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"Big D, can you let me touch that treasure of yours? Just for a second. I swear I absolutely won't damage it."
On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station, Ron pleaded in a low voice while waiting for his parents to arrive.
"Here."
Dudley pulled the item from his pocket and tossed it to Ron as casually as if it were nothing.
It was the Third-Class Order of Merlin he had received in the Great Hall.
To be honest, he did not care much about it.
The Order of Merlin was an honor awarded by the Order of Merlin, one of the oldest magical organizations in the wizarding world, founded by the legendary Merlin himself, far older than something like the Ministry of Magic. And yet, for an organization with such ancient roots, all it really did now was hand out medals and remind people that it still existed.
In truth, the Order of Merlin was just a kind of honorary decoration.
Its symbolic value far outweighed any practical value.
It was not that big a deal.
As long as you donated enough money, getting a First-Class Order was nothing particularly rare. A member of the pure-blood Black family had done exactly that before.
Though it was not really worth much in substance, it was still enough to impress outsiders.
One look at the way Ron held it like some priceless treasure made that obvious.
Even Malfoy leaned in to take a look.
In theory, a family with as much "illustrious history" as the Malfoys should not have found the Order of Merlin particularly special.
Yet the truth was that the Malfoy family really did not have one.
Dudley waved goodbye to Malfoy, Ron, and Neville one by one.
The people who came to pick Ron up were an eye-catching whole family of redheads.
The one who came for Neville was an older witch who looked stern and carried an imposing presence.
And the one who came for Malfoy was a man with long pale blond hair and the same pallid skin as his son.
When he took Malfoy away, his gaze lingered on Harry for a moment.
Before long, the young students at the station had all left.
Looking at the sky, which was gradually dimming, Dudley said to Hermione and Harry beside him,
"I'm guessing... our parents forgot to come get us."
Sometimes, when parents got along a little too well, it became a burden on the kids.
...
At that very moment, on Privet Drive...
The Grangers and the Dursleys were gathered in the yard having a barbecue, as if they were celebrating something.
Suddenly...
Petunia seemed to remember something and turned to Vernon.
"Vernon, do you think we forgot something important?"
"My dear, that's the ninety-ninth time you've asked that."
Vernon happily swallowed a slightly charred little sausage.
He really loved that flavor.
"We haven't forgotten anything."
"Dudley and the others aren't coming back until the ninth. Today's only the sixth. There are still three whole days left."
Mr. Granger, his face already slightly flushed from drinking, cut in.
"No, you remembered wrong. Hermione said they were coming back on the sixth."
"Wait... today is the sixth, isn't it?"
Vernon: ...
Petunia: ...
Mrs. Granger: ...
After a brief silence, it was Petunia who broke it.
"It's fine. Dudley's there. They'll manage to get back on their own."
That was right.
With Dudley around, what was there to worry about?
And besides, even if they rushed over now, it would already be too late.
So the music kept playing, the dancing kept going, and the barbecue and beer carried right on.
In the end, Dudley, Harry, and Hermione made it back to Privet Drive without any trouble.
Of course, they took a taxi.
Every young wizard had received a notice before leaving Hogwarts:
No magic was to be used during the holidays.
Dudley, however, did not care about that in the slightest.
If they could actually prove he had cast magic, then good for them.
Looking at Vernon and Mr. Granger sprawled across the living room floor, dead drunk, shirts open and arms wrapped around each other, the three of them exchanged a glance and saw the same helplessness in each other's eyes.
Their fathers really were not reliable at all.
As for their mothers, Petunia and Mrs. Granger were on the sofa in the sitting room, wiping away tears in front of the television.
It was a romantic drama.
The moment they saw Dudley and the others, they welcomed them back, asked a few questions about life at Hogwarts, and then told them to go amuse themselves and not interrupt while they watched their show.
Wonderful.
They really were their parents, all right.
Other people's holidays were actual holidays.
Dudley's holidays were pure work.
There was not even a second to waste.
Every minute of his time had already been planned out.
One should not forget that he had opened a company in the Muggle world. Even if simply maintaining the IP's popularity was enough to keep pounds flowing in nonstop, it still needed to be managed.
Harry, for his part, was already used to that.
After all, this was Dudley.
So he threw himself even harder into reading.
He wanted to become Dudley's right-hand man.
He still remembered the promise that a position would be reserved for him.
Every day was basically nothing but reading and more reading.
There was not much else to do.
Underage wizards could not just use magic whenever they wanted.
Of course, it was not only Muggle money Dudley intended to earn.
Wizard money had to come in too.
He had to push on both fronts.
And he had to push hard.
No one understood the value and convenience money could bring better than Dudley.
Money was not everything.
But it probably solved ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent of everything.
Ever since the holidays started, Hedwig had practically become Dudley's personal courier.
Every day she was either flying or on her way to fly.
But with the special feed Dudley prepared for her, Hedwig had no complaints at all.
Dudley had been corresponding with Carrow.
Of course, it was not about publishing the second volume of Dragonlance Chronicles.
Nor was it about a new novel.
After all, anyone who wanted to make money could not rely on a single field.
Had he not asked Ron before to gather information on wizarding entertainment?
Given how scarce entertainment options were in the wizarding world, Dudley already had a new idea in mind...
Carrow, who was gradually starting to handle the family business, showed great interest in it.
The first volume of Dragonlance Chronicles had not only saved Witches and Potions Publishing, it had also made a huge profit.
That made Carrow, who had already begun to look at Dudley differently, take him even more seriously.
No one turns against money.
Especially not a pure-blood.
So the two hit it off at once.
Now they were only discussing specific details.
When someone first arrived in the wizarding world, everything felt new and amazing.
But after staying there long enough, it really was not all that different from the Muggle world.
It had its inconveniences too.
For example, using owls to exchange letters was nowhere near as convenient as using a telephone.
After five straight days of exchanging messages with Carrow and still failing to reach a conclusion, Dudley decisively put pen to paper:
"Dear Mr. Carrow,"
Dudley arranged to meet Carrow in Hogsmeade three days later to talk face-to-face.
He could not stand sending one message and then maybe waiting several hours for a reply.
That level of inefficiency was ridiculous.
Just then, he heard his mother calling from downstairs.
"Dudley, phone for you! It's Hermione!"
"Okay, I'm coming."
With heavy footsteps, Dudley headed downstairs.
The two of them practically spent hours on the phone every day.
Maybe in the future, he could try using magic to increase the speed of communication.
Something like a telephone, where both sides could talk whenever they wanted.
If real-time messaging were possible, that would be even better.
Otherwise, how could he justify the new ability he had just obtained?
"Defeated Voldemort's remnant soul once. Reward: Magic Armor Modification LV1."
"Prevented Gryffindor from winning the House Cup. Reward: Magical Creature Taming Technique LV1."
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