Chapter 200: A Grown Man's Tears Just Fell
Ron blinked. "I've noticed you've been quite close with that girl recently Ginny told me last time that she even saw you two often going to the Owlery together in the mornings to feed the owls."
Dylan looked at him confused. "I like to give my owl special meals, and Luna does too, so we run into each other in the morning. Isn't that normal?"
Ron paused, his mouth opening and closing, unsure how to continue. "It's just, it's just... I just have that feeling!"
Dylan averted his gaze, scooped a spoonful of mushroom soup, and delicately sipped it. "Luna is a Ravenclaw student. She's even a year below us."
"I know. Ginny told me last time that a 'Loony' girl had appeared in Ravenclaw, and that's her. Hermione also said last time that everyone thinks she's odd."
"Didn't you say last time that everyone thought Hermione was odd? So, do you think Hermione is normal?" Dylan's gaze shifted to behind Ron.
Ron, completely unaware of the person standing behind him, stroked his chin, deep in thought. Finally, he smacked his lips. "Sometimes she is a bit odd—like when she says my wand is stuck behind my ear again—or how she always thinks I don't read widely enough."
Suddenly, a voice spoke coldly from behind Ron. "Oh, really?"
The sudden voice startled Ron. He whirled around and saw Hermione staring at him expressionlessly.
"Hermione?! When did you get here..." Ron's eyes widened.
Hermione said coldly, "When you said I was odd."
Ron chuckled awkwardly. "Uh..." Before he could come up with an explanation, Hermione interrupted, "I don't remember saying you didn't read widely enough?"
Ron opened his mouth. Hermione spoke again, "If you truly read widely enough, then greet me with a famous quote."
...
Ron's lips trembled, opening and closing. After a long moment, he finally managed to squeeze out, "As Shakespeare said..."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Hello?"
Hermione: ?
Harry, standing nearby, tried to break the awkwardness. "Uh... hurry up and sit down and eat. Weren't you walking with us just now? But as soon as we entered the Great Hall, you disappeared."
Hermione glared at Harry but didn't continue to press Ron. Instead, she sat down next to Harry with an exasperated look. "Are you guys talking about that Luna again?"
Ron quickly said, "Yeah! I think Dylan has been very close to that silver-haired girl lately. I thought they were dating."
Hermione's hand, holding her plate, paused. "Why would you think that?"
"Huh?" Hearing a somewhat familiar phrase, Ron froze. "Ginny told me. She didn't just see Dylan and Luna go to the Owlery together in the morning; she also saw them together several times throughout the day."
Dylan put down his spoon. "We just happened to run into each other and chatted a bit."
Ron scratched his head. "Okay... then maybe I... I mean Ginny misunderstood."
Hermione snorted. Ron didn't dare to speak again. However, after burying himself in his food for a while, he still couldn't resist. He looked up at Dylan and said, "I think... that girl isn't as strange as everyone says."
Dylan chuckled softly. "Of course. What others call strange is simply not understanding someone's actions sometimes." He continued, "Luna herself isn't strange. As I told you last time, as someone with high talent in the spiritual dimension, the world that unfolds before her eyes is something many people cannot see."
He gave an example, "It's like when we plant Mandrakes; perhaps you only see them as ugly, plant-like creatures, but Luna might see the energy ripples caused by the Mandrakes crying."
Ron's spoon hovered above his creamy mushroom soup, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the bottom of the bowl. He paused for a moment, then blinked and stroked his chin. After some thought, he mumbled indistinctly, "Seeing the ripples of a Mandrake crying? Uh... I feel like that's even stranger."
Dylan rolled his eyes. "What exactly do you use to define 'strange'?" He questioned, "If we're really going to talk about it, you and Harry are the strangest of the strange, aren't you?" He continued, "Just imagine, from the moment you enrolled until this very moment, how many school rules have you broken?"
He speculated, "Probably over a thousand, right? And you've only been enrolled for three years, not to mention this year has just begun." Dylan finished, "What normal person would try to break school rules, and so brazenly, like you two?"
Dylan glanced at Ron. "So, in fact, the abnormal ones are you, aren't they?"
Even though Ron was being reprimanded, Harry was inexplicably dragged into it. Harry cleared his throat. "Uh, although we've broken a lot of school rules... we haven't actually done anything to harm the school."
Reminded by Harry, Ron quickly added, "Exactly! Did you forget, Dylan? The Headmaster even awarded Gryffindor a lot of points because of what we did!" As he said this, Ron suddenly paused, then cautiously glanced at Dylan, continuing to mumble, "And speaking of breaking school rules... I feel like you haven't done any less, Dylan."
Dylan's eyes narrowed slightly, forming thin slits as he squinted at Ron. The latter suddenly shivered and quickly shut his mouth, digging a large piece of roasted potato with his spoon and eating it with the gravy.
The minor interlude ended. After afternoon classes, and then dinner, Harry and Ron, quite unusually, once again accompanied Dylan to the library.
They had various course assignments to do. Not just Transfiguration and Charms, but also elective courses. Fortunately, they hadn't chosen too many electives, but combined with the required assignments, it was quite a lot.
Dylan read for a while in the library. He also helped Ron and Harry with some of their homework and guided them on questions they couldn't solve, then returned to his dormitory.
Dylan still had many things to do. After returning to his dorm, he immediately slipped into his Pet Space Suitcase to practice the Fiendfyre that old Dumbledore had taught him. After his proficiency increased slightly, Dylan stopped practicing. He had many other things to do.
Regarding Fiendfyre, this miraculous flame, even if the wizard's magical source was cut off, could burn on its own and burn eternally. It was not easy to truly master it.
