"So, in the end, it was the power that erupted from the scar on Harry's forehead while he was protecting you that drove Voldemort away?"
Dylan glanced at Hermione and Ron.
The two of them nodded.
"The professors all know about this, right?" Dylan raised an eyebrow.
"...The headmaster knows. We only told him the full details, but I assume Professor Dumbledore has already informed the other professors," Hermione said.
"Got it." Dylan turned to look at the tightly shut doors of the hospital wing. "We can't go in, can we?"
Ron nodded beside him. "Madam Pomfrey won't let us in."
Dylan twitched the corners of his mouth. "Then why did Professor McGonagall even bring me here?"
Hermione and Ron froze for a moment, exchanged glances, and then looked back at Dylan. "Because Harry is unconscious!"
Dylan: /--マ
He waved a hand. "Alright, alright, I get it. But I think Harry will wake up soon. Don't worry."
After saying that, Dylan prepared to leave. "I still have a few books I need to read today. You two should go eat something. After all this, aren't you exhausted?"
Ron blinked repeatedly. "But Harry's still here…"
"I know, I know. But with Madam Pomfrey taking care of him, what can you actually do by staying here?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "You have a point."
"Exactly." Dylan smiled.
"So, you can come eat with me. Then I'll head to the library, and you two can get some rest."
"Once you wake up, you can check on Harry again. If he's awake, you can come find me in the library—I'd be happy to hear he's up."
"Huh?" Ron scratched his head, feeling a little confused by Dylan's words.
But at this point, his eyelids were already drooping.
After staying up all night worrying about Harry, he hadn't been able to sleep at all. Now, exhaustion was catching up to him.
"Alright, let's grab something to eat first. I really am getting hungry." Ron grabbed Dylan's arm and started walking forward.
Hermione glanced back at the closed doors of the hospital wing, furrowed her brow, but in the end, followed them.
Dylan spent the entire day in the library.
No one came looking for him.
He wasn't sure if Ron and Hermione had just slept the whole day.
Either way, by the time he got back that night, Ron was still snoring away in bed.
Dylan tidied up a bit and went to sleep as well.
He hadn't gone to study with the professors today—partly because he genuinely wanted to read some books that interested him, and he had actually learned quite a lot.
The other reason was that the professors were all busy, especially since exams had just ended. The students were preparing for the holidays, but the professors still had plenty to do.
—Especially with a still-alive Quirrell around.
So Dylan naturally didn't want to disturb them.
Another night passed.
Dylan got up as usual, and Ron was still sound asleep.
"Did Voldemort scare him stupid?"
Dylan clicked his tongue, then got dressed and left for breakfast.
Before heading to the Great Hall, he stopped by the Owlery to feed Luna some meat strips.
—By now, after a whole school year, his financial situation had improved significantly.
No longer did he have to pathetically scrape together money for just a few premium meat strips.
—Now he could afford to splurge and feed Luna three meals a day, each one with top-quality ferret meat!
After feeding Luna, Dylan had breakfast and went back to the library.
Later that morning, Ron finally showed up.
"Harry's awake?" Dylan looked up from his pile of books.
Ron nodded repeatedly.
"Alright, let's go see him."
Dylan hadn't originally planned on going—whether Harry was unconscious or awake didn't really matter much. There was no need to keep checking.
But seeing the eager look in Ron's eyes, Dylan reconsidered. After all, visiting a sick friend was a normal thing to do.
When he and Ron arrived at the hospital wing, Dylan looked toward Harry, who was half-sitting in bed.
His face was completely pale, and his small frame made him look even more fragile.
"Oh, what a poor kid."
Dylan sat down on the stool beside Harry's bed.
"How are you feeling?"
Harry's voice was weak. "Alright, just really tired. I keep wanting to sleep."
"For Merlin's sake, you've already slept for over two days!" Ron exclaimed.
Hermione, relieved to see Harry awake, advised, "If you're still tired, you should rest more—but you need to eat something first, or you'll starve."
"Has Professor Dumbledore come to see you yet?" Dylan asked.
"Not yet." Harry shook his head.
"I see. Well, I'm sure as soon as he hears you're awake, he'll come right away," Dylan said.
As soon as he finished speaking, Harry's expression became hesitant.
Dylan noticed this and raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. "What's wrong?"
Harry hesitated for a moment before raising his head and looking at Dylan. "The Dark Lord was just a soul, yet he was able to knock me unconscious for so long… You actually faced him alone? You didn't get hurt or—affected, did you?"
Dylan narrowed his eyes slightly and chuckled. "Of course not. Professor Dumbledore arrived quickly, so Voldemort didn't have much of a chance to make a move on me."
"Oh, I see. That's good." Harry looked relieved, his tense expression easing.
Dylan glanced at him.
When Harry and the others arrived that night, Dumbledore had already been standing there.
There was no way Harry hadn't seen that. So how did he come to the conclusion that Dylan had faced Voldemort alone?
