Harry rubbed his eyes before going back to staring at his Transfiguration essay, which as of that moment consisted of two whole sentences. He knew Hermione would keep nagging him in her letters until he finished his homework, but he didn't seem to be making any progress. Tapping his quill idly against the parchment, he sighed.

There was a loud knock on the door, and Harry pushed his chair back with a creak. As he was standing up, the door was flung open, and Dudley stepped inside.

Harry shot to his feet. "Oi, don't just barge in!"

"Why, you spanking your monkey to magic nudie mags?"

"What? No!" Harry scowled at him. "I was doing my Transfiguration homework. It's a very important subject—"

Dudley waved him off. "Yeah, whatever—I don't give a damn."

"Why are you even here?" he asked, leaning back against his desk.

"Well..." Dudley rubbed the back of his neck. "Dad's finally built me that home gym I've been asking for. Want to work out with me?"

Harry blinked. "Why?"

Dudley looked him over. "Can't have you looking like a holocaust victim, cousin. You're scaring people whenever you actually go outside."

Harry crossed his arms. "I am what they call aerodynamic. And you're fat." To be fair, that wasn't true anymore—at some point Dudley had became more burly than pudgy—but he wasn't about to dish out compliments.

"I'm bulking right now, stupid." Dudley mimed punching someone. "You got that murderous freak after you, right? Don'tcha need to become stronger to kick his arse?"

Harry laughed. "I appreciate the thought, but I can't beat Voldemort with my fists... not anymore, at least."

Dudley went quiet, furrowing his brows in thought. It was a rather funny look, but Harry didn't want to get a beating, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Chicks dig muscles," Dudley finally said.

Harry was about to laugh again, but stopped himself and gave his cousin an appraising look. "Really?"

Dudley nodded vigorously. "I got a girlfriend now, and it's brilliant."

"You do?" Harry gawked at him, having never thought that his formerly whale-like cousin would have more success with the ladies than he did. Perhaps Dudley was onto something after all. "It won't hurt to give it a try, I suppose."

"It hurts," Harry whined. His arms shook as he struggled against the weight of the barbell above his chest.

"Give me one more rep. Come on." Dudley's calloused hands hovered inches away from the bar.

Harry wanted nothing more than for this torture to end, but he wasn't about to embarrass himself in front of his cousin. He grunted and strained, but the bar hardly budged.

"Stop being a nancy and do it," Dudley snapped.

A memory of being pushed around by schoolyard bullies swam before Harry's eyes, and he gritted his teeth. Bracing his feet against the floor and gripping the metal as if trying to crush it, he heaved with all he had. The barbell inched upwards until Harry's elbows were fully extended, then wavered as his arms trembled. Dudley moved in, seizing the bar and effortlessly racking it.

"Great work, cuz," he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Keep at it, and you'll soon be stronger than an average six-year-old."

"Piss off," Harry gasped out, still trying to catch his breath.

Dudley ignored him. "Next, you gotta bump up your macros. I'm talking animal protein, cuz."

Harry blinked. "You sure learned some fancy words, Dud." That earned him a punch on the shoulder. "Ow!"

Dudley shook his fingers. "Ow's right—you're a walking skeleton. Get showered and let's grab some steak."

"You're not staying for dinner?" Harry asked, rubbing his sore upper arms.

Dudley grimaced. "Mum's making kale again."

"I'm in," Harry said with a shudder. He frowned as a suspicion formed in his mind. "Wait—is that where you always disappear to when Aunt Petunia makes one of her 'healthy' recipes?"

Dudley shrugged. "A bloke's gotta eat."

Harry left the steakhouse feeling like his stomach would burst if he had another bite. The food didn't hold a candle to Hogwarts fare, but it was better than what he got at the Dursleys most days.

Dudley burped loudly. "Anyway, that's going to be our routine from now on. I know you have nothing better to do, so don't try to talk your way out of this."

"Why do you even care?" Harry asked with a scowl. His cousin had been content with him staying out of sight last year.

"I told you, I can't have you cramping my style!" Dudley emphasized his words by punching Harry's shoulder again, then turned away and quickened his steps.

Wincing, he hastened to catch up. They walked down Magnolia Road in silence, Dudley studiously avoiding looking anywhere near Harry, who kept glancing at him curiously.

As they crossed into Wisteria Walk, the balmy evening seemed to turn into night before their very eyes. Shivering in a sudden chill, Harry looked around, heart catching in his throat when he saw the stars in the sky being eaten by utter blackness.

"Dudley!" he called out.

"What?" his cousin grunted, turning around. His jaw went slack as he finally noticed that something was off. "Bloody hell, what's happening?"

"It's the Dementors," Harry hissed, thanking his lucky stars he'd remembered to take his wand before leaving. As his fingers wrapped around its smooth wood, some of the unnatural cold assaulting his body seemed to retreat. "Stay close."

Dudley obediently scooted closer, his eyes darting around the encroaching darkness. "What are the Dementers?"

"Soul-sucking fiends," Harry murmured, scanning his surroundings with his wand raised in preparation.

"H-how do you fight 'em?"

"You don't—you can't even see them. Now be quiet, I need to—" The darkness parted to release a terrible cloaked figure, and Harry, not quite done filling up his mind with a happy memory, exclaimed, "Expecto Patronum!"

