"Did I say something wrong? A mudblood is a mudblood," Malfoy sneered, his voice dripping with an arrogance that was both inherited and deeply practiced. "Potter, if you associate with this kind of trash, it won't be long before you end up just like them. Just like your parents."
The words struck Harry with the force of a physical blow. A white-hot rage, pure and blinding, consumed him. Ron, seeing the fury in his friend's eyes, tensed beside him, ready to leap to his defense.
But before either of them could move, a pair of iron-like hands clamped onto their shoulders. Dudley.
"Dudley, what are you doing?" Ron hissed, struggling against the unyielding grip. "He's insulting you! That's a filthy, horrible word!"
Harry was just as confused, his face flushed with anger and betrayal. "Let go! He's talking about my parents!" Didn't Dudley, the king of playground violence, understand that this was a fight they had to have?
Dudley didn't respond. His head was tilted slightly, his gaze fixed not on Malfoy, but on something far down the corridor. His Spirit Vision was active. He could see a blurry, shimmering figure there, a powerful wizard whose aura pulsed with a quiet, observant energy. And in the adjacent compartment, the one marked "Temporarily Out of Service," he sensed two more. This train was not just a simple school transport. It was crawling with powerful wizards, likely Aurors, assigned to protect Harry.
Under these circumstances, a simple brawl was out of the question. It would draw unwanted attention, invite scrutiny. It would be… sloppy.
This was the law of survival Dudley had learned in that other, more dangerous world: you never show your hand unless you control the board.
He took a single, deliberate step forward, his grip on Harry and Ron never loosening. "Do you think your bloodline makes you noble?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm. His Spirit Vision locked onto Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, analyzing their emotional states, their weaknesses.
"Hmph. It makes me nobler than a mudblood like you," Malfoy scoffed, though a flicker of unease entered his eyes. He felt an indescribable pressure emanating from Dudley, a cold, heavy authority that made the hairs on his arms stand up.
"The nobility of a person is never determined by blood," Dudley continued, his voice steady and unhurried, each word a carefully placed stone in a complex legal argument. "In my opinion, your so-called nobility is merely a delusion. Because apart from your bloodline, you are good for nothing."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment, his Beyonder powers subtly weaving through his voice, amplifying his authority, twisting Malfoy's own arrogance back on him.
"You, with your 'noble' and 'pure' bloodline… all I see is noble and pure… trash."
"And no matter how noble the blood, trash is still trash."
"What did you say?!" Malfoy's pale face contorted with rage. Crabbe and Goyle, their slow minds grappling with the insult, grew red-faced and furious. The most infuriating part was that, for a fleeting moment, Dudley's words had felt… true. It was an unbearable violation of their worldview.
"Get him!" Malfoy shrieked, lunging forward, his own fury overriding his caution.
His fist flew toward Harry's face. Harry, still held fast by Dudley, tried to retaliate, but the awkward angle threw him off balance. Malfoy's punch missed its intended target but connected squarely with Harry's glasses, sending them flying. They hit the floor with a sickening crunch.
"Malfoy," Dudley's voice suddenly boomed, all calm reason replaced by a theatrical, righteous fury. "You dare to strike my brother? I will never let you go!"
He released Harry and Ron and exploded into motion. His fist, powered by the latent strength of a Arbiter, connected with Malfoy's jaw with a sickening crack. The blond boy flew backward out of the compartment, landing in a heap in the narrow corridor.
"And you two!" Dudley roared, turning on Crabbe and Goyle. "Bullying my brother, are you? I'll beat you to death!"
He became a whirlwind of controlled violence. Screams and shouts filled the air as Dudley's fists landed with brutal, unflinching precision. In less than three seconds, both Crabbe and Goyle had joined Malfoy in a groaning, bruised pile in the corridor. Harry and Ron could only stare, dumbfounded, as if hit by a Full-Body-Bind Curse. Dudley's movements had been too fast, too ruthless. Every punch had landed with a solid, meaty thud that made Ron wince in sympathetic pain.
Dudley didn't pursue them. Instead, with a practiced, fluid motion, he ripped the collar of Harry's robe and, before Harry could react, dipped his fingers in the blood dripping from Malfoy's nose and smeared it across Harry's cheek.
"What are you doing?!" A sharp, authoritative woman's voice, filled with shock and anger, echoed down the corridor. The door to the "Out of Service" compartment was thrown open, and two stern-faced wizards in Ministry robes stepped out, wands drawn.
Professor McGonagall appeared at the end of the corridor, her face a mask of disbelief. She saw the bloodied, moaning forms of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and then her eyes landed on Harry, his face streaked with blood, his glasses broken on the floor.
"Mr. Dursley! What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, her gaze fixing on Dudley.
"Professor!" Dudley cried, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "This boy, Malfoy, and his two thugs, they barged into our compartment and attacked my brother, Harry Potter!" He pointed a trembling, accusatory finger. "Look! He broke my brother's glasses! He made his face bleed!"
His voice carried down the corridor, which was now crowded with curious students. They latched onto the key points.
Someone had attacked Harry Potter.
Someone had made the Boy Who Lived bleed.
A wave of angry murmurs went through the crowd.
"What? Someone hit Harry Potter?"
"On his first day?"
"Who would dare?"
On the floor, Malfoy, his mouth full of blood, tried to protest, but only incoherent gurgles came out.
"Professor, they went too far!" Ron chimed in, finding his voice. "He called Harry's parents ungrateful, and he called Dudley a… a mudblood! Then he just punched Harry!" Ron, emboldened by the injustice, firmly cemented Malfoy's guilt in the eyes of the gathered crowd.
***
(End of Chapter)
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