"The Lower Strategy," Dudley began, his tone unwavering, "is to form a Disciplinary Committee."
The phrase hung in the air, simple yet laden with implication. Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly. "You mean the prefects?" he asked, his voice laced with gentle uncertainty. "Their duties are quite similar—maintaining campus discipline, guiding younger students..."
"No," Dudley said, shaking his head decisively. "The prefects are part of the problem. They are bound to their Houses. The Disciplinary Committee would exist above the prefects. It would supervise their performance, and its jurisdiction would not be limited by House lines. Its members could monitor all four Houses impartially."
Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. Dudley was not just describing a student council; the Head Boy and Girl already filled that role. This was something else entirely.
"The committee would manage the prefects," Dudley elaborated, his voice hardening with purpose. "And if necessary... if a professor's actions or biases violate the school's fundamental purpose of providing a safe education, the committee would have the power to formally evaluate them and recommend punishment."
The audacity of the suggestion sucked the warmth from the room. A body with the power to discipline professors? Even the Heads of House lacked that authority.
"Dudley," Dumbledore said, his tone shifting. The Headmaster no longer saw a child before him. "You must understand that such power is not even possessed by the Deputy Headmistress."
"Then such an organization would obviously require oversight," Dudley countered smoothly, meeting Dumbledore's intense gaze without flinching. "The Disciplinary Committee would report directly to the Headmaster. And only the Headmaster."
Dumbledore's mind, usually a fortress of calm clarity, felt chaotic, battered by the sheer volume of radical information. He could find no clear motive in the boy's placid blue eyes, only the vast, unreadable calm of a deep ocean.
"You are familiar with St. George's, I presume?" Dudley asked, changing tactics. "Harry's old primary school. I imagine you looked into it."
"I did," Dumbledore affirmed. "By all accounts, it is now the most peaceful state primary in all of Britain."
"It wasn't always," Dudley stated bluntly. "Before, it was rife with bullying, exclusion, and violence. What I accomplished there, I will accomplish at Hogwarts."
"So this is your ambition," Dumbledore mused, his expression a complex mixture of awe and apprehension. "To lead this committee yourself." He saw a boy with frightening confidence, so unlike his other star pupil, who always sought the shadows. He was so much like him.
"Of course," Dudley replied, making no attempt to deny it. "But my goal is simple, Professor. I just want to live a peaceful life. I want Harry, Hermione, and me to get through our school years safely."
He leaned forward slightly. "Professor, do you remember asking me if Hogwarts was safe before I arrived?"
Dumbledore remained silent.
"You told me it was," Dudley answered for him. "But without investigation, one has no right to speak. I have been investigating for several months now, and I believe I have earned that right."
He lifted his head, and two pairs of equally piercing blue eyes met across the desk. "And I am telling you now that Hogwarts is not safe. It is, in fact, incredibly dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Dumbledore asked, genuinely puzzled. "Hogwarts is universally considered the safest place in the wizarding world."
"Aside from the troubling quality of the teaching and the toxic social atmosphere," Dudley said grimly, "there is the matter of the dangerous individual who vanished over a decade ago. The entire wizarding world believes Harry killed him. If I were that man, and I managed to claw my way back to power, the very first thing I would do is find Harry Potter and finish the job."
The unspoken name—Voldemort—hung between them like a ghost.
"Why do you believe he isn't dead?" Dumbledore asked, his voice barely a whisper. For the first time that evening, he forgot about the lemon drop in his hand.
Beside the fireplace, Snape stood frozen, his face an expressionless mask. He felt as if the floor had vanished from beneath his feet. Not dead? He said nothing, did nothing. He just listened, the silence screaming in his mind.
"At first, it was merely a hypothesis," Dudley explained. "In the Muggle world, when there is no body, there is no confirmation of death. All the evidence suggests he merely disappeared or is in hiding. He is not truly gone. Perhaps he is in a terrible state, barely clinging to existence in some dark corner, but he will eventually return."
"What the Daily Prophet wrote was nothing more than a society telling itself a comforting lie." Dudley looked at Dumbledore, a knowing glint in his eye. "In the Muggle world, I have studied a field called criminology. The evidence for his continued existence is overwhelming."
Dumbledore neither admitted nor denied the claim. His silence was its own confession.
Snape's fists clenched at his sides. The one possibility he had never allowed himself to believe, the one fear he had buried for a decade, was now being laid bare by an eleven-year-old boy.
"Then... what is it you intend to do?" Dumbledore asked, his expression grave, his eyes burning with a new intensity.
Dudley met his gaze and calmly held up three fingers.
"I came to Hogwarts to do three things."
He held up one finger. "Fairness."
He held up a second. "More fairness."
He held up a third, his voice dropping to a steely whisper. "And bloody, unrelenting fairness."
"That is the foundation for everything," he finished. "First, I establish that. Then... I will unite all the forces that can be united."
"Dudley," Dumbledore said gently, breaking the tense silence. "Swearing is not a habit for a young man to cultivate."
"I am not so young," Dudley replied evenly.
Dumbledore was speechless. "I... need to think on this," he said finally, popping a honey-colored candy into his mouth. "This matter is of great importance. The power you ask for is immense, and I am not certain I can grant it."
Supervising prefects and students was one thing. But the professors...
"The professors at Hogwarts have contracts with the school itself," Dumbledore explained. "Only the Headmaster has the authority to dismiss or punish them, and that is not a power I can delegate. Not unless you were to obtain the corresponding authority through other means."
He offered a grandfatherly smile. "You must understand, I am just a simple Headmaster, with only a little authority."
You old fox, Dudley thought, I don't believe a word of it.
He had said all he needed to say. Calculating the time, he realized the Halloween feast was about to begin. After a polite farewell, he exited the Headmaster's office.
Shortly after the stone gargoyle sealed the entrance, Dumbledore turned to the silent figure by the fire.
"Severus," he asked softly, "what do you make of him? Of Dudley Dursley?"
[Chapter Complete]
***
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