"Are you all right?"
Madam Hooch strode forward at once and came to Neville's side, looking down at the boy sitting on the grass, his expression still blank and dazed.
Neville did not answer, but tears welled up and spilled over first.
He was clearly terrified.
Dylan stepped forward, not bothering to check whether Neville was actually hurt.
"Episkey!"
The grain of the wand's wood glimmered faintly in the light.
With a gentle flick, a soft golden glow shot from its tip.
Neville finally snapped back to himself and looked at his knee.
"It doesn't hurt anymore…"
Dylan lifted an eyebrow. His Levitation Charm was quite high-level by now, but the kid really was a bit on the heavy side.
In the rush, he had not been able to completely cancel the impact from Neville's fall.
There was probably a minor scrape or two, but nothing serious.
And with several layers of spells softening the fall, Neville should not have taken any major internal damage either.
At worst, he was badly shaken.
A few bottles of nasty-tasting potion and he would be fine.
Madam Hooch still had her wand in hand, but she just stood there staring at Dylan as he circled Neville three times, checking him all over for other injuries.
"Madam Hooch, my Episkey might not be enough to completely heal every injury he has. And if there are internal injuries, we have no good way to check."
Dylan looked up at her. "So it'd be best if you take him to the hospital wing."
Madam Hooch came back to herself, gave Dylan a look, and nodded slightly. "You did very well."
It had not even occurred to her that she, a flying instructor,
had handled a student accident worse than a first-year had.
In truth, she had seen so many flying accidents that she felt young wizards needed some hard knocks to really learn.
But she realized she could not apply the same standards to first-years.
Helping Neville to his feet, she thought for a moment and glanced back at Dylan once more.
"Your reaction was quick and your response very appropriate. For that, five points to Gryffindor."
"Whoa!"
The Gryffindor lions burst into cheers.
The Slytherin snakes all curled their lips, faces full of resentment.
"Now, everyone put your brooms back in place. Until I return from the hospital with Mr. Longbottom, nobody is allowed to attempt flying."
Before leaving, Madam Hooch gave them all a stern warning. "If anyone dares to fly without permission, they can pack their things and leave the school."
Dylan did not go with her to the hospital wing.
Once Madam Hooch was gone, the students just stood there, a bit stunned.
Then, suddenly, Malfoy stepped out with his broom.
"Hey, did you see that fat boy's face? Merlin, it was hilarious! How can anyone not even hold onto a broom?"
His voice oozed arrogance.
Harry and Ron turned toward him at once, clearly displeased.
Malfoy stared back with open provocation, his mouth still running.
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
He remembered that in flying class, Malfoy had grabbed Neville's Remembrall, which led to a clash with Harry.
This time, Dylan had already stuffed Neville's Remembrall into his bag ahead of time, so he had not brought it at all—yet Malfoy still had to step out and cause trouble.
He walked straight toward Malfoy.
Malfoy froze.
Those few spells Dylan had just cast were beyond what even a Slytherin like him could manage.
On top of that, Dylan's outstanding performance in nearly every class over the last two weeks meant that standing in front of him now, Malfoy could not help feeling small.
"What do you want?" Malfoy glared, trying to sound fierce. "My whole House is right here, you know!"
He glanced around at the Slytherins, only to find that not a single one dared meet Dylan's eyes. One after another, they all lowered their heads.
"You guys…" Malfoy choked.
Dylan's gaze stayed calm. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm really not sure how someone as stupid as you has managed to survive in such a cold, harsh world."
"What?!"
Malfoy's eyes went wide; he stared at Dylan in disbelief, as if he could not quite believe what he had just heard.
"Do you know who my mother is? How dare you talk to me like that? Your parents are just a pair of Muggles!"
This time, Dylan's expression actually changed,
like he was looking at an idiot.
"What I mean is, if failure is the mother of success, then you've got a bit of an issue with cutting the apron strings."
Dylan had no interest in trading insults with a first-year. It was far too boring.
Nor did he care whether Malfoy was picking on Harry because he secretly liked him but, trapped in some twisted version of boys' pride, could only express it through bullying.
He had no desire to become anyone's unofficial therapist—and could not, even if he wanted to.
So just as Malfoy opened his mouth again,
Dylan raised his wand. "Silencio."
In an instant, an invisible band of magic snapped shut around Malfoy's throat like a binding curse.
Whatever nasty insult he had scraped together got cut off before he could spit it out.
Only his eyes were left, round and bulging, blazing with a mix of anger and shock.
He clawed at his now-sealed mouth; his thin lips trembled with effort, and his cheeks puffed out.
He looked exactly like an enraged pufferfish that had suddenly been silenced.
He yanked out his own wand, trying to cancel Dylan's spell.
But whether it was Finite Incantatem or the counter-charm for Silencing, he had not learned them properly and could not make them work.
Compared to Dylan's smooth, fluent casting, the difference was obvious.
The Gryffindor lions around them burst into loud laughter.
Ron and Harry rushed to Dylan's side, faces alight with excitement.
But Dylan stopped them from mocking Malfoy further.
"You're a pure-blood Slytherin. Try putting some effort into your magic, instead of being the kind of person who falls into a lake and only has their mouth float to the surface."
With a light flick of his wand, Dylan lifted the spell.
Malfoy still glared at him, but did not dare say a single word.
He had never imagined that this Gryffindor boy—not only clever and skilled with spells—
would also have a sharper tongue than any Slytherin.
"I'd like some quiet now. Don't disturb me."
Shaking his head, Dylan put his broom back in place,
then sat down on the grass, pulled out Safe Usage of Potions, and began reading it carefully over and over.
(End of Chapter)
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