Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Chapter 278 Luna's Sudden Approach ~
In a corner of the common lounge, Dylan lay half-reclined on the sofa, looking relaxed.

Ron had just finished reading "A Study of the Habits of the Hippogriff" when he snatched it away.

The pages rustled automatically even when no one turned them.

Stop at the page on "The Breeding Cycle of the Hippogriff".

He reached out his hand, and the grapes on the plate next to him seemed to grow wings, flying one after another into his mouth, their sweet juice spreading on his tongue.

Neville sat on a small stool next to him, clutching a tarot card in his hand. The image of the Grim Reaper on the card had been worn white from his handling.

He was one of the few students, like Dylan, who only chose the divination class.

Now, under Dylan's tutelage, Neville can skillfully predict how he will die just by looking at tea leaves.

For example, being bitten to death by a werewolf, or falling into a swamp and drowning, or being sucked to death by a Dementor, etc.

There are many ways to die.

Neville can choose whatever he wants.

"Dylan."

Neville's voice was low as he glanced at his classmates who were writing furiously around him, his fingers gently twisting the hem of his robe.

"Is this really a good idea? Dean just handed in his Muggle Studies paper, Parvati is reviewing Divination, everyone's busy... I only chose Divination, is that a bit inappropriate?"

After all, besides directly taking over all the courses.

Otherwise, students can always choose one or two more courses so that they can figure out what suits them best.

What can I do in the future development?

Dylan turned his head and looked at Neville's ears, which were red from nervousness despite his excessive leisure, and couldn't help but smile.

He gestured with his chin, indicating that Neville should look out the window: "Look, there's a willow in that wood. It sprouts in spring and sheds its leaves in winter, never caring when the other trees bloom."

“Navie, choosing courses is like planting trees; choosing too many will prevent them from growing well.”

Neville stretched his neck, paused, and said, "But I don't seem to see the Whomping Willow here?"

Dylan closed the book.

"I was just using a metaphor, don't take it so seriously. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean the 'beating willow' isn't growing the way I said it, right?"

Dylan leaned forward slightly.

"Or do you really think arithmetic divination is useful? Are you planning to use those tricks of calculating the future with numbers to find a job later? Or is it that Muggle Studies can help you grow better mandrakes?"

Neville shook his head.

“So that’s it! Herbalism is your forte,” Dylan continued, his tone more serious. “Didn’t Professor Sprout praise your Devil’s Web cultivation last week as the best it could be?”

"You might be able to work at the herb plantation in Hogsmeade, or join the Department of Plant Management in the Ministry of Magic, or even open your own herb shop—none of these require you to know how to calculate stars or study how Muggle television works."

"Of course, I told you before, I think you might even be able to teach at Hogwarts."

Upon hearing this, Neville's brows slowly relaxed.

He looked down at his fingers, which had developed thin calluses.

These hands can now accurately distinguish whether the mandrake's cries are from hunger or illness.

However, he couldn't touch the crystal ball to know the future like Dylan.

The fire crackled in the fireplace, reflecting the smile that gradually spread across Neville's face.

"Maybe you're right, Dylan. I shouldn't think about useless things; they don't do me any good."

Dylan chuckled softly, "I'm glad you think that way."

After listening to Dylan's words, Neville's recently agitated heart was gently soothed, and his tense shoulders relaxed.

He looked down at the plate in front of him, where a bunch of plump grapes lay, their purple skins still glistening with freshness.

He reached out and picked up a fruit, rubbing its cool peel against his skin, and without thinking, popped it into his mouth.

The sweet juice bursts on the tongue, carrying a warm feeling of sunshine.

This description is strange, but that's how it feels.

"I don't know where Dylan got these grapes from."

As Neville thought this, he comfortably squinted his eyes, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up, along with the slight unease he had felt earlier.

However, Dylan's gaze fell on Navina's hand, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

He remembered clearly that in the morning Neville was carrying his chubby toad, Ralph, around the dormitory.

At that moment, those hands even directly supported Rafe's belly.

what!
Neville might still have some toad slime stuck between his fingers.

