Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Chapter 273 If this continues, you'll break down.

"Pretending to be a Dementor? Do you know how much psychological impact this will have on the players? Especially Porter, he was attacked by a Dementor before! How dare you do this!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than four heads suddenly emerged from the three black cloaks.

At the very top is Malfoy, with messy blond hair and grass clippings on his face.

Clearly, he had stood on Goyle's shoulders to appear taller than his two companions.

Crabbe and Goyle crawled out of the cloak looking bewildered, muttering, "It wasn't our idea."

Slytherin's captain, Flint, was the last to emerge. His cloak was torn at one corner, and he wore a look of resentment on his face, but dared not look Professor McGonagall in the eye.

"A shameful and disgusting trick!"

Professor McGonagall's voice rose a few decibels.

"Despicable and cowardly! I hereby deduct fifty points from Slytherin House for your actions! Each of you will be placed in solitary confinement until I deem you sufficiently repentant!"

She paused, her gaze sweeping over the four dejected students, but her tone remained as stern as ever.

“I will report this to Professor Dumbledore immediately—oh, it seems I don’t need to report it, he’s already here.”

Professor Dumbledore was strolling slowly from the direction of the castle, his silvery-white beard gleaming in the sunlight.

His face was expressionless, but his blue eyes held a knowing glint in them, as if he had known all along that these "Dementors" were fake.

After all, the last Dementor attack was still fresh in everyone's mind.

Fudge dared not disregard Dumbledore's words.

In any case, he will do everything in his power to restrain the Dementors.

Even if it means throwing a few more death row inmates at those Dementors, so these ugly creatures can feed on their souls.

Otherwise, Dumbledore's wrath would be something he couldn't bear.

Dumbledore clearly knew this as well.

Therefore, he probably already realized that these Dementors were fake.

Dumbledore walked over to Professor McGonagall, gently patted her shoulder, and whispered something.

Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly.

Dylan, having watched the spectacle to his heart's content, deliberately sighed dramatically, shook his head, and turned to leave.

—If someone is determined to court disaster, then no one can stop them.

However, they hadn't walked more than a few steps.

He then saw Professor Lupin leading Harry toward him.

Harry's face was still flushed with excitement, and he was clutching the Golden Snitch tightly in his hand. His eyes lit up when he saw Dylan.

Dylan smiled at him, nodded, and didn't go forward to disturb him.

After all, Harry probably has a lot of joy he wants to share with his teammates right now.

Moreover, he couldn't be bothered to go up and greet Lupin.

Once back in the Gryffindor common room.

Dylan yawned.

It's not that I'm sleepy.

I'm just a little tired.

However, at this moment, the entire Gryffindor was plunged into an extraordinary frenzy.

In the common room, the boisterous celebrations of the Quidditch victory nearly lifted the stone vault.

Dylan's ears hurt from listening to it.

The fire in the fireplace burned brightly, the firewood crackling and casting leaping orange-red spots of light onto the lion flags hanging on the walls.

The manes embroidered with gold thread seemed to tremble with the cheers, so lifelike.

Dylan ran to the compartment in his suitcase to find some peace and quiet.

I also brought a rose pie for Ravenclaw so she would have time to study the ingredients.

Although Ravenclaw doesn't have the same deep understanding of food as Hufflepuff.

But being so knowledgeable, she clearly had some knowledge of this as well.

Ravenclaw took the rose pie and, as Dylan requested, began to research how to make the flower pastry even tastier.

Let's also see if we can create a food-based spell.

It was very late when we got there.

After Dylan emerged from the suitcase, he discovered that the party was still going on.

He couldn't help but go outside to take a look.

Just then, Fred and George returned from the secret passage.

The two men's robes were still covered with grass leaves from outside Hogsmeade Village, and a blast of cold air greeted them as they entered.

As soon as the two of them opened the wooden box they were carrying.

The malty aroma of butterbeer, the cloying sweetness of pumpkin soda, and the rich sweetness of honeydew candy rush out one after another, stirring together in the air into a warm, sweet fragrance.

Dylan leaned back in his armchair, watching Arya Spinnet hold up her pumpkin soda bottle and clink it against Katie Bell's.

