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On the day Dudley went to the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore dressed more formally than usual.
He did not wear the solemn plum-colored robes used by the Wizengamot, but his silver beard had clearly been combed with care, and his half-moon spectacles looked as though they had been polished until they could reflect light.
"Professor, are you nervous?" Dudley asked.
Dumbledore smiled. "Should I be?"
"You are taking a third-year student to become the youngest Wizengamot member in history. Some people may object."
"Some people object to lemon drops. That has never stopped me from eating them."
Dudley nodded. "That is a very convincing political philosophy."
Fawkes stood on the perch beside Dumbledore's desk.
Or rather, Fawkes sat there.
The phoenix's frame had become noticeably rounder. His red and gold feathers still shone beautifully, but the dignity of an ancient magical bird now came with the comfortable heaviness of a creature that had been eating extremely well for months.
The magical creature feed had worked too well.
Crookshanks had not been the only one affected. Fawkes had eaten enough of it to become glossy, relaxed, and visibly broader.
Dudley reached out and scratched the phoenix under the chin.
Fawkes narrowed his eyes in pleasure.
"Boing."
The sound came from Dudley's mouth.
Dumbledore looked at him. "Was that meant to be an incantation?"
"No. That was a sound effect."
"I see."
"It suits him."
Fawkes gave a soft trill. Judging by his expression, he did not object.
Dumbledore extended one arm. "Shall we?"
Phoenix travel was different from Apparition. There was no squeezing pressure, no unpleasant twisting of the stomach. A burst of flame rose, and the world changed in a flash.
When the fire faded, Dudley and Dumbledore were standing in a side street in London.
The entrance to the Ministry of Magic still looked like an ordinary red telephone box.
Dudley stepped inside with Dumbledore. The space was cramped, especially with Dudley's current size. The old telephone receiver hung in front of them, looking as if it had not been properly cleaned for decades.
Dumbledore dialed 62442.
A cool female voice came through the receiver.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Albus Dumbledore, accompanying Dudley Dursley for Wizengamot business."
"Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."
Two silver badges slid out.
Dudley's badge read:
Dudley Dursley: Wizengamot Business
The telephone box began sinking underground.
The walls blurred past. A moment later, the doors opened onto the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
Dudley had been here before, but the Ministry still gave him the same impression.
Large.
Polished.
Busy.
And extremely fond of proving its own importance.
The Fountain of Magical Brethren stood in the middle of the Atrium. A noble-looking wizard, a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf were arranged around it in an image of supposed harmony.
Dumbledore paused beside the fountain.
"A rather hypocritical piece of decoration, don't you think?"
Dudley glanced at it. "Because wizards do not actually treat centaurs, goblins, and house-elves as equals?"
"Precisely."
"Centaurs do not treat wizards as equals either. Goblins think wizards are arrogant thieves. Wizards think goblins are greedy and dangerous. Everyone looks down on everyone else. The fountain is not hypocritical because wizards alone are hypocritical. It is hypocritical because it pretends prejudice is one-sided and easily solved."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "That is a sharper answer than I expected."
"House-elves are a separate matter. I have not investigated enough to make a responsible judgment."
"Responsible investigation. How very rare."
"I try."
Dumbledore looked at the fountain for a moment longer, then continued toward the lifts.
Ministry workers recognized him almost at once. Some bowed their heads. Some looked startled. Others immediately began whispering.
The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot still carried weight, even if Dumbledore had neglected that authority for many years.
Dudley walked beside him without looking around.
He was not here to admire the Ministry.
He was here to enter it.
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