Inside the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was dressed in a rare formal outfit. He wore a sleek, brimless round hat and a finely embroidered silk robe, its hem adorned with translucent silk that gave him an air of ethereal wisdom.
"Dudley, has something good happened recently? You seem in high spirits," Dumbledore asked with a warm smile.
If anyone was in high spirits, it was clearly Dumbledore himself.
"Just thinking about some happy memories," Dudley replied casually, offering a perfunctory excuse. He returned a smile, though to many, his smile wasn't much different from a scowl.
"Professor, that outfit doesn't look like the standard Wizengamot robe, does it?" Dudley noted.
Wizengamot members had a specific uniform: a plum-colored robe paired with a flat top hat, featuring a delicate silver "W" embroidered on the left chest.
Dumbledore's attire, however, had no trace of plum or a silver "W."
"As Chief Warlock, I do get a few privileges," Dumbledore said with a playful wink.
The plum robes were far too flashy for his taste. He much preferred pure purple or soft lavender hues.
"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked. "It's about time we headed over."
"Ready whenever you are, Professor," Dudley said with a shrug, signaling he was good to go.
Dumbledore turned to the phoenix nest in the office. "Fawkes, if you please."
Hogwarts was enchanted by its four founders to prevent Apparition within the castle, a rule even the Headmaster couldn't bypass. However, the restriction didn't apply to non-wizard creatures, like magical animals or house-elves.
Phoenixes were among the rare magical creatures capable of Apparition.
At the sound of his name, Fawkes poked his head out of his nest, letting out a lazy squawk in response to Dumbledore.
Peering over his half-moon glasses, Dumbledore said uncertainly, "Have you… put on a bit of weight?"
A bit? Fawkes had clearly packed on a lot of pounds.
If he still vaguely resembled a phoenix before, now he looked more like a plump red chicken.
Blame it on the food.
Ever since Fawkes got chummy with Crookshanks, he'd never gone a day without a steady supply of magical creature treats.
Fawkes squawked again, finally deigning to leave his nest. He flapped his wings and landed on Dudley's shoulder next to Dumbledore, moving with surprising ease despite his bulk.
His larger size didn't seem to hinder his flight one bit. Don't let his small frame fool you—Fawkes could carry creatures over a hundred times his weight.
That round belly? If Fawkes wanted, he could burn it off in an instant. He was simply savoring the slow process of digesting his meals.
Phoenixes were among the most powerful magical creatures. If they weren't naturally disinclined to attack wizards, they'd easily earn a 5X danger rating.
"Thanks, Fawkes," Dudley said, scratching the phoenix's chin with practiced ease. Fawkes squinted in delight, clearly enjoying it.
It wasn't just cats that loved a good chin scratch—most furry creatures did.
"At this rate, Fawkes might forget who I am," Dumbledore teased.
Dudley just shook his head with a smile. Even with all the magical creature treats in the world, he couldn't take Fawkes away. Phoenixes were fiercely loyal, and throughout history, they'd almost never been tamed by wizards. When they were, they bonded with only one—Fawkes's wizard was Dumbledore.
Fawkes might like Dudley, but his loyalty was to Dumbledore alone.
With a flap of his wings, Fawkes hovered above them. A soft, non-blinding white light enveloped them, and in an instant, both Dudley and Dumbledore vanished from the Headmaster's office.
When they reappeared, they were standing on a London street—specifically, near Whitehall.
Dumbledore gave a subtle wave of his wand, gently nudging away any Muggles who might've come too close.
"I take it you've never been to the Ministry of Magic, Dudley?" Dumbledore asked.
They stopped in front of a dilapidated red telephone booth, surrounded by rundown buildings, a dingy pub, and a graffiti-covered wall. Even in the heart of bustling London, the area felt grimy.
England's sanitation workers weren't exactly known for their diligence—their wages barely covered the effort of daily cleanups. Force them to meet strict quotas, and they'd likely stage a collective strike.
Dudley nodded. "No, Professor, I haven't."
"Then come along," Dumbledore said, pushing open the telephone booth's door.
Once inside, Dumbledore dialed a number—Dudley caught the digits: 62442.
A woman's voice echoed from above, asking their purpose for visiting the Ministry. The telephone spat out a silver badge with their names and purpose, and the booth began to descend like an elevator for about a minute before coming to a smooth stop.
Dudley and Dumbledore stepped out.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Dudley," Dumbledore said.
"Thank you, Professor," Dudley replied.
They'd arrived at the Ministry's main entrance, where elevators could take them to any department. Unlike Hogwarts, the Ministry wasn't warded against Apparition, but only Ministry employees were encouraged to use it. Others risked being mistaken for intruders.
Their destination was the Wizengamot's chambers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, located on the second basement level.
The Ministry itself spanned ten underground levels.
For the record, they were currently on the eighth basement level.
In this era, an underground complex like this was honestly pretty impressive.
Following Dumbledore, they reached the Atrium, where a circular pool stood at the center. In the middle was a group of golden statues depicting a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf—the famous Fountain of Magical Brethren.
The wizard and witch stood proudly in the center, with the centaur, goblin, and house-elf surrounding them, gazing up in apparent adoration.
Dumbledore paused by the fountain. "Wizards don't earn the respect of centaurs or goblins. Many don't even treat them as equals. They're often seen as beasts, enemies, or servants. The 'Fountain of Magical Brethren' isn't a fountain of brotherhood—it's a fountain of hypocrisy."
A passing wizard overheard and nodded thoughtfully, as if reflecting on the truth of Dumbledore's words.
Dumbledore's remark was profound, but Dudley had his own thoughts on the matter.
The description of the area around the Ministry's telephone booth is based on the books, not the pristine streets shown in the films.