Silvery vapor shot out of his wand, pushing the hooded figure away; his spell had been too weak for a fully corporeal Patronus to form. Groaning in despair, he watched the Dementor scrabble at the shrinking silvery shield with its grayish, rotting hands.

Dudley let out a whimper, and Harry risked a glance over his shoulder. His heart sank when he saw a second Dementor materialize from the blackness, slowly floating down with its scabrous hands extended towards the boy's neck as if taking its time to relish in his fear.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry cast in desperation, but once again, only silvery vapor emerged. A thought of shielding Dudley instead of himself crossed his mind, but he discarded it immediately—should he fall, his Muggle cousin would be easy prey.

"It's coming for you from above," he cried out. "Run—I'll hold them off—"

Dudley slumped against Harry's back, trembling so much his teeth chattered. "W-where is it?" he whispered.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry bought himself a few more seconds. "To your right—now get away!"

The Dementor's slimy fingers wrapped around Dudley's neck, and his face lost its color. An expression of terror came over him as he opened and clothed his mouth without a sound.

Tears stung Harry's eyes as he cursed his own helplessness. "Damn it, you have to run or it'll suck out your soul!"

A weak growl left Dudley's throat and he turned to face the cloaked figure, his neck muscles bulging against its deathly embrace. The look of fear on his face was gradually replaced by one of desperate fury. Drawing back his arm, he lunged at the enemy he had no way of seeing; whether through instinct or sheer luck, his meaty fist connected with whatever was hidden under a Dementor's hood, and the creature jerked away.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Dudley raised his fists. "Call the directions, cuz," he said hoarsely.

Harry only stared until he was broken out of his stupor by the Dementor swooping down for another go. "Nine o'clock!"

Dudley jabbed, then swung; there was a sickening crunch as the second punch struck the Dementor in the spot where a person's ribs would be, propelling it several feet backwards. Something grimy and putrid dripped from Dudley's hand, but he paid it no heed.

Harry gritted his teeth. Just how pathetic was he, having a Muggle protect him from a magical danger? Breathing in deeply, he focused with all he had before bellowing, "Expecto Patronum!"

A shining white stag erupted from his wand, its presence alone dismantling the surrounding darkness. At its appearance, the Dementors seemed to hesitate, freezing in the air, and Harry directed his Patronus to run them down.

If the fiends could have made a sound, they would have probably screeched in agony as Prongs gored them with its mighty horns. As it was, they were driven off in eerie silence, until the last of the chilly blackness evaporated, and nothing but the mundane darkness of a late evening remained. Having accomplished its mission, Prongs strutted down the street and bowed its head to Harry before fading.

"Did we get 'em?" Dudley asked, breathing heavily.

Harry stared at him with awe. "That we did, Dudley. That we did."

"You sent the Dementors after me?" Harry gasped. "You're insane—we would've died had my cousin not given them the old one-two!"

Umbridge pointed her pudgy finger at him before a perplexed expression came over her face and she lowered it again. "You can't give a Dementor the old one-two," she said, sounding affronted by the very idea.

"Not unless you're a 180-pound boxing champion and your fight-or-flight response kicks in—and, let me tell you, Big D is all about the fight," Harry said smugly. "In fact... I'm thinking more wizardly problems could be solved in this manner." He sized her up, cracking his knuckles.

Umbridge's eyes rounded comically, making her look even more toad-like. "Cru—"

Rearing his arm, Harry rotated his torso like Dudley had taught him, and decked her across the jaw. Umbridge's head snapped back and her not-inconsiderable weight thudded to the floor.

Seeing his wand roll out of the woman's pocket, Harry darted down to grab it. There was a flash of red overhead, and he straightened up to see Neville fall, having jumped in front of a Stunner meant for him.

"Stupefy," he growled, the jet of crimson light streaking forward and catching Malfoy in the chest. The boy was sent careening backwards until he hit the wall and slid down, out for the count.

He looked around wildly. The other members of the Inquisitorial Squad were too busy trying to hold their struggling captives to curse him, save for the stocky seventh-year girl who clutched an unresistant Luna's shoulder with one hand, drawing her wand with the other.

"Expelliarmus," he said, knocking the girl's wand out of her fingers. "Stupefy."

Luna side-stepped, allowing the Stunner to catch her captor in the shoulder, and bent down to riffle through her pockets, ignoring the brawl around her. Harry shook his head and moved on to help the others.

Having managed to choke out Ron, Crabbe unleashed an inarticulate battle-cry and barreled towards him. Releasing his wand on an instinct, he ducked under the portly Slytherin's haymaker and punched him in the stomach, making him wheeze and double over. Pushing him away, Harry picked up his wand again and took him out.

With the help from the rest of the DA, even wandless as they were, the remainder of the Inquisitorial Squad were easy pickings. Breathing heavily, Harry Stunned each of them a second time before trussing the lot up with conjured ropes.

"I can't believe you knocked out Professor Umbridge!" Hermione said. Her scandalized expression changed into that of worry when she saw his bleeding knuckles. "Oh, Harry, you're hurt."

He sighed in relief as Hermione took him by the arm and proceeded to apply what healing spells she knew. He hadn't even noticed in the heat of things, but his hand did hurt quite a bit.

As she worked her magic, her left palm brushed against Harry's biceps, and her eyes widened. "Wow, when did you get these muscles?" she murmured, licking her lips absentmindedly.

Harry grinned, making a mental note to thank Dudley when he next saw him.