Dylan glanced at Neville with a wry smile.
"Isn't the Longbottom family one of the few remaining pureblood families in the wizarding world? Even if that so-called monster gets loose, it's got nothing to do with you, right?"
Neville pursed his lips and shook his head as he replied, "After that incident, I wrote a letter to my grandmother the very next day, and she said…"
His face grew uneasy. "Even among the pureblood families from Salazar Slytherin's time, there aren't many left intact today."
"Even the so-called pureblood families nowadays aren't truly pure."
"You know, even when a family claims to be pureblood, their bloodline isn't as pure as they think—and that includes the Longbottoms."
"Really?" Dylan tilted his head. "In any case, you don't need to worry so much. If that were the case, how many people would have to be killed just to secure an heir?"
"Are you saying he wants to wipe out everyone in the world, leaving just him and a monster, and then have them produce a child?"
Dylan chuckled. "No way—in order to preserve the bloodline, they'd need two kids, but that's just too twisted, don't you think?" 😊
Neville blinked twice and nodded. "A bit, yeah."
"Don't sweat it—the monster might keep trying, but in the end it won't cause much of a fuss. After all, the headmaster isn't going to let them run wild in the school."
With Dylan's reassurance, Neville, though still a bit scared, managed to calm down. "That's true. Even if that monster ends up turning you to stone, you'd still find a way to save me."
Dylan shrugged. "Then I'll need to stock up on a ton of Mandrake. I'm nearly out of supplies—any chance you could grab some from the greenhouse?"
Neville, who had a real knack for herbology and was highly regarded by Professor Sprout (which even earned him permission to wander in the greenhouse), replied, "I don't see a problem. I grow my own Mandrakes too, so I can snag some extra stems and leaves for you."
Since the monster in the Chamber had already set the students on edge, and now that Dylan could brew an antidote with Mandrake, he absolutely had to help Dylan make more potion.
"Thanks," Dylan said with a soft smile. "I'd appreciate extra roots—and a few more leaves too."
"Or if you could get me a whole Mandrake plant, that'd be even better. Then I could just nurture it," Neville offered.
Dylan paused. "I can't exactly get a mature Mandrake, though; Professor Sprout won't allow it. But a young Mandrake works, as long as you grab some roots and leaves too—since a young plant isn't potent enough for potions on its own."
Neville nodded. "No problem—I can pluck a bit off every Mandrake I bring. They grow back quickly."
Dylan figured that once Headmaster Dumbledore got involved, Professor Snape would probably step in and start brewing a massive batch of Mandrake restorative potion. Of course, Professor Sprout would supply the Mandrakes to him, and then it wouldn't be so easy for Dylan to get more.
While the basilisk hadn't claimed a second victim yet, Dylan saw his chance to get a little extra help from Neville. He was just about 100,000 Galleons short of one million—which was exactly the sum he needed to unlock an ecological system for his Pet Pocket Box!
—To raise that money, the Hawkwell couple had been hustling everywhere these past few days. They even set up a company, juggling internal business while also investing, playing the lottery, and trading stocks… In just over two months, they'd managed to rake in a tidy sum for Dylan.
Once the forest ecosystem was unlocked, not only could he grow a young Mandrake inside, but he could easily cram every Mandrake in the greenhouse—and even other magical plants—in there. And since the ecosystem expands with the Pocket Box, Dylan could adjust it as he pleased. There were tons of benefits that would let him completely control the space.
Without this, Dylan could probably create a mini forest with just a few tens of thousands of Galleons—but why spend a whole million if you're not a sucker?
After dinner, Dylan headed back to his dorm and dove straight into his Pocket Box. These past few days he'd been studying the Patronus Charm. What excited him most was that the thrill he'd felt while raiding dark wizards' memories during the summer break could actually be channeled into the Patronus! He might even be able to release some silvery-white substance!
But maybe his control wasn't quite there yet, or perhaps he hadn't done enough raids to gather sufficient "joy"—so that little spark wasn't enough to successfully summon a full-fledged Patronus.
"Maybe I should find some time to sneak out and pull off something big," he mused.
Like, really hit up Gringotts? Or maybe even rob a hundred dark wizards' fortunes all at once?
"But robbing them separately would be such a hassle unless I ran into a hundred of them at the same time."
Dylan stroked his chin in thought. "Do dark wizards ever have get-togethers?" he wondered. Maybe he should train a few folks to act as his eyes and ears on the outside wizarding world.
