Chapter 161: Dumbledore's Office: An Evening Visit
Evening.
Dylan arrived at Dumbledore's office once more.
"Knock, knock."
"Come in." Dumbledore's voice came from inside.
Dylan slowly turned the doorknob and stepped in. Dumbledore was currently sitting behind the large oak desk, a kindly smile on his face, his blue eyes lifting slightly towards Dylan upon hearing him.
"Good evening, Professor."
"Good evening, my boy. Come, have some sweets." Dumbledore gestured to a plate of desserts beside him.
Dylan walked over but shook his head: "I won't have any sweets. Professor, may I ask why you wanted me to come again this evening?"
"Oh ho ho ho~ It's nothing urgent," Dumbledore chuckled. "Please, have a seat."
Dylan glanced around the empty room; there was no chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Where was he supposed to sit? It seemed Dumbledore wasn't going to make things easy this time! But Dylan didn't stand on ceremony.
"Since you said so." Dylan suddenly pulled a book from Dumbledore's desk, then casually tossed it to his side. The moment the book left his hand, a strange light suddenly burst forth from it. The light flickered and jumped, and in less than a blink of an eye, it rapidly transformed into an exquisite high-backed chair.
"The traits refined from spells are quite domineering indeed." Dylan slowly sat down.
Dumbledore looked at him with some surprise: "It seems you have a great understanding of Transfiguration."
Dylan smiled shyly: "Not really, Professor McGonagall is just a wonderful teacher."
Dumbledore stroked his beard: "Minerva tells me she hardly has any Transfiguration knowledge left to teach you."
Dylan shook his head: "How could that be? Professor has many insights in Transfiguration that I still can't directly achieve." His gaze swept towards the mirror next to the table.
The Mirror of Erised? What is Dumbledore trying to do now? Make him look in the mirror? Dylan's expression remained unchanged. He had looked twice already and hadn't seen any changes, so Dylan wasn't afraid that the mirror would reveal anything about him.
Dumbledore, with a smile, looked towards the mirror not far away: "Do you remember this mirror?"
"I remember it vividly. It sent the Philosopher's Stone directly into my pocket back then. Perhaps I should have run off with the Stone."
"Hahahaha, you're quite a joker." Dumbledore laughed heartily for a moment, then slightly composed himself and said to Dylan: "My boy, much of the knowledge in the Restricted Section will affect your judgment of the real world. It will corrode your logic and interfere with your thinking. I'm very concerned about your current mental state, so—I'd like to ask you to look into this mirror again, if you would?"
Dylan raised his eyes: "Of course, I'd be delighted."
"However, I must clarify that my research into dark magic in the Restricted Section merely took advantage of Lockhart's almost overflowing vanity and conceit—as you know, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors always get into a lot of trouble."
"I understand."
"So I wanted to research some dark magic myself, to better guard against others' curses."
"I understand. Then please, look into the mirror."
Dylan stood up again, walked around the desk, and approached the Mirror of Erised, which stood silently to one side behind the desk. As soon as he stood still, his gaze met the mirror's surface. A swirling mist gradually spread.
In the mirror.
Further in the distance was a tranquil forest, mist swirling through the trees, with many dark shadows scurrying within. The view rapidly zoomed in. In the center was a manor. It was Christmastime. Snowflakes drifted down.
Colorful fairy lights intricately wrapped around the railings, and star-shaped little lamps twinkled. Icicles hung from the eaves, along with a Christmas tree adorned with ornaments.
Inside the house, festivity filled the air. Dylan immediately saw himself emerging from a door. The scene inside the door was unclear because Dylan closed it as soon as he stepped out.
In the living room, many familiar faces gathered. His parents were smiling broadly, chatting animatedly with Florean, punctuated by bursts of laughter. Harry and Hermione were eating desserts not far away, Ginny was playfully bickering with Ron—the entire Weasley family was there. Old Dumbledore held a hot drink, standing to one side with Professor Snape, while the other professors were also looking for food.
After Dylan exited the door, he went to Vera's side. Vera leaned gently against him, her chestnut-gold hair softly brushing in the warm breeze. Dylan saw the Vera in the mirror open her red lips slightly, seemingly saying something. He himself offered a gentle smile.
Then, his hand inadvertently touched Vera's hand. Both instantly recoiled as if shocked by electricity, yet couldn't help but secretly glance at each other, a faint blush rising on Vera's cool face. It was absolutely beautiful.
Dumbledore: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)...
"It seems, Dylan, what you truly desire deep down is such a lively scene, with family, teachers, friends, and... Vera?" Dumbledore's eyes flashed with a hint of teasing: "Our young man certainly has vigorous energy, just like me in my youth."
Dylan's lips twitched, his expression calm, though two patches of red gradually bloomed on his cheeks. "Professor, am I done looking?"
