"Professor! I had a reason for being out!"
Malfoy cried as Professor McGonagall dragged him by the ear.
"Whatever your reason, you shouldn't be wandering around during curfew!" she snapped.
"I'm putting you in detention! And deducting ten—no, twenty—no, thirty points from Slytherin!"
"What?! Professor, no! You don't understand—it's Harry, Harry Potter!"
Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying Harry tricked you out of bed?"
"No, he's going into the Forbidden Forest tonight—to send off a dragon!"
McGonagall scoffed. "A dragon? This is absurd. You're making things up to cover your mistake. Another ten points deducted!"
"It's true! I swear, everything I said is true!" Malfoy insisted, glaring at her.
"Enough! There are no fire-breathing dragons at this school. I hate liars! Come with me!"
She tugged him along, muttering, "You've really let Professor Snape down, Malfoy. I'd love to hear how he handles you."
—
The next morning, Dylan slowly woke, still hugging his pillow.
"That's the first time I wasn't woken up by Coal's little paws," he murmured, still adjusting to the quiet.
Though he had class today, his recent use of Black Shadow and Dragon abilities had drained him. Not even restorative spells helped much, so he chose to sleep in for once.
He got up just in time to walk to the dining hall with Harry and Neville.
"Why are there so few Slytherins today?" Harry asked at breakfast.
Dylan blinked lazily. "Didn't you tell Malfoy yesterday we were sending Arnold away tonight?"
Ron's jaw dropped. "No way… you think he actually believed us and snuck out to find us?"
Dylan nodded. "Looks that way. There aren't many professors around either, have you noticed?"
They glanced at the staff table. Sure enough, several seats were empty.
Then came a wave of chattering students. Dylan and his friends picked up bits of conversation.
"Hahaha! That idiot totally fell for it! Snuck out in the middle of the night—got caught by McGonagall!"
Ron tried to keep his voice down but couldn't stop laughing. "Oh man, I wish I'd seen Malfoy's face!"
Harry chuckled. "He even went to Snape first to tattle on us. But when McGonagall dragged him in—bam—no sign of us. Must've stung!"
Neville, chewing on a dumpling, mumbled, "I was wondering why everyone kept staring at us on the way in…"
Hermione arrived, looking slightly amused. "Slytherin lost 60 points because of Malfoy."
"Sixty?!" Ron exclaimed.
Harry blinked. "Wasn't he already in detention? Why so many points?"
Hermione explained, "McGonagall was only going to deduct 30. But Malfoy kept insisting Harry had a dragon. She checked, found nothing, figured he was lying—so she knocked off another 20. The last 10 came from Professor Snape."
"Snape only took 10?" Ron scoffed. "When we mess up, it's 5 or 10 on the spot!"
Hermione shrugged. "Snape probably didn't want to make Malfoy look too bad in front of Gryffindors. Fifty points from McGonagall was already harsh."
Indeed, that was Snape's thinking. He merely deducted ten more, not wanting Gryffindors to gloat too much.
But still, the entire school buzzed about Malfoy's 60-point loss that morning.
"Lucky we didn't get caught," Ron said, gnawing a rib. "We'd have lost 50 points each."
Dylan dipped his dry bread into milk and stirred it into his porridge.
He didn't comment. If Arnold hadn't been his pet, Malfoy spotting Hagrid's dragon would've doomed them. Ron's brothers helped get Arnold out discreetly—but Malfoy would've found out anyway.
So really, they got off easy.
After breakfast, they headed to class. Dylan was well-rested, even without Coal curled beside him.
—
Time passed. On January 9th, Dylan had another slow morning and went to breakfast with the others.
Then—
Swish, swish, swish.
Snape swept into the dining hall, his black robes fluttering dramatically.
But today, those robes were different. The fabric shimmered slightly in the sunlight. Embroidered dark patterns adorned the trim. The cuffs curled elegantly. Even the lining peeked out tastefully.
Dylan noticed it instantly. Compared to Snape's usual stark uniformity, this look was surprisingly stylish—elegant, even.
From the teacher's table, Dumbledore gave a curious glance.
Snape sat down and began eating slowly, fussing with his cuffs and collar now and then. His expression was the same as ever, but Dylan couldn't shake the feeling—he was showing off.
Professor Flitwick noticed first. Adjusting his glasses, he leaned in. "Severus, is that a new robe? Much more refined than before."
No one usually noticed Snape's clothes, but now the change was obvious.
Flitwick tilted his head. "There are enchantments woven in… but not quite your level of craftsmanship."
McGonagall glanced over, too. "Your robe doesn't trail on the ground anymore."
Snape's mouth twitched. He gave her a sharp look and muttered, "What do you expect? One of your students made it. Rough workmanship is only natural."
McGonagall blinked. "My student?"
She looked puzzled, then glanced toward Dylan. So did Dumbledore. And Flitwick.
Dylan, halfway through peeling an orange, froze. He looked up, found three professors staring at him, and gave a sheepish smile.
Snape didn't glance his way—just sipped his wine glass like nothing had happened.
Dylan quickly finished breakfast and slipped out with Harry.
"What was that about?" Hermione asked, curious.
Ron and Harry also turned.
"No idea," Dylan lied.
Harry frowned. "You think they found out about the dragon thing?"
Dylan rolled his eyes. "As long as no one says the word dragon, we're fine."
Harry laughed nervously. "Whew. For a second, I thought we were busted."
Honestly, Dylan had been terrified too. McGonagall and Flitwick's birthdays were in October—he hadn't known them well back then and hadn't gotten them anything.
Was that why they looked over?
"I didn't even know when their birthdays were! It's not my fault." Dylan sighed. "I'll make it up to them in second year."
—
After classes, Dylan headed to the North Tower to meet Professor Trelawney for Divination.
He knocked gently.
"Come in, dear child," came her dreamy voice.
The room smelled faintly of incense. The sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting soft colors over the floor.
Trelawney stood near a table, robed in deep purple embroidered with stars and arcane symbols. Her tall figure shimmered with dangling crystal necklaces.
"You look beautiful today," Dylan said, genuinely impressed.
She beamed. "Thank you, dear. You inspired me."
"Me?"
"Yes—new clothes bring new luck. So I thought, why not go brighter?"
Dylan blinked, unsure what to say.
She didn't seem to expect an answer. "I had a dream last night. I wore purple, and stepped into a starry sky. Surely a sign of good luck."
Dylan arched an eyebrow. "And?"
She grinned. "Today, Snape floated by in his fancy robes. But beside my noble purple? He faded into the background."
Dylan:
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