Evening.
Dylan once again arrived at Dumbledore's office.
"Knock, knock."
"Come in," came the voice of the old Headmaster from within.
Dylan slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
Dumbledore was sitting behind his large oak desk, a kind smile on his face. His blue eyes, upon hearing the sound, slightly lifted and looked towards Dylan.
"Good evening, Professor."
"Good evening, my boy. Come, come, have a sweet." Dumbledore gestured towards a plate of treats beside him.
Dylan walked over but shook his head. "I won't take a sweet, thank you. I was wondering if there was something you needed me for this evening, Professor?"
"Oh ho ho ho\~ Nothing of great import," Dumbledore chuckled. "Do take a seat, won't you?"
Dylan glanced around the empty room. There wasn't a stool in front of Dumbledore's desk.
Where was he supposed to sit?
*Looks like Old Dumbledore isn't exactly being friendly this time\!*
However, Dylan wasn't about to stand on ceremony.
"If you insist."
Dylan suddenly pulled a book from Dumbledore's desk and then casually tossed it to his side.
The instant the book left his hand, a strange light burst forth from it.
The light flickered and danced, and before you could say "Quidditch," it had swiftly transformed into an elegant high-backed chair.
"The characteristics honed by spell refinement are quite formidable," Dylan said as he slowly sat down.
Dumbledore looked at him with some surprise. "It seems you have quite the knack for Transfiguration."
Dylan gave a modest smile. "Well, all thanks to Professor McGonagall's excellent teaching."
Dumbledore stroked his beard. "I hear from Minerva that she has practically run out of Transfiguration knowledge to impart to you."
Dylan shook his head. "Oh, not at all. The Professor has many insights into Transfiguration that are currently beyond my grasp."
His gaze flickered towards a mirror beside the desk.
*The Mirror of Erised?*
*What's Old Dumbledore up to now?*
*Trying to show me my deepest desires?*
Dylan's expression remained unchanged.
He'd already looked into it twice and hadn't seen anything different. Dylan wasn't afraid the mirror would reveal any information about him.
Dumbledore, with a smile, looked towards the Mirror of Erised not far away. "Do you remember this mirror?"
"As if I could forget\! It practically deposited the Philosopher's Stone straight into my pocket. Perhaps I should have made a run for it with it."
"Ha ha ha ha, you do have a sense of humour, don't you?"
Dumbledore let out a hearty laugh before regaining his composure slightly and saying to Dylan, "My boy, much of the knowledge in the Restricted Section can cloud your judgment of the real world. It can corrupt your logic and interfere with your thinking. I am rather concerned about your current mental state, so – I would like you to take another look into this mirror, if you would."
Dylan raised his eyes. "Of course, I'd be delighted."
"However, it must be said that my research into the Dark Arts in the Restricted Section merely involved a slight utilization of Lockhart's almost overflowing vanity and boastfulness – as you know, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors always seem to get into a fair bit of trouble."
"I understand."
"So, I thought I'd study some Dark Arts myself, to better defend myself against any curses others might send my way."
"I see. Well then, please, take a look into the mirror."
Dylan stood up again, walked around the desk, and approached the Mirror of Erised, which stood quietly to one side behind the desk.
He had just stopped when his gaze met the mirror's surface.
A mist gradually spread out.
In the mirror:
Further in the distance was a tranquil forest, with mist swirling among the trees. It seemed many dark figures were darting about within.
The perspective rapidly zoomed in.
In the center of the view was a manor.
It was Christmas time.
Snowflakes were falling.
Strings of colourful lights were wound around the railings, and small, star-shaped lights twinkled.
Glistening icicles hung from the eaves, and a Christmas tree laden with ornaments stood nearby.
Inside the house, a lively atmosphere permeated the air.
Dylan immediately spotted himself walking out of a door.
The scene inside the door was unclear because Dylan closed it as soon as he stepped out.
And in the living room, many familiar faces were gathered.
His parents were beaming, chatting animatedly with a man who looked remarkably like Mr. Weasley, and bursts of laughter could be heard from time to time.
