Chapter 152 Professor Snape's message
Harry and Ron hadn't even uncovered the so-called truth yet.
A new problem was already staring them in the face.
—Final exams!
Even though rumors of Slytherin's heir and the monster had been brewing at Hogwarts for a long time, it didn't mean the final exams would be canceled.
It seemed that on a perilous path, the narrow bridge of exams couldn't be dismantled and had to be crossed.
—Unless, like Hermione, they were attacked.
Only then would the school consider exempting them from this year's exams.
More critically, because Hermione had been attacked so early, Harry and Ron had spent their days messing around with this and that.
They had undoubtedly fallen far behind in this year's coursework.
Not to mention Hermione didn't need to revise at all—because she wasn't taking the exams.
But even if Harry and Ron wanted to follow a planned revision schedule like last year, they simply couldn't.
After all, the person who made their revision plans was currently lying in the Hospital Wing.
Therefore, facing these final exams, Harry and Ron could only join everyone else huddled in the library.
At least this way, there was a revising atmosphere.
Dylan arrived at the library as usual to read.
He had barely sat down when Harry and Ron crept over conspiratorially.
Dylan glanced at them.
"Um, Dylan..."
Ron had barely opened his mouth when Dylan knew what this guy was about to say.
He shook his head, somewhat helplessly: "You know, I don't need to revise, so if you're looking for advice on how to revise, I'm sorry to say I don't have a revision plan."
Ron's face instantly crumpled.
"Oh, goodness, there's just so much to revise! Without a concrete plan, I don't even know where to start!"
Harry pursed his lips beside him.
—Ron had perfectly articulated his own thoughts.
Dylan opened his copy of Advanced Runes Translation. Ancient Runes, which he was taking as an elective, was a course for his third year.
Although Dylan already had some understanding of runes and had studied quite a few books, he still planned to review it before the upcoming elective course.
Moreover, runes held significant mystical magical meaning, having existed for a very long time, and some runes might even possess extremely powerful magical properties.
This was something Dylan was very interested in, and he had continuously researched ancient runes.
Hearing Ron's words, Dylan subtly reminded him: "Actually, for every subject, you just need to diligently complete the assignments professors give you."
"Those assignments will help you review the knowledge you've learned—they are very standard revision plans."
Dylan opened his book to the page he had last read.
He looked up at Ron: "Instead of needing to study with others to feel secure, it's better to learn to be independent, especially... if you fail a subject, the consequences can be quite severe, you know."
Dylan thought of the letter Ron received at dinner two days ago.
Mrs. Weasley still remembered very clearly what he had done at the start of the school year.
And she had ordered him that if he failed even one subject, he could expect a spanking when he got home.
Ron was terrified of this, which was why he hadn't been messing around with Harry lately, but instead had been sitting on a library bench.
Ron groaned, but at least he now had a revision goal.
He first pulled out Professor Flitwick's assignments, intending to meticulously grasp the essentials of this year's Charms class.
However, after just two glances, he felt a bit dizzy.
"Dylan, how do you manage to do so many fancy things with magic?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow, pondered for a moment, and smiled faintly.
"Wouldn't life be incredibly boring if you understood magic too rigidly?"
Ron blinked, not understanding.
Magic was just magic, what was "rigid" about it?
He smacked his lips and changed the subject: "I really can't imagine what the professors are thinking. The Headmaster was expelled from school, the Quidditch finals were canceled, and Slytherin's heir and that Basilisk that attacked Hermione are now hiding somewhere. Professor McGonagall hasn't even given us a direct holiday."
"—Doesn't she worry that the Basilisk might suddenly appear during exams and wipe out all the students?"
Ron pressed his assignment book onto the desk, barely looking at the content, his mouth constantly grumbling.
"And, there's another problem!"
Ron then pulled out his wand—a wand wrapped several times with magical tape.
"Good heavens, who would believe it? I have to use this broken thing during the exam! I'm really worried it'll blow up on me again!"
"Isn't this going to steal Seamus's thunder? And even if it explodes, the crucial thing is if it explodes during the exam, won't all my marks be deducted?"
