Harry Potter: Dudley From LOTM

Dudley's mouth twitched, a barely perceptible sign of his utter disbelief. He had masterfully orchestrated the situation, creating a phantom informant to anonymously deliver a problem directly to Dumbledore's doorstep. He had washed his hands of the matter, leaving it for the so-called professionals to handle.

And now, less than an hour later, the problem had returned to him, a perfectly thrown boomerang.

Damn it all, he thought, a flash of pure annoyance cutting through his calm facade. He had not wanted to get involved. His plan was to observe, to remain a detached variable in the unfolding chaos of Hogwarts, intervening only when his own interests were directly threatened. But his conscience, a flickering ember of his past humanity that Harry had so recently stoked, had prompted him to act. And now, that single act of indirect responsibility had dragged him directly into the spotlight.

"This…" Dudley began, stalling for time, his mind racing through a dozen different scenarios.

"Don't worry, my boy," Professor Dumbledore said patiently, his voice a comforting balm. "I will personally ensure your safety. Moreover, you don't need to do anything confrontational. Simply wander the castle as you normally would. If you sense anything… amiss, you just tell me. You need not face any evil yourself."

"But, Professor, what if my perception is wrong?" Dudley countered, a perfect imitation of youthful doubt. "What if I'm just… imagining things?"

"That is a risk I am willing to take," Dumbledore replied. "I will be the one to determine if your perceptions are accurate. All I ask is that you report any unsafe situations you detect."

Dudley had originally intended to refuse. This was, after all, a failure of Hogwarts' own security. But as Dumbledore spoke, a new, far more interesting possibility began to take shape in his mind. This wasn't just a burden. It was an opportunity.

"Professor Dumbledore," he began, his tone shifting from hesitant to serious, "I am willing to use my talent to help inspect the castle. However, as a first-year student, my movements are limited. Wandering around could easily lead to me violating school rules, and there are some places, like the third-floor corridor, that I cannot go." He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "I hope you can grant me certain… permissions. So that I may better complete this task." He looked Dumbledore squarely in the eye. "Something like prefect permissions, for example?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, a slow smile spreading across his face. The boy was a shrewd negotiator. "Prefect permissions are a bit much for a first-year, Dudley. Each House already has its prefects. I cannot simply appoint a new one." He stroked his long, silver beard thoughtfully. "However," he continued, "I can grant you certain privileges. The authority to move freely around the campus and, within a reasonable scope, to be exempt from certain school rules. How does that sound?"

Dudley's own smile was a mirror of Dumbledore's, a silent acknowledgment of a deal well-struck. His goal had been achieved. "Okay," he said, then immediately pressed his advantage. "Helping Hogwarts inspect for potential evil and anomalies is a very cool thing. So, does that mean I've become Hogwarts' Sheriff?"

He used the term deliberately, a word that resonated with the power of his newly acquired Beyonder Characteristic.

"Hahaha, exactly!" Dumbledore laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the room. "You are our little Sheriff of Hogwarts!"

"That's great," Dudley said, a thrill of genuine delight running through him. Dumbledore, as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, had the authority to bestow such a title. And even if it was just a joke, a playful nickname, it was enough. In a mystical sense, it had forged a tangible link between Dudley and the very essence of Hogwarts Castle. As the words left Dumbledore's mouth, Dudley felt a shift, a new, deeper connection to the ancient magic of the school. This authority, this role, was the perfect crucible in which to "act" and digest his new powers.

This was the key. He could now act as a Sheriff of the Justiciar Pathway, an enforcer of rules and order within the school. And as for the Barbarian of the Black Emperor Pathway? Well, when rules and order failed, resolving a situation through "physical persuasion" was a perfectly reasonable, if extreme, duty for a Sheriff to undertake.

"Alright, you may go now," Dumbledore reminded him with a smile. "And remember your duties as Sheriff."

"Okay," Dudley said happily, turning and leaving the office, his mind already alight with plans.

"Oh, he's truly a good child," the Sorting Hat exclaimed from its shelf once Dudley was gone. "Not only is he very talented, but he's also so warm-hearted."

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly, his gaze on the now-empty doorway. "He is a good child."

"By the way, Albus," the Hat asked curiously, "where did you get the information that Hogwarts was invaded by evil?"

"I cannot tell you that," Dumbledore replied gently. "You are just a hat."

"Alright, alright, I'm just a hat," the Sorting Hat grumbled, falling silent.

Dumbledore fell into a deep contemplation. Before summoning Dudley, he had performed his own inspection of the castle and had found nothing. Was the Night Emperor lying? Or had he overlooked something? The current situation was not optimistic. The Philosopher's Stone was hidden in the school. A dark wizard, or something pretending to be one, was slaughtering unicorns in the forest. And now, a potential threat within the castle walls. It was too many coincidences, all happening right after Harry's arrival.

"I hope Dudley's talent can be of some use," he murmured. He walked to a cabinet and waved his hand. Two doors swung open, and an ancient, stone basin engraved with runes floated out. The Pensieve. Dumbledore drew his wand, touched it to his temple, and extracted a long, silvery strand of thought—the memory of the Night Emperor's visitation. He dropped it into the swirling liquid of the basin.

"Perhaps," he whispered to the empty room, "I truly overlooked something important."

As Dudley walked back down the corridor, his expression had already returned to one of calm neutrality. Digesting the Sheriff characteristic will take at least a month, he calculated. And I also have to digest the Barbarian. With a dual sequence, I must be cautious.

"So," he decided, "before I finish digesting these characteristics, I will not tell Dumbledore the full truth about Quirrell." It was a simple, pragmatic transaction. Dumbledore had provided him with a way to quickly digest his powers. In return, he would do his best to ensure Hogwarts' safety. He would keep a close watch on Quirrell, preventing any major incidents.

Once his own power was stable, once his potion was fully digested, Quirrell would no longer have any use. And then, he could be safely… reported.

(End of Chapter)

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