Harry and Hermione were eating sweets not far away, Ginny was playfully teasing Ron – the entire Weasley clan was there.
Old Dumbledore, holding a mug of hot drink, stood beside Professor Snape, while several other professors were also looking for something to eat.
After Dylan emerged from the door, he went to stand beside a girl who looked very much like Fleur Delacour.
Fleur leaned gently towards him, her silvery-blonde hair swaying softly in the warm air.
Dylan saw the Fleur in the mirror's red lips part slightly, as if she had said something.
And he himself offered a gentle smile.
Then, his hand inadvertently brushed against Fleur's.
They both reacted as if they'd been jolted by an electric shock, quickly pulling their hands away, but then couldn't help but steal a glance at each other. A faint blush rose on Fleur's usually cool complexion.
She looked absolutely radiant.
Dumbledore: (^\_^)\~
"It seems, Dylan, that deep down, you yearn for such a lively scene, with family, teachers, friends, and… Fleur?"
A hint of amusement flickered in Dumbledore's eyes. "Our young lad certainly has a lot of energy, just like I did in my younger days."
Dylan's mouth twitched slightly, but his expression remained calm, though a blush was slowly creeping up his cheeks.
"Professor, am I done looking?"
"Indeed – indeed, you have finished looking into the mirror." Dumbledore drawled out the last part with a knowing smile.
Dylan took a deep breath and hurried away from the Mirror of Erised, almost at a jog, returning to face Dumbledore and sitting down on the chair he had conjured himself.
As soon as he was seated, he adjusted the hem of his robes somewhat self-consciously.
Clearing his throat lightly, Dylan tried to change the subject.
"Headmaster, have the Aurors all left the school?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Lucius will have a great deal of trouble ahead of him. Miss Delacour has already taken him away, and the other Aurors have also departed."
Watching Dylan give a slight nod, Dumbledore asked with some curiosity, "Aren't you curious as to why the Aurors left so directly?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "What's there to ask? I'm not particularly curious about that, Professor."
Dumbledore shrugged slightly, a hint of disappointment in his expression. "Very well."
Dylan glanced at the Sorting Hat placed on the table, subtly straightening his posture.
*What's Old Dumbledore doing with that thing?*
*Is he planning to seize an opportunity to chop me into bits with a sword?*
*Are you really about to transform into Gandalf?*
"Dylan, do you know what the relics of Gryffindor are?"
"Of course. There are some records in Hogwarts' history. The Sword of Gryffindor – Gryffindor's heirloom and one of the symbols of Gryffindor House. Even the Sorting Hat was originally Gryffindor's hat."
Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Precisely. In fact, the Sword of Gryffindor is hidden within the Sorting Hat."
Dylan blinked. "During the Sorting Ceremony, I did ask the hat about the traditions of the four houses, but it didn't reveal anything to me."
Just then, the Sorting Hat, which had been sitting as still as a decorative piece, suddenly turned around, its mouth opening wide as it yelled at Dylan, "You little rascal, don't play innocent\!"
"You already knew that sword was in me back then\!"
Dylan stared at the Sorting Hat for a moment.
So intently that the hat seemed to shrink back slightly. "What do you want? Do you even know where you are?"
"Of course I know. This is the Headmaster's office," Dylan chuckled, straightening up again.
"You know that, and you still look at me like that? Do you want to set me on fire with a spell because I exposed your lie\!" the Sorting Hat shrieked.
"What lie? I never said I didn't know the Sword of Gryffindor was inside you," Dylan said, looking at it in confusion.
"As for why I was staring at you just now, I apologize. I wasn't trying to attack your hat-ness. It's just that it's the first time I've seen you talk face-to-face like this at such close range."
The Sorting Hat's floppy brim drooped to one side. "What's wrong with the way I am?"
Dylan looked it up and down. "You're quite peculiar. If Malfoy's rugged face is as ugly as a miscarriage of justice, then your wide-open mouth looks a bit like a trainer that's come unglued."
