"...my father, a man who lived life as he saw fit. He was… present, in his own way, and carried himself with a certain determination, be it right or wrong…"
All this money. Two lives. How was I so blind? Why didn't I do anything about it? I could have bought an army to protect myself if…
Raindrops tapped on his coat-covered shoulders as he stood before Vernon's casket, reading an eulogy. It felt as if even the sky was mocking his folly. So what if he had all that money when his death was still a mere flick of a wand away?
"People knew him. He had routines, beliefs, and experiences that shaped his life and mind. He worked, he spoke, he existed, and now he rests. I suppose that is the way of things. May he find peace in what lies next. We will remember him… Thank you."
It was an extremely stiff eulogy, lacking any personal touch or feelings. Even Dudley's face remained plain, unchanged, with no tears, no frowns, unaffected as if. He finished reading, folded the paper, and placed it in his pocket, stepping back.
He couldn't just act as if Vernon was a saint. The man had mistreated a baby, a toddler, a kid for years. There was certainly hell awaiting for the man if there was one. But Dudley knew this wasn't how Vernon deserved to go.
It was Lucius. It's definitely him.
Dudley had come to that conclusion after thinking about it a lot. Vernon's body had no injuries, not even the ones that came from falling onto the ground. For a man of Vernon's size, falling on the hard ground had to leave bruises behind. But there was none, and the muggle verdict was that he died from a heart attack.
He raised his head and watched the casket being lowered into the prepared grave. He looked around at the dozen or so figures who had come over. Not just muggles but a lot of wizards—Hufflepuff's head of the house, Hannah with her parents, Susan with Madam Bones, Sirius, Lily, Harry, Grangers, Weasleys, and even Dumbledore were there.
Petunia was a mess, crying uncontrollably. Thankfully, Vernon's elder sister, Marjorie was there to handle her.
Eventually, the grave was filled with soil.
"Take Mum home," Dudley ordered his aunt Marjorie and stayed behind, watching people pay respects one last time, come over to him, pat his shoulder, say how sorry they were, and leave.
First to leave were most of the muggles, mostly Vernon's colleagues. Then came wizards, Dumbledore first with Professor Sprout.
"Dudley!" Susan embraced him in a hug, her eyes more tearful than his own. Then came Hannah, and eventually they also left. The last ones to leave were Harry, the Grangers, and the Weasleys.
But for some reason, Lily had stayed behind. She approached him last and hugged him. To her, he responded, knowing she was the only person who knew the truth about him. The truth to why his eulogy lacked emotions.
"What will you do?" She asked.
Dudley studied her face for a moment, then let out a small sigh. "What gets me is that I don't feel anything. I know I should, but it's like my memories and emotions are distant, like they're not really mine. I can't fake it, not when all I can do is overthink it—so, yeah. Nothing. I won't do anything."
"You don't feel anything?" she asked, her eyes revealing genuine worry.
"Oh, I feel plenty—anger, disappointment, even rage. But I'm not about to let them see me lose my head. That's what they want, isn't it? For me to throw a fit like some child. No, I'll handle this my way, in my own time. Whatever happens, Vernon was my Dad, and he was murdered. There's only one way this ends."
"They?" Lily reached for his shoulder. "Who? I thought he was…"
"Leave it… You've got enough to deal with." Dudley pushed her hand away, his expression uneasy. He had not an ounce of confidence in their competence. If the world-famous Dumbledore couldn't do anything, there was no hope. "Don't go thinking I'll be leaping into your battles, waving a flag. I meant what I said—I want no part in this, not with you, not with that Dark Lord. I'll do what's necessary for my own… and Mum's survival."
"You're angry, Dudley."
"No kidding." Dudley huffed and waved his hand to his car driver in the distance. "I'll be home by night. Do me a favor and try to stay near Mum. I don't have the necessary emotional connection with her to calm her down. Only you know what she's probably feeling like."
Lily had already planned on doing that, so she simply nodded. "Take care, Dudley. Try not to do anything reckless."
"I know."
He walked straight to his company car and headed to his workplace. Only three days were left until the start of 4th year at Hogwarts so he didn't really have a lot of time to put things in motion.
