Draco hadn't been entirely truthful with Dudley. Oh, it was true enough that Malfoys didn't resort to physical violence, looking upon it as a Muggle barbarity. But Draco had certainly been forced to do enough Muggle things already that one more wouldn't have made much difference. In truth, he didn't understand the need for violence in this situation at all. But as he and Dudley walked slowly home through the "cuddle-sacks," he determined to find out.
"Dudley," he began, "why don't you tell me about this Mark Evans?"
Dudley grunted. "There really isn't much to tell. He's 12, lives in the neighborhood, kind of a dork."
"No," Draco continued, "I mean tell me what he ever did to you to make you treat him so savagely."
Dudley stared blankly. "I don't think he ever did anything to me except try to run away."
"Perhaps someone in his family hurt someone in your family, then? Is it a family vendetta?"
Dudley laughed. "I think they only have those in the mafia."
"Is it something religious then? Does his family belong to a different sect than you do?"
"Actually, I think I've seen him in Sunday School sometimes," Dudley replied. "He's a bit younger than me, but I think I've seen him in the corridors."
Draco stopped right there in the middle of the sidewalk. "Dudley, just tell me what the reason is why you beat this kid up all the time."
"Oh, that's easy," Dudley replied. "He's slow and easy to catch. And when you punch him, he always squeals like a girl."
Draco felt like throwing up. Did Dudley have no honor, no shame? How could someone whose parents put such a high price on propriety be such a savage? He'd have to devote more thought to this later.
For right now, he put those thoughts aside, as they were drawing close to the Dursley house again. Draco tried to think of a cover story to explain why they'd left suddenly with Harry passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor, but nothing came into his head. He expected a punishment for this, but he was prepared to take it like a Malfoy. After all, the situation was at least partially his fault.
However, when they walked in the door, they were greeted by a smiling Petunia who didn't seem perturbed at all, and there was a rather large, mannish woman sitting at the kitchen table with her. "Dudders," Mrs. Dursley exclaimed, "look who's come for your birthday! It's Aunt Marge!"