"When you just look at your tattered appearance, you seem rather profound, but as soon as you open your mouth, all that profundity vanishes."
The Sorting Hat's soft, floppy body suddenly stiffened, its brim trembling violently.
\-- As if it were shaking with anger.
This caused its already loose wrinkles to bunch up, and its usually freely opening and closing mouth gaped wide, but no sound came out, making its appearance even more indescribable.
Dylan pursed his lips. "Right now, you look a bit like the Kraken from those Muggle stories."
"..."
The Sorting Hat stood there stiffly, its pointed top sticking straight up, utterly speechless with rage.
Dumbledore, sitting opposite Dylan, saw the Sorting Hat being tormented like this, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn upwards, revealing a row of neat teeth. His shoulders shook slightly, and he raised a finger to adjust his spectacles.
*He really wanted to see what it would be like if this little fellow and Severus had a shouting match.*
*If one of them was all about subtle, backhanded insults, the other would just unleash a full-frontal assault\!*
"Alright, my boy, hats can be rather troublesome when they get upset. Hogwarts will still need it for the Sorting at the end of the summer." Dumbledore winked at Dylan.
Dylan nodded understandingly. "My apologies. I didn't mean to upset the Sorting Hat, er, Senior. I was merely stating the truth. Professor McGonagall taught me that honesty is the best policy."
The Sorting Hat stood to the side, fuming silently.
Dumbledore, however, came to its rescue. "Well then, why don't you offer a critique of me?"
Dylan nodded, his expression serious. "I see you have a full forehead, a sign of great fortune. Your brow is also bright and radiant, indicating a clear mind. I believe you'll live to be at least a hundred."
"Ha ha ha ha\!" Dumbledore suddenly burst out laughing.
"No wonder Minerva and the others praise you so\! Even Severus can give you, a Gryffindor, a pleasant look."
Dylan's face was serious. "Professor, I'm just telling the truth. Please don't think I'm trying to flatter you."
"Alright, alright, I believe you." He patted the tip of the Sorting Hat, then changed the subject. "My boy, would you like to possess the Sword of Gryffindor?"
Dylan was genuinely taken aback this time. "The Sword of Gryffindor? Of course, I'd like to have it, but what would I do with it? I'm a wizard, not a swordsman."
\-- Nonsense, of course he wanted to get his hands on the Sword of Gryffindor.
This sacred sword, forged by the Goblin King Ragnuk the First according to Gryffindor's design, not only possessed the ability to absorb specific substances and enhance itself but could also resist various spells.
Even if Dylan wasn't a swordsman, wasn't it perfectly normal for a wizard to wield a sword?
But of course, he knew Dumbledore wouldn't give him the Sword of Gryffindor.
Saying such a thing to him, he wondered if it was another subtle probe.
In any case, Dylan couldn't give the old man any ammunition.
Dumbledore blinked slightly, as if he hadn't expected Dylan to answer that way.
"Well, that's quite a pity. I was actually hoping you could help me keep the Sorting Hat safe for a while."
"Huh?"
The latest novel is first published on [移除了无效网址]\!
Dylan was stunned, looking up in surprise. "Have me keep the Sorting Hat? Why?"
Dumbledore said with a smile, "Having learned from this recent incident, I have a feeling that Hogwarts won't remain peaceful in the future."
"Therefore, I want to entrust it to someone. As long as the Sorting Hat is safe, Gryffindor is safe, and Hogwarts is safe."
Dylan frowned. "I understand, but why me? Professor McGonagall seems much more suitable to safeguard the Sorting Hat than I am."
"Ha ha ha\! Yes, in theory, that would be the case." Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head, then lifted his face, his gaze falling on Dylan, looking at him quietly.
"However, none of us possess your gift of prophecy. This current crisis, my boy, tell me truthfully, did you foresee it beforehand?"
Dylan nodded directly. "Naturally, Professor. However, I vaguely saw that the ending didn't seem too unpleasant."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment before giving a slight nod.
"I hear from Harry that he apparently gave you that diary to examine."
