Peter Pettigrew was already a wretched sight.
With his tear-streaked face and cowardly, head-shaking demeanor, it was a truly nauseating spectacle.
Dylan couldn't bear to watch and simply averted his gaze, turning to look at Professor Dumbledore instead.
"You know, there's something I've never quite understood."
He raised a hand and gently rubbed his chin, his brow slightly furrowed with genuine confusion.
"Why didn't you choose Professor Dumbledore to be the Secret-Keeper? Was it... because you didn't trust him enough?"
He paused, then continued, "Given the situation back then, if even Professor Dumbledore was on Voldemort's side, then your so-called resistance would have been meaningless. It would have been more efficient to just surrender."
"Dylan, you mustn't speak like that."
Professor Dumbledore's voice was stern, yet also tinged with a hint of无奈 (wú nài), a sense of being resigned to the inevitable.
"No matter how powerful evil may be, one must always hold onto their principles and their bottom line."
Although Dumbledore knew that Dylan's words were essentially true and that reality often worked that way, as a mentor, there were some things he couldn't say so directly.
He then turned his attention to Peter Pettigrew. The kindness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp and authoritative gaze.
"Peter, Dylan's words were not wrong."
Dumbledore's voice was steady and strong. "You had countless opportunities to turn back, plenty of them in the past year."
"Even if Voldemort forced you in the beginning, in the end, you chose this path yourself... Prepare to spend the rest of your life in Azkaban."
Sirius Black glared at Peter Pettigrew's terrified face, the fury in his eyes almost enough to burn the man to ashes.
He was silent for a moment before finally letting out a resentful "Hmph" from his throat.
He suddenly released his grip, throwing Peter Pettigrew back into the chair with a dull thud.
Dylan looked on at the scene, letting out a soft sigh.
He muttered to himself.
Why is the wizarding world like this? Such a great crime, and he's just going to be imprisoned? It's better to lock him in my world.
No matter how much blood was on a person's hands, once they were captured, their final destination was just Azkaban.
Ever since the prison was established, the number of dark wizards who were actually killed on sight during capture was incredibly small.
Frankly, if the wizarding world had laws mandating death for murderers, Voldemort probably wouldn't have had so many people willing to die for him when he made his comeback.
Professor Dumbledore picked up a quill and wrote a letter to Fudge.
He knew that Fudge would not easily accept something that amounted to a public slap in the face of the Ministry, and it would require a lot of back-and-forth later on.
So, he first let Dylan and Harry leave.
"Go unfreeze your Professor Lupin first."
As Dylan was leaving, Professor Dumbledore looked up at the full moon outside the window. Its light was not as bright as before.
He smiled kindly at Dylan. "Don't worry about him losing control. Being frozen like this for so long can't be good for him."
It was a good thing Professor Lupin was huddled in a corner, and his frozen state was particularly strange. Otherwise, the sight of him surely would have scared Madam Pomfrey.
"Finite Incantatem."
Dylan cast the spell, lifting the Freezing Charm and the Bewitchment Charm on Professor Lupin.
The moment the spell landed, Professor Lupin's body began to shake violently. The ice melted quickly into water that dripped from his fur.
Almost at the same instant, he let out an inhuman roar, full of both pain and wildness.
Seeing this, Professor Dumbledore gently waved his wand. A decorative bronze floral vine on the wall suddenly came to life and quickly grew countless tendrils, wrapping around Professor Lupin to form a tightly woven spherical cage.
The vine cage, with Professor Lupin inside, slowly moved to the open window and flew out.
Dylan guessed that he was probably being sent to the Shrieking Shack.
"Then I'll take my leave, Professor," Dylan said.
Professor Dumbledore smiled at him and nodded, with a look of approval in his eyes.
"I'm very pleased to see how much you've improved, Dylan. And also..."
Professor Dumbledore suddenly had a playful look on his face and winked at Dylan.