It was raining profusely that day, the traffic making Dudley crazy. He still couldn't Apparate so the frustration grew. But he kept himself calm, having faced a lot more stress than this in his past life. Sadly, none of those were life-threatening like this one.
On top of that, there was no smartphone that he could use to plan his next steps. The tools he needed were only available at the company.
"Mr. Dursley, we've arrived." The driver parked the car in front of the D&D Capital's building.
"It's alright." Just as the driver was about to get out and hold an umbrella, Dudley took out his wand and tapped it on himself, drying his clothes. "You can go have lunch."
The driver was a squib. A son of two muggle-born wizards who had died during the previous Voldemort rising. With no inherited wealth to depend on and being a young orphan, his life wasn't a piece of cake. Forced to live a life between wizards and muggles, the man struggled to thrive in both. Without a wizarding education, or a higher muggle education, forced to remain a low-level blue-collar worker. That was until Dudley hired him.
Thankfully, the squibs were registered in the Ministry and it was easy to find men who hated Voldemort from the heart. But still, Dudley only looked for those who had families to care for, hence a lot more to lose by betraying him.
But now, Dudley had realized that money wasn't enough of a motivator. A squib would instantly betray him if his family was threatened by the Dark Lord. No, he needed enough strength to make all those working for him feel secure even against the Dark Lord.
He got out of the car and ran into the office building. With the ground floor acting as a nice, cozy, picturesque cafe, and the second floor being an upscale restaurant, he went to the elevator and punched for the top floors. D&D Capitals had expanded and now employed more than a hundred people, highly qualified and paid. Heck, hiring was still open.
Ding!
He walked out and passed the reception desk. As he continued to walk past the cubicles and cabins, almost all of the employees stood up as if shocked to see him there. They knew about his loss.
Dudley simply nodded at whoever greeted him and walked right into Edwin Hughes' corner office. The man was Senior Associate, Finance, and also the CFO of the company, second in command to Dudley.
"I'll get back to you." Edwin noticed Dudley's arrival and quickly ended his call and stood up. "You don't need to be at work toda—"
Dudley walked up to the table and took a seat, his face more serious than ever. "Do you have a world map here?"
"We should." Edwin walked over to the right side of the room where a wide cabinet was. He opened one of the drawers and took out a rolled, big map of the world. Since D&D was heavily invested in real estate, they had detailed, large maps of almost every major country and continent.
Quickly, Edwin unrolled the map on his table, knowing something big was headed his way.
Quickly, Dudley grabbed a magnifying glass and began looking around on the map, mostly off the western coast of Africa. "How many MPs do we have?"
"Reaching two hundred," Edwin answered.
"Are we close to the Prime Minister's office?"
"As one of Britain's top five, we are. But it rather depends on what you seek from them—some can be dreadfully rigid," Edwin answered, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "What are we looking for?"
"Islands," Dudley said, at last, settling on a choice. "I'd like to buy islands from the British government. Starting with this one."
"Let me see." Edwin fixed his square-rimmed glasses and leaned closer to the map. "Saint Helena and Dependencies… Wait, isn't that the island where N—"
"Napoleon's grave rests, it is." Dudley interrupted, "I don't want to own this exclusively as private property. But I'd like to lease it for… let's say, fifty years."
"Why?"
"Personal reasons," Dudley replied and then pointed at another island further south. It was the most isolated island in the world. A remote, volcanic island from the Tristan da Cunha group. He wanted the largest one with Queen Mary's Peak. "And this one. I want these two at all costs."
Edwin scratched his head in confusion. As far as he knew, the two islands barely had any natural resources and they weren't even important enough to create military bases. They were just… islands.
"Can I ask again, why?"
"Private holiday islands. You can call it that, Edwin. I can't share the details but just know, it's extremely important for me. Important enough to put my life on the line."
"A bit dramatic, wouldn't you say? They're just islands. Hmm… A discreet approach would be far preferable—can't have Westminster up in arms over this," Edwin murmured, swiftly crunching the numbers. "Pricey, no doubt, but feasible. The second island in particular—an active volcano, of all things."