"Yes, Professor."
"So, in the end, you really didn't see anything?"
"No, Professor." Dylan shook his head. "That diary wasn't afraid of the spells I used, and when I tested it, I initially thought it was protected by some magic I couldn't yet understand, including the diary itself."
"But combining it with what has already happened, the fact that there's a soul within the diary, that it can't be destroyed by spells, and that it's difficult to damage in other ways – all these characteristics suggest that the diary seems to be..."
"A Horcrux?"
"Yes, Professor." Dylan nodded. "Based on the Dark Arts knowledge I've seen in the Restricted Section, including my existing understanding, only a Horcrux can explain the diary's existence."
"Indeed," Dumbledore slowly frowned, then sighed softly. "If that missing diary truly is a Horcrux, then perhaps what I foresaw might actually come to pass."
"Are you referring to Harry? Or are you worried that further crises will occur?"
"..." Dumbledore clicked his tongue. "Both, perhaps."
"Do you have any new prophecies regarding either of those?"
"Ah ha, no."
Dumbledore blinked. "Well then, why don't you tell me about Harry first? What are your thoughts?"
Dylan paused slightly, thought for a moment, and then said, "This isn't my prophecy. I haven't been doing much divination lately because I've found that it's quite mentally draining, and it affects my studies."
"So, you're making a guess based on something you heard or saw?"
"Yes. Harry told me that Hermione and Ron believe the Parselmouth must be a descendant of Slytherin, but I don't think so."
"Why do you say that?"
Dylan's gaze either met Dumbledore's or was lowered slightly, looking at his toes. He didn't glance around the room aimlessly.
"The scar on Harry's forehead was left when Voldemort killed his parents, wasn't it?"
"That is correct."
"Then that's it. Although I didn't find any books detailing Horcruxes in the Restricted Section, there were some that mentioned what they were, more or less."
Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Are you suggesting that you believe Harry was made into a Horcrux by Voldemort at that time?"
"Yes, but not entirely." Dylan pursed his lips. "After all, the process of creating a Horcrux must be extremely rigorous, right?"
"Heh, I'm not entirely sure about that myself."
Dylan nodded. "After Voldemort killed Harry's parents, he himself perished."
"Therefore, saying that Voldemort made Harry into a Horcrux isn't quite accurate. Perhaps some method was used when Voldemort's soul shattered."
"-- For example, shooting a small fragment of his own soul into Harry's body along with the Killing Curse he cast, which ultimately led to Harry becoming a sort of Horcrux." A look of just the right amount of contemplation appeared on Dylan's face.
"And I remember, when Harry faced Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort, he would sometimes feel a throbbing pain in his forehead scar, especially when Voldemort was finally preparing to steal the Philosopher's Stone – he was always clutching his head in the dormitory during that time."
"Could that be because the fragment of Voldemort's soul within him sensed Voldemort's presence?"
Dylan's statement and speculation caused Dumbledore's expression to falter slightly. His usually gentle demeanour seemed to be shrouded by a faint shadow, adding a touch of gravity.
He subconsciously adjusted his glasses, his fingers lingering on the frames for a brief moment before slowly lowering them.
*Tom's soul, of all things...*
Dumbledore's heart sank.
After Harry told him that he had seen someone named Tom emerge from the diary, he suspected that the diary might have been made into a Horcrux by Voldemort during his student years.
He even had some suspicions about Harry.
Harry must have some sort of connection to Tom, which was evident from the fact that he was a Parselmouth.
However, initially, he only thought it was the effect of Tom's magic acting on Harry.
But now, Dylan's suggestion pointed Harry's situation towards an extremely serious path, one that even Dumbledore found rather troublesome.
Harry, a Horcrux?
Dylan paid no mind to what Old Dumbledore was thinking.
He picked up the Sorting Hat from the table and began fiddling with its pointed tip.
"Hey\! You audacious little brat, what are you doing\! Stop it\!"
"Don't move. I'm just looking at the material you're made of. After all these years, you've managed to survive until now, looking only tattered. This material seems quite resilient." Dylan murmured softly, "I wonder if I could peel off some of your leather?"
