Chapter Eight

   Hours later after Hermione had went home, Harry sat hunched over in an armchair next to his boarded up fireplace, running his hands through his already messy hair. What on earth had he been thinking? That was his problem, wasn't it? He didn't think. Harry no longer harbored any ill feelings toward his cousin, but at the same time he couldn't imagine spending more than two minutes alone with him in the same room. The few occasions that they had seen each other over the past several years had been awkward at best. However, Hermione was right... he did need to get back in shape and unless he wanted the entire Ministry (rumors spread like Fiendfyre within its walls) to find out just how far off from his former self that he had gotten, Dudley was his best option. Just as Harry was coming to the conclusion that perhaps he was doing the right thing after all, his phone began to ring. Feeling sure that it was Hermione calling to set up his first training session, Harry didn't hesitate to answer like he normally would. However instead of Hermione's soft voice, it was a male voice that spoke, one that Harry did not immediately recognize. "Harry, Harry Potter?"
   "Who wants to know?," Harry questioned the man.
   "This is Rockin' D... you know, from The Leaky Cauldron? You haven't been in this week and I was getting worried, 's all," explained the gruff voice on the other end of the phone. Harry smiled, bemused. He'd only missed a few days at his usual watering hole and already people were sending out search parties?
   "Er, well I appreciate your concern, but I'm quite alright, thanks. Trying to lay off the sauce a bit. Er, bad for my health and all," Harry replied.
   "Ah, right ya are, good sir. Hope ye don't mind me callin'. 'S only Hagrid gave me your number and asked me to check on ye. Said he'd do it himself but something abou' someone named 'Grarp' or somethin' or nother," the bartender explained hastily to Harry.
   "Well thanks again for checking in, but I'm fine. Have a good evening." And before the man could even reply, Harry returned the receiver to its base. Harry was amused but at the same time couldn't help but be slightly annoyed at Hagrid for giving his phone number away to a stranger. He made a mental note to either call or send an owl to him in the next day or so to both reprimand him for his blunder and to inquire about Hagrid's giant half-brother Grawp. Before Harry had even finished fully forming this thought, the telephone bleated loudly again. Now feeling a bit irritated, Harry snatched it back up with a little more force than he had intended. "What?," he practically growled into the phone.
   "Um, Harry?" This time it was Hermione.
   "Oh, sorry 'Mione, I thought you were... er, I thought you were someone else," Harry faltered, not wanting to admit to Hermione that he frequented the bar so often that his whereabouts were questioned after just one or two nights of not turning up.
   "Well never mind that, I've just finished setting up your first training session with Dudley. He says he has some time tomorrow. You'll be meeting him at six AM sharp over at the All-Stars Boxing Gym on Harrow Road in London."
   "Tomorrow? Six in the morning?," Harry practically yelped.
   "Well yes, Harry! When did you think you'd start? In a few months? A couple of years, perhaps?," Hermione retorted sharply.
   "Oh alright then. Best to get it over with, I suppose. I'll be there, though I don't see why it has to be so bloody early!," Harry whined.
   "Well I told him you wanted to start as soon as possible and that was the earliest time he had available. Take a nap afterwards, whatever you have to do. Just be there!"
   "Alright, alright. I'll be there, I promise," Harry reluctantly agreed.
   "Great! Call me after and let me know how it goes, won't you?"
   "Oh, believe me, you'll be the first person to know," Harry snorted. He and Hermione said their goodbyes then Harry hung up the phone and sat back in the arm chair he was still occupying. Glancing at the watch on his wrist (an old birthday present from Mrs. Weasley), Harry blanched at the time and resigned that he ought to go to bed if he was to get up for his first torture session with Dudley at the crack of dawn. He stumped off in the direction of his bedroom, already positively dreading what the next morning was to bring.