Dylan firmly believed that reading about Potions only once was completely unacceptable.
The subject was far too intricate, with numerous details that could be easily overlooked. Only through repeated reading could he truly internalize the knowledge and make it his own.
Alchemy, in particular, was even more complex. The vast amount of information and minute details made it easy to forget something critical. A single minor mistake could lead to the failure of an entire potion.
With Professor Snape, the Potions Master himself, personally guiding him, Dylan was determined not to waste time making avoidable errors.
A Quiet Encounter Between Gryffindor and Slytherin
At that moment, a group of Gryffindor and Slytherin students noticed Dylan sitting alone in the distance, fully engrossed in a book.
The two houses, known for their long-standing rivalry, stood in a tense line, seemingly on the verge of an argument. However, no one dared to raise their voice.
Before they could disrupt his study session, Dylan cast a Silencing Charm on them all.
None of them had learned this spell yet, let alone knew how to counter it.
The Instant Stop Charm wasn't particularly advanced, and many young wizards could use it. However, dispelling Dylan's spell proved to be more challenging than expected.
Some had already tried—without success.
Gryffindor students, however, quickly realized something: the more Dylan learned, the stronger their house became. If Dylan could surpass Slytherin academically, it would put their rivals at a disadvantage.
Thus, instead of resenting Dylan's knowledge, they welcomed it.
The young lions, sensing an opportunity, suddenly felt a surge of pride.
"Long live Hawkwood!"
For a moment, both sides stood there, locked in a silent but intense stare-down. The tension was palpable, yet eerily quiet.
The Lesson Resumes
Their standoff was interrupted when Madam Hooch returned with Neville Longbottom.
Dylan closed his book and stood up.
"Fortunately, Mr. Longbottom sustained no serious injuries. The only minor scratch on his knee was successfully healed by your spell," Madam Hooch announced.
Dylan gave a slight nod.
"Now, little wizards, you understand how dangerous flying can be, don't you?" she continued.
Madam Hooch had everyone line up again before resuming the lesson.
As the class progressed, both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy displayed remarkable flying talent.
Dylan, however, performed only adequately—not bad, but not outstanding either.
Ron's Observation
After class, Ron Weasley walked up to Dylan, grinning.
"You were brilliant back there! You had those Slytherins so rattled they couldn't even talk back!"
Then, narrowing his eyes, Ron muttered, "I'm seriously starting to think you're a Slytherin at heart."
He nodded to himself as if confirming his own theory.
"Yeah, if you weren't from a Muggle family, you'd definitely be in Slytherin! Even Snape would be at a loss against you!"
Dylan shot Ron a sideways glance and slowly raised his wand.
This little chatterbox was getting on his nerves.
Should he tear him apart? Or perhaps hit him with the Cruciatus Curse?
Ron, seeing Dylan's wand, immediately shrank back and fell into step behind Harry instead.
Harry's Unexpected Invitation
As the group walked toward the Great Hall for dinner, Harry spoke up.
"Madam Hooch said she wanted to take me somewhere later."
Ron's face lit up. "She's going to recommend you for the Quidditch team! My God—a first-year wizard playing for Gryffindor! The Slytherins are going to lose their minds!"
Dylan, uninterested in the conversation, quietly ate his meal.
During flying lessons, he had felt that he could have controlled his broomstick much more skillfully. However, he had held back, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention or receive an invitation to the Quidditch team.
"I'll just buy a Nimbus 2000 later and practice when no one's around," he thought to himself.
A Moment of Solace in Food
Dylan reached for a steak that had just appeared on the table.
The rich, savory aroma of the meat, combined with the faint scent of milk and fresh pepper, made his mouth water.
Hogwarts' food was significantly better than the bland meals he usually ate.
The steak in front of him had perfectly seared edges, with crystal-clear juices pooling on the plate, forming a glossy "little pond."
He cut off a small piece and placed it in his mouth.
His teeth first encountered the crispy exterior, followed by the tender, juicy inside.
As he chewed, the flavorful juices burst forth, filling his mouth with the rich taste of beef and a hint of milk.
"Did the house-elves use some kind of magic while cooking?" Dylan wondered.
If such magic truly existed, he wanted to master it. It would allow him to enjoy delicious food without the hassle of cooking.
Outside, the setting sun cast its golden glow through the windows, illuminating the wooden dining tables and giving the food a warm, golden sheen.
For a short while, Dylan allowed himself to fully immerse in the meal.
The stress from his demanding studies faded into the background, leaving only the delicious food before him and a sense of peace.
The Importance of Stress Relief
Dylan understood that even with his immense thirst for knowledge, stress was inevitable.
Suppressing it completely was not an option—if left unchecked, it could become overwhelming.
His ability to avoid negative emotions while using Dark Magic didn't mean he was immune to them altogether.
If stress accumulated too much, it could easily become a burden. Worse, it might manifest as dangerous impulses.
If that happened, he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't one day lose patience and hurl an Exploding Curse at someone's forehead.
Or worse—reduce them to pieces.
To prevent that, Dylan had developed a simple yet effective method:
During dinnertime, he allowed himself to focus only on his food.
Each bite became a form of meditation, a ritual that slowly melted away his stress.
But, as fate would have it, peace never lasted long at Hogwarts.
Malfoy's Interruption
A group of Slytherins stormed into the Great Hall, their eyes immediately locking onto Dylan.
Anger flashed across their faces as they marched toward him.
Dylan, however, didn't even look up.
Draco Malfoy, leading the group, hesitated when he saw Dylan.
The fire in his eyes dimmed slightly as he faltered.
Behind him, his usual gang of crony followers—Crabbe and Goyle included—waited for his lead.
For a moment, it looked like Malfoy might back down.
But then, under the watchful eyes of his peers, he clenched his fists, straightened his posture, and stepped forward.
(End of Chapter)
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