After an entire night of searching, the results were exactly as Dylan had expected.
Not a single professor had found Sirius Black or figured out which corner of the school he was hiding in.
Dylan was perfectly fine with this outcome. After all, it's not like he could roll his eyes so hard they'd end up in the back of his head. What else could he do but accept it?
If those professors were really serious about finding someone, Dylan didn't buy for a second that a group of highly skilled witches and wizards—plus the greatest wizard alive, old Dumbledore himself—could search all night and not find a single trace of Sirius. Not even a stray hair.
Was that reasonable?
If they couldn't find him, why not just cast a tracking spell or something? Instead, they went all out, combing the school with sheer manpower to hunt down Sirius's location. Talk about letting the water out of the dam—the Black Lake was practically overflowing, ready to flood all of Hogwarts with their half-hearted effort.
Sure, there was a fugitive Sirius Black loose in the school, but during the day, everyone just went about their business as usual. The next evening, though, Dumbledore didn't make the students gather in the Great Hall again. Instead, he and the other professors cast multiple protective charms on the common rooms of all four Hogwarts houses.
And since the Fat Lady was still recovering from Sirius's attack and hadn't fully healed, someone else had to take over guarding the Gryffindor common room entrance. Dumbledore asked around, but no one was exactly jumping at the chance to stand guard.
In the end, Sir Cadogan stepped up, boldly volunteering for the job. Dumbledore praised his courage, and a new portrait frame was set up at the Gryffindor common room entrance. Sir Cadogan moved right in.
Dylan kept getting greeted by the knight, and he'd politely respond every time. Well, except for the weirder moments—like when Sir Cadogan asked Dylan to talk to Dumbledore about letting him duel the portraits in the headmaster's office. Somehow, the knight had heard that Dylan was chummy enough with Dumbledore to waltz into the headmaster's office whenever he pleased.
The first time Dylan heard this request, he thought he'd misheard. A short, stocky knight with only a fat pony for company, armed to the teeth, sure, but what made him think he could take on the portraits in the headmaster's office? Dylan could only shake his head and think: Dumbledore sure knows how to pick 'em. This guy's got some serious guts.
Gutsy or not, Sir Cadogan had the nerve to say it out loud—and even asked Dylan for help! Naturally, Dylan turned him down.
After being rejected, Sir Cadogan challenged Dylan to a duel. Dylan just laughed it off. Truth be told, his skills were probably on par with—or even stronger than—the portraits in the headmaster's office. To him, the knight's fiery attitude was like watching a kid who wasn't the sharpest wand in the shop. No matter how sharp or snarky Sir Cadogan got, Dylan brushed it off with a smile.
After being ignored a few times, Sir Cadogan still greeted Dylan daily. But his passwords? They were getting more and more ridiculous—borderline absurd. The knight would sometimes challenge other young witches and wizards to duels, but no one paid him any mind. With no one to fight, it was like his brain short-circuited. He started coming up with increasingly complex, hard-to-remember passwords for the common room.
And he didn't even stick to a schedule for changing them. Some days, you'd have to deal with two, three, even four or five new passwords just to get inside! Dylan was convinced Sir Cadogan only volunteered for the job because he wanted the power to control who got in and out of the Gryffindor common room.
Luckily, Dylan didn't come and go from the dorms too often. He'd either spend the whole day in the library or holed up in his room. If he didn't know the password, he'd just ask someone nearby and figure it out. Sir Cadogan, who was itching to catch Dylan out, never managed to stop him—not even once. The knight was so frustrated, he even started glaring at his own fat pony.
But while Sir Cadogan's antics didn't bother Dylan much, poor Neville Longbottom was the real victim. The chubby little Gryffindor, who already had a shaky memory, was constantly stuck outside the common room. Sometimes he'd just pop to the greenhouses to water some plants, only to come back and find himself locked out for ages. Once, he was stuck until dinnertime, and even after eating, he'd get locked out again until someone helped him get back in.
Eventually, Dylan heard that Neville, embarrassed after asking him about the password a few too many times, started carrying a piece of parchment. Every time Sir Cadogan changed the password, Neville would carefully write it down, word for word. A good memory might not help with schoolwork, but a quill and parchment sure did.
During the day, Dumbledore and the professors would still do occasional sweeps of the castle, but the results were always the same: not a single trace of Sirius Black. And as if the mood wasn't grim enough, the weather at Hogwarts took a turn. Rain started falling, and it just kept getting heavier. It got so bad that Dylan couldn't even sneak off to the Forbidden Forest at night without a hassle.
Luna hadn't been to the forest since the rain started, which meant she and Dylan hadn't crossed paths much lately. They hadn't even been to the Hufflepuff kitchens, since the professors had banned it.
