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The lift stopped on Level Two.
Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
This level was one of the busiest places in the Ministry. Wizards in robes hurried past with stacks of parchment, Aurors moved in small groups with serious expressions, and memos folded into paper airplanes flashed overhead.
Dudley's gaze moved across the signs.
Improper Use of Magic Office.
Auror Office.
Wizengamot Administration Services.
The last one was their destination.
Dumbledore had barely stepped inside before several elderly witches and wizards looked up.
"Albus!"
The first to speak was an elderly witch with a sharp gaze and a back that remained straight despite her age. Dudley recognized her name from Dumbledore's introduction.
Griselda Marchbanks.
Beside her sat Tiberius Ogden, who looked older, thinner, and far more irritated than the average wizard had any right to be.
"You finally remembered that you are Chief Warlock?" Ogden said dryly. "I was beginning to think the title had become purely decorative."
Dumbledore smiled without embarrassment. "Tiberius, it is good to see you too."
"Do not use that tone with me. While you were off being charming elsewhere, Fudge has been making a mess of half the procedures here."
Marchbanks looked at Dudley instead. "So this is the boy."
"Dudley Dursley," Dumbledore said. "Third-year student at Hogwarts, inventor of the werewolf recovery spell, recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class."
"And soon," Ogden muttered, "the youngest Wizengamot member anyone has ever heard of."
Dudley gave a polite nod.
The room grew quieter.
Many of the older members had already heard of him. It was impossible not to. The Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk, the disciplinary group, the recovery spell, the werewolf case, and now the Order of Merlin. Each achievement would have been enough to make a young wizard famous.
Together, they made him difficult to ignore.
The Order of Merlin ceremony itself was not complicated.
The Ministry loved ceremony, but the Wizengamot loved procedure even more. The award had already been approved. Today was mostly a matter of public recognition.
Dudley received his medal calmly.
The Order of Merlin, First Class, shone against his robes.
Another medal was recorded in Hamel's name.
Hamel had not lived to see the honor, but his work had become the foundation of Dudley's recovery spell. Dudley had insisted that the credit be recorded properly.
"Credit where credit is due," he said when Marchbanks asked whether he was certain.
The old witch looked at him for a long moment, then nodded with visible approval.
"A rare answer."
"Rare answers are more memorable."
Ogden snorted, but he did not sound displeased.
After the medals came the real matter.
The Wizengamot had fifty seats, including the Chief Warlock. Vacancies did not appear often. When they did, they usually triggered long arguments, private bargaining, and several layers of political maneuvering.
This time, however, the vacancy had appeared conveniently.
A member had been removed over corruption charges.
The paperwork had been prepared before Dudley arrived.
Dumbledore stood before the gathered members. His expression was mild, but the room naturally quieted.
"Dudley Dursley has made contributions to the wizarding world far beyond what his age would suggest. His recovery spell offers a new path for werewolves and those wounded by them. His actions at Hogwarts have protected students and exposed dangers others failed to see. I propose that he be admitted as a member of the Wizengamot."
Some people frowned.
Some whispered.
But no one openly opposed him.
Dumbledore had neglected authority for years, but when he chose to use it, the old weight remained.
Marchbanks raised her hand first.
Ogden followed.
Then others.
The vote passed.
Just like that, Dudley Dursley became the youngest Wizengamot member in history.
The plum-colored robe was brought out and placed before him.
Dudley did not immediately put it on.
He touched the fabric, then looked at Dumbledore. "Is this required?"
"For formal sessions, yes."
"The color is aggressive."
"Tradition often is."
Dudley accepted the robe with a sigh.
There was no dramatic public humiliation. No one rushed forward to mock him and then regretted it. The wizards present were old, experienced, and politically cautious. They might disapprove in private, but in public they understood the meaning of Dumbledore, Marchbanks, and Ogden standing on the same side.
That was enough.
When the formalities ended, Dumbledore asked gently, "How does it feel?"
"Heavy."
"The medal?"
"The robe."
Dumbledore laughed softly.
Dudley looked at the Order of Merlin again. "The medal itself does not matter much. It matters because it gives Hamel's work legitimacy and helps spread the spell faster."
"You are very practical."
"Thank you."
"That was not entirely praise."
"I will accept it as praise anyway."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
For Dudley, the title and medal were tools. The recovery spell would allow Aurors and trained wizards to deal with werewolves more safely. It would reduce the Death Eaters' ability to rely on werewolf packs. It could even pull unwilling werewolves away from Voldemort's influence.
That was the value.
Honor was useful only when it could be turned into something real.
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