Ron's expression was utterly dejected: "I really don't want to go home and get beaten!"
"Then you should try to get full marks on the written tests," Dylan shrugged.
He sympathized with Ron, but only to that extent.
He wasn't Doraemon; he couldn't just pull out a few memory bread slices for the guy.
However, Harry, beside him, was very empathetic towards Ron.
He scratched his hair: "What did we even learn this year? I feel like I don't remember anything..."
Neville had come with Dylan. Facing these final exams, already stressed, and also worried about the Chamber of Secrets, his chubby little face looked much more drawn.
However, compared to Ron and Harry, he could at least guarantee a good score in Herbology.
—Although Professor Sprout hadn't asked him to help with the herbs lately, he had still spent time in the greenhouse with the professor occasionally before Headmaster Dumbledore left Hogwarts.
Through immersion, he was almost perfectly familiar with this year's Herbology exam content.
But for other subjects, while not completely clueless, he certainly faced considerable difficulties.
However, before the final exams arrived, good news came early.
"The Mandrakes are fully matured!" Ron excitedly looked at Neville during dinner.
Neville nodded gently: "Yes, Professor Sprout is ready to harvest all the Mandrakes."
"That's great! With Mandrakes, won't the restorative draught be brewed very quickly?" Harry was also a little excited.
"It should be. But I only know the Mandrakes are mature. Professor Sprout still wants me to help, but when the potion can be brewed, I don't know," Neville said, holding his spoon and sipping hot soup.
"Anyway, this is good news!" Ron looked very cheerful.
Neville then turned his gaze to Dylan: "Dylan, can you come help tomorrow? With you there, I think I'll harvest the Mandrakes faster."
"Of course, no problem." Dylan readily agreed.
The next morning, after having breakfast with Neville, Dylan went with him to the greenhouse.
Professor Sprout was up very early; she must have been excited upon seeing the Mandrakes mature.
Dylan even noticed her dark circles.
"You're here? Good children, thank you very much for your help. With you two here, I think Professor Snape will be able to brew the Mandrake Restorative Draught tonight."
After handing Neville and Dylan each a pair of gloves and ear defenders, Professor Sprout hurried to the other end of the greenhouse and began to handle the Mandrakes.
The greenhouse was filled with a damp, distinct herbal scent.
Dylan stood before a Mandrake pot. With just a slight loosening of the soil, he directly pulled it out.
Just before a burst of crying erupted, the Mandrake saw who was holding it.
—It even seemed to have some memories.
As soon as its two ugly eyes focused on Dylan, it shuddered all over, and all its cries were stifled in its mouth.
Dylan raised an eyebrow slightly: "I haven't even used a spell on these guys before. Do they really need to be this afraid of me?"
Swish!
Neville skillfully sliced off the leaves from the top of the Mandrake's head with a sickle.
Dylan didn't take these leaves.
Useful or not, they were Hogwarts' property, and he couldn't just pocket them—especially with Professor Sprout nearby.
After its top leaves were cut off, the Mandrake's root instantly seemed to die, wilting completely.
Its already ugly skin became even more wrinkled.
—From seedling to harvest, the Mandrake had not been attractive for a single second.
It was a process of ugly, very ugly, super ugly, and dead ugly.
There were many Mandrakes in the greenhouse.
Dylan couldn't help but inwardly complain again.
The number of people attacked at Hogwarts wasn't that high. A few already matured Mandrakes bought from outside would have been enough for Professor Snape to brew the potion directly.
Yet they insisted on waiting for the current Mandrakes to mature, then harvesting them all one by one...
It was truly puzzling.
Dylan and Neville's coordination was also quite skilled.
One pulled the plant, the other cut the leaves.
Working together, they quickly harvested more than half of the Mandrakes, moving even faster than Professor Sprout.
Dylan deliberately left a few untouched.
Professor Sprout had also harvested most of hers, and the three of them gathered in the center of the greenhouse.