—He didn't see Neville wash his hands.

"You just..." Dylan was about to speak when he hadn't even finished saying the words.

Neville had already swallowed the grapes and smacked his lips, looking quite satisfied.

The words that were on the tip of my tongue could only be swallowed back down.

He silently looked away, but never touched the plate of grapes that looked rather tempting again.

However, upon further reflection...

Neville used to carry Rafe around in his arms almost every day, never letting him out of his sight while eating or sleeping, and Rafe never seemed to get sick because of it.

Based on this, it seems that Levee is probably not very poisonous.

Dylan comforted himself inwardly.

Forget it, let him be.

Neville ate several grapes in a row and noticed that Dylan had stopped eating, which puzzled him.

"Dylan, why aren't you eating? Your grapes are so delicious, so juicy and tender."

Dylan's lips twitched, and he forced a smile: "Really? Then you should eat more. I've had enough. You can have all of this. Remember to clean up the plate after you're done."

"Really? Okay!" Neville chuckled and immediately pulled the plate in front of him.

The day of the Quidditch final arrived.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts was exceptionally lively.

As soon as the Gryffindor Quidditch team entered the Great Hall, they were greeted with thunderous applause.

The Ravenclaw students sat at their long tables, laughing and clapping.

The Hufflepuff students slammed their fists on the table, causing the plates to vibrate slightly.

Only from Slytherin's side came a chorus of undisguised boos, mixed with a few sarcastic whispers, but it was quickly drowned out by the applause from the other houses.

"Slytherin is still more than a hundred points ahead of us!"

Wood stood beside the Gryffindor table, his voice trembling with excitement.

His gaze swept over the team members, finally settling on Harry, and he spoke solemnly.

"Harry, remember, you have to catch the Golden Snitch, but you must wait until our team has at least fifty points before you make your move! Got it? Only then can we overtake the score and win the championship!"

After saying that, he added another roasted potato to Harry's plate without further ado.

"Eat more so you'll have the energy later."

"Uh, I got it." Looking at the roasted potato in front of him, Harry picked up another piece of roast meat and put it on the plate.

Wood didn't notice that after giving Harry his instructions, he turned around and went to find the other team members, patting them on the shoulder one by one and whispering something to them, his face full of a do-or-die expression.

As the Gryffindor players got up and left the Great Hall.

The applause rang out again, even louder than before.

Cho Chang, standing in the Ravenclaw line, saw Harry pass by, smiled, waved to him, and said in a clear voice, "Good luck, Harry!"

Harry's cheeks flushed red upon hearing this.

His eyes darted nervously away from her gaze, yet he couldn't help but steal glances back, his hands still waving mechanically.

Cedric, who was clapping nearby, stopped clapping as he saw this and narrowed his eyes.

On the way to the stands.

Cedric quietly moved closer to Dylan, lowering his voice but speaking with absolute certainty.

"Let me tell you, Dylan, Potter definitely has feelings for Cho! He was blushing just now, he couldn't hide it!"

Dylan followed his gaze and looked at Cho Chang not far away.

She was talking to her classmate, her smile quite bright.

"What does that matter?"

He said calmly, "You like her, and she likes you, that's enough."

"Is it any of your business if other people like her? Besides, you have such a beautiful girlfriend, isn't it normal for others to have their eyes on her? Don't you have plenty of girls who like you too?"

“Uh…” Cedric glanced subconsciously in Cho Chang’s direction, afraid that she would hear what he said.

He whispered in protest, "That's not what I meant..."

"What?" Dylan saw through his thoughts and teased him deliberately, "Is it because the one who likes her is the 'boy who survived' that you've lost your confidence?"

“How could that be…” Cedric said stubbornly, but he gave up after only two seconds and scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly.

“Okay, maybe… there is a little bit, I’m just… not quite sure what Cho really thinks about Harry, this savior.”

"Stop overthinking, bro. You need to have more confidence in yourself." Dylan gestured with his chin toward Qiu Zhang and offered a suggestion, "Maybe you could talk to her directly."