He looked down and glanced at the pumpkin soda he had only taken a sip of at his feet.

Water droplets still condensed on the transparent glass bottle.

Tiny bubbles floated in the orange-yellow liquid.

The taste, a mixture of pumpkin sweetness and carbonation, made his Adam's apple bob, but he still didn't have the courage to take a second bite.

In his view, this was simply throwing perfectly good pumpkin juice into bubbling swamp water, a complete desecration of pumpkins!
However, when Fred shoved a glass of butterbeer into his hand, Dylan readily accepted it.

This butterbeer isn't completely alcohol-free; it's a regular butterbeer.

I have no idea how George and his friends brought them back from the bar.

I gently swirled the cup.

The amber liquid swirls gently in the glass.

The foam clung delicately to the rim of the cup.

Dylan took a sip; the rich malt flavor, wrapped in a subtle buttery aroma, slid smoothly down his throat.

A warm feeling slowly spread from my stomach, and even the noisy laughter around me seemed more pleasant.

He had originally planned to go out and see when these people would finally shut up. If the party didn't end soon, he would go back to his dorm and cast a soundproof spell to catch up on his sleep.

But for now, the free butterbeer has still managed to entice him to stop.

Dylan kept clinking glasses with his roommate, Simo, one glass after another.

Then I watched as he and Dean argued heatedly about Harry's diving maneuver in the earlier match.

Until the firewood in the fireplace burned down to just half a pile of glowing embers.

The moonlight slanted into the lounge from outside the window, and I was surprised to find that it was almost midnight.

Dean was waving a Honeydukes licorice wand around, mimicking Harry's gesture when summoning his Patronus, making everyone around him laugh.

Taking advantage of the situation, Dylan grabbed another unopened cup of butterbeer from the table, pushed aside the younger students who were grabbing candy around the table, and walked toward the desk in the corner that was almost swallowed by shadow.

Hermione was sitting there.

Harry was just standing next to her, chatting and laughing, sharing a huge chocolate frog. Now he's probably been pulled away by the crowd to play wizard chess, leaving her all alone.

However, Hermione never intended for him to stay by her side.

In front of her lay a thick book, "Potions and Magical Elixirs," its pages worn and tattered, with several parchment pages scattered around it.

The surface was covered with dense writing, the quill pen was still hanging in mid-air, and only a thin layer of ink remained in the ink bottle.

Her hair was messier than usual, with a few strands of brown hair hanging over her forehead, stained with ink marks she had somehow gotten on. She held a quill pen in her right hand, while her left hand unconsciously pressed against her temple, her fingertips gently rubbing it.

—Clearly, he was having a headache from those complicated drug formulas.

"If this continues, you're about to break down." Dylan lowered his voice than usual to avoid being drowned out by the laughter and commotion in the distance.

He gently placed the new Butterbeer in his hand on the empty seat next to Hermione, the bottom of the glass making a soft sound as it touched the table.

Just within her reach, but without touching the parchment she was writing on.

Dylan noticed the half-empty glass of butterbeer in front of her; the foam had long since disappeared, leaving faint brown marks on the glass.

Hermione looked up at the sound, her eyes still slightly dazed from reading, before finally focusing on Dylan's face a few seconds later.

She paused for a moment, then forced a tired smile, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and didn't even notice the ink stain her fingertips brushed against.

"I know... thank you." Her voice was a little hoarse, probably because she hadn't spoken much all night.

She picked up the new cup Dylan handed her and took a big gulp.

The warm liquid slid down her throat, easing her furrowed brow.

But after putting down the cup, she immediately picked up the quill pen again, and the tip left clear writing on the parchment.

"Professor Snape said that we'll lose ten points for every word missing in the Potions class paper tomorrow. I don't want Gryffindor to lose any more points."

As she spoke, her eyes never left the paper. Her pen paused briefly under the title "Twelve Improved Formulas of Wolfsbane Potion," then quickly continued writing.

Dylan didn't disturb her anymore, but leaned against the bookshelf next to him, watching her focused profile, which was softly outlined by the firelight from the fireplace.

Looking at it this way, Hermione is actually very beautiful.

However, she is still slightly inferior to Luna.

At this time, not far away.

