Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

However, what Voldemort found most unbearable and hated most was not Dylan Hawkwood's extensive knowledge of dark magic itself, but rather the fact that his dark magic was all performed in front of Dumbledore! The scene was etched into his soul like a brand, and every time he recalled it, it fueled his rage.

Dylan Hawkwood spoke plainly and unabashedly, bluntly using him as a "target" for testing new magic, his attitude extremely arrogant. But what about Dumbledore? That old man who constantly touted justice and prided himself on fairness turned a blind eye to it, even glossing over the matter with a casual remark, "I'm too tired right now, I didn't hear anything."

A surge of overwhelming hatred welled up within Voldemort, almost bursting through the shackles of reason—that dazzling, evil cursed light had illuminated nearly the entire sky, its sharpness almost tangible. Some of the light even pierced his body, bringing a chilling, burning sensation. Dumbledore, could you really not hear me? Or were you deliberately pretending not to? Such blinding light, such obvious magical fluctuations—couldn't you even see them?! This deliberate indulgence filled him with more humiliation and rage than Dylan Hawkwood's attack itself.

Voldemort's expression shifted rapidly, his crimson eyes flashing with a mixture of rage and malice. His facial muscles twitched slightly, and the air around him seemed to freeze under the weight of his suppressed fury. Snape, watching his ever-changing expression, remained on high alert, unable to fathom Voldemort's true intentions—was he still enraged by Dylan Hawkwood's affair, or was he plotting something new?
After a moment of silence, Snape carefully chose his words and asked tentatively, "Master, have you made up your mind? What would you like me to do for you?"

Hearing Snape's voice, Voldemort snapped back to reality, forcibly suppressing the hatred surging within him—he had almost neglected more urgent work because of his loathing for Dumbledore. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his tone, but still carrying a barely perceptible urgency: "Dylan Hawkwood's strength has far surpassed the level of those fools, even exceeding the limits that wizards your age should have."

Voldemort slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, a hint of doubt and resentment flashing in his eyes before his gaze hardened. He gave Snape a clear instruction: "I'm sure that old man Dumbledore has done something to him, or given him some kind of special assistance... or perhaps, this Dylan Hawkwood is hiding some unknown secret, some special power that allows him to grow rapidly! I want you to do everything in your power to find out the secret hidden within Dylan Hawkwood."

"With his current level of magic, which far surpasses the basic content taught in class, how could he possibly be willing to stay in the classroom day after day, accompanying those mediocre and incompetent idiots who waste their time learning even basic magic?" His tone was certain. "I want you to find a way to keep a close watch on him, especially during class time—I believe he will definitely use his student status as cover to sneak off to some places and do some unknown things. Only at those times will he be most likely to let his guard down and reveal his weaknesses."

Snape's expression turned slightly strange. He hesitated for a moment, but still reported the truth, "As far as I know, Dylan Hawkwood is exceptionally dedicated to his studies. Not only has this been observed by myself, but several other professors have also mentioned it privately—unless an unavoidable accident occurs, he will never miss any important required course, not even those basic magic courses that seem meaningless to others."

"Heh!" Voldemort raised his eyebrows sharply, his face showing obvious doubt and disbelief. His tone was full of sarcasm, and his eyes scrutinized Snape with sharp eyes. "Someone who can understand and use the Fiendfyre spell to that extent, someone who has mastered the Killing Curse, a high-level unforgivable curse... still acts like a freshman, foolishly waving his wand and repeatedly practicing the Firestarter spell, a spell so basic it's laughable? Severus, are you being deceived by his facade? Or perhaps you're mistaking the illusion he's deliberately putting on for reality? I've seen too many people like that. They're good at disguising themselves in front of certain professors, showing a diligent, obedient, and rule-abiding side to gain trust and conceal their true intentions."

“Master, Dylan Hawkwood shouldn’t be that kind of person…” Snape carefully chose his words, trying to express his opinion tactfully, “He has always been straightforward and seems to disdain such pretense.”

