"That was amazing!" Ron said, his eyes wide with admiration. "Can you teach me how to do that?" Dudley's takedown of Malfoy and his thugs had been a masterclass in controlled violence. The two hulking boys had been neutralized before they could even leverage their size advantage.
"You want to learn the art of physical persuasion?" Dudley asked with a slight, dangerous smile.
"Yeah! What if I get bullied at school?" Ron insisted. He knew he couldn't always count on Dudley being there, and Malfoy was definitely the type to hold a grudge.
"But you're a wizard," Dudley reminded him gently.
"Ah… oh, right." Ron looked down at his slightly splintered, hand-me-down wand, his face flushing. "I almost forgot." It was true. Fisticuffs were rare in the wizarding world. Spells were much faster than fists.
"The school probably doesn't allow students to use spells on each other, right?" Harry asked, fiddling with his now-broken glasses. Malfoy's punch had sent them skittering across the floor, cracking one of the lenses and bending the frame.
"Well, officially, no," Ron said. "But my brothers told me it happens all the time." He sighed, looking at Harry's glasses. "I wonder if Hogwarts has a place that can fix those."
"Probably not," Harry lamented, "but I know a spell that can fix things. Maybe when we get to school, I can find…"
Before Ron could finish, Dudley calmly drew his new Elder wand and pointed its tip at the mangled spectacles in Harry's hand.
"Reparo."
He spoke the word with a quiet confidence. A soft, silvery light enveloped the glasses. With a swish of his wand, the cracks in the lens vanished, the bent frame straightened, and they settled in Harry's palm, looking even newer and cleaner than before.
"Blimey," Ron breathed, astonished. "You even know the Mending Charm?"
"This spell isn't too difficult," Dudley said, putting his wand away with a practiced ease. "I tried it a few times before and it worked." It was a simple first-year spell. Repairing a pair of glasses didn't require much magical proficiency.
"You really did it," Harry said, putting the repaired glasses on. He stared at his cousin in shock. "You taught yourself a real spell." He knew Dudley had been studying, but to have mastered a spell so quickly, without any formal instruction… it was incredible. Compared to Dudley, he felt like he knew nothing at all.
"It's not very difficult," Dudley said casually. "I can teach you when we get to school. It's just a matter of controlling your magic." The ease with which he spoke of such things was a world away from the bumbling, insecure boys beside him.
The sky outside the window had deepened to a velvety black, and the rhythmic clatter of the train had begun to slow. An unseen, disembodied voice echoed through the carriage: "We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."
Harry and Ron exchanged a nervous glance, their faces pale in the dim light of the compartment. Dudley, however, felt only a flicker of curiosity. He had seen grander, more terrifying sights. This was just a school.
The train finally hissed to a stop. The corridor outside was already crowded with students. As the three of them made their way to the exit, Dudley noticed several older students giving them knowing looks and subtle thumbs-up. Ron's twin brothers gave them a double thumbs-up and a boisterous, silent cheer.
They were the last to disembark, stepping out into a pitch-black night. A chill wind whipped around them, making Harry and Ron shiver.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" A familiar voice boomed through the darkness. Hagrid stood on the platform, holding a massive lantern aloft. He was a lighthouse in the sea of nervous, black-robed children. "Harry! Dudley! Over here!" he waved enthusiastically.
As the first-years began to shuffle towards Hagrid, another voice cut through the crowd, dripping with venom.
"You just wait."
They turned to see Malfoy and his two hulking bodyguards standing nearby, their faces grim. Malfoy's swollen jaw was already turning a dark shade of purple, and Crabbe and Goyle stood with an awkward, pained stiffness.
"What, want another round?" Dudley said with a lazy, challenging smile, raising a single, casual fist.
Malfoy let out a small, terrified shriek and stumbled back several steps. He then realized they were more than ten meters apart and puffed out his chest, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "You just wait!" he snarled, clenching his fists. "I've already sent an owl to my father! You're just waiting to be expelled!" He desperately wanted to rush Dudley, but the memory of the swift, brutal takedown was still fresh in his mind.
"Heh," Dudley sneered, turning his back on them. A spoiled rich kid throwing a tantrum. He had dealt with far worse.
"Follow me, everyone, follow me," Hagrid called, leading the group of first-years down a narrow, steep path. The forest around them was dark and silent, and the nervous chatter of the students died down to an apprehensive quiet.
"Jus' around this bend," Hagrid said, his voice a comforting rumble in the darkness, "you'll get your first sight of Hogwarts."
They rounded the bend, and a collective gasp went through the crowd. A vast, black lake lay before them, its surface as smooth as polished glass. And on the far side, perched atop a high mountain, was a magnificent castle, its many turrets and towers silhouetted against the starry sky. Warm, golden light spilled from its countless windows, each one a tiny star reflected perfectly in the dark water below. The sight was one of indescribable grandeur and profound, ancient mystery.
***
(End of Chapter)
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