Fred and George pulled out a bundle of fireworks from somewhere and were secretly stuffing them into the fireplace, drawing cheers from those around them.

Hermione, however, seemed not to have heard any of the noise.

Only when the fireworks exploded with a "bang" above the fireplace, creating a burst of golden sparks.

She glanced up briefly before burying herself back in her book, as if an invisible barrier separated her from the boisterous celebration.

Dylan lowered his head and took a sip of his butterbeer, then said, "Your health is definitely more important than grades, right? Have you forgotten what I told you before?"

Hermione paused, her hand holding the quill pen pausing, a familiar warmth welling up inside her.

Harry and Ron said something similar to Dylan not long ago.

—Ron was stuffing a pumpkin pie into his mouth at the time, mumbling as he advised her not to always be so hard on herself.

Harry nodded in agreement, saying it was okay if he couldn't finish his homework.

But how could this be unrelated?
Ron's relationship with Hermione improved again because of this.

That was after Harry revealed Scabbers' true identity to Ron.

Ron was completely stunned when he learned that his pet mouse, which he had raised for twelve years, was actually a human, Peter Pettigrew.

According to Harry, Ron's fingers were trembling as he held the Marauder's Map before he ran to the bathroom.

When she came to her senses and remembered the arguments she had with Hermione over chasing Scabbers at Crookshanks, her face turned bright red, and she avoided Hermione for several days.

Until one breakfast, he secretly slipped a beautifully wrapped chocolate into Hermione's hand and stammered, "Crooked Hill... is actually quite clever."

Hermione noticed the barely concealed red at the tip of his ear and instantly understood.

—This awkward guy is apologizing.

She didn't say anything at the time, but simply opened the chocolate and gave him half.

Ron's eyes lit up immediately, like a dog that had just found a bone.

But Dylan's concern at this moment.

Unlike Harry and Ron's tone, which carries a hint of "a slacker's incomprehension of a top student."

He truly understands her.

Understand the key points marked with different colored ink in her notebook.

I understand the subtle smile that appears on her face when she sees the "excellent" rating.

I understand the solid sense of satisfaction she felt after staying up all night to finish a difficult book on magic theory.

After all, in the entire Gryffindor, only Dylan could solve the high-difficulty non-verb form Transfiguration Charms at the same time as her in Charms class.

"Even so, I will definitely finish them."

Hermione looked up and smiled, her voice filled with more certainty.

“Ron’s brother Bill graduated with twelve certificates, and Percy took every course he could get. If they can do it, there’s no reason why I can’t.”

She slightly raised her chin, her brown eyes shining brightly in the firelight.

She knew that she might not be as knowledgeable as Dylan.

— Dylan always manages to produce obscure research notes after class that even his professors marvel at, suggesting he has already planned his future direction.

But direction is direction.

It's different from taking an exam.

Those assessments with clear scope and standard answers are like targets drawn on parchment.

As long as she works hard enough, she will definitely hit the bullseye.

Dylan looked at her defiant expression, then suddenly smiled and changed the subject.

"Let me think, you must only use the time converter during class, right?"

"Shh!"

Hermione nearly dropped the quill in her hand.

She suddenly looked up, her gaze quickly sweeping across the noisy common room.

Fred and George are demonstrating to younger students how to make colorful foam from butterbeer.

Dean and Seamus were arguing heatedly over a game of wizard chess, and no one noticed them in the corner.

"Stop looking." Dylan waved his hand at her and gently tapped the glass in front of him. "All they care about right now is Quidditch victory and candy. Who's going to stare at you while you're doing your homework?"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and lowered her voice, "Of course! But we swore an oath, didn't we?"

She subconsciously touched the gold watch chain around her neck.

The pendant containing the time converter was pressed against her skin, giving her a slightly cool sensation.

When Professor McGonagall gave it to her, she repeatedly emphasized that it could only be used for coursework.

"Yes, I swear I'll only use it for studying."

Dylan pointed to the four books she had laid out.

— "Potions and Elixirs of Magic", "Advanced Transfiguration Guide", "Chronology of Magical History", and a book lying at the very bottom, "Prophecy of the Future: An Introduction to the Crystal Ball".

(End of this chapter)