He then leaned in and lowered his voice. "After Filius's repeated insistence, I'm afraid the House Cup this year will undoubtedly belong to Gryffindor."
"But when the time comes, you might have to give a speech. You can start preparing for that—Oh, and don't tell anyone else about the House Cup for now."
A...
A speech?
Dylan froze for a moment, blinking. He also lowered his voice, sounding a little surprised and hesitant.
"Professor, I haven't done anything particularly remarkable for this. I just ran a few errands and showed the way. I really don't deserve the opportunity to give a speech. Let's just forget about it."
"Hmm..."
Professor Dumbledore was clearly not expecting Dylan's response. He blinked in surprise, and a flicker of astonishment passed through his eyes behind the glasses.
But then, the astonishment turned into a deeper sense of satisfaction, and his smile became even more gentle.
"Of course, if you really don't want to."
Bravery, righteousness, friendship, kindness, and this rare humility...
The qualities Dylan displayed perfectly matched everyone's imagination of the most outstanding student at Hogwarts.
Although Tom Riddle was once the same way.
He too was exceptionally gifted and outstanding.
However, Professor Dumbledore had secretly had Dylan look into the Mirror of Erised.
From the sight that appeared in the mirror, he was confident that Dylan would never become like Voldemort.
They were both people with extremely high magical talent.
Voldemort was ultimately consumed by ambition and went down a dark path, while Dylan grew up to be such a righteous and kind child.
This made Professor Dumbledore even more certain that the power of love was far greater than any powerful magic!
What a good boy!
So humble and so eager to learn.
He was already looking forward to seeing what kind of wizard Dylan would become when he grew up.
"Oh, Professor, one more thing."
Dylan had already reached the door and touched the doorknob when he suddenly stopped, as if he had just remembered something.
He turned and walked back, a serious expression on his face.
"Hmm? What is it?"
Professor Dumbledore had just turned to deal with the documents on his desk.
Hearing this, he stopped what he was doing and looked at him kindly, his eyes questioning.
"That diadem."
Dylan deliberately lowered his voice, his tone cautious. He used a more veiled way of speaking. "According to Miss Helena—that is, the Grey Lady—Tom once had his eye on it."
When he heard this, Professor Dumbledore's previously smooth brow instantly furrowed.
The kindness on his face was replaced by deep contemplation.
He was silent for a moment, then pressed, "Are you saying...?"
"I suspect that Tom purposefully collected the relics of the four founders."
Dylan's voice was even softer, and his eyes were serious.
Professor Dumbledore was very intelligent and immediately understood Dylan's meaning.
He used the name "Tom" to refer to the name that couldn't be spoken, which was clearly not out of fear. The only other reason would be because of the diary.
Thinking this, his eyes became even deeper.
"...I understand."
Professor Dumbledore slowly nodded, his tone serious. "That information is very valuable. Thank you, Dylan."
Professor Dumbledore lowered his gaze and contemplated for a moment. He unconsciously tapped his fingers lightly on the table, making a soft clicking sound.
His deep-set eyes sparkled behind his glasses, and it was clear that he was quickly processing the information Dylan had brought and connecting it with various past clues.
A moment later, he looked up, the serious expression on his face gradually fading, and his kind demeanor returned.
He stood up and slowly walked to Dylan. He reached out and gently patted his shoulder. The warmth from his palm transmitted through the fabric, carrying a reassuring strength.
"Alright, it's getting late. The clock in the castle must be about to strike midnight."
Professor Dumbledore's voice carried a hint of subtle weariness, but it was still gentle. "Go back and rest. A lot has happened tonight, and you deserve a good rest."
"Alright. I'll head back then. Goodbye, Professor."
Dylan nodded, gave a slight bow to Professor Dumbledore, and turned toward the door.
When his hand touched the doorknob again, he looked back at Dumbledore, who was still standing in the same spot, gazing out at the moonlight, lost in thought.
Dylan quietly opened the door and just as quietly closed it, leaving the silence and contemplation behind in the office.