Dylan stopped, waved at Professor Sprout, then removed his earplugs.
"Hm? Child, what is it?" Professor Sprout paused, her plucking motion stopping.
—With his earplugs off, she naturally couldn't continue plucking.
Once Professor Sprout also removed her earplugs, Dylan blinked, and to Neville's shocked gaze, he made his request.
"Professor, I can also brew Mandrake Restorative Draught. You know, the first person attacked was revived using my Mandrake Restorative Draught."
"I am aware of that. So?"
"So I wanted to ask you, could I have the remaining Mandrakes? I can also brew potions for everyone, and some of my other potion research requires Mandrakes as ingredients."
Neville: Dylan, you're not even pretending anymore! You asked for my help before, and now you're directly asking the professor for them?
"Oh, that's certainly not a problem. Once the Mandrakes here mature, they are meant to be stored as the school's medicinal stock. You can absolutely take some if you wish."
To Neville's surprise, Professor Sprout wasn't angry. Instead, she lightly brushed the dirt from her hands and laughed heartily.
She readily agreed to Dylan's request.
"Really? That's wonderful! Thank you so much, Professor, you've solved an urgent problem for me!"
Neville craned his neck, looking at Dylan, then at the professor, his face utterly bewildered.
Didn't the professor say before that the medicinal ingredients in the greenhouse were Hogwarts' property, and even she couldn't dispose of them freely?
The last time he managed to get a Mandrake pot for Dylan was because the professor appreciated all his help!
How come Dylan just opens his mouth, and the remaining Mandrakes... the professor just gives them all away??
Neville looked down at the nine Mandrake pots on the table.
—That was a whole nine plants!
Even with Dylan's help, the professor shouldn't just give away nearly a tenth of the greenhouse's Mandrake stock, should she?
Why did it feel like Dylan was even more familiar with Professor Sprout than he was?
"Rest assured, dear boy, it's just some Mandrakes, it's no big deal. Your talent is exceptional—in every aspect. Of course, I'm willing to nurture an excellent young wizard."
Neville: (._.)
Oh no, he seemed to have fallen out of favor!
Professor Sprout said this, then glanced at Neville, adding: "Just as I'm delighted to have Neville help me. He has extraordinary talent in Herbology, and I'm very willing to share more knowledge of herbs with him."
Neville was still mulling it over, but Professor Sprout's words made his little face flush.
"And you've helped me a lot too. You can just take these Mandrakes."
Dylan was very happy: "Alright, Professor, should I take these harvested Mandrakes to Professor Snape then?"
"Yes, set aside some for Professor Snape, so he can brew more restorative draught. That way, the children won't be so afraid," Professor Sprout nodded.
Dylan waved his wand, levitating the Mandrake pots into the air, flying beside him.
Bidding Professor Sprout farewell, Dylan and Neville left the greenhouse with the nine living Mandrake pots and the harvested ones.
"Um, Dylan, the Mandrakes are mature, so I'm done here. You can take these to Professor Snape, I don't need to go, do I?" Neville poked his fingers together.
Dylan nodded, not refusing.
After all, with so many Mandrake pots, as long as they were planted in his trunk, when these little guys bloomed and bore fruit, new Mandrakes would grow.
Moreover, since these Mandrakes were already mature, they could begin natural division.
As long as he planted them in the forest, they would naturally reproduce without much intervention from him.
Neville hurried off towards the dorm.
Dylan, meanwhile, strolled unhurriedly towards Professor Snape's office.
Halfway there, he suddenly sensed a faint presence.
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
With a flick of his wand, a rooster's crow suddenly echoed.
The presence paused, then quickly retreated.
"Little fellow, don't rush. Soon you'll be able to grow freely in my forest."
Dylan leisurely arrived at Professor Snape's office door, with nine Mandrake pots floating beside him.
Knock, knock.
Dylan knocked on the door.
He saw Professor Snape preparing things.
"Professor, Professor Sprout asked me to bring you these mature Mandrakes."
He stepped inside.
Professor Snape was intently bent over, fiddling with a cauldron, his slender fingers methodically placing ingredients one by one.
