Chapter 219: The End of Science Is Magic!
With Professor Snape teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, he had even more reasons to target Gryffindor, especially Harry. Of course, targeting Harry and the other Gryffindors only took up half of the class time.
For the other half, Professor Snape began by scathingly criticizing Lupin's teaching progress from every possible angle, from inside out, from outside in, and from the bones to the scalp.
When he finally started teaching, Professor Snape, in his usual manner, found that not only was Gryffindor's progress slow, but their knowledge was also poor. This gave him another opportunity to criticize Lupin's teaching quality before finally humiliating the Gryffindor students.
During this time, some students tried to fight back. Their method of resistance was to ask Professor Snape to question Dylan whenever they couldn't answer one of his questions.
However, Dylan would never blurt out the answer for someone else—unless Professor Snape actually turned to him and asked. Why would he want to make Snape's hair greasy again? Was it not enough to just take care of his emotions a little?
Dylan held an indifferent and even pleased attitude towards Professor Snape's sarcastic nature. Wasn't it interesting to watch an old boy being mischievous?
Of course, the main thing was that when faced with mockery or insults, if you were the one who broke first, the person insulting you would be very happy. But if they tried their best and couldn't break your composure, they would be the one to break instead.
So, although Professor Snape was being sarcastic to the Gryffindor students, if those kids were capable enough to meet his demanding requirements, he would naturally have no excuse to be sarcastic. And if they maintained a good attitude like Dylan when faced with the sarcasm, they wouldn't let other people's words cause their emotions to fluctuate wildly.
Dylan believed that students should act like students. It was only reasonable and logical for them to be criticized by a teacher if they didn't do well or were slow learners—even though Professor Snape's criticism was more than just criticism.
If a professor had to coddle students while teaching, things would really get out of hand. This was especially true in a world where magic could be learned! When casting magic, it was something that could not be taken lightly. A demanding standard, when looked at from another perspective, was actually a sign of a professor's dedication and responsibility.
Dylan, who had a large number of max-level spells and could even develop his own based on them, knew very well that magic was not something to be trifled with.
A single moment of carelessness could lead to an accident. This accident could threaten your own life or the lives of those around you. So, it was always better to have strict requirements than to let students use magic freely and suffer a terrible backlash.
Finally, the class—which was as pleasant as a spring breeze for Dylan but terrifying for everyone else—was coming to an end. Even though Professor Snape hadn't actually taught any spells, just having to listen to him still made many feel as if they were sitting on pins and needles.
Of course, Professor Snape hadn't taught absolutely nothing. He had focused on describing a very ferocious creature: the werewolf. In Professor Snape's words, werewolves were a group of cursed and twisted monsters. On the night of the full moon, they would shed their human skin, revealing fangs stained with blood.
They would get down on all fours—Dylan didn't understand why Professor Snape would emphasize that werewolves would be on all fours—but they would be on all fours.
They would run wildly through the gutters, their throats emitting howls more disgusting than the screams of Death Eaters. Werewolves were pitiful creatures that did not deserve sympathy because they were a disaster walking among men and a stain that the magical world could never wash away!
The description couldn't be called accurate; it was completely subjective.
At that moment, the candlelight in the classroom suddenly dimmed. Professor Snape's black robes, wrapped in a chill, swept down the aisle. He slammed a pile of homework papers onto the podium.
The dull thud of the parchment made the students in the front row flinch. If they had known that Professor Snape was teaching today and not Professor Lupin, they wouldn't have rushed to sit in the front row! But now that it was too late to regret it, they could only keep their heads down.
"This is what Lupin taught you? The so-called strategy for fighting against the Dark Arts?" Professor Snape picked up one of the assignments. "Using the Levitation Charm to deal with a Boggart? I suggest you go to the Owlery right now, write home, and request to withdraw your enrollment."
"Didn't Lupin have you all see a Boggart with your own eyes? Were you all just busy laughing at each other?"
At this, Professor Snape subtly glanced at Dylan, who pretended not to see it.
"Also, I asked you to write your understanding of this class, and someone actually told me they fantasized about making friends with a werewolf?"
Professor Snape's shoulders twitched slightly, and a cold laugh escaped his throat. "When the full moon comes and they tear open your throat, remember to ask them if they'd be willing to discuss what friendship is while they drink your blood and eat your flesh!"
In the corner of the classroom, a student buried his head even lower. Snape's eyes narrowed, his voice like an ice pick, piercing everyone's ears. "You're all hopelessly stupid—Defence Against the Dark Arts isn't some child's play for you to write bedtime stories about!"
Almost with the sound of the bell, Professor Snape's voice rang out. "Before next week, everyone! Two rolls of parchment—detailing werewolf habits and defense strategies."
Professor Snape's gaze swept across the room. "If I see any more ridiculous and stupid nonsense like 'feeding moon-grass to a werewolf to win it over,' you can prepare to dance with a Boggart in my dungeon until dawn."
As the last syllable fell, the bell for the end of class chimed softly, carrying a lingering melody through the room. It also lifted the hem of Professor Snape's black robes as he swept past the doorway, leaving behind a chorus of groans in the classroom.
Dylan began to pack up his things. There wasn't much to pack; he just needed to tap his wand lightly, and all his belongings would be collected into his system panel.
Dylan and Neville walked to the Great Hall together. The latter was still in a daze. Professor Snape hadn't spared Neville and had severely criticized him in class. Dylan blinked. Professor Snape could be said to have gone crazy today. He even tried to pick on Dylan, but of course, he didn't succeed.
