The Wizengamot consisted of exactly fifty members, including the Chief Warlock. To join, you had to wait for someone to step down—or be forced out.
Dudley got lucky. Just as Dumbledore nominated him, "coincidentally," a Wizengamot member was caught in a major corruption scandal and stripped of their position. Dudley smoothly stepped in as the replacement.
After a tedious review process, his appointment was finalized alongside the approval for a First-Class Order of Merlin.
Dumbledore briefly recounted Dudley's achievements, then cleared his throat for the formal announcement.
"As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I hereby declare that Mr. Dudley Dursley is officially a member of the Wizengamot."
This was one of the few powers Dumbledore still held as Chief Warlock: the right to judge or proclaim.
But that might not last. By next year, even this authority could be snatched away by the Ministry.
The title of Chief Warlock would become a hollow name, no different from any other Wizengamot member.
Nobody wanted an organization holding them back.
With Dumbledore stepping back from power, wasn't this the perfect chance for a takeover?
Fudge might be incompetent, but he wasn't a complete fool. No one would pass up such an opportunity. If it were someone else, the Wizengamot would've become the Ministry's puppet years ago.
The wizarding world could only have one voice—one allowed voice.
As Dumbledore made the announcement, the room erupted in thunderous applause. Whether it was for Dudley's appointment or something else, who could say?
A servant presented Dudley with his purple robe, which he accepted with a smile.
The whole process went off without a hitch. None of the clichéd drama from novels—no one jumping out to cause trouble, no face-slapping, no "take down the young and the old come next" nonsense.
Even if Dumbledore's era had faded, his influence lingered. No wizard would dare disrespect him to his face.
Unless, of course, a Ministry higher-up stepped forward.
"So, how does it feel to receive a First-Class Order of Merlin? Only a handful in all of Europe share that honor," Dumbledore asked Dudley afterward.
"If I cared about that sort of thing, I wouldn't have brought up Heimer's name, Professor," Dudley replied, toying with the medal. It was gold-colored, with a bold red "1" in the center. Honestly, the Order of Merlin wasn't much to look at—just brass with a thin gold plating.
The medal was just a means to an end, a way to honor the late Heimer and spread word of his spell.
Werewolves were loyal allies of the Death Eaters and one of the Ministry's biggest headaches.
Would the Aurors, now armed with the Human Restoration Curse, crack down on werewolves?
You bet.
Pitting the Ministry against the werewolves, letting them wear each other down, was the smartest move. It also opened the door to winning over wizards who'd been turned against their will. With the Restoration Curse, they could live normal lives again.
"What's it like joining the Wizengamot?" Dumbledore asked next.
The Wizengamot was both a wizarding court and parliament, wielding significant power with a lot of freedom. Outside major cases, any member could act as a chief judge, and even in big trials, they were all jurors.
Dudley shrugged. "Doesn't feel much different, Professor."
Being a member was just his first step.
Dumbledore nodded, pleased.
No arrogance, no getting carried away by honors—Dudley was more grounded than Dumbledore had been at that age.
Perfect.
Dumbledore knew about Dudley's little maneuvers but saw no issue with them. He and that other wizard had done the same in their day.
As long as Dudley didn't go down Tom's path.
"Professor, how's the case with that rat and Black going?" Dudley asked as they left the hall.
"Peter and Sirius's case is a big deal, especially since it involves the previous Minister. It can't be decided lightly—it'll take multiple trials," Dumbledore explained.
In truth, the "big deal" was just Fudge's excuse. The Ministry had taken over Sirius's case, and dragging it out was the plan. The longer it went, the more "Brilliant Minister Fudge" could become a household name.
A single news story or Daily Prophet article would fade quickly. Wizards had short memories.
After all, Fudge's tenure had little to boast about. Milking this case was in his best interest.
"What, you want it resolved sooner?" Dumbledore asked, curious.
"Nah, I hope he stays locked up a bit longer," Dudley said.
By the way, all those ideas were Dudley's doing—don't expect Fudge or his Ministry cronies to come up with such schemes on their own.
Dudley's real goal? Keep Sirius "locked up" a while longer.
The guy was just too annoying.
Ideally, Dudley wouldn't have to deal with him until the school year ended.
As Dumbledore started to say something else, he was interrupted by Griselda Marchbanks, Tiberius Ogden, and a few other elderly wizards.
"Dumbledore, you finally show up and don't even visit your old friends?" they teased.
Dumbledore sighed. He knew this would happen, but he couldn't ignore them completely.
He glanced at Dudley, ready to use sending him back to Hogwarts as an excuse.
Before he could speak, Dudley cut in. "Professor, I'm not a kid who can't find his way back. And don't worry—I've got a few friends at the Ministry."
That shut Dumbledore up.
"True, Fawkes is quite fond of you," he said with a wry smile.
As he left, the old wizards surrounded Dumbledore, practically boxing him in to keep him from slipping away.
Watching him go, Dudley shook his head. He didn't actually go looking for Ministry "friends." His seniors there were still green—far from ready to make waves.
He left the Ministry.
In a secluded corner, he transformed into another persona, made a phone call, and summoned a car.
Same old suitcase, same old street, same old alley.
The same place he'd visited years ago as "Grigwitch."
Dudley put on the familiar brown top hat, stepped out of the car with his suitcase, and walked to the end of the alley.
He knocked on that familiar door.