And now he was asking whether he had been affected?
— "These questions… Dumbledore must have sent Harry to ask them."
Dylan smirked slightly but didn't say anything.
Just then, Harry hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Uh… Dylan, when you were with Voldemort, did he ever mention my parents?"
"What do you mean, 'when I was with Voldemort'? That makes it sound like we were on a date or something." Dylan's mouth twitched.
"No, no, that's not what I meant! I just meant that when you two—"
"Three. Quirrell was there too!"
"Right, right, the three of you… Did he mention them at all?"
"Of course not. Why would Voldemort randomly bring up your parents with me?"
Hearing this, Harry wasn't too disappointed—it was clear he had expected that answer.
He simply sighed. "I just really want to know why Voldemort was so cruel as to murder my parents."
Dylan blinked twice. "That, huh…"
He actually did know. But there was no way he could say it.
So he just shrugged.
"Who knows? Maybe the next time you run into Voldemort, you can ask him yourself."
"Ask him directly?" Harry looked up.
"That's right." Dylan nodded lightly. "I saw it in a prophecy—you and Voldemort will definitely meet again."
"Divination?" Harry froze.
Before he could ask anything else, the infirmary door swung open again.
But it wasn't Madam Pomfrey this time—it was old Dumbledore.
—After taking care of Harry for so long, and still needing to check on a sickly, troublesome rat, Madam Pomfrey had to get some rest too.
Dumbledore poked his big head through the doorway.
"Children, Mr. Potter still needs rest. You've been chatting for quite a while—it's time to head back."
Everyone in the room turned toward the door.
Dylan glanced at the old headmaster.
At that moment, Dumbledore happened to be looking at him too.
"Mr. Hawkwood, I believe you still owe me a thank-you. Or perhaps two?"
Dylan blinked.
He suddenly remembered—when Hagrid had helped him get the permit to raise his Shadowbeak, there had been a letter sent along with it.
That letter had mentioned he should take some time to personally thank Dumbledore. After all, it was essentially Dumbledore who had helped him get the permit approved.
But back then, he had just arrived at Hogwarts, carrying a handful of high-level Dark Arts spells. There was no way he was going to face Dumbledore alone.
So he had put it off. Again and again. Until he had completely forgotten about it.
And now, out of nowhere, Dumbledore was bringing it up.
—This old man had an amazing memory! He actually remembered such a minor thing!
Dylan was stunned for a moment, then forced a smile. "Professor Dumbledore, you're absolutely right—I owe you two thank-yous. One for the permit, and one for saving my life this time."
"Heh, well then—"
Before Dumbledore could finish, Dylan quickly added,
"I truly appreciate you helping me get the permit for my Shadowbeak. I really love magical creatures, but unfortunately, some wizards see them as evil beings."
"—But you know as well as I do that's nonsense. Plenty of people keep them as pets. They're just a bit dark-looking and have shadow abilities, that's all."
Dumbledore was momentarily taken aback, just about to respond when Dylan spoke again.
"And of course, this time, you saved me from Voldemort. I can't even begin to express my gratitude!"
Dumbledore's beard twitched. "No need to say it like that."
"How could I not? If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead!"
"But no one died this time."
"Exactly! That's exactly the point! Because you showed up, nobody had to die! Otherwise, that night would've been a massacre!"
Dylan looked completely sincere, his eyes shining with admiration. "Professor, I'm truly, deeply grateful!"
"…"
Dumbledore opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Besides Occlumency and Potions, just what else had Severus been teaching this kid?
How was his sharp tongue so impossible to deal with?
Dylan gave Dumbledore a warm, innocent smile.
Now that he had poured out all his gratitude in one go, let's see what the old man could say next!
"If you're so grateful," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, "why don't you come to my office and keep this old man company for a chat? You wouldn't refuse, would you?"
Dylan: "…I let my guard down."
Still smiling, Dylan replied, "Of course—I'd be honored."
Dumbledore's smile widened. "Then come along."
He turned around and left. Before leaving, he asked Hermione and Ron to leave the hospital wing as well, so Harry could get more rest.
Dylan took a deep breath, bid farewell to Harry along with Hermione and the others, and then walked out of the hospital wing.
Following Dumbledore, they arrived at the entrance to the third floor.
The stone staircase carried them upward, continuously ascending.
Before long, the two of them reached the Headmaster's office on the eighth floor.
The door slowly opened, and a wave of ancient and mysterious air greeted them.
It was Dylan's first time here, and he couldn't help but look around curiously.
As soon as he stepped into the room, the first thing that caught his eye was the wall full of portraits.
The people in the portraits remained motionless, yet Dylan had the distinct feeling that countless pairs of eyes were watching him.
A thought crossed Dylan's mind.
This old wall of portraits—each and every one of them must be extraordinary.