That entire afternoon, Dylan labored to improve his Patronus proficiency. The charm was notoriously tricky to practice, and he tried every trick he could think of to make himself happy—whether it was robbing for cash, reliving childhood joys, studying spells, or even puzzling over that crazy function \((x^2+2y-1)^3 - x^2y^3 = 1\) or the repeated exercises around \(x=3y\log y-\frac{1}{36}\exp[-(36y-36/e)^4]\). He even got so worked up that his face flushed bright red—but still, he couldn't manage to summon a tangible Patronus.
Dylan figured that maybe every time he wrestled with those equations, visions of Hermione, Ginny, and a few others would flash through his mind, shattering his daydreams in an instant. After all, Hermione and Ginny were barely in their early teens—and just the thought of it felt terribly inappropriate.
"Guess I better focus my energy on robbing then," Dylan sighed.
Soon it was dinnertime. Dylan's Patronus was barely at level two—achieved only because he'd managed to conjure some silvery-white substance at all. If it had completely failed, he'd still be stuck at level one.
"Hey, Dylan, do you have any pre-brewed Polyjuice Potion?" a voice asked as Dylan sat down, grabbing a slice of salty egg yolk, butter, and cheese pizza and setting it on his plate. Hermione and Harry soon joined him.
With a wink, Dylan asked, "Are you guys starting to doubt Malfoy is the heir?"
Ron immediately rushed over. "Whoa, Dylan, you think so too?"
Hermione sat down beside Dylan and whispered, "We're pretty sure Malfoy is the heir. If we use Polyjuice to become his cronies, we might get him to spill secrets about the Chamber!"
"How did you even hear about the Polyjuice Potion?" Dylan asked.
Hermione hesitated before saying, "Remember that 'Powerful Potions' book you brought back from the Restricted Section? I spotted the recipe for Polyjuice in there."
Dylan nodded. "I'd already returned that book, so you must have borrowed it afterward, right?"
Hermione just shrugged. "Lockhart gave Harry and me tons of autographs."
Harry added, "The potion ingredients in that recipe are super hard to come by, so we really had to ask you."
Dylan took another slice of pizza and dipped it into the mushroom soup in front of him.
—This mushroom soup was a new specialty, delicious without any hint of mushroomy smell. Whether drunk straight or used as a dip, it was absolutely fantastic and had almost become a staple at Dylan's table.
"Since you got that 'Powerful Potions' book, you know you can't brew Polyjuice Potion into a finished product directly, right?" Dylan reminded them.
"You have to add ingredients from the person you want to transform into during the brewing process," Hermione explained.
Dylan shook his head slowly. "I do have a bottle of Polyjuice, but it'd turn you into Professor Snape."
"Ew!" Ron immediately shook his head. "No thanks—I could never pull off that creepy look."
"…You really have some nerve," Dylan muttered with a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Ron looked up defensively. "I'm learning from you, aren't I?"
Dylan rolled his eyes. "When have I ever taught you to spout off such nonsense?"
Ron scratched his head. "Maybe it's all your influence?"
Dylan shot him a disapproving look. "I never taught any of you to say weird stuff. If you say something stupid, it's on you—not my problem."
Hermione interrupted, "Enough of that. Dylan, do you have the ingredients for Polyjuice?"
Dylan sighed. "Sorry, unicorn horn is incredibly rare. Mine was brewed under Professor Snape's supervision, and African tree snake skin isn't easy to come by—after all, we're in the Scottish Highlands."
"So, you're out of the ingredients you need," he admitted honestly.
It was true—he had no more unicorn horn. As for the African tree snake skin, he only had a little left, and he needed it for other things.
"What now? Should we sneak into Professor Snape's office?" Ron suggested, looking worried. "If we get caught, we're done for!"
Harry glanced at Dylan uncertainly.
Understanding Harry's meaning, Dylan shook his head. "I just finished Snape's tutoring session—unfortunately, the next time we can go into his office isn't until the week after next."
Harry opened his mouth but said nothing.
Hermione, however, wasn't too concerned. "We've got the invisibility cloak. I can sneak into Snape's private storeroom quietly."
Dylan looked at her. This little girl was getting bolder by the minute—practically fearless! No wonder the Sorting Hat put Hermione in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. Just the idea of her sneaking into Snape's storeroom was far beyond what you'd expect of a Ravenclaw.
Dylan thought for a moment but decided not to ask Hermione to help him snag some unicorn horn too. He didn't want to risk getting into detention. As for the materials, he'd just ask Professor Snape for a bit more next time during tutoring. He figured Snape wouldn't say no…right?
After dinner, Dylan returned to his dorm alone. He hadn't seen Neville at the table, but after a while—when it was getting late—Neville finally pushed open the door, looking a bit grimy.
