and their financial situation had since taken a turn for the better.
They were now discussing transferring Dudley to a different school, which was the only reason he'd even been an exchange student to begin with.
But Dudley didn't want to go to another school, mainly because Harry wouldn't be there, and he wouldn't be able to 'leech' off of him. There was no way the Dursleys could afford to send both boys to a private school, even if they wanted to. And even if they could, they would never send Harry. His mother, Petunia Dursley, and his father, Vernon Dursley, simply couldn't stand the boy. The reasons for that were a long and complicated story.
After swallowing the last of his food, Dudley spotted Harry leaving the school with his rucksack on his back. Dudley turned to his Smeltings pals. "Haven't had a good workout in a while. Anyone up for a spar?"
A strange silence descended. The boys glanced at each other, then began making a variety of excuses.
"Oh, I've got to run."
"My mum told me to come home early."
"Left my front door unlocked!"
In the end, Dudley was left standing by himself. Since they were on good terms with him, they understood his terrifying strength better than anyone. Sparring with him was a recipe for a good old-fashioned thrashing.
Dudley pouted. "Hmph, you lot are no fun."
He strode over to his dear cousin Harry, slung an arm around his neck, and said affectionately, "C'mon, let's head home together."
As the two boys walked off and disappeared down the street, the other students at St. George's all let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Oh, poor little Harry," one of them said. "He's going to get tormented by his horrible cousin again."
"So, are you going to save him?"
"Don't be daft! Are you trying to get me killed?"
And that's how rumours spread, even though Dudley and Harry were actually quite close. Well, at least, Dudley thought so.
The two of them lived at Number 4, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey, which wasn't far from the school—about a twenty-minute walk.
Seeing that Harry was just staring at the pavement, Dudley broke the silence by pulling a few crumpled notes from his pocket. "Harry, I've got the eight pounds and fifty pence left over from fixing your glasses. I don't think it's safe for you to keep it, so I'll save it for you. You can use it later, you know, for your future wife."
"Right, D-Man," Harry replied. He'd heard this so many times he was practically deaf to it.
Dudley was satisfied and tucked the money back into his pocket. In that moment, he was Dudley Dursley, the hoarder. It wasn't that he was truly stingy. He kept a perfect record of every penny Harry 'deposited' with him. It was just that Dudley needed to constantly consume food to fuel his system. Luckily, most of the food he ate was converted into muscle, otherwise, with his eating habits, he'd be round in no time.
As he pushed open the front door of their two-storey house, Dudley's sharp nose caught the scent of dinner, and his appetite immediately soared.
It's a well-known fact that the four thinnest books in the world are: American History, German Jokes, Italian War Heroes, and the English Cookbook. While it's true that England doesn't have a lot of great native cuisine besides fish and chips, nobody ever said an English housewife had to cook English food. Petunia Dursley was excellent at making German food, and her crispy pork knuckle was truly something special.