"How are you?"
Madam Hooch immediately strode forward to Neville's side, looking down at the chubby boy sitting on the lawn with a dazed expression.
Neville didn't say anything, but his eyes welled up with tears.
He looked truly terrified.
Dylan stepped forward, unconcerned about whether Neville was injured or not.
"Episkey."
The wooden texture of Dylan's wand was faintly visible in the dim light. As he waved it gently, a soft golden glow shot out from the tip.
Neville finally came to his senses and looked down at his knees.
"It doesn't hurt anymore..."
Dylan raised his eyebrows. He was already highly proficient in the Levitation Charm, but Neville's weight had made it difficult to fully offset the fall's impact.
At most, it was a minor scratch—not a big deal.
With the help of a few healing spells, at least Neville hadn't suffered any serious internal injuries.
A little shaken up, perhaps.
A few bottles of bitter potion should fix that.
Madam Hooch still had her wand in hand, staring blankly at Dylan as he circled Neville three times, as if checking for other injuries.
"Madam Hooch, my Healing to New Life spell may not be able to completely heal Neville's wounds. If he has internal injuries, we might not detect them immediately."
Dylan looked up at Madam Hooch and said, "So please take him to the school infirmary."
Madam Hooch snapped out of her thoughts, glanced at Dylan, and nodded.
"You did a good job."
She hadn't expected that, as a flying instructor, she would handle student accidents worse than a first-year student.
But thinking about it, she realized she couldn't hold first-years to the same standards as seasoned fliers.
Helping Neville to his feet, she gave Dylan another thoughtful glance before speaking.
"You reacted quickly and handled the situation well. For that, five points to Gryffindor!"
"Wow!"
A group of Gryffindors erupted into cheers.
Meanwhile, the Slytherins pouted, looking unimpressed.
"Now, everyone put your broomsticks back in place. No one is allowed to attempt flying until I return from the infirmary with Mr. Longbottom!"
Madam Hooch's tone was stern as she issued a final warning.
"If anyone dares to fly privately, they will be expelled!"
Dylan didn't accompany Madam Hooch and Neville to the infirmary.
After they left, a group of first-years stood around in silence.
Suddenly, Malfoy stepped forward, broomstick in hand.
"Did you see that fat guy's face? Oh my god, that was hilarious! How can someone be that bad at handling a broom?"
His voice dripped with arrogance.
Harry and Ron shot him a glare.
Malfoy smirked and continued mocking, his little mouth running non-stop.
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
He recalled that in the original flying lesson, Malfoy had taunted Harry over Neville's Remembrall.
This time, Dylan had preemptively tucked Neville's Remembrall into his own bag, ensuring Malfoy wouldn't have the chance to steal it.
Yet, Malfoy still found a way to cause trouble.
Dylan stepped forward.
Malfoy hesitated.
The spells Dylan had cast earlier were far beyond what even a Slytherin like him could manage.
Over the past two weeks, Dylan had excelled in every class, making Malfoy unconsciously feel inferior.
"What do you want?" Malfoy scoffed. "All my housemates are here."
He glanced at the Slytherins for backup, but none met his gaze.
They all looked down, intimidated.
Malfoy swallowed hard.
Dylan's gaze remained calm. "Draco, if you're this stupid, I don't know how you'll survive in this world."
"What?!"
Malfoy's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Do you even know who my mother is? How dare you talk to me like that? Your parents are just Muggles!"
Dylan's expression shifted.
He now looked at Malfoy as if he were an idiot.
"I meant, failure is the mother of success. And you? You seem like someone who can't live without his mother."
Dylan wasn't interested in arguing with Malfoy—it was pointless.
He also didn't care about Malfoy's love-hate relationship with Harry.
Dylan just didn't want to waste time.
So, when Malfoy opened his mouth again, Dylan raised his wand.
"Silencio."
An invisible force clamped down on Malfoy's throat, sealing his voice instantly.
Before Malfoy could spit out his next insult, his words died in his throat.
His eyes widened in shock, rage simmering behind them.
He clutched his lips, his face puffing up like an angry pufferfish.
He yanked out his wand, frantically trying to undo the spell.
But he had never mastered the counter-charm.
His attempts were futile.
Meanwhile, the Gryffindors burst into laughter.
Ron and Harry rushed to Dylan, beaming.
Dylan, however, stopped them from mocking Malfoy further.
"As a pure-blood wizard from Slytherin, you should focus on improving your magic—not becoming someone who falls into the water with only his mouth floating up."
With a flick of his wand, he lifted the spell.
Malfoy still glared at Dylan, but he didn't dare speak.
He hadn't expected this Gryffindor to not only be talented in magic but also to have a sharper tongue than any Slytherin.
And the worst part?
Dylan had publicly humiliated him.
Dylan sighed. "I hope you've learned to keep quiet."
Shaking his head, he returned his broom to its place.
Then, without another glance at Malfoy, he sat down on the lawn, took out his Guide to the Safe Use of Potions, and began reading.
End of Chapter 30
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