Dylan was originally waiting for old Dumbledore to award Neville ten points.
However, since Dumbledore had given him an extra sixty points, Gryffindor's score completely crushed the other three houses.
As a result, old Dumbledore didn't even call out Neville's name before announcing:
**"The scores have been updated! Gryffindor wins the House Cup!"**
Dumbledore raised both of his hands high in the air.
As the young Gryffindor lions erupted into wild cheers, Dumbledore's voice echoed once more.
**"That means the decorations need a little change as well!"**
With a light clap of his hands, the Great Hall, which had been draped in silver and green, swiftly shed its original colors, now replaced by the rich hues of gold and red.
At the same time, the green banners hanging from the ceiling transformed in the blink of an eye into bright red ones.
Even the massive green serpent banner behind the teachers' table morphed into a roaring lion.
With the entire hall bathed in Gryffindor colors, nearly every Gryffindor student's face flushed with excitement.
The cheers surged once more, wave after wave, as if they were about to break through the enchanted ceiling.
Many students, ignited by the flames of passion, leapt from their seats, waving their arms and tossing their hats into the air.
They quickly surrounded Dylan and Harry, celebrating this glorious moment together.
Hufflepuff was the fastest to react, eagerly joining in and cheering alongside the Gryffindors.
Ravenclaw hesitated for a moment, but after seeing Professor Flitwick applaud, they too began clapping—albeit in a more reserved manner.
Only the Slytherins remained stone-faced.
Not a single one of them made a sound.
Not a single one of them clapped for Gryffindor.
### **The Final Scores Are Announced**
Neville was the first to let out a sigh of relief.
He looked at Dylan. "I'm so glad you helped me this year. Otherwise, I was really worried I wouldn't make it through."
Dylan smiled. "How could that be? Based on your usual performance, just passing your exams should be more than enough."
He glanced at Neville's report card—not every subject was outstanding, but at least they were all passing.
—Especially in Herbology, where he had earned a top-tier **Outstanding (O).**
Most of his other grades were **Exceeds Expectations (E)** or **Acceptable (A).**
**"Wahaha!"**
At that moment, Ron clutched his report card tightly against his chest.
Dylan and Neville turned to look at him, only to see Ron's face filled with smug satisfaction.
**"I passed everything! Cleared the year in one go! Easy win! As expected of me~!"**
Ron laughed triumphantly, while Hermione rolled her eyes.
**"Even Neville got an O, and you only got all A's. What's there to be so happy about?"**
Ron's eyes widened. "Hey! What are you talking about? I got an E too, okay?!"
Hermione scoffed, and Ron huffed before turning to Harry.
**"What about you, Harry? How'd you do?"**
Harry, looking relaxed, carefully tucked his report card into his pocket.
**"Not bad."** He smiled slightly.
Passing all his exams without failing a single one made him very happy.
That meant Hogwarts wouldn't be kicking him back to his aunt and uncle's house, right?
—He really, really didn't want to go home.
At school, whether it was his classmates or professors, he liked being around them. He wanted to stay with everyone. He wanted to grow up here.
—Except for the Slytherins, their professors, and that ugly Voldemort.
Harry thought for a moment and then added another name in his head:
*"Oh, and Filch. If only he didn't chase me around at night, then maybe… just maybe, we could have a 'nod-in-the-hallway' kind of relationship."*
### **"Hermione, How Did You and Dylan Do?"**
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry sat on the couch, looking across at the two of them.
Hermione pulled out her report card, glanced at it, and her eyes widened in surprise.
**"Huh? I got first place?!"**
Ron smirked and couldn't resist throwing in a jab.
**"Only because you got a perfect score. Dylan also got a perfect score."**
**"But you, Miss Granger, your name comes before Hawkworth alphabetically, so Dylan got pushed down by a technicality!"**
**"In fact, even though you both scored full marks, I think Dylan should be the real first place!"**
Ron muttered, "Just one letter difference, and he loses a rank. The professors should really reconsider who deserves to be at the top."
**"Hmph! No one asked for your opinion, Mr. Barely-Passing!"** Hermione huffed.
Ron really had a knack for getting on people's nerves!
—She seriously wanted to slap him!
Hermione took a deep breath and clenched her fists.
*No, Granger, you're a lady. Remember that!*
Ron, noticing her clenched fists, immediately shut his mouth and scooted closer to Harry.
**"Hey! We're just talking here—no need for violence!"**
**"Tch! I wouldn't waste my energy on someone with no taste!"**
Hermione turned away and looked at Dylan. Her expression softened as she hesitated before asking in a small voice,
**"Since my rank is above yours, does that make you upset?"**
Dylan chuckled. **"Why would I be upset? If anything, I should be congratulating you."**
Hermione blinked. "Even though we both got perfect scores, I know you should've been ranked first—"
She shot another glare at Ron before continuing, "But my name was placed ahead of yours. Why are you still congratulating me?"