“Snape, what makes you so sure?” Barty Crouch Jr. stared directly at Snape, his tone full of undisguised accusation. “How can you be so sure that Dylan Hawkwood isn’t the kind of hypocrite who says one thing and does another? It’s clearly your own lack of insight that has blinded you to his deceitful behavior! No wonder, the professors at Hogwarts have always been like that, only liking to hear flattering words, and easily swayed by students’ deliberate attempts to please them. To win the professor’s favor, they attend class on time every day, putting on the face of a well-behaved, diligent, and studious model student, while actually harboring ulterior motives—this behavior is simply a blatant insult to Hogwarts!”

Barty Crouch Jr. became increasingly agitated, his face flushed with a sickly red. However, despite Barty Crouch Jr.'s barbed questioning and malicious denigration of Dylan Hawkwood, Snape remained calm and composed, as if he hadn't heard a thing. His gaze remained fixed on Voldemort, his eyes deep and devoid of any emotional fluctuation. What truly made him instinctively feel danger was not Barty Crouch Jr.'s clamor, but Voldemort's silent and indifferent demeanor—a calm that seemed to conceal a volcano about to erupt, making him dare not relax his guard in the slightest.

Barty Crouch Jr.'s emotions grew increasingly agitated, his spittle flying as he spoke, his tone becoming ever sharper and more cutting. He kept rambling on and on, clearly having completely lost control of his emotions. His words became increasingly intense, and his voice sharp and piercing. At this moment, it wasn't just Snape who sensed the danger; even Nagini, perched on Voldemort's shoulder, noticed it. It stopped snuggling affectionately against Voldemort's neck and suddenly straightened its long body, its head hovering in mid-air, its snake eyes warily fixed on Barty, its forked tongue flicking rapidly.

It adopted a fully alert posture, its body taut like a bow, its scales slightly raised, as if instinctively wanting to escape this dangerous source of emotional outburst. However, due to Voldemort's innate and powerful aura, it dared not make any rash moves and could only keep its body taut, maintaining a vigilant posture, with the cold aura emanating from it filling the air.

Barty Crouch Jr.'s nonsense left Voldemort with only one cold thought—to immediately cast the Killing Curse and kill this loose-tongued fool. He knew perfectly well that Barty Crouch Jr.'s words were meant to criticize Dylan Hawkwood and to show his loyalty. However, the "hypocritical behavior," "gaining approval by attending classes on time," and "concealing incompetence" mentioned by Barty Crouch Jr. were exactly the same as his own behavior during his student days. Back then, wasn't he the one who, through disguise and forbearance, gradually accumulated power at Hogwarts and silently planned everything for the future?

Barty Crouch Jr. was his most loyal servant, who had remained steadfastly by his side all these years. He couldn't find a suitable reason to silence Barty, because if he did, given Barty's personality, he would inevitably reflect anxiously on his mistake, perhaps even self-harming to atone for his "slip of the tongue." But Snape, standing nearby, was incredibly perceptive and would surely pick up on any clues from his unusual behavior, leading to speculation and conjecture—something he absolutely couldn't allow to happen. To prevent Barty Crouch Jr. from continuing his rambling and saying anything that might cause him to lose control, Voldemort finally spoke the instant Barty finished speaking. His voice was calm and even, yet carried an undeniable authority, instantly silencing the commotion in the room: "Severus, you said before that Dylan Hawkwood's speed in mastering various potion formulas was astonishing, is that right?"

Snape nodded slightly, his tone respectful and steady: "Yes, Master, his comprehension of potions is indeed far beyond that of ordinary people. No matter how complex the formula, he can master it and use it flexibly in a short time."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, a glint of inquiry flashing in his crimson eyes, his tone carrying a barely perceptible hint of sarcasm, "With a talent like his, he wouldn't need to waste time in class anymore. So, is his insistence on staying in class to observe others' failures and satisfy himself?"

