Harry Potter: Dudley From LOTM

The next day was Saturday, and Dudley, for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, slept soundly until dawn. The morning light, soft and golden, streamed into the circular dormitory, painting stripes across the stone floor. He glanced around; Harry, Ron, and the other boys were still deep in slumber, their chests rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. He wasn't in any hurry to get up.

Perhaps it's time to visit that place again, he thought, a sense of quiet anticipation building within him.

He closed his eyes and began to silently recite the honorable name, the words echoing not in the room, but in the vast, empty space of his soul.

"You are the Supreme Emperor."

"You are the embodiment of Order, the concretization of Chaos, the source of all rules."

"You are Order, and you are Disorder."

He felt his spirit untether from his physical form, soaring into an unseen dimension. In an instant, he was standing once more in the magnificent, phantom palace. It was exactly as he had left it, a perfect reconstruction of his last visit, every detail a manifestation of his own thoughts, a memory given form.

"What exactly is this place?" he murmured, his spiritual form gliding through the dense, gray mist that shrouded the long, bronze table. "And why does that honorable name point here?" This place had been a void of pure chaos until his arrival had imposed a semblance of order upon it, shaping it into a ghostly replica of the Tarot Society's meeting hall. But it was an empty replica. There were no familiar figures here, no enigmatic Mr. Fool at the head of the table. It was his own private, spiritual domain.

He walked the length of the palace, finding nothing but the constructs of his own memory. There were no other rooms, no other corridors to explore. Perhaps, with my current abilities, I cannot fully perceive the true nature of this place, he speculated. He extended his hand, and with a thought, Trunsoest's Brass Book materialized in his spiritual grasp, cool and solid. Interesting. It seems I can bring some things here.

He flipped through the book's bronze pages, finding nothing unusual, then turned his gaze downward. The solid floor of the palace dissolved, revealing a bird's-eye view of Hogwarts Castle below, a perfect, detailed miniature.

Got it.

A sudden understanding lit up his mind. He incorporated the Brass Book into his spiritual form, and his previously ethereal body gained a new sense of substance, of weight. He tilted his body slightly and began to descend.

The spiritual wind whistled past him as he fell, a sensation unlike any he had ever experienced. His body was in a superimposed state, both illusory and real, an aggregate of pure, abstract rules descending upon the physical world.

So many traces of magic, he thought, his illusory form hovering high above the castle. He could see the ancient, powerful enchantments woven into the very stones of Hogwarts, a complex web of defensive spells that enveloped the entire school. As his spiritual power circulated, the castle transformed in his vision, the magic revealing itself as a tapestry of interwoven golden lines. The concretization of rules, he realized. This was the raw architecture of magic itself.

"Who's there?"

The voice was calm, but it carried an undeniable power that cut through the silence of the morning sky. With a soft pop, a figure appeared in the air above the highest tower of Hogwarts. It was Dumbledore, his white hair and beard floating in the breeze, his deep blue eyes, magnified by his half-moon spectacles, fixed on the empty space where Dudley floated. To the naked eye, there was nothing there. But Dumbledore could clearly sense the abnormality, the oppressive, powerful aura of the black phantom that hovered there, looking down upon his school.

Dudley was surprised. He hadn't expected that a mere peek at the castle's magical defenses would alert its headmaster. Dumbledore was even more powerful than he had initially estimated.

Dumbledore's expression was solemn, his hand already gripping the wand hidden within his robes. The phantom's aura was strange, powerful, and deeply unsettling.

"Night Emperor!?" Dumbledore blurted out the name in a sharp exhalation. He remembered the dark, authoritative figure from the Gringotts vault.

Dudley hadn't expected to be recognized so quickly, but it made sense. His unique spiritual signature had made an impression.

"What do you intend to do, sir?" Dumbledore asked, his voice low, his initial alarm tempered by a cautious curiosity. This entity had saved Harry and Dudley. He was likely not an enemy, not a follower of Voldemort. But he was an unknown, a powerful player on a board that was already far too complex.

Dudley considered for a moment, then decided on a simple, direct approach. He projected his thoughts, his voice a low whisper in Dumbledore's mind. "There are evil spirits in Hogwarts."

"Evil spirits?" Dumbledore frowned, the term unfamiliar to him in this context.

Dudley said nothing more. For a man as clever as Dumbledore, a small hint was all that was needed. He had planted the seed; now it was up to the Headmaster to let it grow.

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his head. He was running out of time, his spiritual power draining rapidly. Without another thought, his spirit body dissolved, snapping back into his physical form in the Gryffindor dormitory.

High above the castle, Dumbledore stared at the empty sky. The black shadow had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. "Evil spirits?" he murmured, his expression grim. "What exactly did he mean?" Too many strange things were happening. This Night Emperor, this unknown, powerful entity, was prying into the secrets of his school. After a final, sweeping glance at the sky, Dumbledore disappeared with a soft pop, returning to his office to contemplate this new, unsettling mystery.

In Gryffindor Tower, Dudley opened his eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. I didn't expect to alarm Dumbledore. He probably didn't discover anything, right? he thought, a little worried. But the matter of the evil spirits can be considered successfully reported. Now it's up to him how he handles it. He breathed a sigh of relief, turned over, and prepared to go back to sleep.

He had barely drifted off when a voice shook him awake.

"Dudley, wake up! Professor Dumbledore wants you in his office. Immediately."

Dudley opened his eyes to see Percy Weasley standing over him, his prefect's badge gleaming in the morning light, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and concern.

(End of Chapter)

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