"What did you say?\!" The Sorting Hat shuddered, its large mouth opening in disbelief.
"You, you dare to cut me? Enough\! Stop pawing at me\! Put me down this instant\!"
Dylan scoffed. "I haven't even cut you yet."
"You've already had the thought\! Do you think I don't believe you'd act on it? Put me down\!"
Dylan rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Do you think I particularly want you? Actually, I didn't really want you that much anyway. Don't be ridiculous, you're quite ordinary. I was just joking. You didn't actually believe me, did you?"
Sorting Hat: ?
Dylan: "Really not giving it to me? Hahahaha, fine, don't then. I didn't really care anyway."
Sorting Hat: ???
After a moment of silence, it said faintly, "Actually, you were lying when you said you wanted to go to Ravenclaw, weren't you? I clearly sensed that you wanted to go to Gryffindor\!"
"And, you really are suited to Gryffindor\! A crazy little lion\!"
Dylan scoffed and tossed the Sorting Hat back onto Old Dumbledore's desk.
Their conversation also drew Dumbledore's attention again.
Slightly regaining his composure, Dumbledore was amused by Dylan once more, and the look in his eyes gradually softened.
However, he still had some questions he needed to ask Dylan.
"This incident seems to be over, and yet it doesn't, my boy – do you have a premonition about the final outcome?"
Dylan tilted his head slightly, his peripheral vision catching the many portraits on the walls of the Headmaster's office.
Their expressions seemed somewhat serious, and their gazes were all directed towards Dylan.
"Perhaps I do. I see everyone smiling – I think the ending should be good?" Dylan said slowly. "In any case, ultimately, Hogwarts will still be standing here – that's what I see."
Dumbledore leaned back slowly, sinking into the back of his chair, giving Dylan a slight nod. His silver hair swayed gently with his movement, and his long beard cascaded down like a waterfall, almost resting on his lap.
"Is that so? Minerva says your prophecies are very accurate – much more so than Professor Trelawney's. Therefore, I believe your divination will indeed be as you have seen." Dumbledore's lips parted slightly, his voice as faint as a wisp of smoke carried on the air, easily dissipated if one wasn't careful.
"Professor, is there anything else you'd like to ask?"
"Harry... do you have a way to deal with him?"
"Oh, heavens, Professor\! I have no desire to 'deal with' Harry\! I'm just a second-year student still learning."
"Heh heh heh, my mistake. Go back now, you must have a great deal of studying to do."
"Yes, Professor. If there's nothing else you need, I'll take my leave." Dylan stood up.
Dumbledore, however, had already leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed.
Seeing this, Dylan gave Dumbledore a slight nod and then turned and left the Headmaster's office.
After he left.
Silence returned to the office, not even the slightest sound of breathing could be clearly heard.
Dumbledore, who had been leaning back in his chair, gently clasped his hands over his chest.
Once the sound of the door closing had completely faded, his eyes slowly opened, his gaze sweeping across the portraits on the wall.
At the same time, the portraits also opened their eyes, their gazes focused on Dumbledore.
"What are your thoughts, everyone?"
An old headmaster wearing a tall hat, his expression stern, spoke first, his voice low and deep. "That child is not simple. He's got secrets, but – I didn't get the feeling he's a bad lad."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Dylan is very clever, and I don't believe he's a bad child either – the results from the Mirror of Erised confirm that."
A female headmaster wearing an elaborate robe crossed her arms. "He's only in his second year, yet he has such thoughts. Doesn't that count as being a bad child?"
The gaunt headmaster hanging beside her scoffed. "That's hardly a bad child\! If that qualifies as bad, then I'm practically the epitome of evil."
The female headmaster rolled her eyes disdainfully, completely ignoring him.
Dumbledore listened to the murmuring of the surrounding portraits, a thoughtful expression slowly returning to his eyes.
"In any case, the Mirror does not lie. Regarding Carrow, we must consider other candidates."
(End of this chapter)