By the time Dylan returned to the common room, Harry and Ron still hadn't made it back.
Upon entering their dormitory, he found Neville there.
"Good evening, Dylan," Neville greeted him as Dylan walked in.
Dylan simply nodded in response.
Neville, being diligent, always finished his homework right after classes, unlike Harry and Ron, who tended to put everything off until the last minute. While Ron did occasionally do a little, it was a negligible amount overall. He even had the nerve to claim it was about "loyalty," saying he couldn't possibly finish his homework when his good mate Harry didn't have time for his.
Neville, with nothing pressing to do, glanced at Dylan and noticed his rather troubled expression, which surprised him a little.
"Dylan, what's wrong? You look a bit rushed. Has something happened?"
"Hm? No," Dylan shook his head. "It's just that my recent research has hit a snag, and it's giving me a bit of a headache."
Hearing this, Neville didn't press further. He just nodded. "Your research is always beyond me, Dylan. You're already so clever. Don't get disheartened if you hit a wall; just think harder and observe the little details. You might find a new inspiration – Professor Sprout taught me that. If you truly run into an unsolvable problem, you could always go to the professors. I'm sure they'd welcome you, even Professor Snape."
Neville's tone was incredibly sincere; he genuinely seemed to be looking out for Dylan.
Dylan nodded gently, acknowledging his advice. "Thanks for the reminder. Looks like you've learned a lot under Professor Sprout's guidance."
Neville scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "Not really! Apart from Herbology, I'm not good at much else. Professor Sprout is so generous with her knowledge, so of course, I try my best to learn as much as I can and not disappoint her."
Dylan nodded slightly. "Excellent, that's a great mindset. Keep it up, and I imagine you'll become a renowned Herbology professor in the wizarding world."
In truth, Dylan had told him this before. Neville, though still a bit shy, felt a surge of confidence. Since starting Hogwarts, he'd slowly begun to find his path. With the encouragement of his friends and the guidance of his professors, he truly felt like a completely different person, a new person, compared to when he first arrived.
"Your Divination skills have been vouched for by the Divination professor herself, Dylan. Since you say so, I'll take that as a good omen!" Neville chuckled warmly. "I'll work even harder! I hope that in ten years, I won't disappoint either the professors or you!"
Dylan grinned and shrugged. "You only need to make sure you don't disappoint yourself. No one lives for others, remember that."
With that, Dylan went to his desk, pulled out a Ravenclaw heirloom book, and began to pore over it.
Neville paused, pondering Dylan's words, then, not wanting to disturb Dylan, he also sat at his desk, found a Herbology book, and began to review it.
Time slipped away quietly.
It was getting late. The sky outside the window had turned completely dark.
Finally, Harry and the others returned to the dormitory.
The door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air and a touch of the night's chill. Luckily, it wasn't too cold, just a little nippy.
Ron and Harry shambled in, one after the other, looking as if they'd been feasting on Dementors for three days and three nights. The hems of their robes were damp with dew.
Ron immediately tossed his heavy schoolbag onto his bed with a thud. It missed the bed and landed on the floor. Ron couldn't be bothered to pick it up and simply collapsed onto his bed, limbs splayed out, like a boneless, spineless Flobberworm. He turned his head to look at Dylan, who was still reading, and even Neville, still engrossed in his book. He let out a muffled grumble.
"Merlin's beard! It's this late, and you two are still reading instead of being in bed?" He spoke weakly. "I feel sick just looking at books right now; Snape's essay practically killed me..."
Dylan turned to the utterly spent Ron. "Didn't I leave some notes for Harry? Couldn't you just copy some of those?"
Harry wasn't much better off. He took off his fogged-up glasses and wiped them haphazardly with his sleeve. "I added a few more lines to what you wrote for me, and I finished the essay quickly. But Ron hasn't even completed the whole essay yet. A few notes are too brief; even if he wrote them all down, it wouldn't count as a complete essay."
Dylan shrugged at that. Well, that wasn't his fault then. It wasn't his problem if Ron couldn't string together a coherent thought. Even if some of his ideas were brilliant, it wouldn't matter if he couldn't put the essay together properly.
Harry walked to his bed and sat down. "The library lights were almost out when we left, but thankfully, I finally managed to get all that homework done." His voice was thick with exhaustion, and his usually bright green eyes were clouded with fatigue. It seemed that juggling classes, Quidditch practice, homework, and learning the Patronus Charm could drain even the most energetic person.
Dylan briefly raised his wand but then thought better of it and lowered it. "If you're tired, then get some good rest. I reckon you'll both be asleep in no time once you lie down." Dylan said. "When you wake up tomorrow morning, I'll cast a Revitalizing Charm on you, and you'll be as spry as a Hippogriff, ready to train with Wood again."
Harry managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Dylan. I'm glad you're around; otherwise, I might actually die from exhaustion."
Dylan waved a hand dismissively. "Die? Definitely not. But would you pass out and fall off your broom while flying? That's a real possibility."
Ron, lying on his bed, eyelids already drooping, still managed to mumble, "It's one thing for us homework-strugglers to be back this late, but Hermione, who's always doing her homework, was still writing with us until this hour. How much stuff does she even need to study... She's never going to be as good as Dylan anyway, I don't know why she's so competitive."
Neville turned around at this, looking at Ron with disapproval. "How can studying be about being competitive? Dylan said that you study for yourself. If you master knowledge, you'll always have a chance to use it later."
Ron pouted, making a sputtering noise. "Alright, alright, you're not wrong. It's always good to learn more." He flipped over, and without even taking off his clothes, he was already asleep, soft snores emanating from him.
