"Big D, can I touch that treasure? Just for a moment, I promise I won't break it."
At Platform 9¾ of King's Cross Station, Ron quietly pleaded while waiting for his parents to arrive.
"Here you go." Dudley very casually tossed the item from his pocket to Ron.
It was the Order of Merlin, Third Class medal that Dudley had received in the Great Hall.
Honestly, he wasn't particularly impressed by this thing. The Order of Merlin was a medal awarded by the Order of Merlin, which was the earliest magical organization established in the wizarding world, originating from the legendary wizard Merlin. It was much more ancient than things like the Ministry of Magic, yet this ancient organization could now only issue medals to show its existence.
The Order of Merlin was actually just an honorary medal—its symbolic meaning was greater than its practical significance. It wasn't particularly remarkable. As long as you donated enough money, getting a First Class medal wasn't unusual. Someone from the pureblood Black family had done exactly that.
Though it wasn't worth much money in essence, it was still quite intimidating to outsiders. Just look at Ron's face, treating it like a precious treasure. Even Malfoy came over to join them.
Logically, the Malfoy family, with their "long history" shouldn't be impressed by an Order of Merlin medal, but the truth was that the Malfoy family really didn't have one.
Waving goodbye to Malfoy, Ron, and Neville one by one, Ron was picked up by a family of conspicuous redheads, Neville by a serious-looking witch with great presence, and Malfoy by a wizard with long, pale blonde hair and the same pale skin as Malfoy.
When picking up Malfoy, his gaze lingered particularly on Harry for a while.
Soon, all the young wizards at the station had left. Looking at the gradually darkening sky, Dudley said to Hermione and Harry beside him:
"I guess... our parents might have forgotten to pick us up."
Sometimes when parents get along too well, it can be a burden for the children.
At this moment, on Privet Drive, the Grangers were gathered with the Dursleys in the yard having a barbecue party, seemingly celebrating something.
Suddenly—
Petunia seemed to remember something and turned to Vernon: "Vernon, have we forgotten something important?"
"Dear Petunia, this is the ninety-ninth time you've asked that." Vernon happily swallowed a slightly charred little sausage—he absolutely loved this flavor: "We haven't forgotten anything."
"Dudley and the others don't come back until the 9th. Today's only the 6th—we still have three whole days."
Mr. Granger, whose face was slightly flushed from drinking, took over: "No, you remembered wrong. Hermione said they're coming back on the 6th."
"Wait... today is the 6th, isn't it?"
Vernon: ...
Petunia: ...
Mrs. Granger: ...
After a brief silence, Petunia broke it.
"It's fine. With Dudley there, they can get back on their own."
Yes, with Dudley there, what was there to worry about? Besides, it was too late to go now anyway.
Continue the music, continue dancing—barbecue and beer, here we go.
In the end, the three of them successfully returned to Privet Drive—by taxi, of course. All the young wizards had received notices when leaving Hogwarts: no magic during holidays. Dudley was completely unconcerned about this—if you can catch me casting spells, I'll give you credit.
Looking at Vernon and Mr. Granger, who were completely drunk, bare-chested, embracing each other, and lying on the living room floor, the three exchanged glances and could see the helplessness in each other's eyes.
Their fathers were truly unreliable.
As for their mothers, Petunia and Mrs. Granger were in the living room wiping tears at the television. It was a romantic drama.
After seeing Dudley and the others, they immediately expressed welcome, asked a few questions about their campus life at Hogwarts, then told them to go play by themselves and not disturb their drama watching.
Very good—they were indeed biological children.
Other people's holidays were vacation mode; Dudley's holidays were busy. Far from wasting time, every minute and second was carefully planned.
Don't forget—he had opened a company in the Muggle world. Even just maintaining IP popularity could continuously earn pounds, but it still needed management.
Harry was used to this—after all, this was Dudley. So Harry studied even more seriously. He wanted to become Dudley's assistant—he still remembered that Dudley had promised him a position.
Every day was nothing but reading—there was no choice, as young wizards couldn't cast spells freely.
Of course, Muggle money had to be earned, and wizard money had to be earned too. Both hands must be grasped, both hands must be firm.
No one understood better than Dudley the benefits and convenience that money brought. Money wasn't omnipotent, but it was perhaps 999.9% potent.
Since the holidays began, Harry's Hedwig had almost become Dudley's exclusive messenger, either flying or on the way to fly every day. However, with Dudley's secret recipe feed, Hedwig had no complaints about this.
Dudley was contacting Carrow—not for the second volume of Dragonlance Chronicles, nor for a new novel. Making money couldn't rely on just one field, right?
Hadn't he previously asked Ron to help collect information about wizards' entertainment? Targeting the lack of entertainment activities in the wizarding world, Dudley already had new ideas.
Carrow, who was gradually taking over the family business, was very interested in Dudley's idea. The first volume of Dragonlance Chronicles had not only saved Witch & Poison Publishing but also made a hefty profit. This made Carrow, who already thought highly of Dudley, even more attentive. No one argues with money, especially purebloods.
So they hit it off immediately. Now they were discussing some detailed issues.
When you first enter the wizarding world, everything seems fresh and magical, but after staying long enough, it's not much different from the Muggle world—there are still inconvenient times.
For example, sending letters by owl was definitely not as convenient as making phone calls.
After five consecutive days of communication with Carrow without reaching a conclusion, Dudley decisively picked up his pen:
"Respected Mr. Carrow,"
Dudley arranged to meet Carrow in Hogsmeade in three days for face-to-face discussion. He couldn't stand sending a message and possibly waiting hours for a reply. Terribly inefficient.
At this moment, Petunia's call came from downstairs.
"Dudley, your phone call—hurry up, it's Hermione."
"Okay, I'm coming."
With thudding footsteps, Dudley went downstairs. The two basically had a phone conversation every day.
If there's a chance, I could try using magic to improve the speed of information transmission. Like phones that allow communication anytime—it would be even better if we could chat in real-time.
Otherwise, how could I live up to the new abilities I've gained?
"Killed Voldemort's remnant soul once, reward: Magical Equipment Modification LV1."
"Prevented Gryffindor from winning the House Cup, reward: Magical Creature Training LV1."
(TL NOTE: Unfortunately, my LOTR: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth book was mistakenly flagged as spam on Webnovel and removed. I'll re-upload it under a different title by today at the latest. Thank you for your patience!)