Chapter 142: Voluntarily Offering Their Living Soul for Dylan's Research
"Longbottom, Hawkwood, you two are a pair."
Professor Snape walked past Dylan, casually dropping the instruction before moving to the side. Dylan nodded slightly, turning to Neville beside him. "So, we'll..."
Neville's face crumpled. "Me? I have to duel you?"
Dylan smiled, his voice gentle: "Don't be scared. I won't treat you like I would an Irishman."
His words only made Neville shiver again: "But..."
Before he could finish, essentially everyone else had been assigned by Professor Snape and Lockhart.
"I declare, the duel begins immediately—but before that, face your partners, and maintain your demeanor as gentlemen and ladies! Bow—" Lockhart's voice rang out.
Dylan placed his wand across his chest, bowing gracefully to Neville.
"No 'buts,' Mr. Longbottom."
Neville swallowed hard, bowing back to Dylan. It wasn't that he thought Dylan was lying to him—after all, who would use dark magic on a friend right off the bat? But the ruthlessness of Dylan's earlier attack and the terrible scene it caused had left him deeply shaken.
He had never truly seen Dylan in action before! It was terrifying!
Neville was naturally timid, but after being roommates with Dylan for a year and witnessing Dylan's defiant attitude towards everything, he had somehow developed a strange sort of confidence. However, after Dylan's previous stunt, let alone him, which young wizard among the others would dare to team up with Dylan? The moment Dylan came down, his spot became like a viral infection zone, and everyone scattered in an instant, leaving only him behind. Ron even chose to team up with Seamus rather than Dylan.
"Children, raise your wands, get ready for the duel!" Lockhart's voice was now full of vigor again, clearly buoyed by the students dutifully following his instructions, which helped him regain some confidence.
"Next, no offensive spells are allowed. I permit you to use the Disarming Charm to disarm your opponent!"
"—You don't have my ways of dealing with evil and powerful enemies, so neither I nor Professor Snape want to see any accidents happen to you!"
"Three, two, one—!"
Swish, swish, swish!
In fact, Lockhart wasn't even given the chance to finish his countdown. Many young wizards, trying to cast spells on others for the first time, were so nervous they prematurely cast their incantations. Dylan, however, wasn't in a hurry, letting Neville cast first.
"Expelliarmus!"
A red flash quickly flew out, shooting towards Dylan. Dylan simply tapped his wand lightly, dispelling Neville's spell.
"Bang!"
Neville saw Dylan wave his wand, followed by a sudden loud bang, which turned his face pale with fright, and he quickly squeezed his eyes shut. But after waiting a while, he realized nothing had happened and opened his eyes.
He then noticed Dylan looking towards the other sideRon's hair was somewhat singed and sticking straight up, with faint black smoke rising. However, this explosion wasn't caused by Seamus, his partner, but by Ron's own wand—evidently, his wand was acting up again.
"Sorry, I rushed my spell out of fear of getting blasted by you..."
No matter what spell it was, with Seamus, it always seemed to end up like a Blasting Curse.
Seamus, unaffected by Ron's explosion, scratched his head when Ron, who had blasted himself, apologized to him. "Uh... that's—that's okay?"
Dylan chuckled, then turned back to Neville, gesturing with his chin towards Hermione. Neville also looked over, seeing Hermione desperately trying to disarm her opponent, but the opponent was grabbing her wrist, engaging in hand-to-hand combat, making it impossible for her to cast a spell. Clearly, Miss Know-It-All's opponent cleverly realized what kind of duel would be more advantageous for them.
"Hey! How can you just grab my wand?" Hermione yelled. "You're supposed to use your wand to cast a spell!"
Her opponent, however, ignored her, sticking close and engaging in a melee with Hermione.
"See? There's nothing to be afraid of in a duel. It's simply a matter of either you getting hurt, or your enemy getting hurt," Dylan turned back.
Neville: "..."
"If you give up because you're worried your enemy might hurt you, then you've already harmed yourself before the enemy even touches you."
Neville paused at these words, his expression gradually calming, a thoughtful look entering his eyes. After a moment, he nodded: "I understand, Dylan. Thank you for telling me that."
