This magic is absolutely wild!
It lets Dylan sneak into other people's dreams, practically acting like a god in their dreamworld! Whatever scene Dylan wants to create, as long as his imagination's strong enough, he can make it happen. And with a little tweak of his chakra—or, well, magic in this case—he can plant any idea or command in someone's mind, no sweat.
The best part? This magic doesn't hit too hard. Unlike something as intense as the Imperius Curse—or, say, a Genmagic like Tsukuyomi that Itachi might pull—it's subtle. It's like a gentle nudge, slipping in without causing a ruckus. That kind of sneaky approach could give Dylan a ton of advantages.
"Plus, with this magic, all those other techniques I've been working on—like the Dream Gate or the Memory Veil—suddenly have way more potential for upgrades!" Dylan thought, his mind buzzing.
This maxed-out magic, Fabrica Sogni Maxima (Dream Weaver Supreme), dropped a treasure trove of knowledge on him. Honestly, even if someone like the Sage of the Six Paths tried to teach him, they probably couldn't explain it as clearly as this magic's power did. It was like a door to a whole new world swung wide open. Dylan knew he'd be tinkering with this for a long time, and he was pumped about it.
Dylan smacked his lips, grinning to himself.
[System Message]: Congratulations! You've unlocked the max-level magic—Fabrica Sogni Maxima (Dream Weaver Supreme)!
Dylan nodded, totally satisfied, before glancing at his next reward.
A portrait of Ravenclaw? Probably like the ones in the Hokage's office—er, I mean, the headmaster's office—right? He didn't pull it out right away. Flashing a magical portrait in front of Neville and the others might freak them out, like seeing Naruto summon a giant toad in the middle of class.
Instead, he checked the system's description.
[Item]: Ravenclaw's Portrait
[Description]: A portrait left behind by a sage of wisdom—her true portrait, no less.
[Effect]: Can cast various magic, hold conversations, and even let you spar inside the portrait's world. Plus, if you place it in a separate dimension, it might trigger some extra effects.
"Huh?" Dylan raised an eyebrow, keeping his cool.
In his mind, a portrait you could spar with was already pretty wizard-level awesome, like something Kakashi might geek out over. But this one wasn't just any portrait—it was marked as Ravenclaw's true portrait. And that hint about "extra effects" in a separate dimension? That got his curiosity sparking like Naruto chasing a new ramen recipe.
Still, Dylan had spent years reading scrolls—er, books—and had developed a calm vibe. Even with the lure of a new reward, he stayed chill, clutching his History of Magic Anecdotes book, though his fingers were gripping it a bit tightly.
He shifted his focus to the final reward.
"Ravenclaw's treasure map?" Dylan muttered, checking the system's details.
[Item]: Ravenclaw's Treasure Map
[Description]: A map leading to the hidden treasure of a powerful sage. Find it, and you might uncover the riches they left behind.
[Effect]: Figure it out yourself, kid.
Dylan's mouth twitched. "This system's got some attitude," he thought, sounding like something Naruto would grumble about when dealing with a cheeky scroll spirit.
After a moment, he set his book down and quietly pulled the treasure map from the system panel. Neville and the others glanced over, assuming Dylan was just jotting down notes, like Sakura scribbling in her mission log. They went back to their own stuff—Neville reading, Seamus and Dean playing a game that looked suspiciously like shogi but was probably wizard chess.
Dylan leaned back in his leather chair, spreading the parchment on his lap. The map wasn't huge, but it wasn't tiny either. Sunlight streamed through the window, giving the paper a golden glow. Neville was buried in his book, while Seamus and Dean were deep in their game across from him.
Dylan ran his fingers over the map. It felt older than he'd expected, with brittle, dark brown edges—maybe dried blood, maybe something else, like the kind of ancient relic Naruto might find in a hidden ruin. As he unfolded it, the parchment made a faint rustling sound.
He looked closer. Faded ink lines traced the outline of the British Isles, but they cut off abruptly near the coast. In their place was a patch of deep purple ink, almost alive, wriggling slightly under the sunlight. Dylan squinted, leaning in. Hidden in the purple smudges were faint silver threads, swirling into a vortex. At the center, in old English, were the words: Fatum Insula.
"What's that?" Dylan muttered, raising an eyebrow.
His fingertip brushed the vortex, and bam—a faint golden glow burst from the center. Off the coast of Cornwall, a crescent-shaped island appeared, one that didn't exist on any regular map—like a hidden village in the Naruto world. The island's center was filled with black ink, but its edges were marked with a vermilion symbol resembling an eagle's eye. The ancient text translated in Dylan's mind: "Only those who know the truth can break through the mist."
