"Stop talking nonsense!" Dylan glared at Ron.
Ron shrank back. "It wasn't me who said it!"
Harry shook his head. "I just didn't sleep well, that's all."
"Didn't sleep well?" Dylan blinked. "What happened?"
Harry sighed. "I've just been having nightmares a lot lately."
"Nightmares?" Hermione looked over. "What kind of nightmares?"
Harry glanced at Dylan. "Well, it's just…"
Seeing that he seemed hesitant to speak, Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me it has something to do with me?"
Dreams could sometimes be prophetic—especially Harry's dreams.
Dylan was genuinely curious now. What exactly had Harry dreamed of?
Had Snape been chasing Harry, and Dylan had used him as a human shield, taking Snape's Cruciatus Curse instead?
Harry's lips moved slightly. "Kind of, but it's mostly the nightmares I've had before."
Before?
He must be referring to the scene where little Voldemort killed his parents.
But what did that have to do with him?
Dylan pressed further. "What did I do in your dream?"
Harry opened his mouth again. "You… Well, before, you would just appear from time to time in my dream, watching as that person killed me. But now…"
"When I dream about you, you're always standing in front of me, fighting that person. And…"
Harry hesitated.
"And what?" Dylan raised an eyebrow.
Why was this kid taking so long to get to the point? Dylan almost wanted to cast an Acceleration Charm on him.
Harry paused for a moment before continuing, "And… the spells you used were even more skilled, more sinister, and more powerful than his. I saw you completely overpowering him, and you even chased him down, trying to kill him."
"…" Dylan's mouth twitched.
What?!
He had hidden his secrets so well that even Dumbledore hadn't discovered them—yet Harry's dream had foreseen them?
His thoughts raced, but Dylan's expression remained unchanged. He merely looked slightly exasperated. "So, that's the kind of violent image you have of me? Looks like you really misunderstand me."
"Honestly, there's no one in Gryffindor who loves peace and kindness more than I do."
Ron: ?
Hermione: ?
Neville nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Dylan is really nice."
Harry also nodded thoughtfully. "That does seem to be the case."
Dylan smiled. "See? There's no way I'd be fighting that guy, dueling with dark magic, or chasing him down to kill him. That's just not wizardly at all."
However, Harry's expression turned odd again. "It's just… the dream felt too real. Every time I wake up, I feel out of place."
"The worst part is, at some point, you accidentally hit me with those dark spells—and then you… you killed me."
"And then you killed my dad."
"And my mom."
"Pfft!" Ron burst out laughing. "Did Dylan also take out the Dark Lord while he was at it?"
Harry nodded seriously. "That's right. After taking care of all of us, Dylan suddenly conjured a massive fire that burned everything to the ground. That's when I always wake up."
"What's weird is, even though I was already dead, I could still feel the pain of being burned. That's what's been keeping me from sleeping well."
Oh, great.
So now I'm the source of your nightmares?
Dylan almost spit out the milk he was drinking onto Harry's face.
Hermione shook her head. "That dream is completely ridiculous. Dylan would never hurt you."
Harry nodded. "Of course, I know that. It's just a nightmare."
After breakfast, Dylan went to class with Harry and the others.
But now, thanks to Harry's dream, Dylan had a bigger headache.
"Whatever. I'll just keep my head down in Potions class. I can brew those potions with my eyes closed anyway."
There was no way Snape could find fault with him in class.
Until class started.
Dylan quietly observed Snape's expression while keeping his Occlumency active at all times—just in case Snape tried to catch him off guard.
When it was time to prepare the potion, Dylan whispered to Neville, "I'll handle the ingredients this time, and you'll do the brewing. I'll guide you through the steps."
Neville's eyes lit up. "Dylan, you're going to teach me personally? That's awesome!"
Dylan smirked. "Yep."
He handled the ingredients swiftly, and Neville watched with wide eyes. "Dylan, your technique is incredible!"
"Well, Snape taught me personally. If I couldn't even do this properly, I'd be getting yelled at constantly," Dylan chuckled.
