Harry Potter: Dudley From LOTM

On the long walk back to the castle, Harry and Ron were consumed by an intense, worried discussion about the unicorn attack, their minds alight with theories of dark wizards infiltrating Hogwarts. Hagrid, lumbering beside them, repeatedly emphasized that with Professor Dumbledore at the school, Hogwarts was the safest place in the world, telling them not to worry.

Dudley, however, remained silent, his mind a whirlwind of calculation and debate. He had seen the truth of the evil lurking within Professor Quirrell. It was an extraordinary threat, a ticking time bomb that could bring disaster upon the entire school. He should report it. But he couldn't do it himself; it would draw too much attention, invite too much scrutiny. An anonymous report, perhaps?

But even as he considered the logistics, a deeper, more unsettling question surfaced. Do I really want to get involved in these conflicts? He had learned, through brutal experience, that curiosity and a penchant for getting involved often led to trouble, pain, and death.

Hagrid escorted them to the castle entrance and then departed, leaving the three boys to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Suddenly, Dudley stopped dead in the middle of the corridor.

His expression shifted. Something inside him, a pressure he had grown accustomed to, had vanished. The Lawyer and Arbitrator characteristics, the very foundation of his current power, had finally, completely, been digested. They were now a seamless, integrated part of his soul.

In their place, two new, gelatinous substances materialized within him. They were the Beyonder Characteristics of Sequence 8: the Barbarian and the Sheriff.

So my initial conjecture was correct, he confirmed. The characteristics of the higher sequences are sealed within my body, appearing only when the previous stage has been fully digested. This also meant that his power was not appearing out of thin air; it was the result of potions he had consumed in his past life. He was simply re-digesting them.

A sobering realization followed. This means my potential in this world is capped. The highest I can reach here is the highest I reached in that other world. He had no more characteristics beyond that point. What sequence had he reached? The memory was a frustrating, sealed black box in his mind.

He pushed the thought aside and focused on the present. He reached out with his will and began to absorb the two new characteristics.

The whispers returned. A cacophony of maddening, ancient voices echoed in his ears, impacting his mind, causing the very stones of the corridor to seem to twist and distort. But this time, the sensation was weaker, more manageable. Just as he had discovered before, the risk of losing control was significantly diminished in this world. He suppressed the whispers with a practiced mental effort.

"Dudley, what's wrong?"

He hadn't realized that Harry and Ron had walked on ahead. They had noticed his absence and were now running back, their faces etched with concern.

"Nothing," Dudley said with a faint smile, his composure returning. "I was just thinking about something."

"What is it?" Harry asked, studying his cousin's face. Something about him had changed, a subtle shift in his presence, a new weight to his authority.

"I was thinking," Dudley said, his voice calm and reassuring, "that the wizard who attacked the unicorn was likely only after the unicorn itself. He probably won't attack us students. So, we don't need to worry too much."

"That won't do," Ron argued immediately. "Even if it was just an attack on a unicorn, it's still an evil, dangerous act. We need to be careful and warn others."

Harry nodded in agreement. "The castle might not be absolutely safe either."

Dudley shook his head with a touch of exasperated fondness. "Don't worry," he said. "Even if something does happen, it won't fall on us. We don't need to worry." With him there, with his heightened senses and past experience, he could avoid most dangers.

"But these things could happen to other people," Harry insisted, a frown creasing his brow.

Dudley pursed his lips. He pondered for a moment, then asked, his voice neutral, "And what does that have to do with us?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look of genuine surprise, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them.

"Perhaps it's just my imagination, Dudley," Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "but you seem very… indifferent… to other people." He had wanted to say cold, but the word felt too harsh.

"Am I?" Dudley asked, a genuine note of surprise in his voice.

Harry nodded. "You haven't really made many friends at school. So far, only Ron, and maybe Hermione, are relatively familiar with you. You've barely interacted with anyone else." He hesitated, then pressed on. "And did you mean just now that as long as we're not in danger, the lives of others don't matter?"

Ron chimed in, his usual boisterousness gone. "And sometimes… sometimes you feel detached from us. Like you're not really participating, just… observing."

"Is that so?" Dudley mused, a flicker of something he couldn't identify stirring within him.

"Yes," Harry and Ron said in unison.

Dudley narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he had experienced too much. Perhaps returning from a world of horrors had stripped him of his youthful enthusiasm, leaving only a cold, analytical core. Or perhaps… perhaps it was the influence of the Beyonder characteristics, slowly eroding his humanity.

He suddenly realized a terrifying problem. If he had reached a very high sequence in that other world, then how much of his original humanity was even left? The question made his hair stand on end, a cold sweat breaking over him.

He had originally decided to ignore Quirrell. As long as the possessed professor didn't directly threaten him or his friends, he could have calmly observed the situation unfold without interference. But when Harry had asked him if he cared about the lives of others, he had felt that flicker again. That cold, indifferent logic… it was not the thinking of a normal human boy.

If this were the Tarot Society, how would they choose? he wondered. They would probably interfere. At the very least, Mr. Fool would anonymously report it to the church. A faint, dry chuckle escaped his lips at the thought.

Let's see how things go, he decided, a new resolve forming. I'll find an opportunity to anonymously report Professor Quirrell. He had to. Not just for the safety of the school, but for the preservation of his own soul.

Having made his decision, he didn't linger in the common room. He needed to rest, to let his mind and spirit recover from the shock of his promotion.

(End of Chapter)

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