Dylan wasn't in a rush to deal with Riddle or to yank Voldemort's soul out of Ravenclaw's diadem just yet. After all, when you give someone a job, it's only fair to let them have a go at it for a while.
Dylan considered himself a pretty decent boss. He didn't mistreat his workers or push them too hard. But, of course, that was assuming they could handle the tasks he set for them. If they didn't meet his expectations, well, he might have to take some… measures.
Because, let's be real, this whole "boss and employee" thing? He was more like their master.
Dylan figured nobody else out there treated their minions—er, servants—as well as he did.
After leaving the wooden cabin with Ravenclaw, she stood beside him, her eyes flickering slightly before she spoke. "Is it really okay to just leave him there like that?"
Ravenclaw had picked up a bit about Voldemort from the modern books she'd been reading lately. The texts were cagey, calling him "You-Know-Who" like it was some big mystery. But one thing was clear: this dark wizard named Voldemort was undeniably talented and dangerously clever. Even in his current state, it wasn't hard to imagine he might have some tricks up his sleeve.
And now Dylan had left two Horcruxes together—one soul seemingly dormant, hiding deep within its vessel, and another free to come and go as it pleased. Wasn't he worried about what they might get up to?
Dylan waved off her concern. "Relax, this is my world. Unless they've got the power to break it apart, everything's under my control. Besides…" He flashed a grin at Ravenclaw. "I've got you, don't I, my trusty steward?"
Ravenclaw blinked, caught off guard, then a small smile curved her lips. "If you're putting that much faith in me, I won't let you down."
"With a guarantee from the Head of Ravenclaw House herself, how could I not trust you?" Dylan said with a chuckle.
After saying goodbye to his pets, Dylan gave Ravenclaw a slight nod and, with a flicker, left the pet space.
Back in the Gryffindor common room, he pushed open the door and immediately spotted Harry sprawled on his bed, drenched in sweat. It looked like he'd just run a marathon—or worse.
"What's this?" Dylan teased, walking over with a grin. "I know we're all blokes here, but I've got to warn you—overdoing it isn't great for your health."
"Huh?" Harry didn't catch on at first, but then his face flushed crimson as the penny dropped. "Dylan! What are you on about? I haven't been overdoing anything!"
Dylan had only meant it as a light jab, not expecting a kid like Harry to pick up on the innuendo. But judging by Harry's reaction, he'd clearly understood more than Dylan anticipated. That was… surprising.
Dylan blinked, then shrugged. It wasn't that shocking, really. Kids in England weren't exactly sheltered. Even in the Muggle world, Dylan had seen plenty of youngsters messing around, copying what they saw without much thought. And Harry's cousin, Dudley? That guy didn't exactly scream "innocent." He probably knew all sorts of tricks, and Harry, growing up around him, must've picked up a thing or two.
Even at Hogwarts, it wasn't hard to spot students sneaking off to snog in the corridors.
Dylan smirked. "How would I know what you're up to? Maybe you just wore yourself out playing Quidditch?"
Harry opened his mouth to protest. "No, I haven't been training much lately."
Dylan raised an eyebrow, giving Harry a quick once-over. "Then what's got you looking like you've been through the wringer?"
Harry propped himself up, hesitating before leaning in. "Okay, but don't tell anyone, alright?"
"What's up?" Dylan tilted his head. "Don't tell me you're actually dating someone."
"No! It's not that!" Harry's face went red again. "Professor Lupin's been teaching me the Patronus Charm! If I can master it, I'll be able to fend off Dementors!"
Dylan nodded, understanding dawning. He hadn't been keeping up with Harry and his crew lately—partly because he'd been busy, and partly because Harry and his friends seemed caught up in their own stuff, their schedules completely out of sync with Dylan's.
It made sense, though. This was about the time Lupin would start teaching Harry the Patronus Charm.
Dylan shook his head slightly. "The Patronus Charm's tough to learn, but don't forget what Lupin showed us with that Boggart. If you can face your fears and still hold onto a happy memory, your Patronus will come along faster than you think."
Dylan knew a thing or two about the Patronus Charm. He'd mastered the spell himself, though it had taken a lot of effort to summon his Patronus. For him, though, it wasn't about fighting Dementors—those were small fry compared to what he could handle. His Patronus was more useful for odd jobs, like tormenting Dementors or running errands. Not that his Patronus, a rather stumpy-legged creature, was particularly suited for legwork.
"Have you got any different-flavored chocolates from home?" Harry asked suddenly. "Like, ones with fruit bits or something?"
Dylan nodded. "Sure do."
"Really?" Harry's eyes lit up. "Can I have some? I've eaten five Chocolate Frogs to shake off the Dementor effects, and they're all the same flavor. I'm sick of them."
