In a relatively open clearing deep within the Forbidden Forest, Dylan sat on a chair he'd conjured with a Transfiguration spell. The wood grain was clear, and it smelled of freshly made timber.
On the wooden table in front of him lay a feast of food. A steaming stew sent up wisps of white steam, and the aroma of potatoes, carrots, and meat filled the air. A small mountain of freshly made french fries, golden and glistening with oil, sat beside a little dish of bright red ketchup. A few hearty beef pies, their crusts slightly puffed, were arranged neatly on a plate, with a hint of juice seeping from the edges. Cedric and his girlfriend's pumpkin pie, cut into small pieces, still had the gleam of honey on its golden crust, its sweet scent particularly tempting.
But the most striking dish was a plate of freshly made guobaorou (sweet and sour pork), the pork pieces wrapped in a crispy batter, golden with a hint of red, their sweet and sour aroma wafting through the trees.
Serquel, the huge Kneazle-like beast, was lying next to Dylan. Its fur shone faintly in the setting sun. The fresh, meaty smell of the raw meat in a nearby bucket was no longer as appealing to it. Its eyes were fixed on the guobaorou on Dylan's plate, its nose twitching and a low whine rumbling in its throat, its tail gently sweeping the ground. It was clearly captivated by the unique smell.
"No, you can't have this. It's too heavily seasoned and not good for you." Dylan smiled, looking down at Serquel.
Serquel whined in response, its voice full of complaint, and moved its head closer until its nose was almost touching the edge of the plate.
"Ah ah ah, no." Dylan shook his head gently, picked up his chopsticks, skillfully grabbed the last piece of guobaorou, and popped it into his mouth without hesitation.
Crunch. The crispy batter shattered between his teeth, and the sweet and sour sauce exploded in his mouth, the meat inside tender and juicy, full of flavor. As he chewed, he watched Serquel's dejected expression, a small smile playing on his lips.
"That's just not right. Buckbeak will ultimately be fine, so I can't just go and cruelly kill your companions, can I?" Dylan said with a grin. "I can't understand what you're saying, and you probably don't fully understand me, do you?"
As he spoke, he reached out, his fingertips sinking into Serquel's thick neck fur, which was soft and warm to the touch. He stroked it a few times. Serquel's eyes narrowed in contentment, a low purr rumbling in its throat.
"But don't worry, I have a feeling that the oldest one in your group will pass away of old age next year."
"Once that happens, we'll be able to communicate without any trouble."
"Maybe we can even have a proper chat about where you want to live before I graduate..."
Dylan looked down at Serquel's intelligent eyes, and just as he finished his sentence, an explosion rang out.
One person and one beast slowly looked up, their eyes on the source of the noise.
"Ah, they're finally here."
Serquel pricked up its ears, raising its head in alarm, a low growl rumbling in its throat. In the distance, muffled explosions could be heard, interspersed with the sounds of colliding spells.
"I don't get it. This was supposed to be an easy two-on-one fight, but they turned it into a five-on-one stalemate. They really are just getting in the way." Even though he had seen this in his divination, Dylan couldn't help but sigh and mutter to himself.
With the crucial piece of information that Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew, it was only natural that Hermione and the others would suspect there was more to James Potter's death. So, when they saw the names Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew together on the Marauder's Map, it was inevitable that they would follow them.
But here was the problem. Originally, it was just Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew fighting alone. Sirius was weakened from his long time in Azkaban and was at a slight disadvantage. But when the three students joined the fight, the whole thing became a chaotic mess.
It's a good thing Professor Lupin showed up just in time. He used a few precise defensive charms to block Peter's attacks, bringing the fight back to a balanced state. Otherwise, a single adult with three kids would have surely perished.
Just like Dumbledore 'doesn't know' Dark magic, Dylan doesn't have the power of divination. He can't predict everything with perfect accuracy. And to make matters worse, Dumbledore was currently tied up with the people from the Ministry of Magic who had come to execute Buckbeak.
When Peter saw Lupin appear, he knew he couldn't stay at Hogwarts any longer. If the other professors arrived, it would be the end of him. So, in a panic, he cast a few diversion spells and fled into the Forbidden Forest. But he had no idea that Dylan was waiting for him up ahead.
Peter Pettigrew didn't know which cell he would eventually call home in Azkaban, but Dylan had already 'chosen' one for him through divination. Not Azkaban, but a much more delightful place. One his soul would go to, no less. His physical body, however, would have to be dealt with by the Ministry of Magic. Though, if he got the chance, he might just take his body with him. Hmm, maybe he should just take Sirius with him, too? Make them both his employees in his little world?
"Damn them all! When I get away, you'll all rot in Azkaban!" Peter was dreaming of a triumphant escape and a new beginning.
Just as he predicted, Sirius and Lupin couldn't fight freely while protecting the three children. They were forced to play defense. Peter's curses came one after another, forcing them to retreat further and further. The distance grew, and it looked like he was about to get away. Once he was completely out of their sight, he could just turn into a rat and burrow into the leaves or soft dirt. Finding a rat in the vast Forbidden Forest would be like finding a needle in a haystack.
What a pity, he thought, that he had to give up his comfortable, long-term meal ticket—living with the Weasleys, where he could hide his identity and eat to his heart's content. All ruined by that blasted Sirius Black, who should have died in Azkaban!
