The conflict between Dudley and Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express was already a well-known topic among the Slytherins. After all, avoiding trouble and taking advantage of others were two Slytherin traits.
"The big oaf got sorted into Slytherin. I'll show him what's what when we get to the common room," Malfoy fumed, his face flushed with excitement and urgency. He couldn't wait for that moment, and Crabbe and Goyle, sitting beside him, were also rubbing their knuckles, eager for a fight. They had been careless on the train, but this time they wouldn't make the same mistake. They were the sort of people who quickly forgot about their past injuries.
The other Slytherin students exchanged knowing glances. They had already heard about Dudley from Malfoy, even before the Sorting Hat's announcement.
Meanwhile, in the Great Hall, only Hermione and Harry seemed concerned about Dudley. They kept glancing at the Slytherin table, but there was nothing they could do. Their worries, however, were completely different. Hermione, who had heard that Slytherin was the worst of the four houses and a den of bullies, worried that Dudley would be led astray or, even worse, picked on. Harry, on the other hand, was worried that Dudley would beat up all the Slytherins and get into trouble with the school. As for Dudley getting picked on? Harry knew that was impossible; he'd be grateful if Dudley didn't pick on others.
Dumbledore stood up, a wide smile on his face, arms outstretched as if to embrace all the students.
"Welcome to Hogwarts!"
"Before we begin the feast, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: 'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!' Thank you!"
After his bizarre incantation, Dumbledore sat down, leaving the students confused. With his words, the tables were instantly covered with a variety of delicious foods. When you're hungry, everything tastes good, and the food from the Hogwarts kitchens was far better than what you could find in most London restaurants.
Dudley, who was starving, ignored the stares of the Slytherins around him and began to eat heartily. He had been hungry for a long time. The intermittent "+1" notifications from his system only encouraged him to eat even more. He had already noticed on the train that magical world food gave him more experience than ordinary food. Was this the magic of it all?
Muttering began to ripple through the Slytherin table.
"Look at that oaf eating like a savage, with no grace or table manners whatsoever."
"I have no idea why the Sorting Hat would put him in Slytherin. He's crude and barbaric... he has none of the qualities of a Slytherin."
"I should write a letter to my father and tell him to get him transferred to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. That's where people like him belong."
The chatter was mostly from the first and second-year students. The older students stayed quiet but watched with cold, unbothered eyes.
Thanks to his constant training in the Ripple arts, Dudley's senses were far more acute than any wizard's. He could hear every word they were saying, but he kept eating, unbothered.
Why should I, Dudley Dursley, have to explain myself to anyone?
Besides, the best way to eat was whatever felt comfortable. The so-called table manners of these wizards were a waste of time and had no practical purpose. The true mark of a person was to cherish your food and leave nothing behind.
As a result, Dudley single-handedly cleared a large portion of the food from the Slytherin table.
"Good heavens, how much food has he eaten?"
And so, on his very first day at Hogwarts, Dudley earned a new, sarcastic nickname: "The Slytherin's Beggar."
However, everyone was so focused on Dudley's gluttony that no one noticed that not a single speck of food or grease had touched his face or hands. This not only showed that he wasn't wasteful, but that he was training. For Dudley, eating was a form of practice. Just as he wouldn't waste a single bit of food, he wouldn't waste a single moment of his precious time.
Dudley wasn't just mindlessly eating, though. He was analyzing his conversation with the Sorting Hat. The hat's words basically boiled down to: The will of Slytherin has chosen you. You are the chosen one.
Should he believe it? Dudley scoffed. He was a Muggle-born, and Slytherins hated Muggle-borns. He only believed about a tenth of the hat's explanation. As a wise man once said, "Never trust anything that can think for itself, unless you can see where it keeps its brain." He wasn't sure of the exact reason, as he had too little information to work with, but he had to consider the possibility that it was the Sorting Hat's twisted sense of humor, though that was a one-in-a-million chance. Dudley wasn't being paranoid; he was simply being cautious.
After the Hagrid incident, Dudley had learned to be a bit more careful. He wasn't a true wizard in the traditional sense, and from an pessimistic point of view, he might not ever be able to learn magic.
Power, money, authority.
Dudley silently wrote down these three words in his mind. Power meant strength, money meant wealth, and authority meant influence. These would be his goals for the future. To live well in the magical world, he would need all three.
Honestly, if Dudley were a true wizard, some of his qualities would be very well-suited for Slytherin House.
"I believe everyone has had their fill," Dumbledore said. "So now, I'd like to say a few more things and bring some rules to your attention."
"First, to all first-years: the Forbidden Forest on the castle grounds is strictly off-limits to all students. Some of you older students would do well to remember that as well." He looked specifically at the Gryffindor table.
When people thought of rule-breakers, they immediately thought of Gryffindors. However, Dudley, who had studied the biographies of the Four Founders, knew that wasn't the whole story. The Slytherins were just as bad, which was why the two house founders had become the best of friends. Dudley, in fact, was already eyeing the Forbidden Forest. It was a natural treasure trove of potion ingredients, and best of all, they were free.
"Second, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes. Third, Quidditch tryouts will take place during the second week of the term. Anyone who wishes to try out for their house team should contact Madam Hooch."
"Fourth, and most importantly, anyone who does not wish to meet a slow and agonizing death should not go down the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor."
"And finally... before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"
With the bizarre tones of the Gryffindor table occasionally interrupting, Dudley's first meal at Hogwarts came to an end.
"First-years from Slytherin, follow me," a prefect called out.
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