Chapter 47: I Will Tell My Father
"I will definitely tell my father. He will have you expelled!"
The first thing Malfoy did upon waking and realizing he was fine was to shout loudly that he would tell his father. Other than bragging about his father all day, reporting to his father was his specialty. He was just like one of those spoiled children.
It was truly thanks to the potion from Carrow that he was unharmed. Otherwise, just that strange knot would have kept him bedridden for three days. Of course, if it had been too short, perhaps it would not have mattered.
That was Malfoy's nature—once he was unhurt, he would immediately spring up again, jump around, and cause trouble. According to the original trajectory, he would spend six years playing games of "wits and courage" with Harry and his two friends until Voldemort returned.
"Draco! You must not say that!"
The moment Malfoy spoke, a short-haired girl beside him quickly covered his mouth, afraid he would continue and stir up anger.
"This is Richmond's order. Do you intend to defy him?"
The girl's name was Pansy Parkinson. As a first-year, she had naturally been involved in last night's incident. Every time she recalled what had happened that night, a dull pain ran through her backside. No one escaped the punishment of the "Buttocks Destroyer," and she was no exception.
That night had become a forbidden topic in all of Slytherin. No one dared mention it again.
"What's so great about Richmond? He's just from the Carrow family. He's only been here a few years longer than I have. I'll tell my father, alright? But I won't say anything else."
Under Pansy's gaze, Malfoy's voice grew softer and softer until even he could barely hear himself. Not everyone respected the Malfoy name. Families like the Carrows and the Parkinsons were completely unafraid of him. They were all of the same social class; no one needed to bow to anyone else.
"Draco!" Pansy shouted sharply, signaling him to stop talking. That night had already caused many of the young wizards to resent Malfoy. They had lost—under his lead. Slytherin only stood with the victors.
Besides, why was it that everyone else had suffered, yet Malfoy remained fine? The only ones unscathed besides him were Crabbe and Goyle, but they had been petrified and used as weapons. Just looking at how they now trembled at the mere mention of "Dudley" or "Dursley," no one wished to trade places with them.
Unfortunately, Malfoy had not thought deeply about it. He failed to notice the unfriendly looks from every Slytherin in the common room.
"For the sake of the Carrow family, I'll overlook this barbarian. I just hope he doesn't provoke me again. Otherwise, he'll regret it."
The only thing Malfoy had that was hard was his mouth. In truth, he was merely posturing. Since yesterday, he hadn't dared to provoke that monster Dudley again.
Just look at poor Goyle and Crabbe. At the mention of Dudley or Dursley, they shook uncontrollably and could barely walk straight. It was obvious they had suffered severe psychological trauma. They said nothing when questioned—only trembled.
Compared to them, Malfoy, who had fainted and been hit by the Stunning Spell afterward, was lucky. Goyle and Crabbe had remained conscious while petrified, fully experiencing what it felt like to be used as weapons.
Malfoy knew his own limits; he was well aware that his mental strength was no greater than theirs. He was arrogant, not stupid.
Still, while he said he wouldn't provoke Dudley again, that didn't mean he wouldn't target others. "Hmph, this Friday is Professor Snape's Potions class. I'll make sure he learns his place."
Malfoy couldn't believe a wizard from a Muggle family could possibly know anything about potions. Snape was his father's old friend; he would surely take Malfoy's side. A few subtle hints would be enough. It wasn't as if that brute dared to strike a professor, right? Heh, it would be quite the show.
But Malfoy was celebrating too early. It was only Monday—there were still four full days until Friday. One had to admit, Dudley had read him perfectly, understanding every corner of Malfoy's petty mind.
"Isn't this Malfoy? What a coincidence, you're going to class too?"
Before Malfoy could take more than a few steps, the voice that had haunted his nightmares the entire night echoed from behind him. With those simple, pointless words, the greeting alone was enough to make his blood run cold.
Turning his stiff neck, Malfoy saw Dudley and nearly jumped out of his skin. He forced out a smile uglier than crying and answered mechanically, "H-Hello."
Pansy, who had originally feared Malfoy might clash with Dudley again, relaxed upon seeing him trembling like a mouse before a cat. She quietly stepped aside without saying another word.
Only after Dudley walked away did Malfoy let out a long sigh. When he turned and saw Pansy looking at him, his face instantly flushed red.
"I was just exchanging a polite greeting between classmates. You know, Malfoy has always been quite the gentleman." He tried to justify himself with a lie that even he did not believe.
Pansy was now convinced that Malfoy would never dare trouble Dudley again. The only thing she worried about was whether he would tell old Mr. Malfoy. Hopefully not—Richmond seemed to value that brute highly.
"Hermione, see? I get along perfectly well with my classmates. Look how happy he just smiled!" Dudley said with a straight face.
All the way there, Hermione was like a wind-up duck, chattering non-stop, asking what had happened the previous night. Though her concern was touching, there was no way he could tell her the truth.
"Really?" Hermione said, full of doubt. Malfoy's face did not look happy in the slightest. "Why do I feel like he's afraid of you?"
Dudley's expression stiffened. "That's slander. If you don't believe me, I'll find someone else to prove it."
He picked a random unlucky witness. "Hey, you there!"
Dudley called out to a Slytherin first-year not far away. "Yes, you. Stop right there!" The student pretended not to hear and quickened his pace. "If you run again, I'll hit you."
At last, under Dudley's threat, the boy stopped, forcing out a smile even uglier than Malfoy's, and claimed that Dudley was very popular in Slytherin. This only made Hermione more suspicious, though she still had no idea what had actually happened.
Although everyone carried textbooks, the professors at Hogwarts rarely followed them strictly. Lessons often varied according to each professor's preference, allowing great freedom.
For instance, Professor Sprout's first Herbology lesson was on identifying dittany. The dittany essence Hermione had given Dudley that morning had been extracted from that very plant. In fact, dittany was a topic usually taught much later in the first-year syllabus.
It had to be said that Professor Sprout possessed an impressive breadth of knowledge.
She taught far more than what appeared in the books, including two methods of cultivation, six planting techniques, four kinds of pest prevention, and thirty-six different uses.
Dudley found it immensely rewarding; many of those uses had never crossed his mind before. Even after class ended, he continued to chase Professor Sprout with questions.
Apart from his strength, Dudley's greatest skill was in Potions, for which Herbology formed the essential foundation. One could say that a good potion-maker must also excel in Herbology; those poor in Herbology would never do well in Potions.
Thus, Dudley listened attentively, took meticulous notes, and studied with great diligence. His earnest attitude earned Slytherin two points. Hermione, who answered several questions correctly, gained five points for Gryffindor.
After class, Hermione lifted her chin proudly, giving Dudley a look that seemed to say, "Well? I beat you by three points." Dudley smiled helplessly and shook his head. "This little girl's competitiveness is really something."
So, in the next History of Magic lesson, Dudley earned ten points. He wasn't about to let her win that easily. His grasp of several centuries of magical history even made Professor Binns take note of him—though by the next class, the ghost had forgotten his name again.
During the following Charms lesson, Hermione gave her all, winning four points for Gryffindor. Though Dudley waved his wand for ages without producing any effect, his calm demeanor and insightful commentary on spell theory impressed Professor Flitwick enough to award him five points.
And just like that, the days passed until the long-awaited Friday finally arrived—the day of the Potions class Malfoy had been anticipating so eagerly.
(The rumor about Professor Snape being the Malfoy family's godfather does not apply here.)
(End of Chapter)
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