Dudley had a nickname for himself: Gargamel. He'd chosen it because he associated Gargamel with brewing potions, not with casting spells, and Dudley felt that was a lot like himself. Although he had a full head of hair, unlike the real Gargamel, and a physique that could take down twenty of those scrawny wizards with one punch.
You might think Dudley was in some kind of wizarding community, but you'd be wrong. He was in a gathering place for Squibs.
Squibs can't cast spells, so the room wasn't magically expanded. And just as most down-on-their-luck wizards don't look great, you can't expect Squibs to be much better. Life in the wizarding world is hard for a Squib. Because they can't use magic, they can't get a job that requires it, which means they have no income. Not every Squib is as lucky as Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker.
If a Squib wants to survive without their family's help, they have to find other ways. They are at the very bottom of wizarding society. That's why Squibs often travel between the Muggle and wizarding worlds—they're the people Muggles are most likely to encounter from the magical community. Wizards who consider themselves so high and mighty wouldn't give a Muggle the time of day.
The servant-like Squib guiding Dudley was probably one of the cleaner ones in the group, yet his clothes still looked greasy and dirty. Aside from rare exceptions like Mrs. Figg, you can't expect most Squibs to be hygienic. They refuse to use Muggle detergent and cleaners, but they can't cast a wizarding Scouring Charm. There's only one word to describe them: slovenly.
Wizards at least have Hogsmeade Village. Squibs don't have that luxury. They have to live in houses built by Muggles. As he passed one of the rooms, Dudley faintly heard a few words like "magic" and "quick-fix" coming from inside.
The servant-like Squib led Dudley to the deepest room in the house, the agreed-upon location for the exchange. Dudley was a huge customer, so they served him with extreme care.
Inside the room, several Squibs who had been waiting for him immediately stood up, their faces fawning.
"Where's the stuff?" Dudley asked, getting straight to the point. The smell in the room was unbearable, and with his sense of smell being better than most, he didn't want to be there for a second longer than he had to.
"Esteemed Mr. Gargamel, this is what you requested," said a slightly cleaner-looking Squib, handing him a small bag. Dudley took the bag and opened it. It had clearly been enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, so the inside was larger than it looked, though the space was still limited.
Inside, glass bottles containing common wizarding ingredients like dittany, gillyweed, scurvygrass, and sneezewort were neatly arranged. There were also a few wizarding books.
This should be enough to last me a while, Dudley thought, giving it a quick once-over. The ingredients weren't top quality, but they weren't too bad either. Considering he couldn't just walk into the wizarding world and buy them, this was a good haul.
"The stuff's all here, but next time I'd like some rarer ingredients. Things like Ashwinder eggs, Leaping Toadstool caps, Troll snot, Flobberworm mucus, and African tree snake skins."
"Those things are hard to get," the Squib said, rubbing his fingers together. "But for the right price, it's possible. Since you're satisfied with this haul, what do you say...?"
The Squib was only saying that to try and get more money. Many of the ingredients Dudley had requested were contraband and hard for even a normal wizard to find, let alone a Squib. Dudley also wanted some powdered Bicorn horn, but that was an extremely illegal substance, and he knew a Squib wouldn't be able to get it.
"As long as you can get it for me, money's no problem," Dudley said, placing his bag on the table and pouring its contents out. The group of Squibs stared at the pile, their eyes wide with greed. In the dim light, the objects were a blinding, brilliant gold. It was all solid gold.
Of course, Dudley couldn't pay them in pounds; they only accepted gold. It wasn't that they were old-fashioned; it was because gold could be used as a currency in the wizarding world. Before the Philosopher's Stone was used to turn things into gold and disrupt the market, gold was the wizarding world's hard currency. After all, Galleons are made primarily from gold.
Gringotts did offer an exchange rate of five pounds to one Galleon, but there was a limit of one hundred Galleons per year, and it was only for students attending Hogwarts. The goblins wouldn't allow anyone to exploit the exchange rate for profit; their greed for money was far beyond what most people could imagine. A bag of gold like this would only get you a pittance of Galleons at Gringotts. A Galleon is gold, but gold isn't a Galleon. The goblins have to do a special type of processing and add a serial number to it.
Aside from the cost of the ingredients, the Squibs were only earning a small amount for their trouble. The goblins took the lion's share. It was truly bizarre that wizards would hand over their economy to a race they'd defeated in a war.
"A pleasure doing business with you," Dudley said, putting the bag away carefully. He didn't even spare a glance at the gold on the table. The Undetectable Extension Charm on the bag was a bonus that made him quite happy.
He didn't lack money; he only lacked potion ingredients. He'd also discovered that with the right potions, he wasn't much worse off than a regular wizard. Some of the potions he'd been brewing were incredibly powerful.
"A pleasure doing business with you," the Squibs replied, their moods significantly improved by the gold. They didn't even consider robbing Dudley or getting the potion ingredients back. As Squibs, the ingredients were useless to them, and finding a client as generous as Dudley wasn't easy. Angering him would mean a massive loss. Besides, how would they rob a man who could easily beat them all up? Just looking at Dudley's muscular frame was enough to extinguish any ill intentions they might have had.
Dudley walked out of the alley and soon got into a car at a prearranged spot. The driver took him to a property he'd bought just for storing his potions. He still had some time before noon and wanted to put the items away. There was no need to let Petunia and the rest of the family, who hated magic, see what he was up to. Not yet, anyway.