"I also added the Reviving Spell and the Extraction Charm, just in case someone gets hit by a spell and needs a quick fix," Dylan said.
"And the Cleaning Charm and Healing Charm. The Healing Charm's tricky, but we can prep some Invigoration Draught or Essence of Dittany beforehand. If someone's hurt, we can summon them with a charm and treat them on the spot."
"Those are solid choices, especially the Impervius Charm," Dylan continued, taking the parchment from Harry. His eyes locked onto a specific line, and he tapped it lightly. "Dragon's breath is way hotter than regular fire and carries sulfur venom. Normal protective spells won't cut it."
"But the Impervius Charm creates a barrier that can at least reduce direct damage from dragon's breath. Even if it's raining during the task, it'll keep the rain off and prevent our wands from getting waterlogged."
As he spoke, Dylan waved his wand, and a faint blue mist appeared at the tip.
The mist swirled in the air, forming a small humanoid outline.
With a soft incantation, a transparent film coated the figure's surface.
"That's the Impervius Charm in action—it shields the whole body," Dylan explained.
He waved his wand again, and the mist morphed into a pile of jagged rocks. "For obstacles like these, a Repelling Charm is the quickest way to clear them."
"Against something agile like a Graphorn, you could use the Repelling Charm on a nearby tree to make it fall and block its path. It's super versatile."
The mist shifted with his explanation, sometimes mimicking a dragon's fiery breath being deflected by the barrier, other times showing obstacles blasted away by the spell. Each magical effect was clear and vivid.
Harry and Draco watched, transfixed, while Cedric leaned forward, his eyes sharp with focus.
They all knew Dylan was skilled, but they hadn't expected him to break down magical theory so clearly or demonstrate real-world applications so effectively.
This was way beyond just casting spells!
The three of them knew these basic spells, but Dylan's practical applications were things they'd never considered.
For instance, the Shield Charm wasn't just for blocking attacks—it could wrap around you near a dragon to reduce burns from the heat.
The Extraction Charm could dispel curses but also dry out excess moisture around Venomous Tentacula seeds to speed up germination.
What surprised them most was how Dylan subtly wove in war magic tactics. "With three or more wizards working together, you can cast basic cooperative spells. If we all hit the same target with an Impediment Jinx, the power triples, enough to hold a dragon temporarily."
As his explanation wrapped up, Dylan's tone turned serious. "One thing to keep in mind: to cast the same spell in sync, surface-level teamwork isn't enough. You need deep trust. That's tough, especially since we're from different houses and have had our share of clashes."
He glanced at the parchments and notes in their hands. "But today's discussion makes me believe we can do it."
"Everyone's been open, sharing their findings and ideas without holding back. When someone suggests something new, we poke holes in it together and figure out solutions."
"That's something you can't achieve alone, and it's our biggest strength as Hogwarts champions."
Cedric nodded first, holding up his parchment. "Exactly. What we've gathered today beats what I could've found in a month on my own."
Draco didn't speak but gave a soft "hm" of agreement.
Harry nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with anticipation for their teamwork.
They went over the dangerous creature strategies and spell list thoroughly.
After agreeing to practice cooperative magic during their free time the following week, the four wrapped up their discussion.
Harry took the initiative to gather the scattered parchments, sorting them by house.
Cedric carefully tucked the vial containing Dylan's memory into his bag's side pocket.
Draco folded his magical plant notes into a neat square and slipped them into his robe's inner pocket.
Dylan gave the empty classroom a final check to make sure nothing was left behind, and the four filed out, heading to their respective houses.
Dylan made for the library.
Harry, clutching the organized notes, walked toward the Gryffindor Tower, his steps noticeably lighter than before.
The discussion had cleared the fog, turning their vague strategies into something crystal clear.
In the corridor, small groups of students passed by, smiling and nodding at the notes in his arms. Harry returned their greetings, feeling a warmth brighter than the sunlight.
Pushing open the common room door, he headed for the dorms. As he climbed the stairs, a familiar voice called from the direction of his bedside table: "Harry, you there?"
Harry froze, smacking his forehead as it hit him.
It was the weekend, and he'd promised to meet Sirius in Hogsmeade to talk about the Triwizard Tournament.
He'd been so caught up in the discussion with Dylan—spell combinations, cooperative techniques, every detail fascinating—that he'd completely forgotten.
He rushed into the dorm, dropping the notes. Sirius's voice came again, teasing: "What, off on a date with some girl and forgot your old godfather?"
Harry lunged for the two-way mirror on his bedside table.
Sirius's grinning face appeared in the glass, his hair messier than last time, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"No way! Definitely not!" Harry waved his hands, his cheeks flushing. "I was with Dylan, Cedric, and Draco, going over the tournament. We don't know what the first task is, so we're prepping."
"Working on tactics with your teammates? That's more important than a date," Sirius said, his teasing grin softening. "Sounds like you're getting along? No house rivalries messing things up?"
His words hit exactly what Harry was thinking.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Harry rubbed the mirror's frame, his voice full of feeling. "More than just getting along—Dylan's been amazing at keeping us on track."
"I used to think Slytherins were impossible, especially Draco. But today, he not only shared his family's resources but suggested a plan with magical plants, no holding back."