"Have you been working for Professor Sprout all afternoon?" Dylan asked.
"You're pretty sharp, Dylan—you guessed it," Neville said cheerfully as he approached.
With a cleaning charm, Dylan swept the dirt and dust off Neville, his gaze falling on a plush bag behind him.
"This?" Dylan asked.
"That's exactly what you asked for!" Neville grinned as he unhooked the bag from his waist. Opening it, he revealed a small potted plant along with some loose roots and leaves.
"You have a place to grow it, right?" Neville asked.
"Yeah, don't worry," Dylan replied with a nod.
Neville handed over the muddy bag. "The leaves might be a bit dirty," he whispered.
"That's fine—I'll just clean them up," Dylan replied. After a brief pause, Neville added quietly, "You said you needed a few leaves to eat raw along with the ones for the restorative potion? Are you planning to eat them? That's super dangerous—you might get poisoned!"
Dylan laughed softly. "Go change your clothes first; it looks like your sweater's soaked already."
He carefully took the young Mandrake out of its pot and set it on the table, then emptied the remaining roots and leaves beside it. With a light tap of his wand, the dirt vanished from the leaves. Dylan picked up a few, examined them, and nodded in satisfaction, "Perfect size."
As he arranged the stems and leaves, he explained casually, "The roots are for brewing potions, but I need the leaves to help me experiment with a spell."
Neville looked puzzled. Mandrake leaves weren't normally used in potions—what spell could require them?
After a moment of thought, Neville paused mid-change. "Oh my gosh, Dylan—are you trying to become an Animagus?"
"Bingo~ You're spot on!" Dylan grinned. 😊
Even though Mandrake is poisonous, it can effectively mitigate the negative effects of transformation. That's one reason why the restorative potion brewed from Mandrake can cure someone petrified by the basilisk. Still, the most valuable part of the Mandrake is its root, not the leaves. So if Dylan isn't planning to use the leaves in a potion but rather for practicing a spell, the only likely option was that he was studying transformation spells to become an Animagus.
"You're only in your second year, and you're already messing with such dangerous spells?" Neville asked, worry evident in his eyes. "If something goes wrong, you could get seriously hurt!"
"Maybe you should have Professor McGonagall tutor you. Having a transformation expert around is a lot safer than figuring it out on your own."
Dylan shook his head. "Professor McGonagall's already told me all the key points. Even if she were here, she'd only be able to help a little. I don't really need that kind of backup."
Refusing Neville's suggestion, Dylan added, "How about I help you out and you join me in this research? Who knows—you might become an Animagus before I do!"
Since Neville was always around—whether during library sessions, tutoring, or working on his own research—Dylan was well aware of his abilities. Compared to Ron, Neville's grasp of transformation wasn't too shabby. And compared to Peter Pettigrew? Way better. After all, that guy managed to become an Animagus with Sirius and Harry's help—so why couldn't Neville?
But Dylan's proposal left Neville stunned; he shook his head repeatedly, his hands flailing like a tambourine. "No, no—I can't risk it. It's way too dangerous."
"Alright then," Dylan said with a hint of regret. He'd hoped to see Neville give it a try, maybe even spark a breakthrough that would make things easier for him later. Since Neville wasn't up for it, Dylan would have to figure it out on his own.
"Let's try it on the next full moon," Dylan concluded, then ushered Neville off to his own business while he stowed away the supplies in his Pocket Box.
Even though the ecological system in his Pocket Box wasn't activated yet, Dylan had already filled part of it with soil and magically transformed it into a little flower bed. And here's the newest update from "Book 69"—first release!
Dylan gently removed the young Mandrake from its pot. The hideous little plant—ugly enough to make your eyes hurt—suddenly began wailing loudly. Luckily, Dylan had already donned earplugs, so the crying didn't affect him one bit.
—The Mandrake was tiny, freshly sprouted, so its cries weren't very powerful. Even though the flower bed wasn't large, it more than accommodated a single young Mandrake.
"Mom said that in a couple of days, they'll transfer another one million pounds to me, and then I can finally unlock the ecosystem for my Pocket Box." Dylan calculated his remaining funds. He had 760,000 Galleons, and the rest were mostly pounds sterling. He needed to find time to head over to Gringotts to exchange his money.
"Lately, maybe because I've been swapping money so frequently, I noticed the goblins acting a bit sluggish last time. Next time, I'll convert all my cash at once and see how it goes."