"Thank you." Dudley stepped back from the map. "Might be wise to push a bit harder on gaining influence in government. Tony Blair looks set to stick around, so best to put some backing behind him. Quietly, though—no need to make a fuss. On the Conservative front, see if we can get David Cameron to owe us a favor or two, but keep it discreet. As for America, a bit of investment in George W. Bush wouldn't go amiss—just don't go overboard. Best to keep things balanced."
"Oh? Name-dropping now? Careful, Dudley—you're starting to sound like an oracle." Edwin quipped, a hint of amusement in his tone. Still, there was no denying the truth of it all. Nearly all of Dudley's ventures had yielded record-breaking returns. "I'll follow your lead. Anything else?"
"For now, nothing." Dudley sat back in the chair and relaxed a little. "How did your daughter's school admission go? How old is she? Twelve? Fourteen?"
"Oh, she's fifteen. Seems I needn't have 'invested' in those private institutions after all—secured her place at a top school entirely on her own merit." Edwin proudly proclaimed while rolling up the map. "Proud of my Sophie."
"Which school?"
"Oh, it's an old school. You wouldn't know its nam—"
That's the same pitch that Vernon gave to his colleagues. Dudley frowned and decided to take a shot.
"Hogwarts?"
"..."
The rolled map fell from Edwin's hands.
"Hah!" Dudley chuckled. "I was right?"
"But you… I'm not supposed to…"
"That explains why I'm often so out of reach, doesn't it?" Dudley tried to clear up the doubts. "Please, take a seat. I suppose I can share a few things and offer some advice. Magic isn't that magical, just to be clear."
Eyes wide, Edwin grabbed a seat beside Dudley. "You're a wizard too?"
"Ten points to... Ah, she hasn't been sorted yet. Well, when you go home, perhaps you might suggest to your daughter that she choose either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff when the Sorting Hat ceremony comes. The other two, well, Slytherin, unfortunately, tends to attract those with rather extreme views, much like the Nazis. Gryffindor, on the other hand, is full of impulsive risk-takers, and that can sometimes lead to danger. And trust me, I could go on about the magical government and the Dark Lord, but that's another matter entirely…"
Dudley gave a quick crash course on the magical world and its history to Edwin. From the early wizards to Grindelwald, the rise of Voldemort and his end, and now his return, ending with Vernon's death.
Simple enough, all the flowery visions of the wizarding world that Edwin had, had vanished. Instead, he feared for his daughter.
"M-My Sophie will be targeted?"
"Well, she is a Muggle-born like me, so yes. But as long as she stays away from Slytherin and Gryffindor, she'll be all right. I'm four years senior, so I'll make sure to keep an eye on things for her." Dudley gave a reassuring pat on Edwin's shoulder. "Now you understand why I'm after those islands. They'll be my refuge. My father's death has really opened my eyes. To those blood purists, it doesn't matter how much wealth I acquire. They simply don't understand how to live with any decency."
Edwin sat in silence, staring at his feet, likely doubting his decision.
"Don't overthink it, Edwin. If she doesn't go to wizarding school and learn to control her powers, things could spiral out of control. Being an Obscurial is terribly dark and painful—it's a fate worse than death, really."
So there was a cliff on one side and a well on the other. Edwin sighed and nodded.
"Thank you, Dudley. I must admit, it's a lot to take in. The letter barely said anything and we were excited about it. I'll do my best to prepare both my daughter and wife mentally for what's ahead. Once again, I appreciate everything you've done—if there's anything further I can assist with, don't hesitate to let me know. I can see now why you were so insistent on coming here today." Edwin gave his boss a quick hug. "I'll pray for your father's soul to rest in peace."
"You're religious?" Dudley asked back.
"I wasn't until I saw Sophie performing accidental magic," Edwin replied and made a silent prayer, gripping the cross pendant on his neck.
Dudley chuckled and got up, starting to leave. "That's… odd."
"Why?"
Dudley grabbed the door handle and grinned back, knowing his next words were going to make Edwin question his existence. "Well, it's quite possible that Jesus was a Muggle-born wizard as well. A remarkably powerful one, I guess."
"..."
Thud!
Dudley left.
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