Neville blinked, then turned back, not continuing to read but placing a bookmark in his book and gently closing it. He was a bit tired himself now. He'd been reading for over an hour straight. Curfew was almost upon them. It really was time for bed.
As he sat back on his bed, Seamus winked at him. "You're just like Dylan now, staying up so late reading."
Neville rubbed his head as he pulled back his covers. "Well, you know what they say: 'You learn from the best!'"
Harry listened to their chatter, cast a Scouring Charm on himself, then on Ron, and finally lay down in bed. Neville was right; perhaps it really was a case of "learning from the best." Living in the same dormitory as Dylan for so long, he found himself much more diligent than when he first arrived at school. His thirst for magic and knowledge had also grown significantly. During classes, he never zoned out; instead, he listened carefully and thoroughly to everything the professors said. Perhaps he still had some shortcomings in terms of understanding, but that was perfectly normal. In fact, thanks to his efforts, Professor Snape was even deducting points from him less frequently in Potions class. Still, Professor Snape's knack for finding fault was truly first-rate. Even if Harry did something well, he could always find some mistake.
Dylan closed his book, and with a flick of his wrist, it disappeared into his personal space. He rarely left his belongings lying around, preferring to store them all in his system's panel space. After all, with such a massive, seemingly limitless storage space, it would be utterly daft not to use it.
He used magic to clean himself and then lay on his bed, closing his eyes. He rested for a little while.
When midnight arrived, and the night was utterly silent, he slowly opened his eyes again. Then, his form dissolved into a shadow, and finally, he vanished completely.
---
### Forbidden Forest Edge
The shadows beneath the trees were as deep as ink, allowing only a few stingy slivers of moonlight to filter through.
Dylan silently appeared in the woods behind Hagrid's hut. He looked left and right, not seeing Luna, but instead, he noticed two cold, piercing eyes staring at him from a patch of tall grass.
Dylan raised an eyebrow, focusing his gaze. A large head rose, emerging from the grass.
"Sweequil?"
The owner of the eyes was a Hippogriff, and an old acquaintance of Dylan's at that. Sweequil was half-crouching on the ground, front claws tucked beneath its chest, head held high, its sharp eyes fixed on Dylan. Even the downy feathers on its ears were stiff, clearly on alert because it had sensed someone approaching.
However, once it recognized Dylan, it paused slightly. Its taut neck gradually relaxed, and its elevated head lowered slightly.
Dylan hadn't seen Luna, but he wasn't worried about the girl getting caught by Filch. He walked directly toward Sweequil.
"Still lying around here by yourself?" Dylan smiled, stroking its large head.
Sweequil rumbled in its throat, then pushed off with its hind legs and stood up. It folded its broad wings mostly away, revealing its scaly horse-like body. Its defensive posture disappeared, and its gaze tilted at Dylan, as if assessing why he was there, or perhaps questioning why he hadn't visited in so long and was only now appearing before it.
Dylan, simply by looking at its somewhat resentful little eyes, knew exactly what the creature was thinking. He couldn't help but pull out a piece of fragrant roasted meat. It was a leftover from feeding Norbert. Norbert had been a bit picky lately; not only was he refusing some foods, but he also hadn't been finishing his favorite roasted meat. Now, it was just right for Dylan to give to Sweequil.
Even though the roast meat was cold, it still smelled wonderful. Dylan warmed it up with a flick of his wand, making the aroma even richer. He then casually pointed his finger, and a scent-confining charm enclosed their spot. No matter what, Hagrid's hut was nearby. If Fang caught a whiff of the scent and woke up, barking, Hagrid would surely wake too. It wasn't that Dylan was afraid of Hagrid finding him, but he hadn't arranged to "meet" Hagrid in the woods tonight. He also truly didn't want to bring Norbert out tonight for Hagrid to see, especially since Norbert was already asleep. Lately, Norbert hadn't just been picky; he'd also been quite sleepy. Ravenclaw speculated that this was likely a sign of a growing dragon. So Dylan certainly didn't want to wake the sleeping Norbert in the middle of the night.
*Rustle, rustle.*
Sweequil's ears twitched. Its eyes locked onto the roasted meat in Dylan's hand. It took two steps forward, its massive body creating a slight breeze. Then, it lowered its head, its beak sniffing closer. The next moment, a clear, contented purr emanated from its throat. The scent had clearly captivated it. Indeed, the roasted meat Dylan prepared for Norbert was meticulously cooked with a secret sauce—it would be strange if it weren't delicious.
Dylan raised his hand, offering the roasted meat closer. Sweequil gently opened its beak, its sharp edges brushing against Dylan's fingers, yet incredibly tenderly. It only picked up a corner of the meat, not even pricking Dylan's skin.
As soon as the roasted meat was taken, there were two smacking sounds, followed by a gulp. Sweequil had swallowed the entire piece of meat.
"Here, I have more." Dylan waved his right hand. Six or seven more pieces of roasted meat appeared on the ground. They weren't very big; some were even scraps that Norbert had left behind. Dylan hadn't bothered to throw them away, intending to feed them to the Basilisk. But now that he'd run into Sweequil, he might as well let it have them.
Sweequil didn't notice anything unusual; it simply ate them one by one.
At the same time, Dylan suddenly had a premonition. He turned his head and glanced towards the castle. He saw Luna walking straight along the path to the Forbidden Forest, strolling boldly, carrying an open wicker basket. Dylan couldn't make out what was inside, but Luna's confident stride was perfectly clear to him.
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