If the goblins change their rules because he's exchanging tens—or even millions—of Galleons at once, I might have to have my parents convert all their pounds into gold and send them to me.
"Even though my parents have stashed away a good amount of gold, it's still easier to earn pounds these days," Dylan mused. He wasn't really keen on converting his gold.
—After all, he wanted to dive deeper into alchemy, and both gold and Galleons were consumable resources.
"I'm still so short on cash. Time to let those dark wizards and Aurors taste some fear from Kalsas," Dylan mused mischievously. 😈
Besides spending a million Galleons to unlock the ecosystem, his Pocket Box was still a bit cramped. Dylan planned to stash more Galleons so he could expand its space in one go. That way, even Nobeta could fly around without having its wings barely spread.
"Expanding costs ten Galleons per cubic meter. If I add another 100,000 cubic meters, that's another million."
Dylan quickly crunched the numbers and nearly blacked out. Thankfully, one cubic meter was only ten Galleons—not a hundred. Otherwise, Dylan would be coughing up blood.
His parents had recently written that they'd even stopped using their minor accounts, dedicating themselves to making money for him—which had netted a few million pounds in pure profit in just two or three months.
"There's no such thing as a peaceful life—it's all someone else carrying the weight for me."
Suddenly, Dylan felt a tug to get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone again. "I wonder if Headmaster Dumbledore has destroyed it already. I haven't heard any updates from Nickle Leme either."
Arriving at the enclosure for the little cockroaches and spiders, Dylan methodically worked through his spell refinement tasks. He was in the middle of the second refinement task for his "Spectral Sword" ability—Fate Tracking!
The name sounded awesome, though Dylan hadn't seen the detailed trait description, so he wasn't entirely sure what it could do.
"Sectumsempra (Spectral Sword)!"
Swish, swish, swish!
Fifty streaks of razor-sharp blades shot out, striking within the circle and instantly killing fifty little critters.
Dylan then hurled another fifty Spectral Swords. The barrage of dazzling light resembled a torrential downpour. As each little creature fell, the system notification finally chimed in.
——————
[Notification]: Congratulations, you have completed the Spectral Sword refinement task!
[Notification]: You have unlocked a new trait for Spectral Sword — Fate Tracking!
——————
"Finally done."
This task required him to use Spectral Sword to sever the hearts of 444 creatures. Since the cockroaches and spiders were so tiny, a single swipe easily split their hearts—so Dylan didn't have to be overly precise. In any case, after casting a flurry of spells, some little critters were bound to get hit.
Dylan checked the system notification.
——————
[Fate Tracking]: Once you cast Spectral Sword, no matter how your target dodges or teleports, your spell will follow the path of fate, homing in on your target with precision.
[Note]: Your spell has tracking capabilities but does not guarantee 100% damage; its effects can be resisted by the target.
——————
"So if the target blocks with a shield, my spell still gets deflected?" Dylan mused.
He was quite pleased with this trait. Just having a tracking ability that didn't require precise aiming was worth it. Now, his Spectral Sword was at the "Puff Puff Plus" level—Invisibility plus tracking meant that anyone coming near would definitely get hit. Besides, his invisibility already helped cover up any shortcomings if a target managed to block the tracking spell.
Imagine two people hundreds of meters apart and Dylan stealthily hurling a Spectral Sword—it would be nearly impossible for someone to dodge that!
"I wonder if selecting a target requires visual contact or if I can simply think of someone and have it home in on them?" he pondered, planning to test it out later.
Glancing at the time, Dylan realized it wasn't too early yet. Leaving his Pocket Box, he didn't see Harry or Ron around—they were probably still plotting how to sneak into Professor Snape's office for ingredients. Not paying them any mind, Dylan cleaned himself up with a cleaning charm, then lay down to read.
It was another Saturday. Today was the first Quidditch match of the school year. Dylan had gotten up early—even though he'd promised Harry to watch the game, he wasn't about to stop his studies. He planned to join the match once it got underway.
Just as he opened his door, he spotted Wood squatting by the wall.
"Hey, good morning, Dylan," Wood greeted.
Wood slowly stood up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. When he saw Dylan, he forced a sheepish smile and waved, his voice a bit hoarse.
Dylan was surprised. "What time did you get here? Are you here to wake Harry up? Why not just knock on his door?"
Wood scratched his head awkwardly.
—He wouldn't admit he was scared of waking Dylan and then getting blasted by a barrage of spells. Wood had heard from Percy that during Dylan's stay at his house, even goblins and ghoul-like creatures behaved like disarmed, bumbling wizards—they wouldn't dare react. Plus, the last time when he tried waking Harry for practice, he'd encountered an already-awake Dylan who, despite being a lower-year kid, felt like a professor. And this professor might strike at any moment—it was a bit over the top!