Dylan, seeing Neville was catching on, hooked his lip and shrugged slightly: "It's nothing. You and the Weasleys are some of my few friends in this school."
Because Dylan needed to spend a significant amount of time studying every day, including conducting research—both practical and theoretical spell research—it consumed a lot of his energy. Therefore, he mostly kept to himself. Only his close roommates, including the Weasley family, had a decent relationship with him and could be called friends.
However, since coming to this world, whether before receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter or after entering the wizarding world, Dylan, in this lifetime, honestly didn't feel much inclination to make friends.
At most, he considered building good relationships with Harry and the others to serve as a base, whether it was to get Hagrid to help him with things or to have old Dumbledore cut him some slack in the future, if something truly serious happened, out of consideration for Harry. He didn't want to waste too much energy cultivating so-called friendships with others.
For Dylan, having friends nearby, while occasionally providing warmth, couldn't replace facing his own soul directly. Given the time, Dylan felt he might as well research more magic. After all, coming from a world without magic to a truly magical one—even if this magical world was mostly idealistic and low-magic—it still didn't stop him from wanting to make deeper progress in the magical arts! Forget friends, even if Voldemort showed up, he couldn't stop Dylan from learning!
But not putting effort into making friends everywhere like the twins didn't mean Dylan didn't need friends. Most of the time, Dylan could enjoy the quiet solitude, content in his own world, but occasionally he still needed someone to talk to.
While Dylan felt he was considerably more diligent now than in his previous life—he had never been so diligent about attending early morning classes or working overtime before—he believed he was still a normal person, unlike Voldemort, who would abandon everything and fully immerse himself in darkness to research spells and realize his ambitions.
—Even Grindelwald needed emotional solace.
Of course, Dylan would at most just chat with people sometimes. He wouldn't become a Grindelwald, nor did he want to be that kind of being. For him, there was no huge conflict between the wizarding world and the Muggle world. Grindelwald wanting to stop Muggle development to prevent bloodshed between Muggles and wizards only showed that his ideas were indeed grand.
But if it were Dylan...
He might put on the Shadow Ring, squat beside wizards and Muggles, watch them beat each other to a pulp, wait until both were half-dead, then appear, silently wait for both sides to die, and then use their bodies and wealth for some small research.
—They're dead anyway, so becoming the foundation for magical and technological progress shouldn't be a problem, right? Aren't revolutionary soldiers like bricks, moved wherever they're needed? If a war breaks out, can there be no revolution? Rounding up, both Muggles and wizards should count as revolutionary soldiers, right? So, him moving these bricks to his own feet seems perfectly fine.
Dylan effortlessly helped Neville practice how to cast spells and attack an opponent.
Professor Snape stood silently on the platform, while Lockhart constantly wandered among the students, chattering everywhere.
"Oh, my heavens! Calm down—don't panic! Trust me, press down on the wound, and use a blood-stopping charm yourself—I told you not to use other spells! So if you encounter a situation, I won't help you either—this is a lesson!"
Although Lockhart had mandated that everyone only use the Disarming Charm, only Hermione's group, still fiercely engaged in hand-to-hand combat, steadfastly followed this command. The other young wizards, after waving their wands a couple of times, couldn't help but use other spells they knew. This naturally resulted in some minor to not-so-minor injuries. Yet, even for such small wounds, Lockhart acted as if he was on his last legs.
As for Harry, he was assigned to Malfoy's group. Their duel could be considered the most intense and captivating of all—even curses were flying. However, Professor Snape was standing right by Harry and Malfoy on the platform, overseeing them, so no truly dire situations occurred.
After telling the bleeding student to use a Blood-Stopping Charm on himself, Lockhart returned to the platform.
"I think I really should teach you earnestly how to effectively prevent negative magic from harming your bodies."
Lockhart had originally wanted to call Professor Snape or Dylan up, but he stopped himself just in time. "I hope there's a pair of volunteering young wizards who can come up and assist me with a demonstration—I think Miss Granger and Miss Boot would be perfect, you..."
Lockhart's words were cut off by Professor Snape. His gaze fell upon Harry at his feet, his eyes darkening, then he curled his lips into a subtly malicious smile.
