The moment they stepped into the castle, Malfoy and Neville—both raised in the wizarding world—turned into wide-eyed Muggle tourists. The decor was a wild mix of fantasy and sci-fi, nothing like the usual wizarding aesthetic.
Harry led the group to the dining hall, where Dudley and Hermione were already waiting.
"Neville, Draco, welcome to our place," Dudley said warmly.
The words our place brought a bright grin to Harry's face and made Hermione blush, turning her head away shyly as she sat next to Dudley.
"Dinner's served," Dudley announced, sitting up straight and snapping his fingers.
Instantly, the room lit up like it was daytime, even though the sun had set and night was creeping in. A troop of Cornish pixies, dressed in tiny suits and ties, zoomed in from the doorway, balancing trays of food that they set down on the sprawling dining table.
The mouthwatering aroma of the dishes had everyone's stomachs growling.
Malfoy casually speared a piece of food and popped it into his mouth. It melted on his tongue, bursting with flavors that danced across his taste buds.
Way better than anything we get at home, he thought.
When he learned that Dudley had cooked it all himself, Malfoy's jaw dropped. "D-bro, you can cook?!"
Back at Hogwarts, Dudley had never shown off his culinary skills, so Malfoy and Neville had no idea he was a wizard in the kitchen too.
"Of course he can," Harry said, puffing out his chest proudly. "D-bro's cooking is the best."
You'd think he was the one being praised.
"No need to hold back—dig in! I made plenty," Dudley said, eyeing a crispy roasted pork knuckle. Time to eat.
You'd expect Dudley to delicately slice it with a knife and fork, savoring each bite slowly? Think again. This was Dudley.
He grabbed the pork knuckle and tore into it, Asclepius-style, chomping down huge bites with lightning speed. Real meat needs to be eaten in big chunks.
Malfoy was only on his second forkful when Dudley had already demolished the knuckle and moved on to the next dish. Maybe it was from hanging out with Dudley so much, but Hermione and Harry were eating just as fast. The food on the table vanished at an alarming rate. Malfoy tried to stay polite at first, but as the delicious dishes dwindled, he abandoned all pretense and joined the food-grabbing frenzy.
Neville? No question there. His bigger frame meant he was starving, and he dove in without hesitation.
In no time, the table was cleared like a swarm of locusts had swept through.
Dudley waved a hand, and the pixies—ever perceptive—swooped in to clear the plates, flying them back to the kitchen.
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Dudley looked at the group. "School doesn't start for a while. Any ideas on what you want to do?"
Touring the castle would only take a few days, even if they explored every nook and cranny. They still had a whole two months before term started. Everyone had cleared it with their families—they weren't going home during the break.
Malfoy had thought his dad would never let him stay, but to his surprise, Lucius agreed and even told him to "learn from Dudley." Arrogant as he was, Lucius wasn't blind to opportunity.
Hermione spoke up first. "I think we should use the rest of the holiday to study. Fifth year's coming up with the O.W.L.s, and we don't have much time left."
"We'll be third years when we get back to Hogwarts," she added. "That's only four years until graduation."
Her use of "only" made it sound like they had a month left, not years. Still, Dudley admired her proactive attitude.
Their priorities differed, though. Hermione was focused on exams, while Dudley had bigger concerns. Tom Riddle—Voldemort—had taken hit after hit from Dudley. Two Horcruxes destroyed, his main soul fragment wiped out. He wouldn't just sit back and take it.
The older Harry got, the bigger a threat he became. Voldemort was obsessed with the prophecy that named Harry as his downfall. For a wizard of his and Dumbledore's caliber, the only way to grow stronger was to confront and conquer that obsession.
And since the world thought Harry had defeated him as a baby, Voldemort would stop at nothing to gather his forces, rally his Death Eaters, and kill Harry in front of everyone.
The Discipline Committee was strong—for students. But against fully-grown, ruthless wizards? Harry and the others still had a long way to go.
Don't even think about relying on the Ministry of Magic. Dudley, having dealt with them before, knew they were useless. Cowering before Death Eaters, cracking down on regular wizards—that was the Ministry in a nutshell.
"I'm in," Malfoy said, surprising everyone by being the first to agree with Hermione.
He wasn't usually lazy like Ron, but he wasn't exactly a studyholic either. What the others didn't know was that Malfoy had set his sights on becoming the head of the Malfoy family. Step one? Oust the current head.
What a dutiful son.
"I think so too," Neville chimed in, nodding enthusiastically.
"I reckon we should focus on Defense Against the Dark Arts training," Harry added. He was still sore about not joining Dudley to take down the Basilisk last term and was dead-set on upping his DADA game.
Real-world combat was the core of DADA, after all.
"I think so too," Neville said again, nodding like a bobblehead.
All three turned to Dudley. He was the one who called the shots.
Seeing everyone so eager to learn warmed Dudley's heart. "Theory and practice—we need both," he said thoughtfully. "Besides the basics in our textbooks, we should tackle some advanced magic."
Like the Patronus Charm.
Perfect timing, too, with a certain dark creature set to haunt Hogwarts this year: Dementors. They'd make excellent practice targets.
Defeating ten or more Dementors head-on would be the baseline challenge for the Discipline Committee this year. Pass that, and you're in.
Dudley's gaze drifted to a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table, specifically to an article about the Weasley family. He wondered if a certain big dog locked up in Azkaban had seen it yet.