In the hallowed halls of the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, the air was thick with tension. A fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth did little to ease the cold between the men gathered there.
Dylan, standing before Albus Dumbledore, spoke with a voice as calm as a summer lake. "When we arrived, we saw Professor Snape and Sirius Black in a standoff. Their wands were both glowing, a clear sign of a recent duel."
He glanced at Sirius Black, his gaze devoid of any particular emotion. "The moment I saw him, I recognized him as a wanted fugitive, an uninvited guest in our school. My first instinct was to join Professor Snape and confront him. But to my surprise, just as I was about to cast a spell, Professor Lupin used a Finite Incantatem to counteract my magic."
"Professor Dumbledore, you know that I've been responsible for brewing and delivering Professor Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion all year…"
At this, Dumbledore's deep-set eyes shifted slightly, remembering the difficulties and weariness Lupin had occasionally shown. His long, silver beard trembled just a little.
"...Precisely. That's why I know he is a werewolf. In that situation, when he suddenly moved to stop me, I couldn't help but question his motives and whose side he was truly on. So, I had no choice but to subdue him first."
"But Remus already explained himself!" Sirius Black couldn't contain his frustration. His brow was furrowed, and his voice was full of impatience.
"Forgive me, Mr. Black," Dylan said, turning to face him. His voice was steady. "You were an intruder who had broken into our dormitory and an escaped convict from Azkaban. That hasn't changed, even now."
"Under those circumstances, a simple explanation from Professor Lupin wasn't enough to clear either of you of suspicion. What's more, his so-called 'explanation' was just a vague mention of 'another side to the story,' with no specifics at all."
"And on top of that, he's a werewolf."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, clearly agreeing with Dylan's logical and well-reasoned account.
Dylan continued, "With all due respect, the two of you are still under great suspicion, even now. The only reason I didn't try to kill you in the ensuing fight was because of Peter Pettigrew being alive—yes, Harry told me about that."
He looked at Harry, who immediately understood and turned to Dumbledore, giving a firm nod to confirm Dylan's statement.
"It was because of that indisputable fact, which cast doubt on the events of that night, that I held back. I didn't want to kill you in the ensuing fight."
"Held back?" Sirius Black repeated, his eyebrows shooting up as if he'd heard the most ridiculous thing. He remembered the spells that had whizzed past him, each one powerful. He had only avoided them on instinct. If he had made a single mistake, he would be lying on the floor, in a much sorrier state than the barely-conscious Peter Pettigrew tied to the chair.
To call that "holding back"? A surge of uncontrollable anger and absurdity rose within him. His brow furrowed even tighter.
"At the very least, you are still standing here, unharmed," Dylan said, his eyes calmly sweeping over Sirius. His tone was as flat as if he were stating an obvious fact. Sirius's robes were dusty and torn, but he had no other injuries.
"It wasn't just me; Professor Snape held back, too. Or do you misunderstand what a Head of House is truly capable of?"
Sirius gaped, his mouth open.
"Enough, Black, there's no need to say more," Dumbledore's gentle voice interjected, calming Sirius down. A faint smile on his face, Dumbledore looked at Sirius.
"I believe Dylan's account. I've encountered many gifted students in my long career, and Dylan's talent is among the very best. Given your condition at the time, if he and Severus had truly gone all out, the consequences would have been unthinkable. From what I can tell, they did indeed hold back."
Dumbledore was well aware of Dylan's abilities. The boy, who had awakened his family's powers and was so diligent, had shown astonishing skills last year and had only gotten better. In Dumbledore's opinion, Dylan's potential was on par with his own and Gellert's in their youth. The fact that Sirius was standing there unharmed proved that Dylan had exercised restraint.
Sirius was about to ask what Dylan had meant by his words, "pay for interrupting my wonderful dream," before the fight started, but Dumbledore's comment made him swallow his question.
"Yes, Professor," he mumbled.
"However..." Dumbledore's tone shifted. He looked at the giant ice block in the corner and then at Dylan, his voice filled with a hint of curiosity. "It seems a bit excessive to freeze Professor Lupin like that, even with what you've explained."
"Oh, that." Dylan smiled. "Professor, you misunderstand. I only cast the Incarcerous spell to keep him from moving and then a Silencing Charm—I mean, a Confundus Charm to shut his mouth, so he wouldn't interfere with the situation."
He paused, then explained what happened next. "As for the ice, that happened on the way back to the castle. Professor Lupin was hit by the full moonlight, and he hadn't taken his Wolfsbane Potion today. Honestly, I didn't expect a werewolf to still be able to transform under a full moon, even while stunned."
"When I saw him start to change, in a moment of crisis, I had no choice but to freeze him completely with my magic to stop him from losing his mind and hurting anyone. I would hate for a werewolf to hurt my dear classmates here at school," Dylan said, shaking his head with a touch of feigned regret.
