Chapter 127: Fresh Malfoy Special!
"Hmph."
The green stone walls of Snape's office exuded the bitter scent of wormwood and aconite. The black-robed professor's gaze rested on Dylan, the corner of his lips slightly curved.
"I have wasted so much time on you. I must see results, otherwise it would be better to snap your wand and bury it in the soil beneath the Whomping Willow."
Dylan blinked, long immune to Professor Snape's venomous tongue, and caught the important information from the barrage of disparaging words.
"You mean, you want to give me a test? Like the last time you assessed my Legilimency—"
"Silence!" Professor Snape's low growl came sharply.
Dylan immediately shut his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering incessantly.
After a long while, Professor Snape continued, his voice even lower, "This dueling assessment will not only involve me; McGonagall and Flitwick will also participate."
"I also want to know what skills you have truly mastered."
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Professor, I haven't lived long enough yet. Dealing with just you is already tough enough, let alone adding Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick... You're not planning to leave me any chance of survival!"
Professor Snape frowned. "Silence."
"..."
Dylan was speechless.
He was about to be ganged up on by three professors and beaten, and now he wasn't even allowed to speak?
Wait, when did the three of you collude?
Dylan had just returned from Professor Flitwick's office yesterday, but he hadn't heard anything about an assessment from Professor Flitwick.
Clearly, this matter was likely discussed this morning while he was in the Restricted Section borrowing books.
He wondered who had brought it up.
"In any case, McGonagall and Flitwick told me to tell you that you can go see them later."
Professor Snape sneered, a faint dragon-like smile appearing on his lips. "Those two are almost driven mad by you. See? Not everyone is as patient as I am, able to give you lessons."
Dylan: (._.)
Who was it who said that teaching him basic potions was a waste of time, so they changed the weekly after-class tutoring to once every two or three weeks?
"What's that expression on your face?"
Dylan immediately put on a smile. "I was just thinking you're absolutely right!"
"Alright, enough nonsense. For the subsequent lessons, I will also teach you some other things. Now get out."
Professor Snape waved his hand, shooing Dylan out the door.
"Bang!"
Watching the door slam shut, Dylan touched his nose and turned to walk upstairs.
"A dueling assessment, huh?"
Dylan first went up to the second floor, walked along the corridor, came to the door of a small study, and gently knocked.
However, there was no response from inside.
Dylan paused.
Had she gone to eat?
After a moment of thought, Dylan, confirming that Professor McGonagall wasn't in her office at the moment, went all the way up to the fourth floor.
Fortunately, Professor Flitwick hadn't left and was still in his office.
"Knock knock"
"Come in."
When Dylan pushed open the door, Professor Flitwick was standing behind a table piled with books and magical artifacts. The kind smile on his face froze the moment he saw Dylan.
"There shouldn't be any extra lessons scheduled for today, should there?"
But he quickly realized something and asked, "You... did you just come from Severus's office?"
"Yes, Professor."
Upon receiving a definite answer, Professor Flitwick breathed a sigh of relief, wiped non-existent cold sweat from his forehead, and muttered softly to himself.
"Good, good. I thought he was here for more extra lessons. I almost forgot what McGonagall and I agreed upon this morning."
Professor Flitwick quickly put on a smile. "Please, sit down, child. I imagine Severus didn't explain things to you properly."
Dylan nodded—that was the truth.
Entering Professor Flitwick's office felt like returning home to Dylan. He casually pulled out a chair, sat down, and poured himself a Coke, then poured Professor Flitwick a cup of milk tea.
Professor Flitwick didn't mind Dylan's actions. He chuckled and said, "This morning, Headmaster Dumbledore found us to discuss some matters."
"During the meeting, we mentioned you again, and Minerva suggested arranging an assessment for you to check your learning progress from the last school year, including the summer."
"You know, after all, we didn't really give you any summer homework."
Dylan nodded. "So you, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape are planning a dueling assessment for me?"
Professor Flitwick nodded. "Yes, this is a genuine test of your abilities, and it will also allow us to further adjust how we plan to teach you."
"—You wouldn't refuse, would you?"
Dylan nodded again. "Yes, I've already agreed with Professor Snape."
Professor Flitwick, wearing his small glasses, a neat suit, and sporting a walrus mustache, immediately smiled.
"I knew it—child, I believe you are a true genius. Your speed in learning knowledge far exceeds my imagination."
"Sometimes, I even feel that your understanding of many spells is actually deeper than mine—it's incredible."
"The ideas you propose, I don't know if I'm teaching you or if you're providing me with new perspectives."
Dylan pursed his lips, not daring to say anything.
The number of max-level spells he currently possessed far exceeded what a young wizard should know.
—In fact, as a young wizard, he shouldn't even have mastered a single max-level spell.
So it was normal that Professor Flitwick's research and understanding of some spells were not as good as his.
But Dylan couldn't possibly explain this to the professor—he couldn't just show him his skill list, could he?