Even though Dylan had mastered a maxed-out Fiendfyre Curse, which made him highly skilled at controlling flames, especially unusual ones, it was still not something he could do effortlessly.
This only gave him a head start in learning Fiendfyre. To truly cultivate it to a high level would still take a considerable amount of time. Dylan could not directly create a truly roaring Fiendfyre, but he could create some scattered sparks. However, Dylan found that the Fiendfyre sparks he created could not be accumulated in quantity to produce a qualitative change. Scattered sparks remained scattered. Even when gathered, they were still separate flames.
Dylan planned to set the mastery of Fiendfyre before the Christmas holiday. —As long as he could summon slightly more vigorous flames, rather than just scattered sparks, by then, it would be enough.
And to truly hold Fiendfyre completely in his hand, to use and summon it at will, that depended on luck. —If he was lucky, he might light up an achievement that would help him learn Fiendfyre the next second. If he was unlucky, he would just keep practicing little by little. As for when he would truly master it, he would worry about that later.
"I don't need to practice Fiendfyre to max level. Level seven or eight, or eight or nine, should be enough for me to use." After feeding his pets, Dylan began experiments he hadn't done in a long time. —Perfecting Obsidian Restorative. —Researching new potions. —Researching the soul stripping of Horcruxes.
In addition, he had a lot of spell knowledge that needed to be verified. However, Dylan wasn't in a hurry. Although there were many things to do, he would tackle them one by one.
Three to five hours passed. It was already night. Dylan stopped his work. In front of him lay a notebook that looked like it was on its last breath. The tattered pages were covered in black holes, slowly healing at an incredibly slow pace.
"You're truly vicious..." A faint, intermittent voice could still be heard from the notebook.
Dylan chuckled softly, unconcerned. "Vicious? I'm just a child engrossed in studying the magical world—it's not very nice to describe me that way, you know."
The diary made no further sound. After working for a while longer, Dylan left the suitcase.
Then, after attending classes for a period, one day, he had just finished dinner.
"Dylan, Wood said he wants to meet you on the seventh floor," Ron said.
"Hmm? Wood?" Dylan was puzzled. As the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, why would Wood, who should be busy preparing for the games, come looking for him?
It wasn't just him who was busy lately. Harry and Ron were also very busy. Especially Harry, who not only had to complete homework and academic work but also prepare for Quidditch matches. Several times, when Dylan left in the morning, he would run into Wood outside their dormitory.
"I understand." Seeing Ron quickly wolf down a few bites of food, about to rush to the Quidditch pitch with Harry, Dylan nodded.
He didn't know why this guy was so busy. Harry trained every day because he was playing. Ron wasn't even on the Quidditch team. Yet, he still went to practice with Harry every day.
Dylan thought the kid probably didn't want to be left alone and, by training with Harry, could also avoid studying and doing homework by himself. Of course, Dylan had casually asked Ron about it before. However, the result was...
"I'm just going to cheer Harry on! Definitely not to avoid doing homework!" Dylan could only shrug at this and let him be. Anyway, it was normal for kids not to like doing homework. Ron and Harry would always set aside time at some point to furiously catch up on their assignments.
After indicating that he understood, Dylan went to the seventh floor of Hogwarts. At this time, there weren't many people there, because everyone was still eating. And after eating, students always wanted to wander around. So not many people returned to their dormitories to rest.
Dylan saw Wood at the entrance of the Gryffindor common room.
"Hey! Dylan, you're here!" Upon seeing Dylan, Wood quickly walked over.
"Ron told me you were looking for me. Is something wrong?"
"There is something. Let's talk over there." Wood led Dylan to a secluded corner. Dylan looked at his expression. He seemed quite tragic. One might think he was about to head to a battlefield to fight Dementors.
"What on earth happened?"
"Dylan!" Wood turned around, and tears suddenly streamed down his face.
!! ( °A°`)╮
Dylan leaned back. What was going on? Was he trying to swindle him?? —Who knew how bizarre it was to see someone several years older than him crying to him, especially since they were both guys!
"Seven years, a whole seven years!" Wood cried, his voice breaking. "The Gryffindor Quidditch trophy cabinet is practically covered in cobwebs!" Wood's nose was red. "Harry getting injured, matches being canceled... do you know how agonizing it is for me to walk past the Trophy Room every day?"
Dylan pursed his lips and shook his head. "No idea."
Wood's expression stiffened, a snot bubble hanging halfway from his nostril, unsure whether to continue dripping.
"Ahem, I can empathize, actually. Please continue?" Dylan coughed.
Wood choked. He composed himself and spoke again. "I feel like all those shiny cups in the glass cabinet are winking at me, like they're mocking us, always last or second last!" Dylan raised an eyebrow, watching Wood's frantic hand gestures. He suddenly felt that the Prefect looked especially like Mrs. Norris with her tail stepped on.
"Ever since that boy Harry joined the team, I've dreamt every night of holding the Quidditch Cup and kissing it incessantly—" Wood's voice choked again, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"But I'm graduating next year. This is my last chance to wear the Gryffindor uniform, and my last chance to shout 'We are the champions'..." He pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his sleeve and blew his nose hard, getting snot on the back of his hand.
Dylan's eyelid twitched. He silently pulled a few tissues from his bag and slapped them into Wood's hand. "Alright, the melodrama can end now."
Dylan started to put a hand on his trembling shoulder, but seeing some suspicious glistening substances, he quietly withdrew his hand.
"I'll cast a Silencing Charm around the four-poster bed—and set Harry's alarm to 'storm mode,' guaranteeing he'll be woken by thunder at five AM sharp every morning." Dylan waved his hand. "When I'm not waking up early, you can also come directly to him. I have no objections, as long as Ron and the others agree."
....
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