That afternoon, Dylan was in the library, nose-deep in a book. Most students weren't allowed to be there alone—especially not the younger ones, or anyone below fifth year. But Dylan? He was the exception. No professor ever restricted his movements. While everyone else was stuck resting, attending classes, or holed up in their dorms, Dylan could roam freely.
Outside the library, heavy gray clouds churned over Hogwarts. The weather felt oppressive. Rain poured down, fat droplets smacking against the castle's spires, streaming off gargoyles' horns and grotesques' fangs, forming silvery lines that splashed into coin-sized puddles on the stone paths.
It was only afternoon, but the twilight outside was so thick it could've been evening. The Black Lake's surface swirled with thousands of tiny whirlpools from the relentless rain. Dylan listened to the pitter-patter of rain and wind battering the windowpanes. It didn't bother him. He just kept flipping through his book.
Hogwarts was like this every year around this time. Last year, Dylan had used a stormy day like this to successfully master his Animagus transformation. The rain didn't faze him, though the damp chill in the library wasn't exactly cozy. He cast a warming charm around himself and a spell to wick away the moisture, so it didn't really affect him. Honestly, magic was just too convenient.
Snug in an armchair by the fireplace, warmed by his charm, Dylan felt perfectly comfortable. Suddenly, a wave of pine-scented warmth brushed past him. He looked up to see Cedric standing in the flickering glow of the firelight.
The Hufflepuff prefect cut a striking figure, tall and lean, his deep blue robes speckled with raindrops. The silver-threaded house badge gleamed softly in the firelight. His golden hair, damp from the rain, shone even brighter, with a few stray strands falling across his smooth forehead, framing his warm, kind eyes.
Dylan raised an eyebrow. If a girl were here right now, she'd probably swoon on the spot.
"Hey, Cedric. What's up?"
They'd met before—last time, Cedric had tracked him down in the library too. Cedric gave a gentle smile, his voice rich and warm. "I gotta say, I didn't expect to find you here, lounging in the library, while everyone else is stuck in their dorms."
Dylan chuckled and shrugged. "Guess you've heard the rumors by now. I'm the professors' golden boy—even Snape can't resist my charm and talent. Word's probably spread to the upper years, right?"
Cedric's lips curved into a grin. "Oh, I've definitely heard that Snape, of all people, is nice to a first-year. That's gotta be a Hogwarts record."
Dylan set his book down. "Let's clear one thing up—'nice' is a stretch. Have you ever seen Snape give anyone a warm smile?"
Cedric nodded. "Fair point. I haven't."
Dylan glanced around, noticing there wasn't a spare chair for Cedric to sit in. He didn't bother inviting him to sit, so they just kept talking. "By the way," Dylan said, "now that you're Hufflepuff's Quidditch captain and Seeker, I bet Gryffindor's feeling the heat."
Cedric blinked, caught off guard. He had just become Hufflepuff's Quidditch captain and Seeker, but the position had been vacant since the last captain graduated. They'd kept it quiet to throw off the other houses' teams, tweaking their lineup in secret to keep their tactics under wraps. They'd only finalized the roster and Cedric's captaincy right before the deadline. None of the other houses' teams should've known yet.
So how did Dylan know?
For a moment, Cedric's mind flashed back to when Dylan faced a boggart, and it turned into his corpse. Then there were all the whispers about Dylan—the professors' favorite, the "Ravenclaw in Gryffindor," or even the "Slytherin in Gryffindor," since Snape seemed to tolerate him. And then there was the wildest nickname of all: the Diviner who's better at Divination than the Divination professor.
Cedric's expression turned serious. "I actually came to follow up on something from last time," he said, looking at Dylan. "I ran into Professor Trelawney recently. I was asking her about something else, but the conversation turned to you—and how your boggart turned into my corpse."
He paused. "Trelawney went on and on, saying you've got this incredible gift for Divination, maybe even stronger than hers. I don't know if she's got any real talent for it herself, but I trust her enough to come ask you directly. Did you… see something about me in a vision? Like, my death? Is that why your boggart turned into me? Am I… going to end up like that?"
Using Legilimency, Dylan could sense Cedric's emotions as he spoke. Despite being a talented and well-liked student, Cedric was rattled. Who wouldn't be, when it came to their own safety? Even a brilliant young wizard like Cedric, still practically a kid, would be shaken by the thought of some grim fate.
Dylan pursed his lips. He couldn't figure out how Trelawney had gotten onto the topic of him during her chat with Cedric. He was also surprised by Cedric's intuition—or maybe Trelawney had spooked him with her usual dramatic flair, connecting the dots to Dylan's boggart incident.
Originally, Dylan had planned to swoop in and save Cedric at the right moment, maybe even leverage it to help him get a good position in the Ministry later. But now that Cedric was asking directly…
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