"Dumbledore, what do you make of this spell?"
Snape hadn't noticed the odd glint in Dumbledore's eyes when he entered the Headmaster's office. He recounted what Dudley had done in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, going over the details again.
"Severus, what do you think?" Dumbledore replied.
As one of the most powerful wizards in the world, Dumbledore understood the significance of this spell. Its creator would earn unimaginable prestige.
"I think Dursley deserves a First-Class Order of Merlin," Snape said firmly, looking Dumbledore in the eye.
Sure, the Third-Class Order of Merlin was practically worthless, and the Second-Class had its share of fluff, but the First-Class? That was the real deal. Only those who made outstanding contributions to the wizarding world could even be nominated. It was the highest honor in their world, and the rarest medal awarded.
A few years back, Damocles Belby, the wizard who invented the Wolfsbane Potion, had received a First-Class Order of Merlin. The Animagus Reversal Charm Dudley had developed was an even greater achievement. If he received the medal, doors would open for him, no matter what he chose to do in the future.
As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore had the authority to nominate candidates for the Order of Merlin. In plain terms, Snape was pulling strings—using his connection to Dumbledore to get Dudley the recognition he deserved.
That's why Snape had brought Dudley to the Headmaster's office.
"Severus, that's just your opinion," Dumbledore said, giving Snape a knowing look. "You haven't asked Dudley what he thinks. I'd like to hear his view."
In all these years, Dumbledore had never seen Snape so invested in something—or someone—other than Lily.
Dudley was Lily's nephew, true, but Snape barely paid attention to Lily's own sister, Petunia, let alone a nephew. Still, one thing was clear: Snape genuinely cared about Dudley's well-being.
"Dudley, are you willing to submit this spell to the Ministry and make it public?" Dumbledore asked.
"Of course," Dudley nodded. He'd never planned to keep the spell to himself.
But then he added, "Professor, I'd like to include the name of the old wizard who came up with the initial idea and did the early research. His name was Haymer. He was an extraordinary wizard."
If Haymer had held on just a bit longer, Dudley might've been able to save him. Every wizard in Lockhart's stories was exceptional, their knowledge and experience a priceless treasure.
"If you do that, it'll be a joint submission," Dumbledore pointed out. "And that might mean you won't get a First-Class Order of Merlin."
Dumbledore studied Dudley, curious about his choice. The old wizard even teased, "This is a discovery greater than the Wolfsbane Potion. If your name alone were on it, you'd earn unimaginable glory."
Dudley shook his head decisively. "Doesn't matter, Professor."
"Fair's fair. I just built on his work. Without him, there'd be no Animagus Reversal Charm."
Dumbledore was deeply pleased with Dudley's response. He hadn't let the lure of fame cloud his judgment. If Dudley hadn't mentioned Haymer, no one would've known about the forgotten wizard.
Snape frowned slightly but quickly relaxed. If it had been Lily, she'd likely have made the same choice. He genuinely admired this boy who'd inherited Lily's talent and carried echoes of his younger self.
"Besides, it's just an Order of Merlin," Dudley added. "Doesn't mean much if I don't have it."
Glory was nice, but for Dudley? It was take-it-or-leave-it. Even a First-Class Order of Merlin was just something to show off, not much practical use.
No one was going to obey you blindly just because you had a shiny medal.
Dudley wanted something more tangible.
"It seems you've already made up your mind," Dumbledore said. "So, what is it?"
"Professor, I want to join the Wizengamot."
The heart of the wizarding world was the Ministry of Magic. Sure, it was a mess, but it was undeniably the core of power. Fudge might be called a buffoon by capable wizards, but his word was law, his decrees binding—unless you were ready to flip the table and had the strength to back it up.
It was like the Muggle world: people in England loved to mock their Prime Minister, but so what? Even if the Prime Minister did something outrageous, like livestreaming himself with a pig, it'd just be gossip for the masses. He'd still be Prime Minister.
Dudley couldn't join the Ministry before graduating, nor did he want to. But the Wizengamot? That was different. A hybrid of court and parliament, its members had significant freedom.
You didn't need to be a graduate to join—just the right qualifications.
The Wizengamot had only fifty members, making it a key part of the wizarding world's elite power structure. Its influence rivaled that of high-ranking Ministry officials, sometimes even surpassing them. Most crucially, while the British Ministry of Magic governed only Britain—albeit as one of Europe's oldest and most influential—the Wizengamot's reach extended across all of Europe.
"The Wizengamot," Dumbledore repeated, mulling over the word.
Dudley's ambition was no secret. Anyone with eyes could see it.
His hunger for knowledge.
His drive to surpass his professors.
His desire to grow stronger.
Perhaps that's why the Sorting Hat had placed him in Slytherin.
But his ambitions weren't malicious. Take the discipline group, for example. Since its creation, Hogwarts' atmosphere had improved dramatically. Bullying had vanished since last year, and this year's first-years were notably well-behaved.
It was why Dumbledore often backed Dudley.
"I can nominate you," Dumbledore said after a moment's thought. "Whether it's approved depends on the other members' votes."
"As for the Order of Merlin, it's as I said—the Animagus Reversal Charm is a greater invention than the Wolfsbane Potion. It's not just werewolves. It might even lead to solutions for wizards afflicted by the Blood Curse."
"Professor, the Blood Curse isn't the same as lycanthropy," Dudley said, shaking his head.
He'd studied the Blood Curse. Lycanthropy and the Blood Curse both caused beastly transformations, but they were entirely different beasts, so to speak. It was like comparing Fiendfyre to a regular flame—both produced fire, but they weren't remotely the same.
The Blood Curse was far more complex. Lycanthropy affected only one generation—aside from rare cases, like a werewolf born from two transformed werewolves, it wasn't hereditary. The Blood Curse, though, clung like a parasite, passed down through generations. In its later stages, victims lost their memories entirely, becoming pure beasts.
"But it's a step in the right direction, isn't it?" Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.
Soon after, Snape and Dudley left the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore, about to reach for another sweet, was interrupted by a soft whimper. He turned to see a shivering, bald werewolf—left behind, forgotten in the corner.
"Well, now," Dumbledore said, surprised.