Chapter 9: Pigs with Wigs

Considering that the Dursley residence wasn’t very far, Harry and Hagrid opted for the nine-sickle meal on the Knight Bus without bothering to order hot cocoa or grab a towel and toothbrush.

The Knight Bus was incredibly fast, far outpacing any Muggle transportation. Obstacles in its path magically shifted aside, making the journey both safe and full of magical charm.

In less than twenty minutes, Harry arrived at the Dursleys' doorstep.

“I won’t be going in with you,” Hagrid said. “I’ve got to report back to Dumbledore.”

“Alright, Hagrid,” Harry said, resting his hand on the cage containing Hedwig. “Safe travels. See you at Hogwarts.”

“See you at Hogwarts,” Hagrid replied, waving cheerfully before the Knight Bus disappeared from view with a blink.

The sky was still bright, as London’s higher latitude meant that in July, nightfall didn’t fully settle until about 7:30 PM. The Dursleys hadn’t gone to bed yet, given the dramatic events of the day. Ever since Harry left, Petunia and Vernon had been locked in discussion about what to do. Even Dudley’s antics—pacing in his Smeltings school uniform in a bid for attention—went unnoticed.

Bored, Dudley sat by the door, and when he spotted Harry suddenly appearing, his pudgy face twisted into a mischievous grin.

Whenever Dudley was in a bad mood, he’d vent his frustrations on Harry, bullying him mercilessly. Now that his favorite punching bag was back, Dudley felt it was the perfect time for some “reunion fun.”

He seemed to have entirely forgotten about the earlier events of the day.

“Hey, Dudley,” Harry greeted him, undeterred by Dudley’s approach. “Help me carry these bags inside, will you?”

“Oh, really?” Dudley sneered, cracking his knuckles. “What if I say no?”

“You will,” Harry said confidently, pointing at Dudley’s backside. “Unless you want that little pig tail gone. By the way, didn’t someone once say you looked like a pig wearing a wig?”

As Harry spoke, he remembered that the nickname was something he’d coined back in his early years. It had always seemed fitting.

Startled, Dudley reached behind and realized with horror that a pig tail had indeed sprouted on his rear.

“Harry Potter!” Dudley’s face turned purple, mirroring his father Vernon’s usual look of rage.

Humiliated, Dudley lunged at Harry with arms outstretched. Harry quickly pulled out his wand and cast a small jinx.

“What did you do to me?” Dudley shrieked as his body began dancing uncontrollably.

“Tarantellegra—a little dancing spell,” Harry explained, watching Dudley flail helplessly. Resting an arm on Hedwig’s cage, he chuckled. “Hedwig, if you’ve never seen a pig dance, now’s your chance.”

“Woo-woo!” Hedwig hooted in response.

“Stop it! Make it stop!” Dudley wailed in panic. “Mum! Dad! Help!”

His cries brought results. The Dursleys, abandoning their discussion, rushed out of the house.

“Duddykins!” Aunt Petunia cried, trying to grab hold of Dudley. Her thin frame, however, was no match for her son’s involuntary movements.

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Uncle Vernon charged at Harry, his face flushed with fury. “What did you do to my son?!”

“Helping him lose weight,” Harry said casually, shrugging.

Vernon’s beady eyes narrowed, his hand raised as if to strike, but he hesitated, glancing nervously around before his expression softened slightly, as if relieved.

Was he checking to see if Hagrid was nearby? Harry wondered.

But he’d guessed wrong. Vernon finally said, “Stop your nonsense this instant! Get inside!”

“What about my luggage?” Harry pointed at the pile beside him.

“I’ll carry it in!” Vernon barked angrily.

“Thank you, Uncle Vernon.” Harry gave a mock bow and flicked his fingers toward Dudley, stopping the spell. The pig tail vanished as well.

Vernon, looking as if he’d just swallowed a live insect, grabbed the heaviest of Harry’s bags and hurried inside without a backward glance.

“Dudley,” Harry called as Dudley tried to follow. “Carry this one for me.”

Though the bag was small, Harry found immense satisfaction in ordering Dudley around. Sniffling, Dudley reluctantly grabbed the bag and shuffled inside.

Once inside, Harry instinctively moved toward the cupboard under the stairs, but Vernon stopped him.

“Your room’s upstairs now,” Vernon said gruffly. “Your aunt and I decided you’re too old for the cupboard. You’ll have Dudley’s second bedroom.”

“Why?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask why!” Vernon roared.

Harry knew the room well. Despite being called Dudley’s second bedroom, it was mostly a storage space for things Dudley no longer wanted. For years, Harry had dreamed of moving into it.

Dudley, however, reacted as if the world had ended.

“No! That’s my room! He can’t have it! Mum! Dad! Make him leave!” he bawled.

“Do you want to keep dancing, Duddy?” Petunia hissed, unusually stern.

For the first time, Harry heard her use such a harsh tone with her precious son.

“Listen, boy,” Vernon growled, grabbing Harry’s collar. “I don’t care what tricks you’ve learned, and I’m not asking you to be grateful for all we’ve done raising you. Just don’t let the neighbors find out we’ve got a freak in the family. Understand?”

Harry understood. What Vernon feared most was the neighbors discovering their “freak” secret.

“One thousand pounds,” Harry said, unfazed by being grabbed. After all, underage wizards weren’t allowed to use magic outside school.

Vernon took a deep breath. “Five hundred.”

“Deal.” Harry extended his hand.

Releasing Harry’s collar, Vernon reluctantly shook hands to seal the deal.

Inspired, Dudley chimed in, “If I’m giving up my room, I want a thousand pounds too!”

Exhausted, Vernon countered, “Five hundred.”

Dudley looked at Harry, who suggested, “Ask for half again.”

“Seven-fifty,” Dudley said confidently.

“Deal!” Vernon agreed hastily.

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

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