Dylan had never told anyone that the diadem was once a Horcrux. Helena had not revealed it to anyone, and now she would no longer be able to.
In other words, he didn't have to worry about his story being exposed.
That was why he was able to confidently withhold the key information and only tell Professor Dumbledore that Voldemort had once wanted the diadem.
By the time Professor Dumbledore truly knew his real identity, he would probably be just an image in a portrait, wouldn't he?
As Dylan thought this, he reached out to open the door to the Headmaster's office, only to be surprised to find Harry waiting outside.
"Harry?" he said, a little surprised.
"I was waiting for you. Let's go back together."
Harry's voice was calm. He didn't ask what he and Professor Dumbledore had talked about. He just looked up at the night sky, which was now completely dark, and said softly.
Just walking together?
Dylan looked at Harry's eyes. Something seemed to be hidden in those green eyes. He blinked and didn't ask any questions.
"Alright, let's go."
The two of them walked down the empty corridor. Their footsteps echoed in the vast space.
Harry's pace was erratic, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. He looked as if he wanted to say something several times, his lips moving, but in the end, he said nothing.
They walked in silence until they reached the Gryffindor Tower. He still hadn't asked anything.
Dylan wasn't interested in trying to guess what was on the mind of a teenager. Since Harry wasn't saying anything, he was happy with the peace and quiet.
As soon as he got back to the dormitory, he walked straight to his bed, climbed in, and pulled the curtains shut.
—Let the wind blow and the moon shine outside. The world can be quiet for him.
The next morning at breakfast, Harry and the others were called away by Professor Dumbledore, but that had nothing to do with Dylan.
He planned to go to the Forbidden Forest to comfort Sequal and take care of some personal matters.
When Dylan returned to the castle, it was just in time for dinner.
He had just sat down at the table when he felt a gaze fixed on him. He didn't have to look to know it was Harry.
So, after serving himself a small portion of the stew.
Dylan looked up at Harry and asked in a flat tone, "What's wrong?"
"Dylan..."
Harry's voice was hesitant, as if he was mustering all his courage to finally speak.
Harry's fingers slowly tightened, clenching the knife and fork in his hands. The metal cutlery trembled slightly, making a faint clinking sound.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to calm himself. There was a clear tension in his eyes.
"Did you see what happened today?"
His voice was a little strained, with a hint of an almost unnoticeable test.
"What? What happened today?"
Dylan's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes full of confusion. He put down his spoon and looked directly at Harry, waiting for him to continue.
Did Fudge completely ignore the truth and insist on locking up Sirius Black?
Or did they get called by Professor Dumbledore and use a Time-Turner to go back in time to save Buckbeak and Sirius Black?
Or did the Ministry officials "accidentally" let Peter Pettigrew escape while transporting him?
He didn't know any of these things.
"..."
Harry stared at Dylan for a long time, trying to find a single flaw in his expression.
But Dylan's face was as calm as a deep pool. He couldn't see anything.
Dylan's disguise is too good, Harry thought.
Hermione had also used a Time-Turner, but they had been able to spot the flaws in her story before.
But Dylan hadn't left a single trace.
According to Hermione, Dylan had returned the Time-Turner halfway through his first year.
But they had never noticed a single change in him.
Harry muttered to himself that he wished he could tell if someone was lying.
Unable to do so, Harry just let out a soft sigh, his voice filled with a hint of resignation.
"Professor Lupin resigned because Professor Snape told everyone he was a werewolf today."
He knew it sounded a little forced and was clearly just an excuse to bring up the subject, but he managed to use Professor Lupin's situation to get past it. He looked away, his eyes a little shifty.
"Oh, really? Well, that's great then, isn't it?"
Dylan didn't bother to delve into the strangeness of Harry's words. He simply nodded in understanding.
He picked up his spoon and took a mouthful of mushroom soup. The warm broth slid down his throat, filled with a rich, savory flavor.