"Go on, join your friends."
In the end, Dylan held back from dealing with the remaining Dementors at the Ministry.
He really wanted to scoop them all up and toss them into his own little pet dimension.
But the Ministry wasn't clueless.
If he pulled that off, it'd cause a massive uproar, not to mention even stricter Ministry surveillance on Hogwarts.
Not that he cared much about their oversight—it didn't really affect him.
But if Sirius Black hadn't yet reconnected with Harry and got nabbed again because of it?
That'd be a real shame.
Even being Voldemort a hundred times over wouldn't help.
—Because Voldemort himself was pretty useless.
Leaving the Dementors behind, Dylan watched as Dementors A through G floated there, utterly baffled.
They were… free?
This dark wizard just let them go?
Unbelievable!
The seven Dementors huddled together.
Even though Dylan was invisible, they could still sense their "master's" presence.
—And the intense, almost predatory gaze coming from him.
For the first time ever, the seven Dementors felt something… pleasant.
It was like the joy of feeding on a wizard's happy memories, but different.
This feeling seemed to come from… deep inside them? Joy from their very cores?
Dementor A tilted its head, the hollow beneath its hood glancing at its fellow Dementors drifting freely behind.
A strange, complex emotion welled up.
—Was this what humans called crying from overwhelming happiness?
Too bad Dementors couldn't actually cry.
Realizing Dylan had no intention of capturing them or their siblings, they scattered in a rush.
Dylan watched the gleeful Dementors, rolling his eyes.
"What, aren't you lot born from pure misery? How are you feeling positive emotions without sucking out someone's happiness?"
Shaking his head, Dylan turned to leave.
But he'd barely reached the door when the wizard stationed at this Ministry outpost—tasked with guarding, feeding, and relaying orders to the Dementors—heard the commotion and got up to check.
"It's not feeding time yet! Quiet down!"
Dylan ignored the situation.
Instead, he wandered through Hogsmeade for a bit.
Then he arrived at the house Lockhart had bought here.
—A tiny, rundown shack.
It looked like a hideout for someone on the run.
"Lockhart was loaded and famous—why buy such a dump?"
Invisible, Dylan drifted toward the door.
But then, he sensed a faint trace of magic.
Frowning, he narrowed his eyes.
Without making a sound, he levitated slightly off the ground and glided through the walls into Lockhart's shabby house.
The place was practically empty.
Barely any furniture.
A thick layer of dust coated the floor.
But there were footprints stamped over it.
Dylan glanced down.
The prints didn't look like a man's—too small, too delicate.
He blinked.
"A woman, a kid, or… a goblin?"
He'd heard at Gringotts that some goblins sneaked into abandoned houses to snoop around.
If anything valuable was left behind, they'd swipe it.
The Gringotts goblins had spoken of these types with deep contempt.
Could it be one of those goblins sneaking into his place now?
Hovering in midair, Dylan kept his form hidden and his magical aura tightly contained to avoid alerting the intruder.
—And it was an intruder. The house was pitch-black in broad daylight.
If someone had legitimately bought this place from the goblins, wouldn't they have spruced it up?
—Gringotts had its fingers in nearly every property deal in the wizarding world.
So when Lockhart bought this place, Dylan figured it was likely through the goblins too.
With Lockhart's dirty deeds now exposed to every wizard and his disappearance, the goblins might've come to deal with his leftover property.
But this rundown shack? Good luck finding a buyer.
—Whoever was in here now definitely didn't buy it fair and square.
The house was small, just one partition.
Outside was a living room, inside a tiny bedroom.
Dylan floated to the bedroom door.
It was half-open.
Through the gap, he caught sight of a woman's back.
"A woman?" Dylan raised an eyebrow.
She wore a faded black robe.
The collar and cuffs were embroidered with serpentine patterns.
Silvery-blue curls were loosely tied back with a leather cord, a few strands framing her pale face.
She was rifling through something, her movements quick and frantic.
The bedroom had a bit more furniture—a few cabinets and a bed.
The woman didn't miss a single drawer, checking every corner.
The curtains were drawn tight, making the room dim.
But Dylan was used to seeing in the dark.
As she searched, he noticed a silver ring on her left ring finger.
It was etched with patterns resembling the Dark Mark.
"Death Eater?"
But the design was smaller than the usual Death Eater brand.
"No way… Nothing? That lying old fraud disappears and still makes trouble!"
Dylan squinted as her cloak swished, revealing part of her boot.
It too had snake-like patterns.
That lying old fraud?
So this woman knew Lockhart and was here for him?
"Where'd he hide that blood diamond that affects unicorns?"
Dylan caught her accent.
—A slight southern British drawl, but she bit down hard on certain words.
"Not here?"
