"It actually worked?"
Dudley couldn't believe it. Weren't Dementors supposed to only fear the Patronus Charm?
Strictly speaking, even a Patronus didn't kill a Dementor outright—it just sapped their strength until they faded away. Curious, Dudley tested this world's version of the Illumination Charm—Lumos. As expected, it had no effect on the Dementor. If Lumos worked, then a spell like Incendio should've too.
But the Illumination Charm from the system? That was a different story.
Dudley tried it again, and sure enough, it hurt the Dementor. The spots where the light hit sizzled like they'd been burned, turning its decayed flesh charred black. Actual flames, though? They did nothing.
"Magic's pretty wild," Dudley muttered, fascinated.
"Let's try this, then."
He extended a finger, golden sparks crackling at the tip. This time, it wasn't the Illumination Charm but Ripple Qigong. He aimed at the Dementor and gave it a light poke.
The reaction was instant. The Dementor let out a piercing wail, far more intense than when hit by the Illumination Charm. When Dudley pulled his finger back, a hole had formed where he'd poked.
"Huh?"
Another poke. Another hole.
And another.
As he poked, Dudley fell into thought. It felt like facing a vampire wearing a Stone Mask. Those creatures feared Ripple Qigong in the same way—same vibe, same reaction.
Vampires turned humans into their kind by draining their blood. Dementors? They needed to suck out a person's soul to create another of their own. One was physical, the other spiritual.
"Hm?"
By the time Dudley snapped out of his thoughts, the Dementor was sprawled on the ground, barely clinging to existence, its body riddled with holes. Its tattered cloak was reduced to mere strips.
"Shame," Dudley said, looking at the wrecked creature. "I was hoping to run a few more experiments."
Oh well. "Might as well make use of you."
Dudley stomped the ground, his hands coming together. A transmutation circle appeared beneath the Dementor, shifting to a blood-red hue.
A Dementor's essence was a soul—tainted, sure, but still viable for transkeyboard: A soul? Theoretically, yeah, it can be transmuted.
Dudley tossed half a pig—carrying pork was a habit of his by now—onto the circle, layering it with the Dementor's remains. As the red glow faded, the pork, the Dementor's rags, and the Dementor itself were gone. In their place? A lone Philosopher's Stone.
Dudley picked it up. No magic crystals this time, unlike with Voldemort's soul fragment. But the stone was enough.
It wasn't the vibrant red of the one made from Voldemort's fragment. This one was a duller, darker red, with impurities visible when held to the light—a low-quality Philosopher's Stone, much smaller, barely a tenth the size of Voldemort's.
Quality's not great? No problem. Quantity can make up for it.
Voldemort only had a few Horcruxes. Dementors? Azkaban was crawling with them—a whole stockpile of "local specialties." If he ever got the chance, Dudley could transmute the whole prison for a massive haul.
"For now, though, these are walking Philosopher's Stones," he mused, eyeing the Dementors still drifting around Hogwarts' perimeter, unaware they'd been marked.
---
After dinner the next evening, Ron was gearing up for an epic Wizard's Chess match with Harry when Dudley stopped him.
"Ron, got a minute? I mentioned we should have a chat."
Ron sighed. "Yeah, sure." No escaping fate.
Head down, he followed Dudley to the eighth floor, where a door materialized on the wall. Dudley turned the handle and led him inside.
"What is this place?" Ron asked, wide-eyed. He'd never known the castle held such secrets.
"The Room of Requirement," Dudley said. "Hogwarts is full of surprises."
Dudley sat on a stool in what he'd envisioned as a training room. "Have a seat."
Ron sat, nervous. He'd known Dudley for a while, but being alone with him? That aura of his was intimidating.
"Ron, ever thought about switching pets?" Dudley asked.
Ron's heart sank. He's really gonna feed Scabbers to that fat cat.
"D, please," Ron said, practically pleading. "Can we not eat Scabbers? He's not even tasty."
Dudley blinked. "What? No one's eating Scabbers. You're missing my point."
He clarified, "I meant, have you ever considered getting a different pet?"
Of course no one was eating Scabbers. The thing that would eat him wasn't even human.
"Scabbers is my only buddy, my brother, my kin! I can't lose him!" Ron said, clutching his rat tightly. Ever since Hermione brought Crookshanks to the Gryffindor common room, Ron kept Scabbers close, terrified the cat would snatch him up. As a pet owner, Ron was nothing if not dedicated.
Scabbers looked rough, listless, probably traumatized by Crookshanks.
It's fine, it's fine. D's a reasonable guy, principled, Ron reassured himself.
"You're still not getting it," Dudley said. He reached into his left pocket and pulled out a small cage. Nestled in a soft cushion was a sleeping Niffler—a baby one, not the one Dudley kept.
"I remember you saying you always wanted a Niffler," Dudley said softly.
Owning a Niffler was Ron's dream, but his family couldn't afford one. Well, they could, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't spend that many Galleons on a pet. A Niffler cost way more than a wand.
Okay, maybe I don't love Scabbers that much, Ron nearly blurted, staring at the tiny, adorable creature.
"If you're not into it, no worries," Dudley said, setting the cage down with a hint of disappointment.
Ron's eyes hadn't left the Niffler since it appeared.