Harry Potter: Dudley From LOTM

What's going on?

The summons was so immediate, so direct, that Dudley's first thought was one of pure, cold shock. Did Dumbledore see through my disguise so quickly? That shouldn't be possible. He replayed the entire spiritual encounter in his mind, reviewing every detail, every nuance of their brief, silent exchange. There was nothing. He had given away nothing that could have revealed his identity. To avoid arousing suspicion, he had been deliberately vague, referring only to an "evil spirit" in Hogwarts, never once mentioning Quirrell by name. How could that have exposed him? Was there some magical method, some advanced divination or tracking spell, that could pinpoint his astral form back to his physical body?

"What's up, so early?" Ron mumbled, sitting up in bed, his hair a tangled mess.

Harry was awake too, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore is looking for Dudley? Is everything alright?"

Percy, who had delivered the summons, shook his head. "I was having breakfast in the Great Hall when a house-elf delivered a message. The Headmaster wants to see Dudley in his office immediately. I'm afraid I don't know what it's about."

Dudley frowned, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. If Percy didn't know the reason, then it wasn't a simple disciplinary matter. But if his identity hadn't been revealed, then Dumbledore must want him for something else entirely. The thought allowed him to relax, just a fraction. He quickly got dressed.

"Do you need me to take you there?" Percy asked.

"No, thank you, Percy," Dudley replied calmly. "I know the way."

"Do you want us to go with you?" Harry offered, his voice laced with concern.

"It's fine," Dudley said, not wanting to drag them into this new, unknown complication. "You two go back to sleep."

He walked alone through the quiet, early-morning corridors of Hogwarts. When he reached the golden eagle statue that guarded the Headmaster's office, he took a deep, steadying breath. "Lemon Sherbet," he said, and the hidden staircase began its slow, spiraling ascent.

Of all the wizards he had encountered, only Dumbledore was a true enigma. The others, McGonagall, Snape—their power was palpable, a bright, clear energy he could perceive with his spiritual vision. But Dumbledore… Dumbledore's power was a deep, still well, its depths hidden, its true nature unknowable. Facing him, Dudley knew he had to be careful.

The door to the office was slightly ajar. "Professor Dumbledore?" he called out, knocking gently. The door swung open on its own. The office was empty, the only movement the soft whirring of silver instruments and the gentle breathing of the slumbering portraits on the walls. "Professor Dumbledore, are you there?" he asked again, not venturing far from the doorway.

"Oh, we meet again, child," a familiar voice said from a nearby shelf. It was the Sorting Hat.

"Hello," Dudley greeted it politely. "Is the Professor not here?"

"Oh, he's a very busy man," the Hat replied. "Many things require his attention. You can wait here for a moment. I believe he will appear very soon."

"Alright." Dudley nodded and found a chair to sit in, his eyes scanning the fascinating collection of magical artifacts that filled the room. This time, however, he dared not activate his spiritual vision, wary that Dumbledore might be hiding in the shadows, observing him.

"Uh… Sorting Hat," Dudley began, trying to break the silence, "why did you ultimately put me in Gryffindor?"

"Oh, that's a question," the Hat mused. "I must admit, I was leaning more toward Slytherin. Ahem… of course, Gryffindor is also an excellent choice, and can certainly bring out the talent within you."

Dudley raised an eyebrow. So, his initial guess was correct. The Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin. Something, or someone, had changed its mind.

"Actually," Dudley said, "I personally believe that which House one is sorted into is not as important as one's own character, isn't it?"

"You're right," the Hat agreed. "I agree with your point of view. When I am sorting, I do not rely solely on my own will. I also consider the student's own wishes. After all, putting a child into a House he does not wish to join is by no means the best choice for him."

"Ahem…" A soft cough came from above.

Dudley immediately stood up, his gaze snapping to the railing on the second floor. Dumbledore stood there, a warm, grandfatherly smile on his face.

"Oh, Dudley. I'm so sorry to wake you from your warm bed so early."

"It's fine, Professor Dumbledore," Dudley replied. "Is there something you need from me?"

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said, descending the stairs with a light, almost soundless step. "I have some matters that require your help."

Dudley's heart stirred. Help Dumbledore? Hogwarts had so many powerful, experienced wizards. Why would the Headmaster need a first-year student's help, unless… A new, startling possibility began to form in his mind.

"You seem to have an extraordinary ability to perceive evil things, is that right?" Dumbledore asked, his deep blue eyes gazing intently at Dudley.

"Yes," Dudley replied, choosing his words with care. "I mean, it might be. I'm not entirely sure I have such an ability myself."

"Don't be nervous," Dumbledore reassured him. "It is a powerful talent. I know many wizards who are born with certain innate abilities. A young witch named Tonks, for example, is a natural Metamorphmagus, able to change her appearance at will." He paused, letting the information sink in. "So, I suspect your ability to discover the robed person at Gringotts, and the dark wizard in the Forbidden Forest, are both related to this innate talent of yours."

Dumbledore's expression grew serious. "And now, I have just received news that Hogwarts may have been invaded by some… evil thing."

He looked directly at Dudley, his voice dropping to a low, urgent tone. "I'm wondering if I can use your ability to help me find it."

(End of Chapter)

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