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Harry Potter: Dudley From LOTM - 338
🕑 Added 2025-12-04 18:14:36 +0000 UTCChapter 338: Path to the Abyss
After soothing Harry and Hermione, Dumbledore Disapparated. He had far too many matters to handle now, each more headache‑inducing than the last.
Once he was gone, Scrimgeour turned a dark look on Dudley.
"Boy, I will find proof of your crimes," he said coldly. "Pray you never fall into my hands."
"Afraid you will not get that chance," Dudley replied with a calm smile.
Scrimgeour’s fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to stride over and punch him.
This thirteen‑year‑old brat seemed to hit every sore spot he had, lighting his temper like tinder every time he opened his mouth.
With a sharp turn, Scrimgeour stalked away to examine the magical traces in the room.
He was genuinely afraid that if he stayed near Dudley any longer, he would not be able to stop himself from drawing his wand.
Dudley watched his retreating back, his eyes growing steadily colder.
He has a Sealed Artifact on him, almost certainly, Dudley thought.
Looking back over his own emotions, he had realised he had been steered by some strange influence. Without it, he would never have resorted to such an extreme measure to handle the situation.
He did not know whether there were Dark artefacts in this world capable of tampering with his mood. If they existed at all, they would be very rare.
Yet with his current strength, something had still managed to nudge him without his notice. Whatever it was, it was powerful.
That naturally made him think of Sealed Artifacts.
"Likely something from the Abyss Pathway," he mused. "I was going to warn him just now. Looking at things, there is no need."
The stronger a Sealed Artifact, the worse its side effects.
Scrimgeour’s behaviour made it obvious he was already under its influence. If this continued, it would not be long before he became the problem.
"Let us go home," Dudley said to Harry and Hermione.
"All right," they both nodded.
Little Whinging, Number Four, Privet Drive.
It was late at night, but no one in the Dursley family had gone to bed yet.
Hermione had stayed over. She had phoned her parents and told them she had had a wonderful evening and would not be coming back tonight.
Vernon and Petunia, on the other hand, were still badly shaken.
They had witnessed everything that had just happened. They had seen exactly how terrifying the wizarding world could be.
It was nothing like the bright picture Dudley had painted for them in the past. It lined up far more closely with their old, fearful prejudices of magic as something dangerous and monstrous.
For the first time, they found themselves wondering if agreeing to let Dudley attend Hogwarts had been a mistake.
For Dudley, though, this was not much of a problem. It did not take him long to "persuade" his parents and send them upstairs to rest.
Aunt Marge was still unconscious under the Stunning Spell.
In the sitting room, only Harry, Hermione, and Dudley remained.
"Dudley, what actually happened tonight?" Harry asked.
Up until now, they had only caught fragments from his exchanges with the adults. They did not yet have the full shape of events, including what he had done at Malfoy Manor while he was away.
“What’s done doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that the problems ahead of us are only going to grow, and they’re only going to get more dangerous,” Dudley said.
He lounged back against the sofa, speaking while his thoughts turned.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a look. Neither spoke, but each saw the weight in the other’s eyes.
Danger was everywhere.
If Grindelwald could appear at their side, what threat was truly off the table anymore?
"You need to raise your strength as quickly as you can," Dudley said. "At the very least, enough to protect yourselves."
Harry and Hermione both nodded at once.
"And I need to start thinking properly about my parents’ safety," Dudley added, glancing up at the ceiling.
He had once believed that this world and that eerie Beyonder world were not the same. That the magical and Muggle worlds here were clearly separated, with little impact on one another.
Everything that had happened today had shown him how naive that was.
Harry’s birthday ended amid conflict and crisis.
The next day.
Hermione went home, thoughts swirling. Aunt Marge, after Dudley applied a few "methods," was sent back to her house in the country.
Dudley waited through the morning. Around noon, Kingsley finally appeared outside Number Four.
"How did it go?" Dudley asked, stepping out of the house.
"Professor Dumbledore vouched for you. The Ministry will not trouble you for now," Kingsley said.
"Good."
"But..." Kingsley hesitated, then decided to share Dumbledore’s difficulty anyway. "On this point, Minister Fudge is very displeased with Dumbledore. It has not exploded yet, but no one can say what might happen later."
"I understand. Thank Professor Dumbledore for me," Dudley said.
"There was something else odd last night," Kingsley went on.
"What happened?"
"According to my colleagues, someone broke into Malfoy Manor, injured Lucius Malfoy, and took something," Kingsley said. "But Lucius himself does not seem eager for us to look into it. He has not even given a full account of what happened."
"Someone managed to break into Malfoy Manor?" Dudley let surprise show on his face.
"Yes. It is strange. We are still investigating."
"A lot did happen last night," Dudley said with a nod. "How is Scrimgeour?"
Kingsley’s expression tightened. He briefly outlined what had followed.
After they returned, Scrimgeour had flown into a rage. He had torn into Kingsley and the others for their "performance," and even threatened to transfer them out of the Auror Office altogether.
In the end, the sheer shortage of manpower had forced him to drop the idea.
"One last thing," Kingsley said. "We did find some magical traces, but we are not yet sure whether they belong to Grindelwald. If we learn more, I will come and tell you."
With that, seeing the time, he Disapparated.
Dudley’s gaze swept the street.
He could clearly feel several presences fixed on the house.
"Scrimgeour has sent people to watch me again? No wonder they are short‑handed," he said with a cold little laugh, and turned back into his room.
The summer holidays passed in a blur. In the blink of an eye, it was time for school again.
Only this year, from the very start, it felt as though peace was the one thing they were not going to get.
