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Slytherin Common Room.
"He's finished."
"That muscle-headed giant is done for this time."
Under the dim greenish light, Malfoy spoke excitedly to the other first-year students around him, recounting what had happened during Potions class earlier that day.
"You all know that Professor Snape is a friend of my father. Before I even came to Hogwarts, my father had already spoken with him..."
Malfoy had once again started his daily routine of bragging about his father.
Then he lowered his voice, trying to sound as ominous as possible.
"Professor Snape is going to teach him a harsh lesson, punish him, and then throw him out of Slytherin… throw him out of Hogwarts."
"Hehe, and that has nothing to do with me. Professor Snape will be the one doing it."
"I merely..."
Malfoy proudly described his plan, as if he could already see Dudley being thrown out of the school.
"My father always says Slytherin is a place where only people of noble blood belong..."
Once again, the same old bloodline rhetoric.
Malfoy was so immersed in his own world that he failed to notice the sudden change in expression on the faces of the young wizards around him.
He didn't notice Pansy repeatedly signaling to him with her eyes, nor the way Crabbe and Goyle's lips had turned pale as their bodies trembled.
Until—
"Talking behind someone's back isn't exactly the behavior of a gentleman. Though, to be fair, there aren't many real gentlemen left in England these days."
"Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. I won't be leaving Hogwarts anytime soon."
The voice that made Malfoy's blood run cold came from behind him.
At that moment, Malfoy felt his hands and feet turn icy, as if he had fallen into a frozen abyss. His voice stopped abruptly, as though someone had clamped a hand around his throat.
A large hand suddenly dropped onto Malfoy's head.
The next second, he felt his scalp tighten as his entire body was lifted into the air with one hand.
Dudley really didn't understand what some wizards found so impressive about bloodline theory.
In his experience, only pets emphasized pedigree.
Only pets cared about pure breeding.
Incidentally, the self-proclaimed pure-blood Malfoy had platinum-blond hair.
Meanwhile, the Weasley family—whom they all looked down upon—had red hair.
In England, what does red hair signify?
Anyone who has studied even a little English history would know.
The original inhabitants of the British Isles were the Celts.
And one of the defining traits of Celtic heritage was red hair.
In other words, the Weasley family carries Celtic ancestry.
If you trace the origins far enough back, the Weasleys probably have a lineage older—and purer—than any of the so-called pure-bloods present here.
As for blond hair…
It could come from Germanic ancestry.
Or Viking ancestry.
And as everyone knows, the Vikings were essentially raiders.
So…
Even if you trace things back to their roots, there is nothing particularly noble about the Malfoy lineage.
"I think we need to have a little talk."
"Before I completely lose my patience."
Dudley held Malfoy roughly as he strode deeper into the Slytherin common room.
Hadn't Malfoy just handed him the perfect excuse to deal with him?
"No! You can't do this!" Malfoy shouted in panic.
He kicked wildly and swung his fists around, trying to break free.
But it was completely useless.
His short arms and short legs couldn't even reach Dudley.
The other Slytherin students simply watched as Dudley carried Malfoy away.
In the vast common room, not a single person dared step forward to stop him.
Not even Malfoy's two "bodyguards."
The two chubby boys had fainted the instant they saw Dudley.
Whether they were truly unconscious or just pretending was impossible to tell.
"No one came to help you. Your reputation really is terrible, Mr. Malfoy… tsk. I thought today might at least give me some entertainment."
Dudley's words made the surrounding Slytherin students turn pale.
They quickly backed away as if avoiding a plague.
An empty circle formed around Dudley.
Even Crabbe and Goyle, still "unconscious" on the floor, seemed to grow even paler.
In truth, since the very first night of school, Malfoy's reputation within Slytherin had subtly changed.
You can act important.
You can even act superior.
But you were the reason we all got beaten.
And afterward, you didn't do anything about it.
The ones who smoothed things over were the Carrows.
In the end, Malfoy was simply too young.
He still didn't understand how relationships between people actually worked.
"Wait a moment..."
Well, it wasn't entirely true that no one dared speak.
There was still one person.
"Hm? Do you have a problem with what I'm doing, Miss Parkinson?"
Dudley slowly turned his head.
His large, bell-like eyes fixed on Pansy.
'If I punched her, how long would she cry?'
At that moment, Pansy felt as though a wild beast had locked onto her.
Even though Dudley hadn't actually done anything, she almost stopped breathing.
"I just meant… you must be hungry. How about a cup of tea and some sweets?"
Miss Parkinson answered very cautiously.
Help Malfoy?
What did that have to do with her?
"Black tea, no sugar. And please bring some biscuits as well. I'm a bit hungry."
Since someone was offering food, Dudley saw no reason to refuse.
"I'll be back to drink it before the tea gets cold. Thanks."
With that, he continued carrying Malfoy toward the deeper rooms of the common room.
The Slytherin students watched the two of them leave.
"He… isn't going to kill Draco, is he?"
Looking at their retreating backs, Pansy muttered.
Unfortunately, no one in all of Slytherin could answer her.
The moment the two disappeared from view, the two chubby boys who had been lying on the floor suddenly jumped up as if their backsides had caught fire.
Clearly, they had been pretending.
"I'm going to tell my father..."
Realizing force wasn't going to work, Malfoy tried to rely on his father's name.
After all, he was famous for that.
And to be fair, his father's name usually worked.
"If I were you, I wouldn't do that."
Dudley continued carrying Malfoy without the slightest concern for his comfort.
Malfoy felt as though his scalp were about to be torn off.
It hurt.
But there was nothing he could do about it.
Dudley walked toward the deepest part of the Slytherin common room.
He picked a random room.
Pushed the door open easily.
And stepped inside.
The room was larger than he had expected.
A large table stood in the center.
Coincidentally, it was the exact same place where the Slytherin upper-years had held their meeting earlier.
Since it was in the basement, the room remained almost completely dark without lamps, illuminated only by a faint yellow glow.
Dudley tossed Malfoy aside like he was dropping a chick.
Then he slowly crouched down, looking at him from above.
"Hey, kid. Now it's just the two of us."
"Whatever I do to you, no one will know."
He deliberately emphasized the words no one will know.
Dudley's sinister tone sent a chill through Malfoy's entire body.
A deep cold rose from the bottom of his soul.
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