Just then, Neville suddenly fell silent, his expression turning serious as he focused on his cauldron.
Dylan immediately felt a chill down his spine.
Oh no! Incoming threat!
"Have I ever yelled at you, Mr. Hawkworth?"
A cold, deep voice sounded behind him.
Dylan nearly sliced his own hand.
Quickly turning around, he plastered a smile on his face. "Of course not, Professor."
Snape narrowed his eyes at Dylan, then scanned the ingredients he was preparing.
Finding nothing wrong, he said nothing and walked away.
Neville let out a breath only after Snape was a safe distance away.
"Oh my god, when Professor Snape stands there, I feel like I'm about to be sentenced to death!"
Dylan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's the oppressive aura of Professor Snape…"
"Alright, get the fire going. I've almost finished preparing the ingredients."
Neville nodded slightly.
Under Dylan's guidance, Neville's brewing technique became noticeably smoother. Once the potion was complete, Dylan made sure not to take credit for turning it in.
—After all, the reason he and Neville switched roles was to avoid exactly that.
Just when Dylan thought he had finally survived another tough lesson…
When Neville came back, he brought rather unfortunate news.
"Dylan, Professor Snape didn't criticize me just now for once!"
"That's great! That's a good thing—it means you're improving."
"It's all thanks to you! Oh, right, the professor also told me to remind you not to forget to meet him this weekend for your lesson."
"Ah?" Dylan felt his heart skip a beat.
What did Professor Snape mean by this?
Was he planning to kill him?
Dylan felt the world go dark for a moment but had no choice but to respond—he could feel the chilling gaze from the podium.
Forcing a smile, Dylan said, "I know, I know. It's my prior agreement with Professor Snape. Of course, I won't forget."
After class, although he still had to face Professor Snape alone over the weekend, at least for now, Dylan could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He no longer had to endure the old bat's gaze in class.
"This is school—Professor Snape can't lay a hand on me. Dylan, rest in peace—wait, no! Stay calm! Don't panic!"
Dylan went to the Great Hall for dinner with Harry and the others. Harry and Ron were chattering away about how, for once, Professor Snape wasn't as harsh on them in Potions class today.
It was as if his attention wasn't even on them at all. Even Gryffindor hadn't lost that many points this time!
"Did he have a change of heart? That's so weird," Ron said, eyes wide.
As they walked past a corner, they suddenly stopped in their tracks.
Dylan's gaze locked onto something at the end of the corridor.
Harry and Ron followed his line of sight and saw a strange-looking object floating in midair.
It was a long, black, tattered strip of cloth. Just then, a gust of wind blew through, making it flutter with a rustling sound.
Dylan's eyes flickered—he almost mistook it for a Dementor.
Ron was even more startled. "That scared me! I thought Professor Snape was hanging there!"
Dylan: "…"
Did this guy have a death wish?
Dylan quickly looked around to make sure Snape wasn't nearby before finally exhaling in relief.
This reckless kid—if he wanted to die, he'd better not drag Dylan down with him!
Hermione frowned. "Don't say things like that! If the professor hears you talking behind his back, he'll deduct twenty points from you for sure!"
Ron pouted. "I was just saying it looked similar."
"Alright, alright, let's just go eat," Harry said.
To be honest, when he first saw that piece of fabric flying in the air, he also got a bit spooked—it really did resemble Snape's robes.
The day's lessons eventually came to an end.
Time passed slowly, and before Dylan knew it, the dreaded moment had arrived—the time for his meeting with Professor Snape.
Carefully, Dylan made his way to the professor's office and knocked lightly. "Professor Snape, I'm here."
"The door's open. Come in," Snape's deep voice responded.
Although his tone wasn't exactly pleasant, it also didn't sound as angry as Dylan had imagined.
Dylan pushed the door open and entered—only to be greeted by the sight of a prepared cauldron, along with neatly arranged ingredients beside it.
Dylan froze for a moment.
Was this…?