Faced with any question from Professor Snape, or questions that others couldn't answer and were thrown at him, Dylan could answer with ease and as much detail as possible. This approach gave Snape no opportunity to find fault.
In fact, because Dylan kept answering questions, and his answers were incredibly correct, like a textbook, and always perfectly standard, Professor Snape was even forced to award Gryffindor ten points. Ten points was his limit. He wished he could add them one point at a time, but he was taking away ten points at a time.
"Are you having a headache from being yelled at?" Dylan said with a smile, looking at Neville.
Neville scratched his head sheepishly. "It really did leave me feeling lost. I guess I don't have much talent for Defence Against the Dark Arts."
Dylan smiled and shook his head. "Professor Snape's pace was a bit fast. Professor Lupin hadn't even told us what a werewolf was yet, so it's normal for you not to know."
Neville blinked and looked up. "But Dylan, you answered so smoothly. It was as if you knew everything Professor Snape asked."
Dylan sat down. "That's because I'd already previewed all the lessons, so I knew."
—Of course. He could even brew the potion for werewolves, so how could he not know what a werewolf was? Professor Snape knew this, too, which was why he had specifically asked some more obscure questions in class today. But Dylan had still managed to field them all.
Neville also sat down next to Dylan. "I think I should finish the Defence Against the Dark Arts homework first. I don't want to spend a night with a Boggart."
Dylan couldn't help but chuckle at Neville's pale face. This guy, if he ran into a Boggart right now, it would probably turn into Professor Snape. But... Dylan thought about what Professor Snape had said. The one who didn't finish their homework would have to dance with a Boggart all night? Dylan thought about the ridiculous image of Neville dancing with a Boggart that had turned into Professor Snape...
"Ugh, weird."
Hermione also walked over at that moment. She had also been reprimanded by Professor Snape today. The reason wasn't that Snape was deliberately picking on her or asking her difficult questions.
It was because Snape had severely criticized Lupin's teaching progress and then skipped a lot of material to teach the students about werewolves. Hermione had questioned this, and the result was, of course, predictable.
She sat down, looking a little depressed. "I just don't understand, is Professor Snape out of his mind?"
Neville was startled and looked at her with his chin tucked in. He quickly glanced around, and only after not seeing Snape did he let out a sigh of relief. How could she say that about Professor Snape? If he heard... Neville didn't even dare to think about it and just shivered. He also didn't dare to respond to Hermione's comment. It was almost as if Hermione was the one who had gone a little crazy.
Dylan shook his head. After just one class, everyone had gone a little crazy—including Professor Snape. But he was the exception. His mental state was excellent and very hard to be influenced by any external factors.
Dylan picked up a piece of steak, then paused. "Hmm... except for that little girl who's even more annoying than me when she talks."
After lunch, classes continued in the afternoon. Time passed quickly. Everyone's mood gradually shifted to the first Quidditch match of the season, which was set to start tomorrow. The excitement was high, and the pressure from Professor Snape had largely dissipated.
Then, the day of the match arrived. Dylan looked at the gloomy weather outside the window and sighed.
"Do they really have to chase that little Quidditch ball?"
A match was still being held despite the rain. The sportsmanship was amazing. In fact, for a Quidditch match, bad weather was a relatively minor difficulty. And the Quidditch matches between the Hogwarts houses were just the most basic games. If they faced something like last year, they would still be canceled.
The Quidditch World Cup, however, was different. Forget heavy rain. Even if knives were falling from the sky and a player was stabbed straight through, a substitute player would just take their place. The match would go on!
The leaden clouds were so thick it looked like the sky was about to collapse. Muffled thunder, like a slumbering python, rumbled and hissed in the clouds, ready to strike at any moment. The gale-force wind, carrying fat raindrops, beat down on the mottled stone walls of Hogwarts Castle with a brutal force, creating broken splashes of water.
Dylan walked out the door and instantly felt a damp chill carrying the smell of rain rush towards him. In the heavy rain, the trees in the distant Forbidden Forest were whipped by the wind, their branches twisting, and the sound of dry branches snapping could be heard occasionally.
Dylan turned his head and looked back. The heavy rain, the gale-force wind, the black clouds, the Forbidden Forest, the castle, and... the match that was about to begin.
"Tsk, this kind of magical and adventurous scene really is a classic opening for a fantasy story."
Dylan was inexplicably moved. In his previous life, he would never have had the chance to experience any of this. But now, he had the opportunity to personally feel and even manipulate this kind of epic fantasy!
The rain poured down, turning Hogwarts into a hazy gray silhouette. Dylan walked in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, stepping through puddles. An invisible shield floated above his head—a magical, intangible umbrella. When the raindrops hit it, they would only create a faint, shimmering ripple before sliding down the invisible surface and splashing at Dylan's feet, leaving his body completely dry.
In his previous life, whenever he faced various weather conditions, he would occasionally have fantasies. For example, on a day with heavy rain like this, he wished he could use magic to create an invisible umbrella instead of having to carry and hold one, which was too tiring. Or in the summer, when it was so hot it felt like a steamer or an oven, Dylan would fantasize about having a Doraemon's pocket. That way, he could pull out a portable air conditioner. It was a device that floated above a person's head, moved with them, and could keep a certain area at a comfortable temperature.
But now, he didn't need Doraemon's gadgets. He himself was the Doraemon who could make all these things happen!
This made Dylan think of a phrase:
"The end of science is magic!"
....
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