Even with Dumbledore's nomination, a Merlin Medal wasn't something you could just snap your fingers and get. The approval process was long and grueling. Dudley's third-class Merlin Medal in his first year had taken months, and that was with the Carrow family pulling strings. A first-class medal was even more complicated, requiring multiple rounds of discussions in the Wizengamot. If it was approved before the end of his third year, that'd be considered fast.
During another Care of Magical Creatures class, Hagrid shared some good news. After over two months, the batch of hybrid carnivorous Blast-Ended Skrewt eggs had finally hatched.
Tiny Skrewts with soft shells crawled chaotically in a crate behind Hagrid, munching on the fruits and leaves he'd scattered for them.
These were the wizarding world's first magical snails.
Unfortunately, even with this success, they still didn't meet Dudley's standards. He asked Hagrid to keep working on the next generation.
Say what you will about Hagrid, but his connections in the magical creature world were unmatched. He could get his hands on almost anything.
In the previous lesson, he'd brought a Manticore—a creature even more dangerous than a Griffin (though danger didn't always mean combat strength). Like most XXXXX-class creatures, it had a taste for human flesh.
But in Hagrid's presence, it was surprisingly docile, not attacking any students.
This lesson, Hagrid had planned to bring a Chimaera egg or a young one, but Dudley talked him out of it.
Chimaeras were even more threatening than Manticores. With their low intelligence and bloodthirsty, uncontrollable nature, they were an accident waiting to happen.
Instead, Hagrid brought a few Fire Crabs.
He grumbled about it for a while.
For the next lesson, he was already talking about bringing a Sphinx.
Dudley made a mental note of all these creatures Hagrid mentioned. Once his creature-taming skills improved, he'd find a way to take them with him.
After a long day of classes, the Disciplinary Committee gathered to discuss each member's goals for the term.
As they talked, a figure approached. Hearing their voices, he lowered his head and shifted to the side, clearly trying to avoid them.
"Percy, I've been looking for you. I think we need to talk," Dudley said, stopping as he passed the figure and turning to face him.
It was Percy Weasley—former Gryffindor Prefect and current Head Boy.
Also a wizard selected for the Disciplinary Committee.
Caught out, Percy gave an awkward smile.
Dudley dismissed the others and led Percy to a quiet room in the castle—not the Slytherin common room, just a random empty one.
As they pushed open the door, they saw a translucent white figure rummaging through a storage cabinet, backside in the air.
"Who dares disturb the great Peeves?" the figure snapped, spinning around. But when he saw Dudley, his attitude flipped. "Mr. Dursley! Good afternoon!"
Percy caught the fawning tone in Peeves' voice.
Peeves was Hogwarts' resident menace, feared by students, loathed by ghosts, and a headache for Filch. He was a little tyrant, unafraid of anyone—except he gave three people (well, two people and a ghost) respect: the Bloody Baron, Dumbledore, and Dudley Dursley.
"Mr. Weasley and I have some business to discuss privately. Would you mind standing guard outside, Mr. Peeves?" Dudley asked calmly.
"Happy to oblige!" Peeves chirped, zooming out the door.
Percy gave him a second glance. Peeves could be so reckless he'd even defy professors, and no one could really do anything about him—normal ghost-banishing tricks didn't work.
But with Mr. Dursley? It made sense.
Dudley clapped his hands, and two stone benches rose from the floor.
"Sit."
Percy sat, visibly nervous.
"Percy, I invited you to join the Disciplinary Committee at the start of the term, but you still haven't given me a clear answer," Dudley said. "Can you tell me why?"
Percy opened his mouth but said nothing, staying silent.
Why? Because he was already Head Boy.
At Hogwarts, starting in fifth year, each house appointed a male and female Prefect for every year from fifth to seventh. Additionally, a Head Boy and Head Girl were chosen from the seventh years.
The Head Boy, appointed directly by the Headmaster, was theoretically the pinnacle of student authority.
Sure, two years ago, Dudley had founded the Disciplinary Committee, which technically oversaw Prefects and even the Head Boy and Girl. But as it stood, he didn't yet have authority over seventh-year student leaders.
Joining the Committee would mean giving up his position as Head Boy.
And Percy was graduating this year.
He wouldn't be around when the Committee reached its peak influence. Being Head Boy, though, was real power now.
Percy craved power.
It wasn't hard to understand why. The Weasleys had a big family, and their father, Arthur, was laid-back to a fault, leaving them perpetually strapped for cash. Ron's constant joking about not having a single Sickle in his pocket said it all.
Percy didn't want that life.
To him, being Head Boy was a major boost for his post-graduation job prospects, a way to smooth his path in the wizarding world.
Maybe a lot of students thought that way, but in reality? It was worthless.
Once you left Hogwarts and entered the real world, power didn't come from school titles. Your skills were a bonus, not a necessity. What mattered was your family's influence.
As the great sage Sirius once said, "To make it in the world, you need power and connections. Otherwise, you're just a nobody."
If your family couldn't back you up, you had to find someone who could—a "noble opportunity," so to speak.
The Disciplinary Committee was actually a great path. Over the summer, Dudley had already helped several recent graduates land jobs at the Ministry.
"I'll give you three days. If you make up your mind, you can find me in Slytherin," Dudley said.
He didn't linger or lecture Percy further, just gave him a nudge and left.
Truth be told, Percy had solid skills—otherwise, Dudley wouldn't have recruited him.
Whether Percy would come around depended on him.
Opportunities were important, but seizing them was everything.
Three days later, with a heavy heart, Percy knocked on Dudley's door.