Hearing Dylan's voice, he looked up and immediately saw nine Mandrake pots suspended in mid-air like strange totems, rotating slightly.
Professor Snape's gaze was somewhat odd: "Are you planning to turn yourself into a putrid garden?"
Dylan chuckled: "Of course not, Professor. It's just that I can't store them right now."
He walked over to Professor Snape, placing the harvested Mandrakes on the table.
Then he noticed two cauldrons already on the table. He paused: "Professor, are you—"
Professor Snape resumed fiddling with the ingredients: "Since you're here, don't leave. This is your cauldron. Brew the restorative potion with me."
Professor Snape's voice carried an unchallengeable command, giving Dylan no chance to refuse. He moved away from the cauldron in front of him, walked to the table, picked up the Mandrakes, and went to another cauldron.
Dylan: "..."
What a "since you're here!"
Dylan sighed.
Actually, he wanted to go back and read for a while, and he also had private tutoring with Professor McGonagall tonight.
But since Professor Snape had spoken, Dylan wouldn't refuse.
It had been a while since he had brewed potions with Professor Snape.
"Professor, what do you think about the Chamber of Secrets this time? I heard Harry say you've been rushing him back to the dorm every time you see him lately."
Skillfully adding the Mandrake root, Dylan brewed the potion while chatting with Professor Snape.
—He wanted to subtly probe Professor Snape for Dumbledore's opinion of him.
Professor Snape's movements paused slightly, and a large bubble immediately emerged from the viscous liquid in the cauldron, then burst.
Professor Snape immediately continued stirring the cauldron, letting out a low, cold scoff.
"Watch your spit doesn't get into the cauldron and ruin the potion! There aren't many Mandrakes left for your experiments here!"
Dylan smiled: "Don't worry, Professor, you know my methods. Nothing will go wrong."
His hand movements were steady and firm, and the Mandrake Restorative Draught gradually took shape in his hands.
"Hmph!"
Professor Snape gave another cold huff and said nothing more.
Dylan shrugged his shoulders, seeing this, and didn't press further.
Professor Snape's feelings for Harry were clear as day—he didn't mean that kind of feeling, but the other kind.
Though awkward, Dylan knew he was the one who least wanted to see Harry come to harm.
Otherwise, why would Harry always encounter Professor Snape when acting alone?
And why would he always complain to him and Ron about seeing Professor Snape here and there after being sent back by him?
He was practically a tsundere!
After a moment of silence, Professor Snape, with a cold face, suddenly said: "A half-baked wizard like you, the Restricted Section is not a place you should frequent. The contents of those books are not something you should be deluding yourself into researching in depth right now."
Dylan paused.
He naturally didn't think he could completely avoid the professors knowing about his visits to the Restricted Section.
However, the restricted books he read were all registered by Madam Pince, so professors could always check.
He had never deliberately hidden it.
Although there was a lot of dark magic content, none of it was overtly evil.
This was probably why the professors hadn't directly confronted him about it, even after knowing he frequently visited the Restricted Section.
In fact, throughout the entire year, no professor had mentioned the restricted books to him.
Clearly, the professors had tacitly approved his access to the Restricted Section.
So why would Professor Snape suddenly bring it up now?
Dylan suddenly thought of what Harry had told him.
Could it be Dumbledore's arrangement or instruction before he left school?
His expression remained unchanged, his movements steady, and he replied: "Professor, I understand your concerns, but I promise, I won't be influenced by dark forces."
"In fact, the dark magic recorded in those books seems quite foolish to me. I just want to research the principles of magic, not to master those spells."
Professor Snape glanced at Dylan.
He didn't sense any peculiar emotions from Dylan when he said this—only sincerity.
He narrowed his eyes: "Your Occlumency is quite good."
Dylan chuckled: "That's all thanks to your excellent teaching."
"Dumbledore asked me to take you under my wing again next year. I need to know whatever dark magic you've been researching."
Dylan was surprised to hear this, but felt no impatience, only a hint of pleasant surprise.
