"Yes, Professor, not only did they hit me, they also insulted my parents…" Harry said, his eyes red and his voice low.
Dudley observed the scene, nodding with quiet satisfaction.
These two are quick on the uptake, he thought.
"Harry, are you alright? Let me check your injuries," said a middle-aged Black wizard who had emerged from the adjacent compartment, his face etched with concern.
"I'm fine, really, just a minor scratch," Harry replied softly, stepping back.
He didn't dare let anyone examine him closely. Apart from his eyes feeling sore and red from Malfoy's near-miss punch, he had no real injuries.
When Dudley had torn his shirt and smeared blood on his face, Harry had caught on instantly.
And when Professor McGonagall and the two wizards from the next compartment appeared, Harry couldn't help but admire Dudley's cunning.
If he had lunged at Malfoy earlier, he'd be the one struggling to explain himself now.
Thankfully, Dudley had kept that from happening.
"Professor, I can vouch for them. I heard Malfoy call Dudley a mudblood and insult Harry's parents. I was about to step in to stop it, but as soon as I opened the door, I saw Malfoy throwing punches. It was awful," said Hermione Granger, the curly-haired, buck-toothed girl who'd been in their compartment earlier. Her voice trembled, clearly shaken.
"I saw it too," added the round-faced boy who'd lost his toad, his voice barely above a whisper.
"How could they just start hitting people like that?"
"We're supposed to be classmates, and they're spouting vile insults and resorting to violence. I wouldn't want to be in the same House as them."
"It's outrageous, Professor McGonagall. Can students like that really attend Hogwarts?"
"Is this what pure-blood wizards are like? It's disgraceful."
The crowd buzzed with indignation, their voices dripping with disdain for Malfoy and his cronies sprawled on the floor.
Few in the compartment seemed to know Malfoy, so almost no one spoke up in his defense.
"Quiet! Everyone, return to your compartments," Professor McGonagall commanded, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Reluctantly, the students dispersed, shuffling back to their seats.
"First, get those three to their compartment," McGonagall said, glaring at the Malfoys on the ground, her anger palpable.
"I'll handle it," offered the middle-aged Black wizard, Kingsley. He drew his wand and cast a Levitation Charm, guiding the three toward the corridor's end.
Whether by accident or design, Crabbe's foot clipped a doorframe, Malfoy's head grazed a railing, and Goyle's charm faltered, sending him crashing to the floor. Their whimpers escalated into intermittent screams as they floated away.
"Kingsley, be careful!" Professor McGonagall called after him.
"I'll do my best, Professor," Kingsley's voice echoed back, though Malfoy's yelps still punctured the air.
"You three, explain exactly what happened," McGonagall said sternly, turning to Harry, Dudley, and Ron.
She'd already noticed that, despite the blood on Harry, he wasn't seriously hurt. Clearly, he hadn't suffered much in the scuffle.
Malfoy and his goons, on the other hand, looked far worse—both in appearance and reality.
"Professor McGonagall, I was the one who acted. If you're going to blame anyone, blame me," Dudley said, stepping forward.
McGonagall's gaze settled on Dudley.
She'd initially harbored doubts about this Dursley boy. Her past encounters with the Dursley family had shown their disdain for magic, which led her to assume they'd mistreat Harry—a suspicion later events had confirmed.
Yet, when Dudley Dursley's name appeared in Hogwarts' Book of Admittance, McGonagall had been stunned.
For one, few awakened magical talent at his age. For another, could a family like the Dursleys truly produce a wizard? She'd been skeptical, even urging Dumbledore to investigate Dudley thoroughly.
Now, seeing him in action, she had to admit this boy possessed remarkable qualities—strength, at the very least.
"Professor, don't blame Dudley. It was my retaliation that started it," Harry interjected.
"Oh, already covering for each other, are we?" McGonagall said, her eyes narrowing as she studied the trio.
Dudley, Harry, and Ron fell silent.
"Very well. I'll report this to Professor Dumbledore, and I trust he'll handle it justly," McGonagall said. "However, you three will face punishment. As for the Malfoys, theirs will be far stricter. You'll learn the details after the Sorting Ceremony."
"Now, clean yourselves up and prepare to disembark for school," she added, her tone sharp with irritation.
"Wait, Professor McGonagall, I think there's a misunderstanding. I wasn't involved!" Ron protested, his face the picture of innocence.
He'd been minding his own business, only to get dragged into the chaos without even landing a punch on Malfoy.
"Oh, Mr. Weasley, as a classmate, you failed to intervene and stop the conflict. That makes you partly responsible," McGonagall said, giving his shoulder a light pat before turning to leave. She slid the compartment door shut behind her.
Ron craned his neck and threw up his hands, looking for all the world like a bewildered owl.
"Hahaha!" Harry burst out laughing.
Dudley cracked a faint smile.
Then Ron joined in.
"Guess I'm in for it too," Ron said, shrugging with a wry grin.
"I heard my dad say Malfoy's father is influential. I thought this would be a mess, with his dad causing a stink at school. But from what Professor McGonagall said, our punishment might not be too bad," Ron mused.
"She's keeping things fair on the surface, but I think she's leaning toward Harry," Dudley said. "Otherwise, she'd have insisted on checking Harry's injuries first instead of letting us off so easily."
"Why's that?" Harry asked, puzzled.
Dudley grinned and tapped Harry's forehead. "My daft brother, this is your get-out-of-jail-free card."
Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances.
"Because you're the famous Harry Potter!" Dudley clarified.
Harry rolled his eyes. "What, you're going to tease me about that too?"
"Not at all," Dudley said, casually wiping the blood from his hand. He picked up the kitten and resumed petting it, his demeanor a stark contrast to the ferocity he'd shown against Malfoy's trio. Now, he exuded an almost refined air. If he donned a top hat and carried a cane, he'd look like a gentleman straight out of the Victorian era.
"I think the kids back home calling you 'D Ge' wasn't just talk," Harry said suddenly.
"When words fail, fists do the talking," Dudley replied, looking up with an elegant smile.