Dylan's eyes narrowed, his fingers tracing the island's outline. Suddenly, his palm felt cold, like he'd dipped it in seawater. His heart skipped a beat. A key materialized in his hand, crafted from fishbone and shaped like an eagle. He slipped it into his system space without a word, cool as Sasuke tucking away a kunai.
"Looks like this Christmas break's gonna be busy," he thought. But no rush—one step at a time.
Neville glanced over, noticing Dylan staring at the parchment. "Dylan, you planning a trip for the holidays?" he asked, curious, like Naruto asking Lee about his next training mission.
Dylan snapped out of it, folding the map with a casual smile. "Yeah, figured I'd go explore a bit."
Neville grinned. "Nice! I used to go out with my family all the time, but now there's barely time for that."
Dylan waved him off. "Tell me about it. My folks are either making money or off traveling—mostly traveling." Thanks to his help, his parents, the Huberts, had built a solid setup. Earning cash was easier now, like a well-oiled wizard mission. It gave them plenty of time for their globe-trotting couple adventures. Meanwhile, Dylan hadn't even left the country yet. Before Hogwarts, they were broke. After? No time.
"Huh?" Neville blinked, scratching his head, a bit like Ron when he's confused. He knew enough about Dylan's parents to let it slide with an awkward chuckle. "Well, have fun out there!"
Dylan didn't correct the misunderstanding. Let Neville think he was just going on a trip. The fewer people who knew about Ravenclaw's treasure, the better. It'd be easier to decide later whether to claim it as Dylan or as his alter ego, Karthas—like Naruto keeping his Jinchuriki powers under wraps.
On the way, Dylan kept itching to pull out his suitcase, pop it open, and toss Ravenclaw's portrait into his personal dimension to see what'd happen. But he held back. No need to let anyone know he had a true Ravenclaw portrait. Who knew what kind of crazy effects it might trigger, like a forbidden magic gone wild?
"Speaking of which," Dylan mused, "the system called this the true Ravenclaw portrait. So what's that portrait in Dumbledore's office? Just some regular one she blessed or something?" He wondered if finding Ravenclaw's treasure would reveal more—like uncovering one of the Sannin's lost scrolls. And why was it hidden outside Hogwarts? Were the founders, like the four Hokages, trying to keep it from someone?
Dylan shook his head and went back to his History of Magic Anecdotes. He picked up where he left off: "Back to the Black Lake—back in the founders' days, people married young and weren't exactly great at self-control. Godric had to set rules banning, uh, 'celebrating love' right after swimming or having kids in the castle."
"Rumor has it, contraceptive potions were a hot commodity back then, practically flying off the shelves. Salazar, fed up with brewing them, stayed up all night casting a contraception magic—er, spell—over the whole castle, shooing away lovebirds in the process. Of course, to keep the big-shot donors happy, this was all hush-hush. So, poor Helena never knew why she didn't get a little sister."
Dylan blinked. This history was wild. It made sense, though. If no one had done something like that, why wasn't Hogwarts full of accidental baby wizards with all the teenage romance going on? It's not like Snape was handing out contraception potions like candy—or was he?
Then again, Hogwarts didn't have shady motels nearby. Hogsmeade just had a couple of pubs and a teahouse. Were students really sneaking off to "celebrate love" in the castle, or was it all just kissing? Dylan wasn't sure.
But then he remembered the Room of Requirement. That place had been around forever, and there's no way nobody stumbled across it. Could it turn into a secret couple's hideout? Dylan's mind flashed to the Marauder's Map—those times he saw two names stacked on top of each other, sometimes switching, sometimes trembling. He scratched his head, not wanting to think too hard about it, like Naruto avoiding a gross mission detail.
Then another memory hit him. A year ago, he'd done some casual divination and saw glimpses of the past—like Ron's parents sneaking out for a midnight stroll during their school days. Arthur got caught by the caretaker and ended up with scars that were still visible when Dylan visited the Weasleys. Scars from a stroll? Yeah, right. Something didn't add up.
Dylan shuddered. "In the Muggle world, they've got science for that kind of thing. But in the wizarding world… what, do they just point a wand and cast 'Avada Kedavra' on the problem? Call it 'Avada Eat Your Kid'?" He cringed at his own dark joke. "That'd turn a womb into a Horcrux real quick. Merlin's beard, what am I even thinking?"
He shook it off. "Nah, it's probably just Snape with a secret side gig as a potion master for that kind of thing. Or maybe Salazar's contraception magic is still holding strong. Knowing him, if he were a woman, he might've cooked up an even crazier spell to solve the problem for good. Bet the guys at Hogwarts wouldn't have been thrilled about that."
Dylan chuckled, wondering if Rita Skeeter ever got her hands on this book. Knowing her, she'd have a field day with this gossip, her quill scribbling itself silly.