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"It worked!"
Excited cheers erupted around the room.
Culliver stared blankly at the little light, then at the wand in his hand.
He had really cast magic.
Twice.
"How is this possible? You... honored Mr. Gargamel, this is incredible."
The effect was weak, but it was still magic.
For a moment, Culliver thought he had felt something move inside him.
Was that magic?
He did not understand.
He only knew that he wanted this wand.
He would trade anything for it.
Even his soul.
No one who was not a Squib could fully understand. Casting magic had been the deepest dream of their lives. Even incomplete magic, even weak magic, proved that they were not useless scraps unworthy of existing.
Dudley reached out.
Culliver was reluctant, but he still returned the wand.
Dudley raised it high enough for everyone to see.
"You have all noticed by now. This special wand can allow you to cast spells."
The room became absolutely silent.
"Do not doubt it. It is real. Anyone here can use it, as long as the movement and incantation are correct."
The Squibs' eyes burned.
Only those who had never had something could treasure it so fiercely.
'A wand that lets Squibs cast spells. This must be an artifact.'
'Yes. It has to be.'
In truth, the wand was only a small device Dudley had made in his spare time, based on the same principle as his own wand. Its craftsmanship could not compare with his personal weapon.
But to the Squibs, its meaning was completely different.
It could release magic.
"I can provide these special wands."
Dudley took out another wand.
Then a third.
A fourth.
They were mass-produced. To him, they were not precious. But in the entire wizarding world, no one else knew how to make them. Even if Nicolas Flamel came back to life, copying them would not be simple.
The Squibs were too shocked to speak.
So many artifacts?
"Then..." Culliver swallowed. "What do you want?"
As their leader, he was steadier than the others, but his voice still trembled.
They knew there was no such thing as a free lunch.
No generosity came without a reason.
What price would they have to pay?
If they had it, they were willing to give it.
Dudley's voice was very soft.
"Do you believe in the light?"
The Squibs did not believe in the light.
But from this moment on, they could.
Seeing their eyes grow firmer, Dudley smiled.
If they could be made to believe in the light, they could be made to believe in almost anything.
"I need your loyalty. Can you offer it?"
Before they could answer, he continued, as though afraid they had not understood.
"What I need is absolute loyalty."
He emphasized the word absolute.
"Loyalty that is not absolute is absolute disloyalty."
"I dislike that."
Dudley slowly took out an old-looking parchment.
"I will not force you. This is a fair transaction."
"If you agree, sign it. But I will make this clear first. Once you sign this contract, you may never betray me."
"Otherwise, your souls will never know peace."
He placed the parchment on the table and set a pen beside it.
The Squibs rushed forward.
One after another, they signed their names without hesitation.
Betrayal?
Impossible.
They were the lowest of the low, the forgotten people of the wizarding world. They belonged neither to wizards nor to Muggles, and they had almost nothing left to lose.
Now, a chance to change their fate had appeared.
No one would let it pass.
Dudley understood that feeling. He had once longed for magic too. If he had been standing among them, he would have made the same choice.
Every Squib signed.
Every Squib received a wand.
The first thing they did was test spells.
Hearing was not enough. Seeing was not enough. Only casting magic with their own hands made it real.
For a time, thin streams of water, faint sparks, and small points of light bloomed through the crowded hall.
The spells were weak. Most were only simple first-year charms, and many of them were clumsy.
That was normal.
They had memorized countless incantations, but had never been able to practice them.
This was a new beginning.
It meant rebirth.
Squibs embraced each other, tears sliding down their faces. Some of them barely knew one another, but no one cared. They had been kept down for too long.
Dudley watched quietly and did not interrupt.
It was not a bad thing to let them release some of that pressure.
Culliver was the first to recover.
"Respected Mr. Gar... no, my lord. Please forgive everyone. This is simply too moving."
He adapted quickly.
"It does not matter."
Dudley opened the suitcase in his hand and tipped it over.
Culliver nearly lost control again.
It was not gold bars, as he had imagined.
It was a full case of golden Galleons.
"Startup funds. Find a proper place."
"At this stage, I need only two things from you. First, continue recruiting other Squibs. Second, practice your spells diligently."
Dudley did not lack money.
He lacked people who could work for him.
The third school year was approaching its end. Summer would come soon.
The fairy-tale part of the story was almost over.
According to the story Dudley knew, after third year the world would begin turning darker and more adult.
Cruel.
Cold.
Everything Dudley was doing now was preparation for what came later.
Building his own foundation was one part of it. Befriending the upper levels of the wizarding world was one part. Arranging for older students to enter the Ministry was another. Recruiting these Squibs was another.
His opponent was the most terrifying threat in the wizarding world.
Voldemort.
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