"What… what do you… want?"
Malfoy's voice trembled with fear. He'd learned his lesson: he was no match for Dudley.
Dudley had seen plenty of boys like Malfoy. There were tons of them at St. George's School. They're just spoiled brats, used to getting their way. The best way to deal with them is to take them down a peg once and for all. Dudley didn't get his fearsome reputation at St. George's just by being a bully.
"What do you think I want?"
Dudley's hand came to rest gently on Malfoy's shoulder, a seemingly light touch as if to brush off some dust. His two fingers pressed down on the joint where Malfoy's shoulder met his arm.
*Crunch.*
A tiny, distinct cracking sound reached Dudley's ears. Malfoy watched in horror as his right arm went limp, hanging uselessly like a lump of rubber. No matter how hard he tried to move it, nothing happened.
A sharp, searing pain shot through his arm. A pampered boy like Malfoy had never felt anything like it, and tears and snot immediately started to stream down his face. He was about to scream when Dudley's hand moved to his neck, and the sound died in his throat.
He didn't dare breathe, terrified that his neck would end up just like his arm. Even with his limited knowledge, he knew exactly what was happening. That hand, completely lacking in any magical effect, had complete control over his life.
Then, the hand stopped, hovering just a centimeter or two above Malfoy's forehead.
For the first time, Dudley unleashed his malice on Malfoy, a raw and pure malevolence. In that moment, he felt like a demon that had clawed its way out of the underworld. For the first time in his life, Malfoy felt death's cold embrace so close. He had no doubt that if he made a single wrong move, this person would rip him to shreds and eat him bit by bit.
It was a shock that went straight to his soul. Malfoy felt like he couldn't breathe. No, he didn't just feel like it—he actually couldn't breathe.
"P-please…"
Malfoy's pale face was turning crimson from the lack of oxygen.
*Dark Magic! He must be using Dark Magic on me! I'm going to die!*
Malfoy screamed inside his head. In that moment, he remembered his father's serious warning: to avoid provoking that Harry Potter unless he was sure that he and his friends were nothing special. The idea that Harry was a Dark Wizard, or that a powerful one was hiding in his shadow, was a popular theory in pure-blood circles.
They didn't believe Harry himself was a Dark Wizard, but they were sure someone powerful and dark was hiding nearby. After all, how else could the Dark Lord have been defeated? In their minds, only a stronger Dark Wizard could have taken him down.
Malfoy never thought that Harry's older cousin, this Dudley Dursley, was that Dark Wizard. Not only was his arm acting strange, but he couldn't breathe, and he hadn't even seen a wand or heard a single spell.
This had to be **wandless magic**, or a **silent spell**! He'd overheard his father talk about it once. It was a sign of a wizard with profound magical ability.
Dudley wasn't just a Dark Wizard, he was a *powerful* Dark Wizard.
In reality, Dudley was just releasing a tiny bit of malicious energy. Malfoy's inability to breathe was his own doing. When a person is overcome with strong emotions like fear or panic, their body can tense up, causing spasms and the feeling that they can't breathe. It's called an emotional spasm, or a stress response.
In other words, Malfoy was just so panicked his body was literally cramping up. It was a normal physiological reaction. As for his arm, Dudley had simply dislocated his shoulder—an easy feat for him.
Too bad Malfoy didn't understand any of that. For people in the wizarding world, the first thing they think of when something strange happens is magic. In other words, he was suffering from a lack of scientific knowledge.
"I like useful people. You know, useful people are very likable."
"From now on, you're my follower. Any objections?"
At this point, Malfoy was too terrified to argue. He nodded his head so fast it looked like a chicken pecking at grain.
"Y-yes… yes."
Hearing Malfoy's answer, Dudley reined in his maliciousness just a little, reducing the boy's stress response and allowing him to breathe a bit easier.
Dudley calmly took Malfoy's right arm and, with a slight pull, popped it back into place. He leaned in and whispered to Malfoy, a deeper meaning behind his words. "So… we have an understanding. From now on, we'll get along."
"Remember, three strikes and you're out. You've already had your chance."
The malice vanished completely. Malfoy crumpled to the floor like a puddle of sludge, and the suffocating feeling disappeared. Even his arm returned to normal, no longer a useless lump of jelly. In that moment, he felt like he had been granted a reprieve from death itself.
Emotional spasms are usually temporary; once the fear subsides, the spasms disappear on their own. Malfoy was simply returning to his normal state.
*It was Dark Magic!*
*He really is a powerful Dark Wizard!*
Malfoy screamed these words in his mind. Too bad Dudley couldn't read minds, or he would have told him he was overthinking it. Although fear was the dominant emotion, there was also a tiny bit of... excitement?
After being repeatedly put in his place by Dudley, Malfoy's fear transformed into a sort of twisted admiration. He was simply drawn to power. Many people would say that's a defining trait of Slytherin. But the truth is, what house isn't attracted to power? It's simply human nature.
"By the way, Professor Snape said your physical condition is dreadful. I agree, so I've decided to take you along on my morning workouts."
Dudley's tone left no room for negotiation. He wasn't asking Malfoy; he was telling him.
"Monday through Friday… 7 a.m. sharp. Don't be late."
Dudley's own morning routine began well before 7 a.m. This was just the time he had set for Malfoy. He wasn't making it up, either. Snape had mentioned it to him, only as an offhand remark comparing Dudley's strength to Malfoy's weakness.
Malfoy was in no position to refuse. He'd agree to anything Dudley asked.
"And to fix your awful personality, I want you to memorize this."
"You'll say it out loud while you run."
Dudley handed Malfoy a piece of paper with just a few short lines of text on it.
With his work done, Dudley left Malfoy and walked out the door. He had plans to visit Hagrid's hut with Harry that afternoon. He was sure that after today, Malfoy would never dare to bother him again. In fact, he'd be very obedient.
To be fair, Malfoy wasn't a bad person at his core—just a bit of a loudmouth who got himself into trouble. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to set the course for Slytherin house.
Now, what do you think was written on that paper? Unless you've been peeking at my script, you'll never guess.
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