"So, how did it go?"
Dylan asked as Neville slowly climbed down the ladder, looking a bit dazed and weary, his hands trembling slightly.
"Same old stuff... she wanted me to interpret the crystal ball. I'm not sure how much she actually believed, but I stuck to our plan." Neville rubbed his stiff neck, the tired look of someone who had just finished an exam on his face, along with a hint of subtle anxiety.
To prepare for the exam, Neville had come up with a rather gruesome demise for himself. Something along the lines of being killed by the lethal shriek of a Mandrake, only to have his body ripped to shreds by venomous tentacles and Devil's Snare in the greenhouses. It was exactly the kind of death Professor Trelawney adored; she found it appropriately "ominous" and "profound."
"I have no doubt you'll get a high mark," Dylan said, his voice confident as he looked at Neville.
"I hope so," Neville sighed, straightening his cuff, his eyes filled with uncertainty.
A moment later, Professor Trelawney's mysterious voice drifted down from the top of the tower, calling Dylan's name.
"Dylan!"
He nodded to Neville, a gesture of reassurance, then grabbed the rungs of the ladder and began his ascent. The old wood of the ladder groaned softly with each step.
The Divination classroom was as gloomy as ever. A few candles flickered on a small round table in the center, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The air was filled with a faint, unidentifiable scent, a mix of dust and maybe some strange spice.
A dark tablecloth covered the table, with a cushion in the center where the crystal ball rested, smooth and pristine, glowing with a soft luster in the candlelight.
Professor Trelawney, her magnified eyes peering over her enormous spectacles, sat across from him. "Come... sit down, my dear." Her voice was slow and rhythmic. She reached a bony finger out toward the crystal ball. "Try to see what you can find in there, dear boy. You'll get full marks no matter what, but do try."
Dylan smiled and gazed into the crystal ball. Inside was a swirling white mist, as if it had a life of its own. As Dylan focused his spiritual energy, the mist condensed and dispersed. After a moment, it cleared, revealing the sight Dylan wanted to see.
"It's a young unicorn... it's wandering deep in the woods, where the trees are lush and green." He furrowed his brow, as if trying to recall the image he'd just seen, and then added, "That seems like a good omen, doesn't it?"
"Ah! Yes, my boy, you are not mistaken!" Professor Trelawney's eyes widened in surprise. She stared at the crystal ball for a long moment, as though searching for more. But she seemed to see nothing. She then looked up, her gaze fixed on the air, her hands waving uncontrollably as she mumbled to some unseen force.
"Ah... I see now. How can I refuse?" She clutched her chest and let out a long sigh, her voice tinged with a fated resignation, yet a hint of barely suppressed excitement. "Of course, I will accept the will of destiny... Congratulations, my boy, you may leave." Her fingers curled and she gripped the silk scarf at her chest.
"Did you... see a revelation from it?" Dylan asked, his eyes wide with a perfectly calibrated curiosity, staring at her magnified spectacles as if to glimpse her expression through the lenses.
"Yes, but I cannot speak of it—of course not!" Trelawney shook her head vigorously, her frizzy hair bobbing. She turned away from Dylan, avoiding his gaze and looking at the dim oil lamp in the corner. "Now, off you go, child. Congratulations in advance—that is all I can say." She waved him away, her voice a little rushed, as if she feared saying another word would reveal too much.
"Alright, goodbye, Professor," Dylan said with a shrug. He didn't press the matter, turning and taking hold of the ladder's rungs. The soft creak of the wood as he descended mingled with Professor Trelawney's hushed breathing from above.
"Well?" Neville asked anxiously, his eyes bright with anticipation as Dylan reached the bottom.
"Full marks, probably," Dylan said, spreading his hands with a casual air. He hadn't bothered to watch her grading process, but he knew that with their friendship, he'd get a perfect score even if he'd said nothing at all.
"That's so great..." Neville said, not doubting him for a second. He sighed, a look of envy on his face. He scratched his head, a little annoyed that his own performance hadn't been more spectacular.
The next two days passed quickly with exams. Potion-making, with its pungent fumes, saw students stirring cauldrons carefully. Astronomy was conducted late at night on the Astronomy Tower, where students peered at star charts, their noses red from the cold. The written History of Magic exam was so boring that it put everyone to sleep, even those who hadn't been listening in class, with its endless dates and events. Herbology had students fumbling with moving plants.
Finally, Thursday morning arrived with just one last exam: Defence Against the Dark Arts. For Dylan, it was the final hurdle of the school year.
"Alright, everyone, line up over here, please! Keep it organized!" Professor Lupin led them to a carefully set up area in front of the Forbidden Forest. Wooden stakes marked the boundaries of the course, which featured a sparkling pond, and chalk lines marked the locations of pits and a bog.
There was no written exam. Professor Lupin believed that Defence Against the Dark Arts was pointless if you knew the theory but couldn't put it into practice.