"Of course—of course, you've finished looking into the mirror." Dumbledore's lips held a knowing smile, his tone drawn out.
Dylan took a deep breath, his steps hasty, almost jogging away from the mirror, returning to his seat opposite Dumbledore on the chair he had conjured with Transfiguration. As soon as he sat down, he somewhat awkwardly straightened his robes. Clearing his throat, Dylan tried to change the subject.
"Headmaster, have all the Aurors left the school?"
Dumbledore nodded: "Yes, Lucius will have a lot of trouble ahead, Miss Vera has taken him away, and the other Aurors have also left." Seeing Dylan nod slightly, Dumbledore asked with some curiosity: "Aren't you going to ask why the Aurors left directly?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow: "Why would I ask that? I'm not curious about these things, Professor."
Dumbledore shrugged with a hint of regret: "Alright then."
Dylan looked at the Sorting Hat placed on the table, subtly straightening his posture. Why did Dumbledore take this out? Is he trying to find an opportunity to strike him down with a sword? Is he seriously going to become Gandalf?
"Dylan, do you know what the sacred relic of Gryffindor is?"
"Of course. There are some records in Hogwarts' school history. The Sword of Gryffindor—Gryffindor's relic, and one of the symbols of Gryffindor House. Even the Sorting Hat was originally Gryffindor's hat."
Dumbledore nodded slightly: "That's right. In fact, the Sword of Gryffindor is hidden inside the Sorting Hat."
Dylan blinked: "When the Sorting Ceremony was held, I asked this Hat about the heritage of the four houses, but it didn't reveal anything to me."
Just then, the Sorting Hat, which had been acting like an ornament, suddenly turned around, its large mouth gaping, and yelled at Dylan: "You little lunatic, stop playing dumb!"
"You already knew that sword was with me back then!"
Dylan stared at the Sorting Hat for a moment, making the latter flinch: "What do you want? Do you know where this is?"
"Of course I do. This is the Headmaster's office." Dylan chuckled and straightened up again.
"You know, yet 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 yelled.
"What lie? I never said I didn't know the Sword of Gryffindor was inside you," Dylan looked at it in confusion. "As for why I was staring at you just now, I apologize. I wasn't making fun of your hat-body. It's just that this is the first time I've seen you speak face-to-face from such a close distance."
The Sorting Hat's floppy brim tilted: "What's wrong with me like this?"
Dylan scrutinized it up and down: "You look truly bizarre. If Malfoy's convoluted face is so ugly it's like a miscarriage of justice, then when your big mouth opens wide, it's a bit like a running shoe coming unglued."
"Just looking at your tattered appearance, you seemed profound, but once you open your mouth, all profundity vanishes."
The Sorting Hat's floppy body suddenly stiffened, its brim shaking violently—as if trembling with rage. This not only twisted its already loose wrinkles together, but its normally free-moving mouth gaped wide, yet no sound came out, making its appearance even more indescribable.
Dylan pouted: "Now you look a bit like the Kraken from a novel."
"..."
The Sorting Hat was so enraged it stood rigidly in place, its peak held high. Dumbledore sat opposite Dylan, and seeing the Sorting Hat being bullied like this, his lips uncontrollably curved upwards, revealing a row of neat teeth. His shoulders subtly shook, and he raised a finger to adjust his glasses.
He really wanted to see what it would be like if this little fellow and Severus got into a cursing match. If one of them was subtly passive-aggressive, the other would just unleash full-blown verbal attacks!
"Alright, my boy, when the Hat gets angry, it can be quite troublesome. Hogwarts still needs it for sorting after the summer holidays." Dumbledore winked at Dylan.
Dylan nodded understandingly: "I apologize, I didn't mean to make Head Boy Sorting Hat angry. I was just being honest. Professor McGonagall taught me that one must always be honest."
The Sorting Hat beside them was so angry it couldn't utter a sound. Dumbledore, however, came to its rescue: "Then why don't you evaluate me?"
Dylan nodded, his expression serious: "I see your forehead is full and prominent, a sign of deep blessings. Your yintang (space between eyebrows) is bright and radiant, showing a clear state of mind. I think you can live at least another hundred years."
"Hahahaha!" Dumbledore suddenly burst into laughter. "No wonder Minerva and the others praise you! Even Severus can show a good face to you, a Gryffindor."
Dylan said earnestly: "Professor, I'm just telling the truth. Don't think I'm flattering you."
"Alright, alright, I believe you." He patted the tip of the Sorting Hat, then changed the subject: "My boy, do you want to possess this holy Sword of Gryffindor?"
Dylan was truly stunned this time: "The Sword of Gryffindor? Of course, I'd like to own it, but what would I use it for? I'm a wizard, not a swordsman."
—Nonsense, of course he wanted to get his hands on the Sword of Gryffindor. This holy sword, crafted by Goblin King Ragnuk I according to Gryffindor's design requirements, not only had the ability to absorb specific substances and strengthen itself, but it could also resist various spells.
