I am Harry Potter's Cousin, Big D

Thump, thump, thump.

The heavy, measured footsteps of Marcus Flint and his group of upper-year Slytherins echoed in the corridor. They entered the common room just in time to see Dudley holding a fainted Draco Malfoy by the head. There was only one way out of the Slytherin common room, and to reach Professor Snape, they had to pass through this scene of utter devastation.

The sight that greeted them was shocking. The senior students, who had been cloistered in their private meeting room, had clearly not expected the situation outside to be so brutal. The common room was a battlefield, with young wizards lying scattered everywhere, none of them able to stand. They had all assumed Dudley had merely subdued Malfoy amidst a small group of his followers; they had not realized he had taken down all of them, leaving Malfoy for last.

What kind of spell could have caused this? they wondered, their minds racing. A powerful, wide-area Stunning Spell? Some special, unknown charm? And why were they all clutching their behinds, their faces contorted in pain? Was this some bizarre side effect of the curse?

In an instant, the older Slytherins secretly raised Dudley's danger level by several notches. This Dursley was not simple. Which meant Potter was even less simple. The official story, that Harry Potter had grown up as a normal boy in a Muggle family, was clearly unreliable. If the cousin was this strong, how much more powerful could Potter himself be? Countless theories surged through their minds, and they looked at Dudley with a new, complex mixture of fear and respect.

The seventh-year Prefect, a young man named Carrow, thought even deeper. Why would the two brothers be sorted into rival houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin? There had to be a deeper meaning, a grander strategy at play. Could it be that Potter—no, Mr. Potter—intends to conquer Gryffindor first and then subdue Slytherin from within? Once the terrifying thought took root, it could not be shaken off. He found himself unconsciously using honorifics when thinking of Harry.

Among the stunned upper-years, perhaps only Marcus Flint wasn't overthinking it; his brain simply didn't have the capacity. He was only thinking of Malfoy.

"Stop! Let go of Malfoy!" Marcus roared, pulling out his wand and aiming it at Dudley. "Stupefy!"

A dark green light erupted from the tip of his wand. Without a second thought, Dudley grabbed the unconscious Draco and used him as a human shield. Since the moment the senior students had arrived, his full attention had been on them.

Poor Malfoy, who had only been scared into a faint, now took a full-force Stunning Spell to the chest. He wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

"Damn it!" Marcus cursed, casting another spell. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Dudley simply adjusted his grip, lifting Malfoy's limp body to block the Body-Bind Curse as well. Marcus, in his frustration, fired off several more spells, some of them nasty jinxes, but Dudley blocked every single one with the "Malfoy" shield. For a moment, Dudley suspected Marcus wasn't trying to save Malfoy at all but rather held some personal grudge against him.

While blocking the spells, Dudley reached down and grabbed the petrified Goyle, hoisting him up like a club. "Enemies?" he asked, his eyes cautiously scanning the newly arrived senior students. He knew he could handle the lower years, but the upper years, with their larger arsenal of spells, were a different story. Unless he could achieve a one-hit kill, he couldn't afford to hold back.

The brutal, almost casual act of grabbing Goyle and using him as a weapon completely stunned the other senior students. After a long, silent moment, they quietly distanced themselves from Marcus, making their position clear. They wanted no part in this.

"Understood," Dudley nodded, a tacit understanding passing between them.

Only Marcus, the person at the center of the conflict, remained oblivious. "Put down your weapon!" he shouted, then hesitated. "No, put down Malfoy and Goyle!" He didn't know how to handle the situation; he had never seen anyone use people as weapons before.

Dudley, however, wasn't going to wait. He casually tossed Malfoy to the ground and hoisted up Crabbe with his other hand. These two were quite handy as weapons; holding them made him feel less panicked.

The simple act of Dudley lifting Crabbe seemed to unnerve Marcus completely. Reflexively, he cast another spell.

"Expelliarmus!"

The Disarming Charm was a practical and effective spell, one that could render most wizards helpless. But there was a problem: Dudley didn't have a wand in his hand, only Goyle and Crabbe. The question arose: did Goyle and Crabbe count as weapons?

Dudley, having studied magical theory extensively, knew the answer. The spell's effect depended on the caster's perception of what constituted a "weapon," but it had a crucial limitation: it couldn't affect living beings. Otherwise, you could disarm an opponent's fists, or worse, their head. The thought of young wizards running around Hogwarts carrying their enemies' skulls was terrifyingly absurd.