“Master, Dylan Hawkwood does indeed observe the mistakes of other students,” Snape explained without hesitation. “But he does this not to enjoy victory, I’m sure of that. In his view, whether a magical experiment succeeds or fails, there are things worth studying and learning from. He will also deliberately try to put himself in the shoes of those students who failed, combining their operating steps and their state at the time, to carefully analyze why they made mistakes, in order to improve his own knowledge system.”

"Snape, do you really think so?" Barty Crouch Jr. clearly disagreed with Snape's statement. Before Voldemort could speak, he eagerly interrupted again, his tone full of resentment and doubt.

Snape didn't want to pay attention to Barty Crouch Jr.'s pointless questioning. In his view, the other's agitation and bias were nothing more than blind loyalty. However, he could clearly feel Voldemort's sharp gaze on him, filled with scrutiny and impatience, obviously waiting for his response. Helpless, he could only suppress his aloofness and continue to explain: "I am not without suspicion, but Dylan Hawkwood's style of doing things is indeed as I said. He considers many things in an extremely unconventional way, even beyond the conventional framework."

He subconsciously glanced around the room: the aloof Dark Lord Voldemort, Barty Crouch Jr. with an excited and hostile expression, Nagini, the giant snake coiled around Voldemort's shoulder, still in a wary posture, and Karkaroff's cold corpse lying on the ground not far away. This group of beings, who had nothing to do with "warmth" or "reminiscence," were all listening intently to his comments on a Hogwarts student. The scene was so absurd that it didn't resemble a secret meeting between the Dark Lord and his subordinates at all; rather, it looked more like a bizarre student evaluation meeting.

After leaving their heavy suitcases at the Leaky Cauldron counter, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked through the bustling pub lobby to the small, narrow cobblestone courtyard in the back. Hermione walked expertly to the weathered brick wall and, following a set rhythm, gently tapped the designated bricks with her wand. After the soft scraping of the bricks, the wall slowly parted to reveal the vibrant Diagon Alley. Sunlight streamed onto the dazzling array of shop signs, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of Honeydukes candies and the herbal aroma of the Cauldron. Wizards came and went in a constant stream, creating a lively and bustling atmosphere.

As soon as the three stepped into the alley, their eyes were drawn to the long queue that stretched as far as the eye could see—the queue extended from the entrance of Flourish and Blotts all the way to the Quidditch boutique on the corner, with wizards packed together so tightly that they almost blocked half the street.

"Merlin's beard!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. "So many days have passed, and the line is still so long!"

Unlike Ron's surprise, Hermione's face instantly darkened, a deep despair rising in her eyes, her hands unconsciously clenching the hem of her skirt: "It's the Quidditch shop again... This is bad, I definitely won't be able to buy those books before I leave for France."

"This is outrageous!" Ron scratched his head, looking completely bewildered. "It's been over a week since the initial release, how come so many people are still rushing to buy it?"

Despite knowing the chances of buying the book were slim, Hermione gritted her teeth and dragged herself to the very end of the line. Harry and Ron, of course, wouldn't let her wait in line alone, so they followed closely behind. Harry adjusted his glasses, gazing at the winding queue ahead, and whispered, "It's probably because... Dylan Hawkwood is so famous now. Everyone wants to buy his books. I never expected him to publish so many books so quietly, and they're all so well-written. I've read some, and they're absolutely fantastic."

Ron, upon hearing this, suddenly understood, his expression softening as he nodded repeatedly in agreement. He counted on his fingers, his tone full of admiration: "Now that you mention it, he's right! First, he led his team to victory in the Quidditch World Cup, then he stopped a prisoner escape in Azkaban, making a name for himself throughout the wizarding world, and now he's even published a book on it… Who wouldn't want to join in the fun? Honestly, if I didn't feel it would be too presumptuous, I'd go straight to Dylan and have him sign a few autographed copies for me, so I wouldn't have to suffer in this queue." (End of Chapter)