"Why not just eat some fruit?" Dylan said, amused. "I've got some actual fruit, plus fruit-flavored chocolates, some with nut pieces, and a few milk chocolate ones. Take your pick."
With a flick of his hand, a bag appeared in Dylan's palm. He tossed it to Harry, who caught it eagerly.
"Thanks!" Harry rummaged through the bag, his face lighting up at the sight of the colorful assortment of sweets and chocolates.
At Hogwarts, there was nowhere to buy treats like this. The closest he got was Chocolate Frogs—and those were from Professor Lupin. Honestly, eating so many had started to make him a bit sick of them.
Not that he could complain about Lupin's gesture. The professor had given him the frogs to help him cope with the strain of learning the Patronus Charm, worried about how tough it might be. It was thoughtful, even if Lupin hadn't considered that eating only Chocolate Frogs might get old fast.
What was Harry supposed to do? Whine to a professor about it? It was a kind gesture—Lupin had gone out of his way to get him something sweet to ease the stress, just hadn't thought it through completely.
"You're a lifesaver!" Harry said, pulling out a fruit-filled chocolate. It was a real piece of fruit coated in rich chocolate, bursting with juicy flavor when he bit into it.
Dylan watched Harry's delight, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Buying food was a hassle for most young wizards. But if you could make it yourself? That'd be perfect.
"Maybe it's time I looked into setting up a magical food production line," Dylan mused. He was already skilled at cooking, and with some research into food-related charms and the right tools, he could design a fully automated system. Toss in the ingredients, and food would be ready whenever you wanted. Or better yet, pair it with summoning spells to skip gathering ingredients entirely.
A magical assembly line for delicious, freshly made meals—not bland pre-made stuff. The idea was tempting, and Dylan wasn't one to shy away from his random bursts of inspiration. As a wizard, he had a longer lifespan than most, and with his indirect grasp on immortality (even if it wasn't something he'd achieved through his own magic), he had plenty of time to experiment. The urgency he'd felt when he first started learning magic had faded, replaced by a more laid-back approach. Wherever the current took him, he'd cast his line.
"The tricky part isn't the production line itself," he thought aloud, casting a quick Scourgify on himself before sitting on the bed. "It's making sure the food tastes amazing."
He summoned his pet, Coalball, with a flick of his wand. "Meow!" The creature, mid-stretch with its claws out, quickly retracted them as Dylan scooped it up, giving its head an affectionate pat and casting another Scourgify on it. Not that Coalball was dirty—it was just like wiping your feet before getting into bed, perfectly normal.
"Speaking of, don't you have training soon?" Dylan asked Harry. It was evening, time for dinner, but he wasn't in a rush.
"I do," Harry said, scratching his head. "But someone anonymously sent me a broom, and it's currently with Professor McGonagall because they think it might be cursed with dark magic."
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "And that stops you from training? I gave you a broom, didn't I?"
"It's… sort of related," Harry admitted. "McGonagall told me to take a break until they're sure the broom's safe, just in case it's jinxed. But I can still practice with the broom you gave me, and Oliver's been fighting to make sure I don't lose my training time over some anonymous gift. We're making progress."
Harry grinned. "Plus, this term's first match isn't ours. Slytherin and Ravenclaw are duking it out."
Dylan nodded. "Good thing McGonagall didn't confiscate my broom too, or you'd be stuck practicing on a Shooting Star."
The Shooting Star was the rickety, outdated broom Hogwarts provided for flying lessons. It was barely functional—fine for learning the basics, but hopeless for Quidditch. Keeping it steady in the air was a challenge, let alone winning a match.
Harry's eyes softened. "You gave me that broom early on, and it's been brilliant. It's really saved me now. Thanks, Dylan."
Maybe it was the lingering effects of facing Dementors, but Harry's emotions felt raw. His eyes grew misty after just a few words.
Dylan waved it off. "No need to get sappy. You've got a broom to play with, and I bet McGonagall would've returned that other one before your match anyway."
Harry chuckled. "Guess that's why I haven't seen Wood dragging you off to practice lately."
"Er… about that…" Harry's smile faltered.
"What's up?" Dylan asked, glancing over.
Harry hesitated before explaining. "The last match didn't go so well. Wood was out in the pouring rain, and apparently he… passed out. Hagrid had to carry him back."
Dylan blinked. "Wait, he fainted from standing in the rain?"
"Uh, not exactly," Harry mumbled. "Fred and George said Wood was so upset he tried to… drown himself in the storm. Hagrid stopped him."
Dylan's jaw dropped. "He what? Tried to drown himself in the rain? And Hagrid just… hauled him back?"
"That's what they told me," Harry said, shrugging. "I don't know the full story."
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