"Professor, are you going to teach me dark magic?"
"Before that, I need to see your mastery of dark magic."
Professor Snape's voice was cold, yet Dylan brightened.
He had been researching dark magic on his own before. After all, even if the professors knew about it, since no one had pointed it out, he couldn't just approach a professor about dark magic.
He hadn't expected Professor Snape to directly offer to teach him dark magic now. This was truly an unexpected pleasure.
It seemed he would be even busier next year.
"Be careful lately. If you encounter any danger, use all the spells you know, without hesitation." As Professor Snape spoke, his gaze remained fixed on the cauldron before him, unwavering.
However, hearing his words, Dylan chuckled: "Alright, Professor."
Professor Snape's attitude, to some extent, also indicated Dumbledore's attitude.
Clearly, Dumbledore probably still regarded him as just a student.
And the words he spoke to Harry were likely because he had discovered Dylan's frequent visits to the Restricted Section, making him think Dylan had learned a lot of dark knowledge, which led him to tell Harry to be cautious of him.
Having gotten his answer, Dylan breathed a sigh of relief.
Good, old Dumbledore hadn't truly discovered anything significant.
After brewing a few potions with Professor Snape, Dylan checked the time: "Professor, I need to go to Professor McGonagall's office soon."
"Go," Professor Snape said without looking up. "Take two bottles of potion with you."
Dylan's eyes lit up again: "Thank you, Professor~~~"
"Now go!"
"Alright! Professor, remember to eat dinner~"
Dylan left the office, first went to the Great Hall for dinner, and then headed to Professor McGonagall's office.
However, he had barely been chatting with Professor McGonagall for a short while.
A letter flew in, urgent and fluttering.
Opening the letter, Professor McGonagall merely scanned it, and her eyes immediately widened.
"A real murder has occurred at Hogwarts?"
Professor McGonagall was enraged.
"Who is spreading such rumors at a time like this?!"
Dylan was having a rare discussion with Professor McGonagall about Transfiguration—he hadn't had private tutoring with Professor McGonagall since old Dumbledore was ousted.
Yet this opportunity was interrupted by a letter.
Seeing Professor McGonagall looking sternly at the letter in her hand, Dylan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow: "Professor?"
Professor McGonagall rubbed her temples: "It's Flitwick. He sent me word that reporters are widely publicizing that a real murder has occurred at Hogwarts! That a student will die permanently!"
"But this is completely baseless! There hasn't even been an attack at the school for a long time!"
Upon hearing this, Lockhart's smug face immediately popped into Dylan's mind.
"May I see this letter?"
Professor McGonagall didn't refuse, handing the letter to Dylan.
Dylan took it, quickly scanning its contents.
The message was brief, essentially confirming what Professor Flitwick had said: someone was publicly proclaiming that a real murder was about to occur at Hogwarts, and a student would die permanently.
Dylan involuntarily stroked his chin: "Something like this couldn't have been spread by the students of the school."
Professor McGonagall looked over: "You mean..."
Dylan nodded: "I think perhaps someone wants to use this incident to stir up trouble and regain fame—or they've received favors from certain people."
Professor McGonagall frowned: "You suspect Lockhart?"
Dylan smiled: "Besides him, I truly can't find anyone else in the school who would do such a thing."
Professor McGonagall slammed her hand on the table in anger.
Dylan winced: "Professor, don't hurt your hand."
"This Lockhart! What good does it do him to slander the school like this?"
"Oh, a lot. Whether he's being instructed by someone or simply wants to use this to step on Hogwarts and make a name for himself, these are all tangible benefits."
Dylan's words left Professor McGonagall unable to deny them.
"But all the attacked students are in the Hospital Wing! Your Mandrake Restorative Draught even saved one student!"
"There has been no murder in the school at all! Even if he does this, it's just false information. What kind of reputation can he gain for himself?"
Dylan thought for a moment: "Unless he genuinely intends to kill someone."
"What?!" Professor McGonagall was shocked. "How dare he do such a thing?"
.....
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