Chapter 331: Gellert Grindelwald
In Surrey, on a dim side street near Little Whinging, there was a soft crack.
A man in black robes stepped out of the shadows.
"Dobby, what are you planning to do now?" Dudley asked, glancing at the house‑elf at his side.
Dobby's face took on a thoughtful look. He was completely free now.
He had dreamed of this moment for so long, but now that it was here, he suddenly did not quite know what to do with himself.
"I think I will travel for a while first, then decide what to do next," he said after a pause.
"All right. But you must be careful. Lucius will not let you go so easily," Dudley said.
"Dobby understands," Dobby said, nodding.
"Here. One hundred Galleons. That should last you for some time. Take it," Dudley said, pulling a heavy handful of gold from his pocket and offering it over.
"This..." Dobby hesitated, not taking the money.
"This is your payment for going undercover at Malfoy Manor. We agreed on this, did we not?" Dudley said, pressing the Galleons into his hand.
"And you will need money if you are going to travel."
"Thank you, Mr Dursley," Dobby said, eyes bright with emotion.
"If you run into danger or anything else, remember you can come to me at any time," Dudley added.
Dobby promised he would, snapped his fingers, and vanished.
Once Dobby was gone, Dudley did not hurry away. He stayed in the alley and waited for the Polyjuice Potion to wear off.
After a while, the muscles under his skin rippled. A few minutes later, his appearance returned to normal, and he changed back into his own clothes.
"Apparition," he murmured.
With a twist, he appeared back in his bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive.
The familiar surroundings eased something inside him. He sat on the bed and drew out the Emperor card.
"The Desecrated Card. Never thought it would show up in this world as well," he said softly, looking at the illustration.
The card conferred resistance to divination and prophecy, held the potion formulas for its Pathway, and could attract Beyonder characteristics of the same Pathway.
For Dudley, though, most of those functions were of limited use.
He already had the necessary Beyonder characteristics within him and only needed time to fully digest them. Potion formulas meant nothing to him now. As for drawing in more Justiciar traits, that was even less relevant. In this magical world, there were no matching Beyonder characteristics to attract.
The only part with any value was the anti‑divination, anti‑prophecy effect. Even that mattered little. His own high status as a Beyonder already granted him a similar degree of protection.
Besides, from what he knew of the magical world, divination here was still in its infancy. Almost no one was capable of making accurate prophecies or targeted readings about him.
"It might at least be handy for projecting my spirit. More convenient than the Trunsoest Brass Book," he mused.
After thinking for a moment, he put the Emperor card away.
Then he opened his bedroom door and went downstairs.
"The party is not over yet?" he muttered.
By the time on the clock, they should have been home already.
He frowned and waited a while longer, but there was still no sign of Harry or the others.
"Apparition."
He Disapparated again and appeared just outside the hotel.
Most of the guests had already gone. Dudley followed the corridor back to the main hall, soon reaching the room where Harry's birthday dinner had been held.
"What happened?" he asked as he stepped into chaos.
The floor was strewn with leftovers, smashed plates, and bowls. Several tables lay in pieces on the ground.
Only Harry and Hermione were still in the hall. His parents were nowhere to be seen, and there were no hotel staff around either.
"Oh, Dudley, you are finally back," Hermione said, sagging with relief when she saw him.
Part of that relief was simple: Dudley had made it back alive from Malfoy Manor. The rest was the knowledge that someone was finally here who could take charge of this mess.
Harry, catching sight of him, pressed his lips together and looked away, guilt flickering in his eyes.
"Harry and your aunt had a bit of a row and, um... blew up one of the tables," Hermione said helplessly.
"I am sorry. I did not mean to. I just... could not control myself," Harry said, head hanging.
The Dursleys had been good to him these past two years. He had never wanted this to happen. But in that moment, he had been so furious that his magic had slipped free.
"What exactly did Aunt Marge say?" Dudley asked, frowning.
Harry's emotions were usually steady. For him to lose control of his magic like that said a lot about how far he had been pushed.
"She... insulted Harry's parents," Hermione said quietly. "Said his 'bad blood' was inherited from them. And she said..." She trailed off, unable to repeat the rest.
"I see," Dudley said with a nod. He looked at Harry. "Blowing up a table is nothing. You have been more restrained than Seamus, honestly."
The tension in the air eased. At the reminder of Seamus's mishaps, both Hermione and Harry could not help but smile.
"Where is everyone?" Dudley asked.
"They went to their rooms. Your parents thought it best to give Aunt Marge some space to calm down," Hermione said.
"Mm."
Dudley nodded. Keeping Harry and Marge apart for now was definitely the right call.
"How did things go at Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked, quickly steering the topic away.
"Well enough. Though Lucius did catch me," Dudley said.
"What?" Harry and Hermione yelped together.
They could not imagine how "well enough" and "Lucius caught me" fit into the same sentence.
"It is fine. It just means Dobby cannot stay at the Manor as a spy," Dudley explained. "I gave him some money. He has gone off travelling."
"And did you get what you wanted?" Harry asked.
"I did," Dudley said. "Though if I get the chance, I will probably need to visit Malfoy Manor again."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. Was Dudley getting addicted to breaking into the Malfoys' home?
"I will go check on Aunt Marge and suggest she head home tomorrow. That way, we will not have to deal with her in the days after," Dudley said, turning towards the stairs.
He had barely stepped out of the hall when that eerie sensation of being watched settled onto him.
It was a feeling he knew well. He had experienced the same thing leaving King's Cross Station.