The Dudley headcanon you can pry from my cold, dead hands:

theprogressofspring:

So here’s the deal:

Dudley, after transferring to a new school for sixth form, arrives with a new attitude about people weaker than him. He stays on the boxing team, sure, but he takes to heart Vernon’s blustery, approving comments about it being “the gentleman’s sport”.

So he makes friends–boxing friends, school friends, even a girlfriend. He likes being known for something other than laying people out, other than slamming people’s hands in doors, other than intimidation and cruelty. He remembers the Dementors, and Harry, and shudders.

When he boxes, he trains himself to hit well, not just hard–he doesn’t want to spare a single punch that doesn’t have to be there. It takes time, and hard work that he’s not exactly used to, but he improves. And improves. And he’s good. Very good. Sets-records good.

Dudley competes, and he wins. And wins. Wins sparring matches, wins competitions with other secondary schools, wins exhibition matches, wins regional championships, and, within a year, goes all the way to a national championship and finishes third. He’s never been so happy to be third. The local paper puts him on the front page:

HOME TOWN BOXING WHIZ MEDALS AT NATIONALS

Dudley spends his gap year traveling and boxing, scraping up some cash winnings and making a name for himself. Word spreads.

The offers start to come in–offers of management, of sponsorship. Dudley is flattered and tempted, but he goes to university because that’s what his mum wants. He reads political science because that’s what his dad wants. He enjoys it, but has no desire to be a politician. He wants to box while he can.

So he takes meetings with managers, with sponsors, with coaches, with publicists. Once he’s built his team, he considers his persona. His publicist throws out options: The Ox, The Crusher, Durse the Curse–Dudley reacts very unfavorably to that last one.

Dudley doesn’t want to be an animal, a killer, a curse. He wants to be the kind of captivating, artful boxer that holds an audience’s attention like a skilled stage magician. He thinks of an old headline, and about the best fighter he knew–

“Ladies and Gentleman!” The presenter begins, from the center of the ring. “It is my honor to introduce our reigning champ–”

The crowd roars.

“Sixteen stone of solid muscle. A left hook like a firework to the face. Some know him as Dudley Dursley…”

Another roar, and the audience begins to chant.

“But his devoted fans and disappointed challengers know him best as–

The Wiz Kid!”