**Chapter 69: Did This Damn Dylan Cast the Imperius Curse on Professor Snape?**
At the sound of the name, Malfoy stiffened, barely managing to steady himself before turning around. When he saw who it was, he didn't dare say a word, but his eyes burned with anger.
However, the scratches left by bird claws were still visible on his face.
"Malfoy, did I not tell you to stay away from my friends?"
Malfoy paused, his expression blank. "When did you ever say that?"
Dylan: (_)
"Did I not?"
Recalling the last time he had taught Malfoy a lesson during flying class, it seemed he had only scolded him a few times.
Dylan straightened up and looked at Malfoy seriously. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm saying it now."
Malfoy: (●●)…
"You really love sticking your nose in other people's business!" Malfoy glared at Dylan.
Dylan chuckled, unfazed by Malfoy's glare. He calmly raised his hand and gestured toward the bird still circling above Malfoy's head.
Instantly, the bird flapped its wings and flew over, landing gracefully on Dylan's shoulder. It nuzzled his neck affectionately.
Dylan reached out a finger and gently stroked the bird's forehead. A faint ripple of magic emanated from his palm, enveloping the bird.
Gradually, the bird's form grew translucent until it disappeared completely.
Both Malfoy and Neville were stunned by what they had just witnessed.
"You can perform wandless magic?" Malfoy's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Wow, Dylan, you've gotten even stronger!" Neville said, his voice filled with admiration.
Dylan smiled. "I don't like picking on kids, but I also hope you'll stop bothering my friends."
"What are you talking about? You're a kid too!" Malfoy blinked, then glared at Dylan.
"Wait, are you treating me like your lackey? How dare you order me around! You're a Gryffindor, and I'm a Slytherin!"
Dylan tilted his head. "Oh? Even though I often brew potions with Professor Snape's guidance, I had no idea—"
"That Slytherins only use their height and spells to bully others for their own amusement?"
Dylan twirled his wand in his hand. "That's an interesting question. Should I send a message to Professor Snape right now and ask him about it?"
Malfoy's expression froze.
He remembered passing by the Potions classroom earlier and peeking through the small window. He had watched enviously as Professor Snape patiently guided Dylan through a potion.
A wave of jealousy surged through him.
Why?
Why did Professor Snape spend time every week tutoring a Gryffindor?
He was a pure-blood, after all. His talent for potions couldn't possibly be worse than Dylan's!
For days, Malfoy had fantasized about fighting side by side with Harry.
But he also dreamed of being like Dylan, standing at the potion table with Professor Snape every week, receiving one-on-one guidance from the professor!
Yet, no matter how many times he prepared himself and confidently asked Professor Snape for extra lessons, he was always met with a cold rejection.
"Did this damn Dylan cast the Imperius Curse on Professor Snape or something?"
He was the one who should have been favored and nurtured as a Slytherin!
But…
There was no denying that Dylan's magical talent was ridiculously good.
If he were a teacher, he'd probably favor a student like Dylan too—someone with natural talent and a strong work ethic.
"Not saying anything? Should I write to Professor Snape, or should I just tell him in person during our next potion session? That one of his Slytherin students is using magic to bully others?"
Dylan's voice snapped Malfoy out of his thoughts.
Hearing that Dylan would be meeting with Professor Snape again next week, Malfoy's face turned red with anger, like a tomato about to burst.
With a furious huff, he turned on his heel and stormed off, his robes billowing behind him.
As he watched Malfoy leave, Dylan's gaze fell on the wand lying on the ground.
"Tsk." Dylan sighed and raised his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Instantly, Malfoy's wand trembled and rose into the air, arcing gracefully before landing in front of Malfoy, who had already walked several meters away.
Malfoy froze, staring at the familiar wand in front of him. He quickly patted his pockets.
Wait! He had dropped his wand earlier!
His shoulders tensed as he picked up the wand. After a moment, he slowly turned around, his angry expression now mixed with something more complicated.
He hadn't expected Dylan to return his wand after he'd forgotten it. He thought Dylan might have kept it to mess with him.
Seeing Malfoy hesitate, Dylan smirked. "A wizard should never forget his wand—unless you want to try casting spells with your mind and end up summoning a flock of laughing owls."
Malfoy didn't respond. He just pursed his lips, gave Dylan a long look, and then turned away. This time, his steps were slower, more thoughtful, as he disappeared around the corner.
"Thank you, Dylan. You saved me again."
After Malfoy left, Neville looked up at Dylan with his round, chubby face.
Dylan glanced at him, a mental image of being hit by a Transfiguration spell in Professor McGonagall's office flashing through his mind.
He quickly shook his head.
No, no, he wasn't thinking Neville looked like a little pig.
"It's nothing. Let's go eat. It's getting late."
Neville nodded, clutching the crystal ball his grandmother had given him, and followed Dylan to the Great Hall.
Harry and the others were still eating. Dylan and Neville joined them.
As soon as Neville sat down, he began recounting what had happened in the hallway to Ron and Hermione.
Hermione stared at Dylan in amazement. "Wandless magic? You've already mastered wandless magic in your first year? That's impossible! I've tried so many times, and I can't even get close!"
Dylan smiled modestly. "Maybe I'm just naturally gifted. Merlin must be watching over me."
Hermione: (.)
Harry and Ron: (°°)
Neville nodded enthusiastically. "Dylan's amazing! If it weren't for him, Malfoy would've locked my legs together!"
"No big deal." Dylan waved it off casually, already helping himself to a steak.
(End of Chapter)