"So, the ice around Professor Lupin will only melt after the moon has completely set," Dumbledore mused, blinking.
"Oh, and on the way back to the castle, we also ran into a few Dementors. They were hovering at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and the cold they brought with them was so intense it felt like it was seeping into my very bones."
He glanced at Peter Pettigrew, still slumped in the chair. "The situation was urgent, with Professor Lupin starting to transform. I was so busy that I couldn't protect everyone. It looks like Peter Pettigrew had his soul sucked out a few times by the Dementors, which is why he's like this."
"But I don't think it's a big problem. Harry was able to recover from a similar encounter, so I'm sure he'll be fine."
Dylan's words were perfectly plausible. He had been so busy that he couldn't "split himself in two" to protect everyone. Snape also seemed to think that since Peter had already had a run-in with Dementors before, he would be able to handle this. It was just a little soul-sucking, nothing too serious, so he had prioritized him last.
Of course, Snape couldn't risk exposing his Patronus, as he had to be careful to hide it for future plans. So, when he saw that Dylan was already protecting Harry and the others, he didn't intervene. As for the other three, Sirius had been in Azkaban for so long that he was used to the Dementors' presence. Peter would have to get used to it eventually. And Lupin, as a werewolf, had a unique constitution that would likely protect him.
Why would Snape bother?
Harry, who had been mentioned suddenly, blinked in confusion, not expecting to be brought into the conversation.
"So that's what happened..." Dumbledore said, his expression unreadable as he looked at the pathetic state of Peter Pettigrew.
"I've already had someone notify Madam Pomfrey. She should be here soon. With her skills, healing Peter Pettigrew shouldn't be a problem."
As if on cue, the office door was pushed open, and Madam Pomfrey rushed in, carrying her medical bag. She looked around the room, and when her eyes landed on Sirius Black, she gasped in shock.
"My goodness, Albus! What happened to him?" She looked at Sirius's gaunt, sallow face, a clear sign of long-term malnutrition, and her face was a picture of disbelief. "Do you want me to treat him first?" she asked, already unbuckling her bag, ready to work.
"Hmm… you will certainly need to tend to him later, Poppy," Dumbledore replied calmly, gesturing toward Peter Pettigrew slumped in the chair. "But for now, please see to this gentleman."
Madam Pomfrey looked in the direction he was pointing. She didn't recognize Peter, but the sight of his injuries shocked her. His body was covered in black, charred wounds, some with skin peeling back, a truly gruesome sight.
"These are from a Blasting Curse! Who did this? This is outrageous!" Madam Pomfrey's voice rose with anger and urgency. Her gaze immediately turned to Sirius Black, filled with suspicion. After all, one of the charges that sent Sirius to Azkaban was his use of a Blasting Curse, which killed twelve Muggles.
"I did, Madam Pomfrey," Dylan said, stepping forward. "This suspicious and dangerous individual tried to use a Blasting Curse on me. I only retaliated in self-defense."
"The whole story is quite long, but please, see if he can be saved. We need him to wake up; there are many questions we need to ask him."
"Dangerous individual?" Madam Pomfrey frowned, clearly surprised by this claim. Her eyes went back to the unconscious man, filled with confusion.
She continued to stare at Peter's face. He was a complete stranger. She didn't recognize him as a student or staff member. But for some reason, his face seemed oddly familiar, as if something was hiding a vague memory she couldn't quite place.
Despite her confusion, Madam Pomfrey got to work without hesitation. Her medical skills were exceptional. She carefully examined Peter's injuries and then hurried out of the office, returning a short time later with a larger bag. Inside were several vials of strangely glowing potions and some silver medical instruments.
She methodically brewed a potion, using her wand to guide the liquid onto his wounds, occasionally scanning him with her instruments. Her movements were precise and swift.
After her work was done, the charred wounds on Peter's body stopped bleeding, his face looked a bit better, and his breathing became steady. His injuries were stabilized.
"Now he needs to rest so the wounds can heal. We can't rush this," she said, putting her supplies back in her bag. "But you don't need to worry. His vital signs are stable, and he should wake up soon."
"Thank you, Poppy," Dumbledore said, his eyes filled with gratitude.
Madam Pomfrey nodded, packed up her things, and took one last look at Peter. The strange feeling of familiarity lingered, but she turned and left the office, her head filled with questions.
The office fell silent. All eyes were on Peter Pettigrew, and the air was thick with anticipation.
"Professor, allow me," Dylan said, stepping forward, his voice decisive. He raised his wand, pointed it at Peter's face, and spoke the spell clearly.
"Aguamenti!"
A steady stream of water appeared out of nowhere.
With a splash, it hit Peter's face.
At the same time, Dylan flicked his wrist, his wand tracing two delicate arcs in the air as he whispered the counter-spell, lifting the Confundus Charm and the Extreme Dream Construction Charm he had placed on Peter.