"I'm just… a little nervous. After all, Harry is the key Chaser for the Golden Snitch—better let him get enough rest," Wood explained.
Dylan nodded. "Even as the Keeper, you need your rest too."
"Serenitas Lux (Sleepiness, be gone)!" Wood tapped his wand, and a flash of light washed over him, instantly banishing his drowsiness.
"Oh! That's a really useful spell. Thanks, Dylan—I feel much better now." Peering through the door crack, Wood asked, "Mind if I come in?"
"Of course," Dylan replied, making room for him.
Wood quickly saluted, "Three drops of oil!"
"No need for oil," Dylan said with a shake of his head as Wood carefully entered.
Ignoring Harry and Ron, Dylan headed straight to the owl loft to feed Luna some high-quality meat strips. Then he went to the dining hall for a meal. Along the way, he overheard some early-rising students chatting—apparently, after Malfoy joined the Slytherin Quidditch team, all of Slytherin had switched to new broomsticks—the Nimbus 2001, which was one tier higher than Dylan's own Nimbus 2000.
"I just got my broom, and now there's a new model? That's kinda unfair," Dylan grumbled. He planned to upgrade his broom next time he hit Diagon Alley. After all, he'd learned Voldemort's flying techniques (though not Apparition), and thanks to various achievement rewards, his flying skills had reached a high level. Naturally, he wanted the best broom available.
"Of course, if it's too expensive—well, two thousand Galleons can still get you by, and you can always use a Nimbus 2000 for quick travel," he reasoned. Since one cubic meter of space cost only ten Galleons, Dylan figured it was best to spend money wisely.
—That was just the fickle nature of Dylan: always adaptable.
"If worst comes to worst, I could even set up a refinement task for the Nimbus 2000 to boost its performance."
That was almost like upgrading it—but it would be costly, and very costly at that.
Yesterday, while reading, Dylan came across a potion—the Animagus Transformation Potion. It seemed like it could help him become an Animagus. However, the book only briefly mentioned it, so Dylan's main goal during his library trip was to see if there were any records about it in the Restricted Section.
"Good morning, Mrs. Pince," Dylan greeted as he entered early.
Though it was still early, Mrs. Pince was already neatly dressed and sitting in her librarian's chair. Seeing Dylan, she slowly lifted her eyes.
"Has Lockhart been dabbling in potions lately?" she asked.
Dylan was taken aback by the sudden question. After a brief pause, he replied, "No, I'm not really sure—maybe he has?"
These days, while reading in his dorm, Dylan had overheard Ron and the others discussing Lockhart.
—Ever since the term started, not a night went by without Ron mentioning Lockhart after returning to the dorm.
After Mrs. Lorys's incident—despite Dylan saving her in time—Lockhart couldn't help but brag everywhere he went: that if he had been there, he would've captured the monster in the Chamber on the spot! He even boasted about developing a potion that would grant him immunity to petrification with just one dose.
Dylan had confirmed with Professor Snape while brewing potions that both he and Snape just chuckled at Lockhart's claims.
Of course, maybe Snape had also muttered things like:
—"These days, every guy jumps out claiming to know potions, yet they can't even tell a Mandrake from cowwort—more foolish than the dumbest Gryffindor I've seen."
—"I bet his potion would poison him before it even worked."
—"Maybe he should use what's in his nose as an ingredient. I really don't know how he's managed to survive."
Snape's comments about Lockhart had shifted from potion critiques to personal insults, and Dylan couldn't help but just nod in agreement. In the last class, Dylan felt Snape had spoken more in one session than in the previous ten combined. He couldn't figure out what Lockhart had done to really set Snape off so badly—getting the kind-hearted, bat-like professor to spend an entire class firing off insults with no repeats.
"Next time you see him, tell him that as a professor he won't produce any proper potions with this behavior. He should give up now—what's with sending only two students to fetch materials?" Mrs. Pince said after verifying some signatures, then allowed Dylan into the Restricted Section.
"Uh, I will," Dylan replied, blinking and hurrying inside.
So it turned out that when he and Hermione used Lockhart's signature to borrow books, Mrs. Pince mistakenly thought Lockhart had sent them to fetch materials himself. Oh well.
After all, Lockhart would never take the time to explain things. Even if he met Mrs. Pince, he'd only use the opportunity to brag about his grand ideals and his so-called glorious past—which were more fantasy than fact.
*(End of Chapter)*
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