However, he did possess so many max-level spells, so in terms of understanding some spells, he had indeed given Professor Flitwick a lot of inspiration, which had helped the professor's research on some spells reach a new level.
It could truly be said that in their partnership—you are a teacher, and I am also a teacher.
Professor Flitwick looked at Dylan with satisfaction. "In fact, if it weren't for your age, I think you could even win a championship if you participated in a dueling competition now!"
"This assessment is just to verify the limits of your abilities."
Dylan nodded gently. "Professor Snape hasn't set the time for the dueling assessment yet. What do you say?"
Professor Flitwick smiled. "This matter was discussed suddenly, and we haven't decided yet, so we thought of calling you over to see when you would have time?"
"I'm available anytime—except during regular classes, as long as the three of you send me a message, I can definitely be there," Dylan guaranteed, patting his chest.
"Good, good, I'll prepare properly when the time comes, and I hope you'll be prepared as well," Professor Flitwick nodded.
The two chatted for a while longer. Professor Flitwick noticed that the topic was leaning towards discussing magical knowledge and immediately ended the conversation, telling Dylan to go talk to Professor McGonagall again.
Dylan also stood up and bid farewell to Professor Flitwick.
After walking out of the office, he planned to go to the second floor to see if Professor McGonagall had returned. If she wasn't there, he intended to go to the Great Hall for something to eat first.
But just as he was going down the stairs, Dylan turned a corner and happened to run into Malfoy and his two goons walking up from below.
Not long ago in Diagon Alley, Dylan had met this pale-faced boy. Not only little Malfoy but even old Malfoy had been verbally thrashed by Dylan and left speechless.
This had led to Malfoy consistently avoiding him during the first few weeks of school.
Now, suddenly bumping into him on the stairs, Malfoy paused. But seeing Crabbe and Goyle behind him, he felt his confidence surge again and continued to stride up the steps.
The three of them almost filled the entire staircase. If Dylan wanted to go down, he would have to make way for them.
Dylan narrowed his eyes. Why was this little brat so troublesome?
Coming to bother him again and again, he really didn't know the meaning of the word "stop."
It seemed he needed to teach him a lesson.
If he didn't make this guy suffer a bit, he really wouldn't know what it meant to know his limits.
Dylan thought of a curse he had borrowed from the Restricted Section, a smirk appearing on his lips.
Dylan walked steadily down the stairs, his footsteps echoing clearly in the stairwell.
At the same time, Malfoy, with his two cronies, swaggered up the steps, the three of them side by side, arrogantly blocking the entire stairwell.
Dylan's expression was calm, but he showed no intention of yielding, his steps unwavering.
Just as the distance between him and Malfoy and his gang grew closer, a faint light flashed around Dylan, and then, a bird appeared out of thin air, elegant in its form, slowly circling beside Dylan.
In the blink of an eye, a second and then a third bird appeared in succession. More and more birds surged out from Dylan's side, fluttering up and down around him, while he didn't even move his wand or utter a spell.
The birds didn't actively attack; they simply circled quietly around Dylan. Seeing this, the arrogant expressions on Malfoy and his two cronies immediately wavered, and their pace slowed abruptly.
When they saw the birds flying towards them, they tried to dodge.
However, as Dylan strode past, the speed at which the birds circled suddenly increased.
With a "thump,"
Malfoy and his two goons, their steps chaotic as they dodged left and right, were still violently knocked away by the birds, imbued with Dylan's momentum, tumbling down the stairs and landing in a heap.
"Ouch—!"
The three of them fell to the ground, clutching their bruised behinds in pain.
"What are you doing? You actually used a spell to attack your classmates! Do you want to end up in detention like Potter and his gang?!"
Malfoy had lost face so badly that even though no one was around, he was extremely embarrassed and furious, scolding Dylan.
"I was just practicing my spells on the way. They didn't attack you; you ran into them yourselves."
Dylan looked down at Malfoy, who was half-crawling on the ground, his eyes indifferent and cold. "Also, I seem to remember saying that if you ever bothered me again—"
He stopped halfway through his sentence, but it made Malfoy's body tremble.
What did this guy, even more terrifying than his father, want to do?
But before he could say anything, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach.
An urge to defecate rushed to his brain.
!!!
Malfoy's face changed. Clutching his stomach with both hands, the feeling of imminent explosive diarrhea made him clamp his legs together, scramble to his feet, and bolt straight for the toilet.
Not only him, but Crabbe and Goyle also shuddered and hurriedly got up.
"Pfft!"
"Pfft pfft!"
Several earth-shattering farts in the corridor shocked the people there, who scrambled to avoid them.
The "Knee-Knocking Jinx" on Dylan's wand paused, but in the end, he didn't cast it.
"I didn't expect the Diarrhea Curse recorded in the forbidden book to be this potent."
Dylan clicked his tongue.
He continued walking downstairs until Malfoy and his gang were no longer in sight.
Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall was still not there.
"Wait, Malfoy just said Harry and them were in detention? Could Professor McGonagall be dealing with that?"