Peter cursed under his breath, stumbling through the forest, fighting and fleeing at the same time. He frantically waved his wand to block the spells behind him, then burst through a thicket of bushes and staggered into a clearing.
It was Dylan's picnic spot.
"Damn it! Who's having a picnic in the Forbidden Forest?!"
He didn't have a chance to look around or react before Professor Lupin, who was in pursuit, spotted Dylan in the clearing. His face went pale, and he immediately shouted a warning: "Look out!"
Peter Pettigrew finally caught on, his eyes darting to the boy sitting at the table. A wicked thought entered his mind. A little kid? He couldn't remember who the boy was, only that he was Ron's roommate. Just a third-year!
Even though he felt a vague sense of unease about the boy, he dismissed it. What's the harm? He's just a kid!
If he could seriously injure him, Lupin would have another person to worry about, and Peter could make his escape!
Yes! That's it!
The thought flashed through his mind, so clear he didn't even have to think about it.
"Bombarda!" He pointed his wand at Dylan without hesitation and cast the blasting curse. He even controlled the power, aiming to wound, not kill.
Dylan sensed the incoming spell and read Peter's contemptible intention. He didn't even get up, just moved a single fingertip. A silent Finite Incantatem shot out, perfectly intercepting Peter's blasting curse and causing it to vanish.
At the same time, he flicked his wand at a tree branch above Peter's head. Under the influence of a Transfiguration spell, a branch as thick as a wrist extended several feet, swinging down with a whooshing sound.
CRACK! A loud, sharp slap echoed in the clearing. Peter's plump body spun like a top three or four times before he stumbled to a halt. His head was ringing, and he saw stars, almost getting a concussion.
Before he could fully recover from the dizziness, Professor Lupin's Disarming Charm, cast to save the boy, came whistling towards him. At the same time, another of Dylan's silent blasting curses struck him.
CLANG! Peter's stolen wand was sent spinning out of his hand, landing precisely in Professor Lupin's grasp. Peter himself was blasted back, his clothes in tatters, his exposed skin covered in black scorch marks, and blood seeping from his wounds. He was clearly hurt badly.
However, Dylan had also controlled the power, only wounding him seriously, but not killing him.
Everything happened in an instant.
Professor Lupin gripped the disarmed wand tightly. He first looked down at Peter's charred, bleeding body, his brow furrowing. Then he slowly raised his head to look at Dylan, who was now calmly getting up from his chair and walking over.
Lupin's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes wide with unconcealed astonishment. The ability to cast Finite Incantatem, a Transfiguration spell, and Bombarda one after the other, all silently, with pinpoint accuracy and powerful force... are third-year Gryffindors really this good now?
He had heard many stories about Dylan and had been told by other professors what a genius the boy was. But Dylan was a loner and didn't speak with the other professors much.
Also, if he remembered correctly, Dylan shouldn't have known anything about Peter Pettigrew. While Peter had certainly attacked first, Dylan's immediate counter-attack, which left him in such a state... was an incredibly decisive move.
"What's going on? Who is this? Why did he suddenly attack me?" Dylan's face showed a perfectly timed expression of bewilderment as he looked at Professor Lupin, his eyes clear, as if he truly had no idea what was happening.
As he spoke, he gave his wand a gentle flick. On the ground, several thick, gnarled tree roots burrowed out of the earth like flexible ropes, quickly wrapping around Peter, tying him up tight so he couldn't even struggle.
Dylan noticed that Peter, convulsing from the pain of his wounds being stretched by the roots, was on the verge of waking up. He casually cast a Stunning Spell to make sure he stayed unconscious. Peter's eyelids, which had started to flutter, immediately dropped again as he fell into a deeper state of unconsciousness.
At the same time, a part of his soul was silently torn away, flowing along the tree roots and into Dylan's hands, without a single sound.
"...It's a long story." Lupin opened his mouth, unsure where to begin. He took a long breath, his voice full of complexity. "But you did a good job. This is a villain who belongs in Azkaban."
He looked at Peter, tied up like a human-sized sausage, and then at Dylan's calm face. He felt like the last few minutes had been stranger than anything he'd experienced in the past few months. Of course, it wasn't as strange as the Wolfsbane Potion he was taking. He couldn't understand why that potion had so many different flavors—like old socks, farts, and even...
Oh, Merlin. He didn't want to remember those awful tastes.
Ugh.
Suddenly, the clear sound of a struggle came from not far away. The muffled sounds of spells colliding and the crackle of curses exploding rang out, particularly jarring in the silent Forbidden Forest.
Dylan and Professor Lupin exchanged a look. Without hesitation, they took off toward the sound.
"Serquel, wait here for me and keep an eye on him," Dylan instructed Serquel. As he spoke, he cast a boosted Confundus Charm on Peter to ensure he wouldn't wake up easily. Serquel gave a low growl in response.
The two ran through a small, sparsely treed area and hadn't gone far when they saw a clearing ahead. The colorful light of spells intertwined and collided in the air, bursting into fleeting blossoms of light.
A few steps closer, and they could clearly see Professor Snape and Sirius Black in a standoff. Their eyes were cold, their bodies tense, neither one relaxing for a second. They occasionally shot a spell at each other, not with great force, but with a precise and deadly aim. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood not far away, their faces filled with worry, unable to intervene as they watched the two men confront each other.