Even if Dylan isn't a swordsman, isn't it normal for a wizard to wield a long sword? However, he knew perfectly well that Dumbledore wouldn't hand the Sword of Gryffindor to him. Saying such things, he wondered if Dumbledore was subtly testing him. In any case, Dylan couldn't give the old man any leverage.
Dumbledore blinked slightly, as if surprised by Dylan's response. "Alright, that's a shame. I was planning to ask you to hold onto the Sorting Hat for me."
"Hmm?" Dylan froze, looking up in surprise: "Let me hold onto the Sorting Hat? Why is that?"
Dumbledore smiled warmly: "With this lesson, I have a feeling that Hogwarts will not be peaceful in the future. So, I want to entrust someone. As long as the Sorting Hat remains, Gryffindor remains, and Hogwarts remains."
Dylan frowned: "I know, but why me? Professor McGonagall would clearly be more suitable to guard the Sorting Hat than I am."
"Hahaha! Yes, logically speaking, that is true." Dumbledore laughed, shaking his head, then lifted his face, his gaze falling upon Dylan, watching him quietly. "However, none of us have your divination abilities. This crisis, my boy, tell me honestly, did you foresee it beforehand?"
Dylan nodded directly: "Naturally, Professor. But I vaguely saw that the outcome didn't seem too bad."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Harry told me that he seemed to have given you that diary to examine."
"Yes, Professor."
"So you truly didn't find anything out in the end?"
"No, Professor." Dylan shook his head: "That diary was not afraid of the spells I used, nor when I tested it. I initially thought there was some magic I couldn't understand protecting the diary's contents, including the diary itself.
However, combining it with what has already happened, the existence of a soul within the diary, its inability to be destroyed by spells, and its difficulty in being harmed by other means—all these characteristics suggest that the diary seems to be..."
"A Horcrux?"
"Yes, Professor." Dylan nodded: "Based on the dark magic knowledge I've seen in the Restricted Section, and my current understanding, only a Horcrux can explain the diary's existence."
"So it is," Dumbledore slowly frowned, then slowly sighed. "If that vanished notebook is indeed a Horcrux, then perhaps what I feared might truly come to pass."
"Are you referring to Harry? Or are you concerned about other crises happening later?"
"..." Dumbledore clicked his tongue, "Both, I suppose."
"Do you have new prophecies for both of those?"
"Ah-ha, no."
Dumbledore blinked: "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 done much divination recently because I've found that divination is quite draining. It affects my studies."
"So, you're guessing based on something you heard or saw?"
"Yes, Harry mentioned to me that Hermione and others believe that Parselmouths must be descendants of Slytherin, but I don't think so."
"Why do you say that?" Dylan's gaze either met Dumbledore's or he looked down at his toes, not glancing around the room. "Harry's scar on his forehead was left when Voldemort killed his parents, right?"
"That's correct."
"Then that makes sense. Although I haven't found detailed books on Horcruxes in the Restricted Section, some books do mention what a Horcrux generally is."
Dumbledore frowned slightly: "You mean, you believe Harry was made into a Horcrux by Voldemort at that time?"
"Yes, but not entirely." Dylan pursed his lips: "After all, the method for creating a Horcrux should be extremely strict, shouldn't it?"
"Heh heh, I wouldn't know about that."
Dylan nodded: "After Voldemort killed Harry's parents, he himself also died. Therefore, saying that Voldemort made Harry into a Horcrux isn't entirely accurate. Perhaps when Voldemort's soul collapsed, some method was used."
"—For example, a small fragment of his soul, following the Killing Curse he cast, might have shot into Harry's body, ultimately causing Harry to become a form of Horcrux." Dylan's face showed a perfectly timed expression of contemplation.
"And I remember that when Harry faced Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort, he sometimes felt his forehead scar faintly ache, especially when Voldemort was finally trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone—he was always holding his head in the dormitory during that time."
"Could that be because the fragment of Voldemort's soul inside him sensed Voldemort's presence?"
Dylan's theory and speculation caused Dumbledore's expression to subtly stiffen. His normally gentle demeanor seemed to be covered by a faint shadow, adding a touch of gravity. He instinctively adjusted his glasses, his fingers lingering briefly on the frame, then slowly lowered them.
It's Tom's soul...
Dumbledore's heart sank. After Harry told him he had seen a person claiming to be Tom appear in the diary, he suspected that the diary might have been made into a Horcrux by Voldemort during his school days.
He even had his suspicions about Harry himself. Harry should have some kind of link with Tom; this was evident from his ability to speak Parseltongue. However, he had initially only thought it was the effect of Tom's magic acting on Harry. But now, Dylan's suggestion pointed Harry's condition towards an extremely serious and troublesome path, even for him.
