"Who?"
Dudley's senses flared. The quiet hum of his home, a space he knew with the intimate familiarity of an Arbitrator's jurisdiction, had been disturbed. It was a subtle ripple in the mystical order of the place, a silent trespass that no ordinary person could have managed.
Apparition, he deduced, his mind instantly cataloging the possibilities. The ability to fold space and reappear silently. It was a high-level magical art.
Ding-dong.
The sudden, mundane chime of the doorbell was almost comical in its normalcy.
At least they're polite, Dudley thought, a flicker of amusement cutting through his caution. That suggests they're not an unwelcome guest. He opened his bedroom door just as Harry, downstairs, was opening the front door.
"Pro... Professor Dumbledore? Why are you here?" Harry's surprised voice drifted up the stairs.
"I've come to see our two newest wizards, of course," a calm, familiar voice replied, carrying with it a comfortable aura that seemed to warm the very air.
Dudley descended the stairs just as the Headmaster of Hogwarts stepped into the house. Albus Dumbledore seemed to fill the small, mundane hallway with a presence far larger than his physical form.
"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore," Dudley said with a slight, practiced smile.
"Ah, Dudley. I hope I haven't disturbed you," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"To be honest, no," Dudley replied truthfully. "I stayed up all night immersed in magical books and lost track of time."
"Believe me, diligent young wizards like you are rare at Hogwarts," Dumbledore chuckled. "The professors will certainly be very fond of you. However, a reminder: sleep is still very necessary. You're still growing, and you can always read during the day."
Just then, Vernon and Petunia came downstairs, drawn by the voices. They stopped dead on the landing, their faces paling at the sight of the robed wizard in their home. Petunia's expression was particularly unnatural, a tight mask of old resentment and fresh fear.
"I apologize for disturbing you so early," Dumbledore said, his tone polite but firm. "There are some matters I believe I should discuss with these two young men in person. I hope you don't mind." He gave a small, formal bow. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Principal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"Mum, Dad, it's alright," Dudley said, taking control of the situation. "We'll just talk with the Professor for a bit."
Vernon frowned, but to Dudley's surprise, he said nothing. Petunia looked as if she wanted to protest but ultimately just gave a curt nod and retreated to the kitchen.
"It's incredible that they didn't yell at me," Dumbledore remarked, glancing at Dudley with a curious smile.
"Perhaps they've changed their view of wizards after discovering their son is one," Dudley shrugged, a perfect imitation of youthful nonchalance.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, settling onto the sofa. His demeanor shifted, the grandfatherly warmth replaced by a serious gravity. "I must apologize for yesterday," he said bluntly. "I sent Hagrid to Vault 713 to retrieve something, but I did not fully consider the danger of the situation. I am deeply sorry that you were both involved. That was my negligence."
"You don't need to apologize, Professor," Dudley said. "It was something no one could have foreseen." A coincidence of timing that had placed them in the path of a dark wizard. A coincidence centered, as always, around the famous Harry Potter.
"We later tracked the robed person, but found no further clues. He escaped," Dumbledore continued. "For now, we know very little about his identity. Therefore, the Ministry of Magic will be sending some Aurors—they are the magical equivalent of your police—to watch over this house and protect you until you leave for Hogwarts."
Dudley's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Protection.Surveillance. The words were interchangeable. Having his every move monitored would make things… difficult. He would have to be extra careful.
"Alright, that's all I have to say," Dumbledore said, apparently concluding the official business. He produced two crimson and gold train tickets from his robes. "These are for you. Remember to be at King's Cross Station on September 1st." He stood to leave, then paused at the door.
"Oh, by the way, a reminder for you two," he said, his eyes twinkling again. "Once you enter Hogwarts and begin your formal magical education, a 'Trace' will be placed upon you. The Ministry uses this to determine if you have used magic outside of school. This, you see, is not allowed by law. Except at Hogwarts, underage wizards are not permitted to cast spells, especially not in front of Muggles."
With a final, warm smile and a wave, he stepped outside. With a soft pop, he was gone.
"Apparition," Dudley mused. In his past life, only powerful Beyonders on the Apprentice pathway could achieve such instantaneous travel. Here, it seemed almost common.
"What a pity," Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I was thinking of trying to practice magic at home. Children from wizarding families have been around it their whole lives. I wanted to catch up."
"No," Dudley said calmly, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "We can self-study."
"What? But Professor Dumbledore said the Trace would detect us!" Harry said, shocked.
Dudley's smile widened. He was a master of rules, a being who had once bent the very laws of a nation to his will. The Ministry's little rule was child's play. "Listen carefully to his words, Harry. He said, 'Once you enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to study magic, a Trace will be left on you.' Understand?"
Harry's eyes went wide as the implication dawned on him. He replayed the Headmaster's words in his mind. It was true.
"So… that means… we can practice magic now?" he whispered, his voice filled with incredulous excitement.
"Yes," Dudley confirmed. "Just try not to blow up the house." It was a beautiful, exploitable loophole.
"YES!" Harry leaped into the air, pure joy radiating from him.
Dudley simply shook his head, a thoughtful expression on his face as he glanced in the direction Dumbledore had disappeared. Was the old wizard simply careless with his words? Or was that reminder a deliberate hint? A test? The game, it seemed, was more complex than he had initially thought.
***
(End of Chapter)
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