"Dylan said that to pull off the task, we need to trust each other fully. Any suspicion could mess us up in the tournament."
Harry's tone grew firm. "We're fighting for Hogwarts now. I don't want my biases to screw this up."
"That's the spirit. Trust is a team's strongest weapon," Sirius said, grinning with approval. He glanced out a window. "Enough talk—Hogsmeade's Honeydukes has fresh frosted biscuits this afternoon. Get over here before they're gone, and tell me all about your plans."
"Coming!" Harry jumped up, grabbing his jacket from the chair and bolting out, Sirius's hearty laugh echoing from the mirror.
He didn't forget to grab Ron and Hermione.
When they pushed open the wooden door of the Three Broomsticks, a wave of warmth mixed with the scent of malt and toasted bread hit them.
The pub was packed on a weekend, students in colorful house robes crowded around tables, their laughter and clinking glasses filling the air with a lively buzz.
"Sirius is over there!" Hermione said, standing on her toes to peer over the crowd, pointing to a corner by the window.
Sirius sat at a round table, his black coat slung over the chair, his messy hair standing out in the crowd.
The trio wove through the throng, dodging servers with trays, finally reaching the table.
Harry practically launched himself at Sirius, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Sirius!"
Even with the two-way mirror for chats, the real warmth of a hug was unmatched, and Harry's voice buzzed with excitement.
Sirius laughed, clapping Harry's back hard enough to nearly make him cough. "Sit down, don't just stand there."
He gestured to the empty seats. "Order whatever you want—my treat today."
"I'll grab drinks!" Ron's eyes lit up, drawn to the butterbeer aroma wafting from the bar. He glanced over, then turned to Sirius. "What do you want?"
"Honey mead, two ice cubes," Sirius said, rubbing his chin, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips as he watched Ron head to the bar. "Sharp kid. Doesn't even need to ask what you two like."
His gaze drifted to the bar, as if seeing the past. "Back in school, when we came here, it was always Lupin who went to the bar."
"He'd bring back James's Firewhisky, my honey mead, and Peter's juice without us saying a word."
"You probably teased him about it, didn't you?" Hermione said with a grin, having heard plenty of Sirius's school stories from Harry.
"Oh, you bet," Sirius said, his laugh bright, eyes glinting with mischief. "We'd rib him, saying he had a crush on Madam Rosmerta, always volunteering for bar duty. His ears would go red down to his neck."
As he spoke, Ron returned with a tray: three frothy butterbeers and an amber honey mead.
The butterbeer's rich aroma and gently swaying foam promised instant warmth.
Harry and Hermione took big gulps, the warm liquid sliding down their throats, their cheeks flushing faintly.
Sirius sipped his mead, his eyes settling on Harry. "I could tell something was off last time we talked through the mirror. Your brow was furrowed enough to squash a fly, and those dark circles made you look like a panda."
"You're looking better today. Guess this morning's discussion paid off? Spill it—what'd you come up with?"
Hermione and Ron turned to Harry, curiosity in their eyes.
Harry had rushed off with Dylan earlier, and they hadn't had a chance to hear the results.
Harry set down his mug and laid out everything from the discussion with Dylan, Cedric, and Draco—possible dragon encounters, magical plant strategies, and cooperative spells, every detail clear and thorough.
"If we're really up against a dragon…" Ron said, gulping his butterbeer and letting out a loud burp, his face clouding with worry. "I can't imagine what my mom would do if she found out."
"That clock of yours, the Weasley family heirloom—pretty cool stuff," Sirius said with a grin, then pressed, "How exactly are you planning to pull this off? Transfiguration and Summoning Charms aren't easy to coordinate."
Harry was about to dive in when he remembered Draco's Pensieve. "Draco said his family's sending a Pensieve so we can review Dylan's memory of facing a dragon. Cedric said those things are pretty pricey."
"A Pensieve? Pocket change," Sirius scoffed, waving it off. "Next time you need something like that, don't let him outdo you. Just tell me, and I'll hook you up."
"That feels a bit much," Harry said, blinking hesitantly. "We're competing with Draco. If we can get along, no need to stir up trouble."
"Harry's right," Hermione chimed in. "Teamwork's the priority now. No need to make a fuss over small stuff."
"Fair point. My bad," Sirius said, a touch wistful. "But this is great—way better than my day. Back then, James and I would scowl at any Slytherin. Things were ice-cold."
"It depends on the person," Harry said, thinking of Regulus. Sirius had recently told him how Dylan helped resolve a major crisis. "Like your brother, Sirius. He was a Slytherin, even a Death Eater, but he sacrificed himself to destroy Voldemort's Horcrux. You can't just judge someone by their house."
"Well said!" Sirius clapped Harry's shoulder, eyes warm with pride. "But keep your guard up. Judge people by their actions."
He shifted back to the tournament. "You mentioned gathering spells? Let me see. I've got one—Conjunctivitis Curse. Should work on a dragon, blind it temporarily."
Harry pulled the spell-covered parchment from his pocket and handed it over.
Sirius unrolled it, scanning the densely packed list of spells, uses, and notes, complete with highlighted symbols. "Nice work! This is thorough."
"Not all us," Harry said, scratching his head sheepishly. "A lot of the uses and tricks came from Dylan. I just wrote them down."