"Let's not involve the ladies. Why don't Potter and Malfoy come up to demonstrate with you instead?"
Professor Snape's voice was icy cold, but Lockhart let out a huge sigh of relief. As long as it wasn't that young wizard named Hawkwood.
"No problem!" Lockhart readily agreed, waving Harry and Malfoy onto the platform. "Everyone spread out a bit, be careful not to get caught in the crossfire." The surrounding young wizards all distanced themselves from the platform.
Lockhart patted Harry's shoulder: "Watch carefully! When Draco points his wand at you—do this!"
During his earlier walk around the room, Lockhart had somehow sweet-talked someone into giving him a robe, which he now awkwardly wrapped around himself. This made him look less disheveled than before. But when he raised his arm and lifted his wand, attempting to produce an impressive spell—
"Clatter!"
His wand slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the platform. Professor Snape looked down at him as he hastily picked up his wand, the disdain in Snape's eyes intensifying.
Harry hadn't had much time to chat with Dylan recently, but he had heard Hermione's earlier opinions and evaluations of Lockhart. Recalling how Dylan had instantly defeated Lockhart moments ago, he pursed his lips: "Professor, what was that?"
"Ahem, perhaps I shouldn't have experimented with that powerful spell before coming here—it makes my wand seem overly excited." Lockhart flashed his standard smile: "Now, let's begin immediately, Harry. Remember my movements just now!"
"What? Do you mean when you dropped your wand on the floor?" Harry was puzzled.
But Lockhart seemed not to hear him, waving his arm and immediately declaring the duel started. Harry hadn't even fully recovered when Malfoy quickly raised his wand: "Serpensortia!"
A burst of light erupted from his wand tip. A black snake abruptly shot out, then fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"Hiss-hiss!"
The black snake raised its head and slithered towards Harry. Harry hadn't expected Malfoy to summon a black snake. He met the snake's gaze, remained silent for a moment, then looked up again at Lockhart.
"Professor, you said you were going to demonstrate—so what should I do now?"
"I..."
No sooner had Lockhart spoken than the black snake suddenly sped up, charging straight forward.
"Professor?"
"You can't stop it? Then let me!" Lockhart saw Harry standing there, unresponsive, and suddenly jumped forward. He tried to cast a spell at the black snake, but instead of casting it, he provoked the snake's hostility.
"Hiss-hiss!"
The black snake suddenly sprang up from the ground, its body coiling and wrapping around Lockhart's neck.
"Cough, cough! Wait, this isn't how it's supposed to be! Cough!"
The black snake tried to extend its fangs to bite Lockhart. Snape, seeing this, cursed Lockhart as an idiot under his breath, his brow slightly furrowed, ready to deal with the black snake.
But Harry leaned closer to Lockhart, or rather, to the black snake, and spoke slowly, but it was a strange hissing sound.
Not long ago, when Dylan went to the Forbidden Forest, he conveniently caught a snake and refined its living soul, which allowed him to understand the language of ordinary snakes. He understood the hissing sound Harry made. The black snake also understood. After looking at Harry, the snake finally uncoiled from Lockhart's body and slowly slithered down.
"Hmm, although I can understand Parseltongue after refining a snake's living soul, I can at most only communicate with snakes. But Harry, it seems, can command snakes to some extent—and these snakes choose to obey?"
Dylan's fingers caressed his wand twice.
"Harry's living soul should be very valuable for research..."
By using 'Soul Fragment Seizure' to refine a creature's soul, one could understand that creature's language. If Harry, as a Parselmouth, were directly refined by him, could he inherit the ability of Parseltongue?
"What a dangerous and daring idea."
Dylan snapped back to reality, chuckling inwardly. This idea was just a thought. Using 'Soul Fragment Seizure' on a living person was something he was reluctant to do. —Unless that person was killed by his Killing Curse. After death, extracting the living soul would naturally leave him with no burden.
Of course, Harry was now considered his friend, so how could he use such an evil spell on a friend?
"But if I could later research counter-curses for the Unforgivable Curses, making them no longer unforgivable... then, as good friends, helping me by voluntarily having their living soul extracted to allow my research to progress, should be perfectly reasonable, right?"
.....
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