Dylan thought it was possible, so he went to the Great Hall for a meal first.
When he returned and went to Professor McGonagall's office again, she was finally there this time.
"Oh, Dylan, Professor Snape told you about the assessment, didn't he?"
As he entered, he saw Professor McGonagall using the tip of her wand to adjust the miniature Quidditch pitch inside a crystal ball. Cat hair still clung to her silver and green house robes.
"Yes, he did, but we haven't agreed on a time yet."
Dylan nodded.
Professor McGonagall smiled—Dylan felt her smile seemed a bit eager.
Dylan was taken aback.
What was with this eager, ready-to-go look?
He cleared his throat. "Professor McGonagall, did you and the other two professors decide how you're going to assess me?"
"That hasn't been finalized yet either, but don't worry, we'll come up with a plan soon enough." The corners of Professor McGonagall's lips turned up slightly, the fine lines around her eyes showing a hint of amusement.
"Oh, and there's one more thing I need to tell you in advance."
Dylan was taken aback. "What is it?"
"For the after-class tutoring, I think we can slow down the frequency a bit."
Professor McGonagall's smile widened.
"Your mastery of Transfiguration is already extremely high. I really don't think I have much more to teach you."
Dylan frowned slightly.
Professor Snape had just mentioned reducing the frequency of his private tutoring, and now Professor McGonagall was bringing it up as well.
—Had the two of them already discussed this?
Unexpectedly, in the end, it was the Head of Ravenclaw—Professor Flitwick—who was truly fond of him!
At least he hadn't mentioned reducing his tutoring sessions just now!
"Professor McGonagall, have I not been doing well enough in something?"
"No, you've been doing very well in almost everything—I mean, exceptionally well."
"Then... I feel like there's still a lot of knowledge in Transfiguration that I can learn from you—I still don't know how to become an Animagus."
"Dylan, I've never mentioned actually teaching you to become an Animagus. Do you know why?" Professor McGonagall shook her head.
"Why?" Dylan blinked.
"Actually, based on your abilities, I think you already have the potential to learn to become an Animagus. However, learning Animagus isn't just about burying your head in books."
"It usually also requires some luck. It's a long and complex process, and it can be quite unsafe."
"—Of course, regarding the safety during the learning process, I have complete trust in you."
Professor McGonagall thought of her repeated invitations for Dylan to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Wasn't it precisely because she saw that Dylan actually had a talent for flying?
—And for riding a broom, Professor McGonagall couldn't find any other young wizard more stable and cautious than him.
It was as if he was afraid of falling off the broom.
Unfortunately, however, all her requests had been politely declined by him in the end.
In the second-floor girls' lavatory, Malfoy didn't have time to go anywhere else and could only come here.
When he staggered and slammed open the wooden door, the copper faucets rattled.
His pale cheeks were flushed with a sickly red from the abdominal pain. His leather boot heels scraped against the floor, making a grating sound that startled Moaning Myrtle, who was dozing in a stall.
"Get out! All of you get out!!"
Malfoy's roar was accompanied by the gurgling sounds of his churning stomach, but the threat was shattered by a sudden loud fart.
Fortunately, there weren't many people in the bathroom at this time. Only one girl was washing her hands, and seeing the three of them, she was so frightened that she hurriedly slipped out.
Crabbe and Goyle, like two collapsing mountains of flesh, crashed into the adjacent stalls and sat down with a thud.
—The brass toilet seat groaned under the heavy pressure.
Malfoy also found a stall and quickly squeezed inside.
After a series of loud plops and splatters.
Suddenly, Peeves dangled upside down from the ceiling, poking the stall doors with a duster made of Mrs. Norris's tail hair.
"Hey! Freshly made Malfoy special! Anyone want a sniff? Three bronze Knuts for a whiff!"
He cackled and threw several dungbombs into the toilet. The dungbombs exploded in mid-air, and the stench mixed with the odor wafting from the stalls to create a biohazard.
"Merlin's smelly socks!"
A Hufflepuff student passing by the bathroom door pinched their nose and took three steps back, their shoe soles scraping against a patch of suspicious slime on the floor, making them hurriedly cast a Scourgify.
However, the commotion also attracted a few younger students. Since it was the girls' lavatory, these boys curiously peered inside from the outside, only to have tears streaming down their faces from the surging green and yellow fumes.
When Filch arrived, the Hogwarts caretaker's gaunt cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of green the moment he smelled the odor. The corners of his web-covered mouth twitched as he cursed, "Have you lot been bathing in dung buckets?!"
Malfoy didn't say anything, his face blotchy white and red.
Just as he was thinking of finishing quickly and leaving this place where he had lost so much face.
Suddenly, Moaning Myrtle poked her translucent body out of the flushing toilet, her round glasses fogged with water. "Dear, you look really unwell. Do you need me to help you flush?"
Her sudden appearance startled Malfoy so much that his feigned shy greeting was interrupted by his furious roar.
"Get away! Get out!! You disgusting—ow!"
Pfft pfft pfft!
(End of chapter)
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