The Slytherin Common Room
"He's finished."
"That muscular oaf is done for this time."
In the murky, green glow of the Slytherin common room, Malfoy was telling his first-year housemates all about what had happened in Potions class today. "You know, Professor Snape is a good friend of my father's. Before I even came to Hogwarts, my father told him..."
Malfoy launched into his daily routine of "my dad this, my dad that."
Then, he lowered his voice, making it as menacing as he could. "Professor Snape will give him a good thrashing, punish him, and have him thrown out of Slytherin, right out of Hogwarts, disgraced."
"Heh, and it's got nothing to do with me. It'll be all Professor Snape's doing."
"I was only..."
Malfoy crowed triumphantly about his plan, as if he could already see Dudley being shown the door.
"My father always said Slytherin is only for those of noble blood..."
It was the same old pure-blood nonsense.
Lost in his own little world, Malfoy didn't notice the sudden changes in his classmates' faces. He didn't see Pansy's frantic eye-rolling, or the fact that Crabbe and Goyle had gone completely pale and were trembling uncontrollably.
Until...
"It's not very gentlemanly to talk about people behind their backs. Then again, there isn't a single proper gentleman left in all of England."
"Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. I won't be leaving Hogwarts anytime soon."
A voice that made Malfoy's hair stand on end rang out behind him. In that moment, he felt as if his hands and feet had turned to ice, as if he'd been dropped into the coldest depths of the Abyss. The sound choked in his throat like a strangled goose.
A giant hand, seemingly from the heavens, came down and grabbed the top of his head. He felt his scalp stretch and, in an instant, his entire body was lifted effortlessly by that single hand.
Dudley couldn't wrap his head around why some wizards were so proud of their blood status. In his experience, only pets went on about their lineage. Only pets cared about being "purebred."
As a side note, the Malfoys, who prided themselves on their pure blood, had platinum-blonde hair. Meanwhile, the Weasleys, whom they looked down on, had red hair. Do you know what red hair meant in England?
If you knew a bit of English history, you'd know.
The original inhabitants of the European mainland were the Celts, and red hair was a mark of Celtic blood. In other words, the Weasleys had Celtic lineage. If you traced their family tree, the Weasleys were more "pure" than any other pure-blood in the room.
As for blonde hair, it came from either the Germanic or the Viking tribes. And as everyone knows, Vikings were a bunch of bloody marauders.
So, even at the very root, there was nothing for Malfoy to boast about.
"I think we should have a nice little chat."
"Before I lose my patience completely."
Dudley held Malfoy roughly and took big, booming strides toward the back of the Slytherin common room. Well, there was his excuse to go after Malfoy, wasn't there?
"No! You can't do that!" Malfoy screamed in terror, kicking and flailing his arms, desperately trying to get free. But it was useless.
It was laughable; his short arms and legs couldn't even reach Dudley.
The other Slytherins just watched as Dudley carried Malfoy away. In the massive common room, not a single person dared to step forward and stop him. Even Malfoy's two loyal goons, the pathetic Crabbe and Goyle, had passed out the moment they saw Dudley. It was impossible to tell if they were faking it or not.
"Looks like no one's coming to help you. Your friends must not like you very much, Mr. Malfoy... Pity, I was hoping to have a bit of fun today, too."
Dudley's words made the other Slytherins' faces drop. They scattered as if Dudley were a plague, leaving an empty circle around him. Even the fainted Crabbe and Goyle went several shades paler.
In reality, after that first night of term, Malfoy's reputation in Slytherin had taken a subtle turn for the worse. You can be a proud Malfoy, but why'd you have to get us all a good spanking? And afterwards, you didn't even do anything to make it up to us?
Even the good guy was the Carrow.
Ultimately, Mr. Malfoy was still too young. He didn't know the first thing about social graces.
"Wait a moment..."
There was one person, at least, wasn't there?
"Hm? You got a problem with what I'm doing, Miss Parkinson?"
Dudley slowly turned, his eyes as big as saucers fixed on Pansy. He wondered just how long this girl would cry if he punched her.
In that moment, Pansy felt like she was being hunted by a wild beast. He hadn't done anything, but she felt like she couldn't even breathe.
"I... I was just saying you must be hungry. How about some tea and a few biscuits?" Miss Parkinson said, her courage completely gone.
What Malfoy? She couldn't care less about him.
"Tea with no sugar, thanks. And yes, a few biscuits would be great. I am a bit peckish."
Since someone was offering, he wasn't going to say no.
"I'll be back to drink it in a little while, before it gets cold. Cheers."
With that, he continued holding Malfoy and walked deeper into the common room. The Slytherin students watched them go.
"He's not going to eat Draco, is he?" Pansy muttered to herself.
Unfortunately, no one in the common room could answer her.
It wasn't until the two of them were completely out of sight that the two chubby boys, who had been lying on the floor, suddenly shot up as if their bottoms were on fire.
It was obvious now—they had been faking it.
"I'm going to tell my father..."
Since force was useless, Malfoy tried to use his father's name as leverage. He was a classic "Daddy's boy," after all, and his dad's name usually worked like a charm.
"If I were you, I wouldn't."
Dudley held Malfoy in a rough grip, completely ignoring the boy's discomfort. Malfoy felt like his scalp was being ripped off, but there was nothing he could do.
Dudley walked all the way into the deepest part of the Slytherin common room, found a random door, "gently" pushed it open, and closed it behind them.
The room was bigger than he expected, with a large table in the middle.
Funnily enough, it was the same room where the older Slytherins had held their meeting earlier. Since it was in the dungeons, the room was almost completely dark without the lamps on, lit only by a faint, gloomy glow.
Dudley tossed Malfoy aside like a little chicken, then slowly crouched down, towering over him. "Hey, mate, it's just the two of us now. Whatever I do to you, nobody will ever know."
He put extra emphasis on the last few words.
Dudley's chilling tone sent a shiver down Malfoy's spine, a deep cold that spread all the way to his bones.