Harry, a Horcrux?
Dylan paid no mind to what Dumbledore was thinking. He picked up the Sorting Hat from the desk and fiddled with its brim.
"Hey! You audacious little imp, what are you doing! Stop it now!"
"Don't move, I'm just checking the material of your body. After all these years, you've managed to stay preserved, only looking a bit tattered. This material seems quite tough." Dylan mumbled softly: "I wonder if I can pluck some leather from you?"
"What did you say?!" The Sorting Hat's body trembled, and it opened its large mouth in disbelief. "You, you dare to cut me? Enough, stop pulling at me! Put me down quickly!"
Dylan pouted: "I clearly haven't cut you yet."
"You already have that thought, so why would I worry that you wouldn't act on it? Put me down!"
Dylan rolled his eyes: "If you want me to put you down, I'll put you down. Do you think I'm very fond of you? Actually, I don't really want you. Don't be ridiculous, you're quite ordinary. I was just joking; you wouldn't take it seriously, would you?"
Sorting Hat: ?
Dylan: "Really not giving it to me? Hahahaha, if you don't give it, then don't. I don't really care."
Sorting Hat: ???
After a moment of silence, it spoke faintly: "Actually, you were lying when you said you wanted to go to Ravenclaw, weren't you? I clearly sensed you wanted to go to Gryffindor!"
"And you're really suited for Gryffindor! A mad little lion!"
Dylan "tch"-ed and tossed the Sorting Hat back onto Dumbledore's desk. Their conversation again attracted Dumbledore's attention. Slowly recovering, Dumbledore was amused by Dylan once more, and the look in his eyes gradually softened. However, he still had some questions for Dylan.
"This incident seems to be over, and yet not quite, my boy—did you foresee the final outcome?"
Dylan tilted his head, his peripheral vision catching the numerous portraits on the Headmaster's office wall. Their expressions also seemed to carry a hint of gravity, their gazes all falling towards Dylan.
"Perhaps. I saw everyone smiling—I think the outcome should be good?" Dylan said slowly: "Regardless, in the end, Hogwarts still stands here—that's what I saw."
Dumbledore slowly leaned back, his body sinking into the chair back, nodding slightly towards Dylan. His silver hair gently swayed with his movement, and his long beard cascaded down like a waterfall, almost touching his body.
"Is that so? Minerva says your prophecies are very accurate—much more accurate than Professor Trelawney's. So I believe your divination results will certainly be as you've seen them."
The old Headmaster's lips parted softly, his voice thin as a thread, like a wisp of smoke carried on the air, easily dispersing if one wasn't careful.
"Professor, do you have anything else to ask?"
"Harry... do you have a way to resolve his situation?"
"Oh, goodness, Professor, I wouldn't want to 'resolve' Harry. I'm just a second-year student still learning."
"Heh heh, I misspoke. Go back; you should have a lot more to study."
"Yes, Professor. If you have no further questions, I'll take my leave now." Dylan stood up.
Dumbledore, however, was already leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed. Seeing this, Dylan nodded slightly to Dumbledore, then turned and left the Headmaster's office.
After he left, the office returned to silence, not even a faint sound of breathing was clearly audible. Dumbledore, who had been leaning back in his chair with his fingers gently clasped across his chest, slowly opened his eyes once the sound of the door closing had completely faded. His gaze swept towards the portraits on the wall. At the same time, those portraits also opened their eyes, their gazes focusing on Dumbledore.
"What are your thoughts, everyone?"
An old Headmaster, wearing a tall hat and a stern expression, spoke first, his voice deep: "This child is not simple; he keeps his thoughts hidden. However—I don't feel he's a bad child."
Dumbledore chuckled: "Dylan is very clever, and I don't believe he's a bad child either—you can tell from the result the Mirror gave."
A female Headmistress in an elegant robe crossed her arms: "He's only a second-year, and he already has such thoughts. That's not a bad child?"
The thin Headmaster hanging next to her pouted: "What kind of bad child is this? If this can be called bad, then I'm utterly rotten."
The female Headmistress rolled her eyes in disgust, completely ignoring him. Dumbledore listened to the chatter from the surrounding portraits, and a deeper thought slowly drifted through his eyes.
"In any case, the Mirror doesn't lie. Regarding Kael'thas, we need to consider other candidates."
The meeting between Dylan and Dumbledore reveals several layers of Dumbledore's suspicions and strategic probing, particularly concerning Dylan's knowledge of dark magic and the Chamber of Secrets incident. Dylan, in turn, demonstrates sharp wit and a knack for diverting attention while subtly conveying his advanced understanding of the magical world.
What do you think Dumbledore's next move will be, given Dylan's revelations about Harry as a potential Horcrux and the "Kael'thas" situation?
.....
For 70 advanced chapters:
p_treon.com/Chaos_God
Thank you so much for your support and for reading