When she turned, Dylan got a glimpse of half her face.
Heavy eyeshadow. Striking.
"Who is this woman?"
He racked his brain but couldn't place her.
She was clearly looking for something in Lockhart's house and hadn't found it.
Finally, she moved to leave.
After suspecting she might be a Death Eater, Dylan wasn't about to let her slip away.
—He'd planned to nab a few Death Eaters at the Triwizard Tournament.
Test subjects, pet dimension helpers, whatever worked.
And now one had just walked into his lap.
Why let her go?
Her fingers brushed the doorknob.
But the floorboard behind her creaked sharply.
A voice followed.
"What are you looking for?"
She jumped, spinning around.
But all she saw was a figure in a wide black robe, hood half-lowered, face completely hidden.
"Who are you?"
She stepped back warily, her silvery-blue hair brushing her collarbone.
Dylan's voice came from the hood, cold as an ice-dipped blade.
"Miss, answering a question with a question? That's not polite."
She froze.
What?
She sized him up, then smirked.
"Skulking around like that? You're like one of my father's old lackeys."
Father's old lackeys?
Dylan paused, instantly thinking of one person.
The kind soul always raising funds for him.
Voldemort's daughter.
—Delphini!
His eyes narrowed.
His lips parted.
He whispered, "Imperio."
The Imperius Curse was always more reliable than Legilimency.
The moment the words left his mouth, her eyes widened in shock.
Then they turned dull, lifeless.
Dylan sifted through her memories.
Sure enough!
This woman was the daughter of Voldemort and Bellatrix!
"Wait… no. If she's Voldemort's daughter, why don't I sense his bloodline in her?"
Pure-blood wizards were easy to spot.
To Dylan, they always gave off a faint… "silliness."
Not actual stupidity, just a vibe.
And his gut was never wrong.
He hadn't touched Voldemort's actual blood, but after studying Horcruxes for so long, he knew the Dark Lord's aura well enough.
Delphini definitely carried the pure-blood vibe—and strongly.
But Dylan was certain she didn't have Voldemort's blood.
For one, she lacked his specific aura.
And for another…
Voldemort wasn't even a pure-blood.
But Delphini's pure-blood aura—that "silliness"—was almost too strong.
Not just strong. Refined.
"This level… Delphini's probably the kid of two pure-bloods."
Now Dylan was intrigued.
Using the Imperius Curse, he confirmed she genuinely believed she was the daughter of Voldemort and Bellatrix from the Black family.
But first, the Black family didn't acknowledge her.
And second, her memories held nothing about "her father."
"Weird."
Was Delphini not actually Voldemort and Bellatrix's kid?
Then why did she think she was?
Her memories offered no answers.
But Dylan did figure out why she was in Lockhart's house.
Turns out, Lockhart had been making shady deals with Death Eaters.
He'd used his public influence to help them dodge the Ministry's pursuit, trading for valuable items.
And the reason he'd bought this rundown house?
To hide a treasure.
Something tied to unicorns.
Delphini didn't know much about it.
She only knew Lockhart had stashed a diamond here.
A blood diamond, crafted by a high-ranking Death Eater alchemist using a unicorn's heart, Thestral feathers, and a dark wizard's obsession.
In Delphini's mind, this diamond could disrupt—or even control—unicorns.
Word of it had spread among the remaining dark wizards.
But most didn't know where Lockhart's house was.
Delphini had gotten a vague tip from Borgin in Knockturn Alley after cozying up to him.
She'd been scouring Hogsmeade for ages, finally tracking down this house and confirming it was Lockhart's.
Her goal? Find the blood diamond, capture some unicorns, and sell them to Borgin for cash.
Or maybe even offer the unicorns to her idol, the Death Pilgrim—Karthus!
Well…
This was awkward.
She'd been working her tail off, raising funds for him.
And he'd just hit her with an Imperius Curse and taken control.
He'd even planned to drag her into his world and work her like a slave…
Oh, Voldemort!
Voldemort above, what a sin!
After learning her intentions, Dylan smacked his lips.
He released her.
Withdrew the Imperius Curse.
And cast a calming charm to soothe her mind, minimizing the curse's effects.
Delphini snapped back to herself.
Her pupils shrank.
She jerked her head up, silvery-blue hair whipping, glaring at Dylan warily.
"Don't look at me like that," Dylan said. "Idiot, you don't even know who I am?"
The moment he spoke, a mark flared from his body.
Delphini gasped, about to dodge.
But then she saw it… the Dark Mark?!
She froze as the black mark sank into her.
"If you're so eager to follow in my footsteps, then I'll always know where to find you!"
Her pupils contracted sharply, and her tattered wand clattered to the floor.
—Nearly snapping in half.
"You… no, you… you're…"
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