Therefore, Dudley didn't even bother to dodge. He let the spell hit him, and as expected, nothing happened. Marcus's spell only made him sway slightly; his six stacks of 'Calm Mind' and his constant state of 'integrated waist and horse' made his lower body incredibly stable.

"He attacked first," Dudley said, his voice calm, addressing not Marcus, but the other senior Slytherins. "I've already given him three chances."

Then, while Marcus was still stunned by the spell's failure, Dudley threw a flying 'Crabbe' hammer, knocking the Quidditch captain unconscious with a single, decisive blow.

In the eyes of the senior students, this was not so simple. Potter's cousin had a way to defend against the Disarming Charm, he could turn people into weapons, and his fighting style was... it was too brutal.

'Potter is hiding his strength too well,' Carrow thought, closing his eyes and trying to empty his mind. 'Knowing too much is sometimes not a good thing.' As for Dudley achieving all this through pure physical strength, the thought never even crossed their minds. How could a normal wizard do such a thing?

Dudley walked over to the unconscious Marcus, picked up 'Crabbe' again, and looked at the others. "Something wrong?"

The sheer, intimidating aura he projected, combined with the carnage around them, deeply shocked these soon-to-be-graduating senior students. Not a single one of them spoke.

"If there's nothing, I'm leaving," he said.

"Please wait a moment," Carrow finally spoke up, realizing none of his companions would.

Dudley stopped and turned, waiting silently. The Prefect raised his head, but the moment he met Dudley's gaze, he had to look away. It was like facing not a person, but a human beast.

'It's a good thing I didn't let that useless Marcus come out alone,' the Prefect secretly congratulated himself. 'This kind of wizard must never be made an enemy.'

Carrow bowed slightly, a gesture of respect Dudley didn't understand, and spoke. "I sincerely apologize for Marcus Flint's rudeness to you. He was truly too impulsive." He had to make his stance clear; this matter could easily escalate.

Dudley was surprised by the apology but didn't relax his guard. Courtesy before force? he wondered.

"Let's put the apology aside for now," Dudley said, his voice surprisingly flat. "Do you have anything else?"

The Prefect breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Please believe that everything Marcus did was his own personal behavior and has nothing to do with the Flint family," he said, trying to separate the individual from the influential pure-blood family.

"Flint?" Dudley's heart moved. "Are you talking about the Flint family that had a Minister for Magic a hundred years ago, who used to do... and now does...?" He slowly recounted the deeds of the Flint family, information he had gleaned from his extensive reading. To ensure a peaceful life, he had memorized the histories of all the major wizarding families.

The senior students looked shocked; they, pure-blood wizards, didn't know the details Dudley was reciting. 'Indeed,' Carrow thought, 'Mr. Potter is playing a very big game. How else could a Muggle-born wizard know so much?'

The rest of the conversation went smoothly. Carrow was enthusiastic, didn't mention the beatdown at all, and offered to handle the aftermath as a sign of apology, even offering to buy the confiscated wands from Dudley at a high price. He gave Dudley face in every possible way. Assessing the situation was the sign of a mature Slytherin.

"Mr. Dursley," Carrow said carefully, "I have an impolite request. If possible, I hope you would, for my sake, overlook Draco's actions this time. His father is an elder who has taken great care of me." It was a lie, but a necessary one to maintain the delicate balance of pure-blood politics.

"Lord Carrow," Dudley replied, adopting the formal title, "if anyone else had said this, I would have told them to 'get lost'. But if it is you, my Lord, I am very willing to give you this face." He then let his expression turn grim. "But only once. This will be the last time."

"Naturally," Carrow nodded, understanding completely. Face was something that had to be given mutually.

Dudley was satisfied. He had enjoyed spanking the brats, he had made money, and besides the main culprit, Malfoy, not being properly dealt with, everything that needed to be done had been done. As for truly letting Malfoy go? Dudley knew that someone with Malfoy's personality would inevitably provoke him again to save face. And next time, Carrow wouldn't protect him. Isolation was the inevitable result.

"Mr. Dursley," Carrow said, "thank you for your understanding. It is my dereliction of duty as Prefect that your first day was so unpleasant. I have prepared a small token of my regard for you, which will be delivered to your room tomorrow along with the compensation for the wands. I am sure it will satisfy you." The implication was clear: the compensation would be substantial.

(End of Chapter)

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