Draco Malfoy strolled towards his locker. Going to muggle school was pure torture; he hoped time would pass faster.
"Filthy muggles," he thought bitterly as the listless dragging of feet echoed in his mind. Even that was annoying Draco to an extent.
The bell sounded. He was late for class, not that he cared. The hallway cleared out as the muggle children scrambled to their lessons, filing in thick columns into the classrooms.
Suddenly, a huge shadow loomed over Draco. The big build of a boy visible in dark hues. Draco felt himself lifted by his collar roughly and shoved against a locker with a loud metallic thud. Draco squirmed and kicked to get free, to no avail. Without magic, he was totally helpless, he was kicking at air. His feet fell back, carelessly knocking the lockers behind. He would not win using force; the boy had a terrifyingly large advantage over himself. Stereotypically, boys with a build this big would barely have enough brain to fill a thimble. Draco believed that.
"Who do you think you are?" the bully demanded, the foul stench of his breath filling Draco's nostrils. "How can you just appear at my school and steal my girlfriend, then walk around like you own the place?"
Draco was taken aback. He'd barely talked to any girls during his time here. How would he able to steal anyone's girlfriend? His palms were pressed onto the lockers, ready to strike. When the bully opened his mouth to repeat his question, he pushed hard against the metal behind, hitting the bully right in the head.
A bruise was quickly forming on the right side of the bully's forehead where he was rubbing it. When another evil grin started forming on the bully's face, he looked as though he had never even been in pain. Uh oh, maybe his plan wasn't so foolproof after all. That was the last thing Draco Malfoy thought before a punch landed squarely on Draco's nose, leaving him to fall in an abyss of darkness.
...
Ron Weasley had changed his mind about muggles. They weren't amazing; in contrast, they were horrible, to him. They were only nice to Harry Potter. Harry Potter; the great, the oh-so cute, replica of Harry Styles Harry Potter.
Ron had skipped class. They were horrible, boring as Umbridge's lessons, if possible, even more. As Ron rounded the corner, he saw a gigantic boy pinning a familiar-looking blonde to a locker. The blonde's head was dipped, and his body hung limp, as if he was unconscious.
"Bloody hell," he whispered as he caught a glimpse of the face of the blonde. It was Malfoy!
He cautiously approached the unconscious Malfoy and the boy. There was blood streaming from Malfoy's nose and a smudge of blood was smeared on the boy's hand which was raised in the air, a smirk was etched on the boy's face. It did not take Ron long to put two and two together.
...
Ron Weasley would later deny this, but he did not know what had overcome him when he whipped his wand out and muttered two words. Seconds later, Matthew Davies was ridden with utter shock and horror as his whole body felt as though it was encased in some kind of ice. Cold flowed though every cell of his body in waves and the tips of his fingers were already going numb. He couldn't comprehend what exactly was happening at that moment, before he slammed onto the floor, unable to move and break his fall. Lying like a block of wood, he caught sight of a red-head scrambling to help the blonde up, before his eyes were forced shut.
Hours later, when the nurse came out of her office, she was greeted with Draco Malfoy, his face sticky with blood, and Matthew Davies, paralyzed.