A **cauldron of doom**?
"The heat is just right. If you had arrived a moment later, you would have had to prepare everything from scratch," Snape said.
Glancing at the ingredients, Dylan immediately understood—this was the potion Snape had promised to teach him last week after practicing Occlumency and Legilimency.
**The Living Hell Draught.**
Wasting no time, Dylan stepped forward and began carefully adding the ingredients—nightshade, a putrid-smelling bat spleen, and unicorn hair—into the cauldron in the proper order.
First, the nightshade. The cauldron was already slightly warm, so the timing was perfect.
*Swoosh*—
A wisp of purple smoke curled upward as Dylan quickly stirred the mixture.
Next, the bat spleens, which Snape had already chopped into small pieces.
The moment the spleens touched the liquid, they made a sizzling sound, as if tiny bats were struggling within.
Sweat beaded on Dylan's forehead. He focused intently, not daring to make a single mistake.
Finally, he picked up the unicorn hair and gently placed it into the cauldron. Instantly, the liquid inside began bubbling violently, shifting from black to red before settling into an eerie, shimmering green.
Dylan stared at the cauldron, carefully adjusting the heat and stirring according to the intricate instructions Snape had taught him.
As time passed, the Living Hell Draught slowly took form, emitting a sinister aura. Dylan let out a long breath.
At least he had managed to finish the process.
"Just barely acceptable," Snape said, standing up to inspect the potion.
With his level of mastery, Snape could judge a potion's success just by its color and scent alone.
"As long as it meets your standards, that's all that matters," Dylan said, pursing his lips.
Snape gave him a sharp look. "It seems your Occlumency and Legilimency have progressed quite well."
Hearing this sudden assessment, Dylan was taken aback.
His potion was only *barely acceptable*, yet his mental defenses were *quite good*?
Was Snape actually complimenting him… or was he being sarcastic?
Dylan wasn't sure.
But Snape was actually bringing this up again?
Dylan had assumed that, after what happened with Legilimency, Snape would be too mentally scarred to teach him any further.
And yet, here he was, mentioning it again.
What did that mean?
"Hmph. Your emotions are in turmoil," Snape suddenly said.
Dylan snapped out of his thoughts and immediately steadied himself.
"When you were brewing the potion just now, I attempted to invade your mind," Snape continued. "But all I saw was your brewing process. That means your Occlumency has improved considerably—and your Legilimency is… unexpected."
At the last part, Dylan could detect a hint of gritted teeth in Snape's tone.
He shrank back slightly, not daring to speak.
Wait—Snape had tried to sneak into his mind **again**?
That was seriously… inappropriate.
How could he do that to a student?
Luckily, after a week of practice, Dylan had advanced his Occlumency to level six—thanks in part to studying Snape's own techniques.
So, when Snape had only *lightly* probed his mind rather than launching a full-on attack, Dylan had instinctively activated his Occlumency the moment he stepped into the room, successfully blocking him.
Snape scrutinized Dylan and noticed his emotions had stabilized once more. Without a concentrated effort, breaking through Dylan's defenses would be difficult.
Snape let out a cold snort.
"For someone your age, your skills are commendable. But don't let it go to your head. You're not even worthy of touching the dust on the doorstep of true magic."
Dylan's mouth twitched slightly, but he could only force a smile. "You're absolutely right, Professor."
Professor Snape became a Hogwarts professor in his early twenties, proving his exceptional talent.
Hearing these words from Snape's mouth, Dylan wasn't surprised.
"Hmph." Professor Snape snorted again and then flicked his hand.
"You've passed my test. As for Occlumency and Legilimency… continue learning them on your own. I will teach you a new spell."
Dylan widened his eyes as he caught the small notebook that flew from Professor Snape's hand.
"A new spell?" For Snape, a Potions Master, to personally teach him a spell, it had to be dark magic on par with Legilimency.
Sure enough, when Dylan opened the notebook, he found not only a Hex-level spell but also its counter-curse!
"This is actually…!"
(End of Chapter)