Dylan couldn't shake the feeling that old Dumbledore had evolved to a level where—if humans could do it, he could too, and if he could do it… well, nobody else could.
If Dylan didn't have his system, which allowed him to modify attributes directly, he could spend his entire life studying and still never reach Dumbledore's level.
After all, Dumbledore had evolved way too fast.
In *Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban*, he was already able to see through the Invisibility Cloak.
By *Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince*, he had started asking Harry for water—
Yes, that H₂O.
At this rate of evolution, Dylan felt that without a system, no one in this world could ever hope to catch up!
And yet, there were people who claimed that Dumbledore had no real combat experience—?
Dylan's gaze swept quickly across the portraits in the office before he silently withdrew his focus.
With so many former Headmasters and Headmistresses lining the walls, imagine the kind of brutal training conditions they had created!
The moment Dylan stepped inside, he could feel an entire crowd staring at him.
And these people—well, they could really move…
If he dared to "train" here, wouldn't all kinds of black magic, red magic, white magic, and forbidden spells start flying at him from every direction?
With so many legendary figures assisting Dumbledore in his magical training, there was no way Dylan's daily sparring with Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape could compare!
Who could even fight Dumbledore at this point?
If one spell didn't work, another person would immediately step in and teach Dumbledore how to counterattack!
As Dylan followed Dumbledore further into the room, his gaze landed on the phoenix perched on the desk.
*Tsk tsk!*
A magical creature this overpowered actually existed?
Dylan's eyes were quickly drawn to the phoenix.
Beautiful. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
So beautiful that he had the sudden urge to pluck a couple of feathers!
Of course, that was just a thought—he wouldn't actually dare to do it.
If he came across a dragon, he might at least put up a fight.
After all, he already had a dragon of his own. Once it grew up, combined with him, they could form a dragon rider duo.
Even if he encountered a dragon, he might not necessarily lose.
But how would he even fight a phoenix?
Even against Voldemort, he'd only have to defeat him seven or eight times at most.
But if he fought a phoenix…
With its infinite resurrection, how was he supposed to win?
"Maybe this is what they mean when they say practice tests are harder than the real exam," Dylan muttered to himself.
Standing in the middle of the room, his eyes shifted toward the Pensieve embedded in the desk's cabinet.
"So, this is the Pensieve…"
Dylan activated Occlumency at full force.
He couldn't afford to let his guard down.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore leisurely returned to his seat and plopped down.
Without saying a word—and before Dylan even realized what was happening—Dumbledore had somehow fished out a box of candy from beside him.
As he unwrapped the box, he said, "Have a seat, child. No need to be so formal."
"I have some special-flavored lemon sherbets. Would you like to try one?"
Dylan stared at the candy in Dumbledore's palm. He hadn't even eaten it yet, but his mouth was already watering, and a sharp sourness shot straight to his heart.
"No, thanks. I prefer fruits and vegetables over candy."
"Oh, that's quite a healthy diet."
Dumbledore smiled and then tossed the candy in his palm directly into his mouth.
"I've heard that you're very interested in Divination, and that you've even made some predictions for Potter and his friends—which all turned out to be accurate."
Dumbledore bringing up this topic so suddenly caught Dylan a little off guard.
When did word of his fortune-telling reach Dumbledore's ears?
Still, at least the old man wasn't bringing up topics he was even less willing to discuss. If it was just about Divination, Dylan actually wouldn't mind discussing it with him.
Clearing his mind, Dylan forced himself to stop thinking about the many unsettling things in this inferno-level headmaster's office.
He nodded at Dumbledore.
"Yes, I think Divination is a very interesting subject. It allows us to foresee possible future events, giving us the chance to either alter them or maintain the status quo, which in turn affects new divination outcomes."
"Divination touches upon fate, and that's something that fascinates me."
Hearing Dylan's response, Dumbledore smiled, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk.
"My child, it's wonderful to have an interest in something. But I must tell you, Divination is an ancient and mysterious art—it is not merely about foreseeing the future."
"As you said, it is indeed connected to fate. When you practice Divination, you are, in a sense, engaging in a whispered dialogue with the universe—or so a friend of mine once told me."
Dumbledore's face suddenly scrunched up, as if the sharp sourness of his lemon sherbet had just hit him.
"Wow, your friend seems to have some rather profound thoughts on Divination," Dylan remarked.
Dumbledore chuckled, stood up, and walked to the window, gazing out at Hogwarts' bright and open sky.
"I have always wondered… does Divination truly exist? My dear child, what is your opinion on this?"
Of course, old Bumble—no, I mean old Dumbledore.
Dylan kept his gaze carefully averted, avoiding eye contact not only with Dumbledore but also with anyone in the portraits on the walls.
—Including that phoenix, which had been staring at him as if he were some kind of rare specimen.
"Divination, when you think about it, seems vast and grand, yet at the same time, it is also quite small."
"Oh? How so?"
(End of Chapter)