Chapter 36 - I Prefer to Win People Over with Virtue
Although the platinum-haired boy had phrased it as a question, his tone was filled with certainty.
Clearly, before arriving, he had already confirmed Harry's identity.
Beside the platinum-haired boy stood two short and stocky figures, one on each side like door guards. It was worth mentioning that both had particularly unpleasant appearances.
"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," the boy said casually, then introduced himself with an affected rise-and-fall in tone: "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Dudley had once attended so-called high-society banquets due to family business, and he recalled someone claiming to be a viscount's descendant who used the exact same tone. But Malfoy was too young, and his imitation fell flat, sounding more comical than impressive.
Ron had to cough lightly to stop himself from laughing.
Malfoy slanted his eyes and shot Ron a sidelong glance. "Do you find my name ridiculous?"
His sneer dripped with disdain. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all about the Weasleys—red hair, freckles, and too many children for the family to support."
The superiority in his voice was so obvious that even round-faced Neville could hear it.
He wanted to defend Ron, but when he saw the two "door guards" at Malfoy's side, his timid nature made him swallow his words.
After mocking Ron, Malfoy turned to Harry. "You'll soon realize that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You wouldn't want to make friends with the wrong sort. I can help you with that."
His gaze swept "unintentionally" over Neville and Ron. The compartment was crowded, and the angle of his sightline blocked Dudley and Hermione from view.
Malfoy extended his hand, as if to shake Harry's.
Yet the innate arrogance in his gesture carried the air of a condescending command: "I'll teach you how things are done."
I was wrong. When it comes to saying the worst things possible, I must admit Malfoy takes the crown, Dudley thought.
If Hermione's bluntness could rub people the wrong way, Malfoy's words were outright taunting.
"I think I can decide for myself who the wrong sort is." Harry showed no intention of shaking his hand, his tone cold.
Ron had just praised Dudley, while Malfoy had mocked him earlier.
Anyone who praised Dudley was Harry's sworn brother. Anyone who mocked him…
A faint flush crept across Malfoy's pale cheeks. He clearly hadn't expected Harry to refuse him so directly and so decisively.
"If I were you, Potter, I'd be careful," he said slowly, imitating his father's menacing tone. "You ought to be polite. Otherwise, you may end up the same way your parents did. If you mix with the likes of Weasley, you'll be dragged down."
He hadn't recognized Neville, and even if he had, he wouldn't have dared mention it. The Longbottom family stood on a different level in the wizarding world, and Neville's grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, was a famously strict and formidable witch.
Malfoy's venomous words made Harry and Ron rise to their feet, and after some hesitation, Neville stood up as well.
Crabbe and Goyle immediately stepped in front of Malfoy.
"Why do you have to speak so nastily?"
Hermione, ever forthright, couldn't hold her tongue.
This outburst drew Malfoy's attention to her. He gave her a dismissive once-over and sneered, "And where did you crawl out from?"
Then, ignoring her, he turned back to Harry with another jab. "Potter, I didn't expect you to gather such a bunch of freaks around you so quickly."
"This 'Swagger-boy Malfoy,' let me give you some advice."
Malfoy's sneer wasn't finished before Dudley cut him off. "If you can't imitate someone properly, then don't try. Otherwise, you'll only make yourself look ridiculous."
"Call me Draco Malfoy! Let me see who dares insult a Malfoy!"
Furious, Malfoy turned toward the source of the voice—and once again saw the face that haunted him.
"Oh, it's you!"
He instinctively stumbled backward.
This was the same boy who had humiliated him, the one who made him run crying into the street. Just recalling the memory made his cheeks burn.
It was shame. Pure shame.
Malfoy's pale face flushed crimson as he glared at Dudley with venom in his eyes.
"Crabbe, Goyle, teach him a lesson!"
At his sharp command, the two stocky boys charged. But in the next instant, Dudley snatched them up as if they were chicks, one in each hand, and smashed them together like pancakes. They collapsed immediately, utterly defeated.
It was obvious—they had completely misjudged their own strength.
Dudley's magic might not be remarkable, but his raw physical power alone was enough to beat down anyone across all seven years of Hogwarts.
Malfoy had not expected such violence, nor for his bodyguards to fall so quickly. He collapsed to the ground in fright.
Dudley stepped forward slowly, leaning close until his face filled Malfoy's terrified vision.
"Listen. Harry's parents were my uncle and aunt. When you insult them, you insult me. This time I'll forgive your ignorance, but there will not be a next time."
"From today on, we're classmates. Let's get along, shall we?"
What could Malfoy say? He bobbed his head frantically like a pecking chick, his earlier arrogance gone, leaving only pitiful compliance.
"Take your two friends and go."
At Dudley's words, the three scrambled out, tumbling over each other until they vanished down the corridor.
"Cool!" Ron exclaimed in awe.
Watching Malfoy put in his place filled him with indescribable joy. The Weasleys and Malfoys had never shared anything but bitter hostility.
"Children, anyone want some sweets?"
Just then, a trolley rolled past. Harry, wealthy as ever, waved his hand and bought one of everything.
Candies of every kind piled high on the table, making the young wizards' eyes sparkle.
"Why didn't you thrash them harder?" Ron asked, his mouth stuffed with sweets. Like Neville, he unconsciously used a tone of respect.
In fact, except for Hermione and Harry, every child their age instinctively spoke to Dudley with honorifics.
Harry opened a box of Chocolate Frogs, only for one to spring out. Just as it reached the window, Dudley snatched it effortlessly.
No food ever escaped Dudley's grasp.
"I despise using violence directly. It's too crude. I've always believed in winning people over with virtue."
Ron dug at his ear, certain he had misheard.
Looking at those steel-like teeth gleaming with a faint white light, hearing the monstrous crunch crunch of chewing, he shivered.
Hating violence?
Coming from Dudley, it was utterly unconvincing.
(End of Chapter)
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