Dylan casually folded his report card and tossed it into his system panel's inventory. Then, he pulled out another document and signed it with ease.
**"Grades are just a way to measure progress at a given moment—they don't define our worth forever. Since you also believe I deserved first place, that just means my effort and growth have been recognized by everyone. So why should I let a report card bother me?"**
Finishing his signature, Dylan smiled at her.
**"No matter who gets first place, it's always something worth celebrating."**
Hermione stared at him, momentarily stunned.
After a brief pause, she gathered her thoughts and pulled out her own notice.
This time, she muttered under her breath,
*"We're the same age… so how does he always say such thought-provoking things?"*
Hermione also signed her name on the notice slip. She couldn't help but look up at Dylan and say, "I really think you should write a book someday! You always have a lot to say, and it all makes so much sense to me."
Dylan raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Not a bad suggestion. I'll consider it."
Ron, standing nearby, widened his eyes. "Dylan, are you seriously thinking about writing a book? Merlin's beard! Who would buy a book written by a ten-year-old?"
Dylan glanced at him. "I'm already eleven, okay?"
Hermione shot Ron a glare as well. "Dylan is more than capable!"
Ron swallowed hard and shrank back beside Harry, mumbling under his breath, "I never said he wasn't…"
Harry placed Ron's notice slip in front of him.
"Come on, Ron, just sign it. The professor said we all have to sign our own names."
Ron nodded, picked up the slip, and scanned it from top to bottom.
"I just don't get it—why can't we use magic at home? It's our holiday, for crying out loud!"
As he grabbed the quill from Harry and signed his name, he continued to grumble.
"It's not like Muggles would see us using magic in our own homes! This rule is just pointless."
After signing his own slip, Dylan held it up and flipped it over, examining it carefully.
He could sense that this wasn't just an ordinary notice—it contained magic.
—And the moment he signed his name, the magic had already taken effect.
"Is it the Trace?"
Dylan could clearly feel a contract spell being activated as he signed. At the same time, an invisible force seemed to wrap around him, linking him to something external.
"An Automatic Recording Charm, perhaps? I wonder if my magic concealment will work against it."
He pondered for a moment but didn't dwell on it too much.
The Trace was a form of magical surveillance imposed by the Ministry of Magic on underage wizards. It functioned like a magical tracker, detecting spells cast by minors and recording them in the Ministry's records.
However, it couldn't pinpoint the exact person who cast the spell—only the time and location.
So Dylan figured that his magic-concealing techniques should still be effective.
And even if they weren't, it didn't really matter.
He had no reason to use magic at home, and if he used it in a place filled with other wizards, the Trace wouldn't be able to detect him specifically.
Worst-case scenario, if he really needed to use magic, he could just go all out with an Unforgivable Curse or some powerful Dark Magic.
Who would ever suspect an eleven-year-old of using those spells?
"I heard from my family that the magic in this notice slip will wear off when we turn seventeen. Until then, we can't use magic outside of school or large wizarding gatherings."
Ron finished signing his name and looked up at the others.
Harry didn't seem to mind. "As long as we get to come back to school, I don't really care."
Ron blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, fair point."
The group chatted for a while longer.
A little later, Percy walked in.
"Alright, everyone, time to head out. Hagrid is waiting for us."
At Percy's words, the young Gryffindors grabbed their belongings and left the common room.
Following Percy, they exited Hogwarts and soon met Hagrid.
Dylan, standing among the crowd, locked eyes with Hagrid for a brief moment before they both looked away.
His mother had sent him a letter recently, telling him to come home for the summer.
Naturally, Dylan had informed Hagrid about it.
Hagrid was heartbroken to hear that he might not see Beta at all over the summer.
But Dylan thoughtfully offered a solution—Hagrid could send Beta's toys, food, and anything else through the mail.
This made Hagrid very happy.
—Even if he couldn't see Beta, he could still make sure the creature felt loved. That was good enough.
Hagrid led the group of young wizards to Hogsmeade Station, where they boarded the Hogwarts Express.
Just before departing, Dylan sat by the window and waved at Hagrid, reminding him not to forget about sending the packages.
—He'd send Hagrid his home address once he got back.
Settling into his seat, Dylan took out a modified overcoat, altered from a spare wizard robe, and put it on, replacing his school robes.
—The compartment was quite chilly.
The train's wheels clattered rhythmically against the tracks as the scenery outside flew past.
At first, there were vast, dense forests with thick foliage. Looking farther out, he could glimpse deep, shadowy valleys looming in the distance.
As the train continued forward, the fantastical scenery gradually faded into the distance.
In its place, neatly arranged towns came into view.
There was plenty of time on the journey—enough for Dylan to read through almost half a book.
