"They're not really going to expel us, are they?" Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes wide with a fear Dudley rarely saw in him. He knew of Malfoy's father, a powerful figure on the school board. The thought that such a man could simply demand their expulsion, and perhaps get it, was terrifying.
"Don't worry too much, Harry," Ron said, though his own face was pale. "I heard my dad say that even if Malfoy's father is powerful, at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore still calls the shots. He won't let them expel us, especially not you." Despite his assurances, Ron's nervous fiddling with his robes betrayed his worry.
"What are you two so worried about?" Dudley interjected, his tone dismissive. "Neither of you even laid a hand on him. If anyone's getting expelled, it's me. You can just blame it all on me." He genuinely believed that Dumbledore would not allow such a blatant injustice, and even if he were expelled, it wasn't the end of his world. Magic could be learned elsewhere.
"No way!" Harry immediately protested, his loyalty shining through his fear. "How can we let you take the fall alone? I was involved too. If they expel you, they'll have to expel me with you!" Harry loved Hogwarts. It was the first place he had ever felt truly happy, truly accepted. But he wouldn't abandon Dudley, not after what his cousin had done.
"Alright, alright," Dudley said, a slight, comforting smile on his lips. "Let's not scare ourselves. Things aren't that bad yet."
Later, at dinner, Hermione learned of their summons. "If you need witnesses," she said, her voice firm, "I'm willing to testify for you."
"Thank you, Hermione," Dudley replied, "but I don't think we'll need you." If Lucius Malfoy truly held sway over Dumbledore, Hermione's testimony, however earnest, would be meaningless.
Harry and Ron picked at their food, their appetites ruined by anxiety. Dudley, by contrast, ate heartily. The food at Hogwarts, a feast of magical delights, was truly exceptional.
At precisely seven o'clock, they arrived at the corridor outside Professor Dumbledore's office. The stone walls here felt somehow colder, the air thicker with anticipation. Professor McGonagall was already waiting for them, her expression unyielding.
"Professor McGonagall," the three boys chorused, their voices a nervous whisper in the silent hallway.
"Not late, good," she replied, her tone clipped, yet there was a flicker of something almost akin to a tease in her eyes, a subtle reassurance that cut through their fear. "Follow me."
She led them to a circular doorway where a massive, golden eagle sculpture stood, its wings slightly spread as if in perpetual flight.
"Come up," she instructed, stepping onto a hidden platform beneath the eagle.
Dudley and the others quickly followed. "Lemon Sherbet," McGonagall said clearly.
With a low, mechanical whir, the eagle sculpture began to rotate, and the platform they stood on slowly rose, spiraling upwards. The walls of the hidden shaft were lined with portraits of stern-faced wizards and witches, past Headmasters of Hogwarts, who watched them with silent, judging eyes.
"Just explain clearly what happened on the train," Professor McGonagall instructed, her voice calm but firm, once the sculpture came to a gentle stop. "Understood?" As Dean of Gryffindor and a witness to a part of the incident, she was directly involved.
"Understood," Dudley was the first to reply, his voice steady.
The hidden door slowly swung open, revealing the Headmaster's office. Professor McGonagall stepped in, followed by the three boys.
The office was a fascinating space, filled with countless strange, whirring silver instruments that puffed wisps of smoke and emitted soft clicks and hums. The walls were adorned with portraits of every past Hogwarts Headmaster and Headmistress, many of whom stirred and watched the newcomers with mild interest or sleepy indifference.
Dudley's gaze swept across the room. Even without consciously activating his spiritual vision, he could feel the vibrant hum of latent magic emanating from every corner. His eyes settled on a shelf not far away, where a magnificent, fiery red bird sat perched, its feathers glowing like embers.
A Phoenix?
The moment he saw it, the name came to his mind. Such a creature was incredibly rare, even in the magical world. Dumbledore must be a truly powerful wizard to command such a companion. Dudley's gaze lingered, a flicker of fervent interest in his eyes. It has quite a few good things on it, he thought, referring to the Phoenix's magical properties, which he instinctively perceived.
The Phoenix seemed to sense his intense scrutiny and turned its intelligent, ancient eyes toward him, giving a soft, knowing blink.
"Oh, Harry, Ron, and Dudley, you've arrived quite early," Dumbledore's voice drifted down from the upper railing of a spiral staircase. He descended with a light, almost airy step. "And of course, Professor McGonagall."
"Has Lucius not arrived yet?" McGonagall inquired, her gaze fixed on the entrance.
"Soon, I believe," Dumbledore replied, his voice calm. "They should be on their way." He gestured to a bowl of brightly colored sweets on a nearby table. "Would you care for some lemon drops? When one is nervous, sweetness is the best sedative."
"No, thank you, Professor," Harry said, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He and Ron were trying their best to appear calm, to hide the racing pulse of their fear.
"Oh, alright," Dumbledore said, not insisting.
A murmur from the doorway announced new arrivals. The door swung open again, and three figures entered. One was Malfoy, his usually pale face still a blotchy red from the train incident, his eyes narrowed into furious slits. Beside him stood Professor Snape, his dark robes flowing around his gaunt frame, his hooked nose and sallow skin looking more severe than usual. And finally, a tall, imposing man with sleek, pale blond hair, cold grey eyes, and a meticulously tailored suit. He carried an ornate, silver-headed cane. This was Lucius Malfoy.
"You're here," Dumbledore greeted them with a slight nod.
Lucius Malfoy did not return the pleasantry. He strode forward, his cold eyes sweeping over Dudley and the other two boys before settling on Dumbledore. His voice, a low, aristocratic sneer, filled the room. "Professor Dumbledore, I think my meaning is very clear. Hogwarts does not welcome students who assault classmates before even entering the school. My opinion, therefore, is that they should be expelled!"
Malfoy, standing behind his father, mimicked his father's arrogant tone, his lips forming the words, "Potter, you guys just wait to be expelled!"
"Lucius," Professor McGonagall interjected, her voice tight with indignation, "everything has a reason. It is certainly wrong that Harry and the others resorted to violence, but you must understand what your son did to provoke them."
"Professor McGonagall," Lucius drawled, his voice unwavering, "no matter what my son supposedly 'did,' they laid hands on him. That makes them undeniably in the wrong. Such individuals have no place in a school like Hogwarts. They must be expelled."
"Let me see," Snape's voice was a low, venomous sneer. He looked directly at Harry, his dark eyes burning with a cold, ancient dislike. "Mr. Harry Potter, the famous one, probably believes that with his reputation, even if he commits such an act, he would be immune to expulsion."
"I didn't!" Harry burst out, his voice cracking with anxiety. "Malfoy insulted my parents first! And he called Dudley a… a mudblood! He was the one who attacked first!"
"Is that so?" Lucius narrowed his cold, reptilian eyes. "But according to my son, you insulted him first, and you were the ones who struck first." The battle for the truth had begun.
(End of Chapter)
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