"Huh? Are you crazy?" Cedric was startled, his eyes widening. "How can you ask such a thing directly?"

"Who told you to ask her directly—what do you think about Harry liking you?" Dylan rolled his eyes helplessly.

"You should talk to her about this Quidditch match, discuss the tactics of both sides, and when you get to the part about Harry chasing the Golden Snitch, listen to her tone of voice."

"Whether she's simply talking about the game or has other emotions involved, you can tell her attitude by looking at it."

"Does Cho...do she know that Harry likes her?" Cedric paused for a moment, then asked uncertainly.

"Anyone could probably see Harry's feelings; he must have some affection for Cho, right?"

Dylan shrugged. "The way he looks at Qiu every time he does it is as if he wants to write 'I think I have feelings for you' all over his face."

Cedric frowned, feeling that there was something else behind Dylan's words, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Fine, I'll give it a try!" He gritted his teeth, not caring about thinking too much, nodded, took a deep breath, and jogged towards Qiu Zhang's direction.

Looking at Cedric's somewhat stiff back, Dylan couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

This guy is usually quite smart, so why does he become so stupid when it comes to matters of the heart?
Their IQ has practically been halved.

I really don't know how he managed to win over Qiu Zhang at lightning speed back then.

Is it simply because it was destined?

Dylan shook his head and followed them onto the stands.

Mrs. Hooch stood in the center of the field, her hand holding the silver whistle raised high.

The area around the stadium fell silent instantly, even the wind seemed to stop for a moment.

next second.

“Beep!!!!”

A sharp and clear whistle pierced the sky.

The most anticipated Quidditch final of the academic year has finally begun amidst great anticipation.

"Look! Gryffindor has possession now!"

Lee Jordan's voice resounded throughout the Quidditch stadium through the magical amplification device, filled with undisguised excitement; every word seemed to burst forth from his mouth like a lit spark.

"Arya Spinnet, with her Quaffle, is hurtling towards Slytherin's goal area like an arrow! Her movements are clean and swift, her speed astonishing—Arya! Oh no! Damn it! The Quaffle has been intercepted by Warrington of Slytherin!"

The Gryffindor students in the stands let out a soft sigh of regret.

Some people slapped their thighs in frustration, while scattered cheers rang out from Slytherin's side.

Dylan leaned against the railing of the stands, casually observing the situation on the field.

This was already the umpteenth Quidditch match he had ever watched.

Although I never managed to develop the same passionate interest in the sport as others.

But at least I can understand the players' tactics and movements now.

—It's clear at a glance who's chasing the Quaffle, who's intercepting it, and who's on guard against the drifting ball.

His gaze casually swept over the audience around him, but stopped abruptly when it landed on a figure, almost thinking he was seeing things.

"Luna?!" he couldn't help but exclaim in a low voice, "Why are you sitting here?"

"Hi~" Luna slowly turned her head, her signature, somewhat fleeting smile on her face.

She wore a particularly eye-catching hat today.

—It was a hat shaped like a lion's head, almost the size of a real lion's head.

With its fluffy mane and exposed fangs, it is incredibly lifelike.

At first glance, Luna's entire head looked like it was being held in the mouth of a lion.

Dylan stared at the hat.

I suddenly remembered seeing a similar object when I used divination to "catch up on TV shows" before.

However, the lion-headed hat that could move in my memory probably wouldn't appear for several years.

By then, Luna was already skilled at using the Transfiguration spell to make the hat move more vividly.

This one is clearly just an exquisite handmade item.

He instinctively drew his wand, gently tapped Luna's lion-head hat, and whispered a simple activating spell.

The lion's head suddenly blinked, and its amber pupils shifted.

It then opened its mouth and let out a powerful roar, which made the people around it instinctively shrink their necks.

"Oh!"

Luna reached out and tidied her light-colored hair, which had been slightly messed up by the roaring air currents, her smile unchanged.

Instead, it brought a pleasant surprise.

"Thank you~"

(End of this chapter)