Until the train came to a stop.
Dylan looked out the window at the platform. He couldn't help but close his book and stretch with a big yawn.
"I'm home."
With his minimal luggage—just a backpack—he stepped out of the station and immediately spotted his parents waiting for him at the entrance.
"My baby—!"
Maeve, upon seeing her son, rushed toward him excitedly.
Hearing that familiar and affectionate voice, Dylan couldn't help but smile.
As he watched his parents approach, he also quickened his pace.
When Maeve reached him, she looked at her son, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears. Her gaze was eager yet tender as she carefully examined Dylan from head to toe.
"My baby, you're finally home! If I didn't know better, I'd think you had abandoned your poor mother!"
Dylan's mouth twitched.
Wasn't it her who hadn't let him come home for Christmas?
Christmas!
Did she even understand what Christmas meant? To their family, it was as important as the Lunar New Year!
And yet, they hadn't let him come home. Who was abandoning whom here?
Maeve, however, had no intention of letting Dylan respond. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders, turning him slightly from side to side before reaching up to touch his cheeks.
"Let me take a good look at you... Your little frame... And where did those adorable chubby cheeks go? You've lost so much weight! Have you not been eating properly at school?"
"No, Mom, I just grew up a bit. I lost my baby fat a long time ago," Dylan sighed. "I eat plenty—three meals a day, every day."
Hubert, who had been watching with a warm smile, patted Dylan on the back. "You look taller, too. At this rate, you'll be taller than me in a few years!"
Dylan chuckled. "And if not, I'll just use magic to make myself taller."
Hubert froze for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"I'll make sure to buy you plenty of nutritious food. You won't even need magic—you'll grow tall all on your own!"
Maeve stood up and was about to grab Dylan's luggage when she realized he was only carrying a small backpack. She blinked in surprise.
"Sweetheart, where's your luggage?"
Dylan shook his head. "I have it. It's in my pocket."
Maeve and Hubert both turned their eyes toward Dylan's pocket, staring at it for a long moment.
Dylan had mentioned magical space pockets in his letters before.
Enchanted with special spells, these pockets could expand to hold dozens, even hundreds or thousands, of times more than their normal size.
But this was the first time his parents had seen one in person.
"It just looks like a regular pocket," Maeve remarked.
Dylan smirked.
—Of course it does. It *is* a regular pocket.
He had an inventory system that could store anything, so why bother with a magical space pocket?
Even if he had one, he'd just store it in his inventory anyway.
"Let's go home."
Since she couldn't help carry his luggage, Maeve simply took Dylan's hand and led him toward the parking lot outside the station.
The warm summer sunlight bathed them as a gentle breeze carried the unique scent of London through the air.
The three of them chatted and laughed as they walked. Before long, they arrived at a gleaming luxury car.
Dylan instinctively raised an eyebrow.
Oh? A Bentley?
It seemed his parents had finally started enjoying their wealth.
—But why hadn't they mentioned buying a car in their letters?
"Wait a minute... They *never* write me letters," Dylan's face darkened.
Hubert, noticing Dylan's expression, assumed he was just surprised. He grinned proudly.
"Well, son, what do you think? Surprised?"
Dylan shot him a glance and smirked. "Yeah, it's quite a surprise."
"Hahaha! I actually took your advice! You once mentioned that Bentley had great potential, so I invested some money in the company."
"I only became a *very* small shareholder, but they gave me this car as a perk—didn't cost me a penny!"
Hubert winked at Dylan. "I know I didn't ask for your permission first, but this was my first time making an investment on my own. And hey, I didn't lose money!"
Dylan let out a dry chuckle.
He had never suggested that his dad invest in Bentley—mostly because he figured the company wouldn't care about his dad's small investment.
Yet somehow, his father had quietly become a Bentley shareholder?
"Judging by the results, he must've made quite a bit of money thanks to my advice… And all I got in return was *this*?"
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
This summer, he decided, he was going to *thoroughly* review his dad's finances.
"Come on, son! Let me take you for a spin!"
Hubert opened the car door for Maeve and Dylan. Once they were settled in, he got into the driver's seat.
Dylan sat in the back while his mother took the passenger seat.
As he gazed at his parents' joyful expressions, he realized something—they looked ten years younger.
He paused for a moment.
"Looks like having money really does make people happier."
Shaking his head, he sighed inwardly.
"Whatever. They're getting older. As long as they're happy, that's all that matters."
His dad actually had some talent.
For the past year, Dylan had been guiding his parents on how to invest wisely.
But he had been cautious, not wanting them to go overboard and risk everything.
So, he had advised them to balance their investments—playing the lottery for fun while also investing in both safe, guaranteed companies and some riskier ventures.
Now, his father had taken those lessons and started making smart investments on his own.
Not bad.
(End of Chapter)