"I'll go over the course again," Lupin said, his wand tip releasing a bright spark. "You'll cross the pond, avoid the pits, get past the bog, and then enter and exit the box." The spark flew along the route he described, skimming the surface of the pond, circling the pits, and passing over the bog. It then exploded with a pop over a black-covered box, scattering like pixie dust. "Got it? Good, now one at a time!"
This was a new kind of exam for everyone, and many students were buzzing with excitement. They chattered excitedly, ready to go. Even the shyest students stood a little taller.
Dylan was particularly happy. The holidays were just around the corner, and he could finally escape the burden of his studies. Plus, he knew there was a show to be put on later. The thought made the corners of his mouth turn up.
In a great mood, Dylan wielded his wand with a flourish, not following any of the standard methods Professor Lupin had taught them for dealing with the magical creatures. The Grindylows in the pond, which tried to grab his ankles, were hit by a Transfiguration Spell, turning them into beautiful white roses that floated on the water's surface. The screeching Red Caps hidden around the pits became colorful ribbons fluttering in the wind. He filled in the pits with a simple spell, making the ground firm and flat. And over the bog, a bridge of multicolored flowers appeared out of thin air, its petals trembling with each step he took and releasing a faint, sweet scent.
He waltzed through the obstacles and made his way toward the box. The students behind him watched in awe. No one had ever thought to tackle an exam this way. This was magic with style!
Neville, standing near the back of the line, watched Dylan go, his palms sweating from nerves. When it was his turn, he took a deep breath, gripped his wand, and carefully dealt with the magical creatures using the methods Professor Lupin had taught. It was a bit messy, but he successfully navigated the course. When he emerged from the box, a look of pure relief was on his face.
Thanks to Dylan, what was supposed to be a dangerous training ground had been transformed into a flower-filled wonderland, completely at odds with the tense atmosphere. White roses floated in the pond, colorful ribbons fluttered near the pits, and a bridge of flowers swayed over the bog like a festive decoration.
Even so, when Dylan finally emerged from the Boggart-filled box, Professor Lupin couldn't help but applaud. "That was excellent!" he said, a genuine smile on his face, his eyes full of admiration.
Dylan gave him a small bow. At the same time, with a subtle flick of his wand behind his back, a faint glimmer shot out, and the course was instantly restored. The white roses reverted to Grindylows and sank back into the water, the ribbons became Red Caps and hid in the pits, and the flower bridge vanished, revealing the bog and pits as if nothing had ever happened.
Lupin was a good teacher—his lessons were clear and his battle experience was extensive. And Dylan, being a Gryffindor, had a straightforward side to his personality. As long as they didn't bring up the unique taste of the Wolfsbane Potion, they got along quite well and would occasionally discuss defensive spells.
"I'm heading to lunch. I'll see you later," Dylan said to Neville and the others as he headed toward the castle.
"What? You don't have another exam this afternoon. What's the rush?" Seamus, who still had to take his exams, sighed, a note of envy in his voice.
"I want to eat early so I can go back to the dorm and pack my things. It's better than getting frantic at the last minute," Dylan explained with a wave of his hand, quickening his pace.
This afternoon was his last free time of the school year. Starting tonight, a series of dramatic events would unfold. And finally, he would get to "let off some steam"—no, "make a guest appearance."
So, not only did he need a proper lunch, he also needed to prepare a special dinner. This was a crucial celebration for the end of another school year, and it couldn't be taken lightly. He was already planning what ingredients he would get from the kitchen and which dishes to ask the house-elves to make for him.
He planned his culinary evening. First, he'd go to the kitchens and get some steaming stew and freshly made fries—the crispy-on-the-outside, fluffy-on-the-inside kind. He'd also grab a few meaty beef pies, the filling so fresh and juicy that the rich flavor burst in your mouth with every bite. Then, he'd find Cedric to help him with some pumpkin pasties. The pasties his family made were famous—the pumpkin filling was sweet and smooth, the pastry golden and flaky, and it was all topped with a thin layer of honey. They were unforgettable. Finally, he would use the ingredients he had brought with him to make a dish he had recently recreated: Sweet and Sour Pork. It was a difficult dish to make, especially since white vinegar was hard to come by in Britain. He had gone through a lot of trouble, experimenting repeatedly with instructions he had gotten through divination, to finally get the flavor just right.
After all of this was done, he could eat his fill while everything was still warm, and then it would be his time to shine. With so much to do, he had to hurry to get it all done!
Dylan's pace quickened, and he couldn't help but smile as he imagined the flavors: the soft potatoes and carrots in the stew, the sweet and tangy taste of fries dipped in ketchup, the hot, juicy meat of the pies, the perfectly sweet pumpkin pasties, and the unique, crispy, sweet, and sour flavor of his new recipe. Just thinking about it made his stomach rumble, and he couldn't wait to get to his preparations.
The setting sun cast a deep red glow on the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and the light that filtered through the leaves danced on the ground, carrying with it a warm, lonely feeling.