Can This Broom Make Me Fly?

"If I were alone with Dumbledore, he wouldn't notice anything, would he?"

Dylan put away the envelope in his hand and pondered quietly.

During these first two weeks of school, he had visited the offices of various professors every day, yet no one had discovered that he had completely mastered the Six Great Dark Arts.

Dylan guessed this might have been an effect brought about by his Achievement Rewards.

He had previously completed two achievements.

One allowed others to be unable to indirectly trace the magical traces he left behind.

The other allowed him to cast Dark Arts Spells without any negative emotions, which evidently included the Three Unforgivable Curses.

This meant that while smiling as he cast Avada Kedavra—

Because he had no negative emotions whatsoever, even if others suspected he had mastered Dark Arts Spells, they would first begin doubting themselves.

After all, how could someone without even the slightest negative emotion possibly have mastered max-level Dark Arts Spells?

No matter who looked at him, little Dylan was a diligent, studious, positive-minded good child!

That was the impression nearly every professor Dylan had met held of him.

Naturally, no one questioned whether he had mastered Dark Arts Spells. It had made him much bolder lately, no longer as nervous and fearful as he had been at the beginning.

But other professors were other professors. Dumbledore was Dumbledore.

Up until now, he had never had any one-on-one contact with Dumbledore.

He was not sure whether this living legendary Wizard of the Wizarding World might notice something when they were alone at close range.

"Forget it. I don't think Dumbledore needs me to personally thank him, right?"

To be safe, Dylan still intended to avoid contact with Old Dumbledore as much as possible and not be alone with him if he could help it.

The man was already such an old man, yet he still had not retired. Every day, he was busy running around, battling wits and courage with Voldemort, looking after a group of troublesome little brats, and even considering whether the salaries and benefits of the teachers under him needed raising.

How could Dylan keep disturbing his peace every day?

Dylan decided that, in order to set an example in calling for kindness toward the elderly, he should put all his energy and time into studying on his own.

"There's still a chapter of Potions I haven't read today, and I need to look into Divination too. Besides that, I've just been reading about the similarities between Transfiguration Spells and Summoning Spells, so I need to finish that quickly as well."

Dylan felt that far too many books were waiting for him to lavish attention on them.

If he did not put in some effort, how could he possibly satisfy them all?

"Ah!"

Just then, Neville suddenly cried out.

Dylan's thoughts were interrupted, and he turned to look.

Neville was holding a Remembrall that had turned red.

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

When a Remembrall turned red, it meant Neville had forgotten something rather important.

But seeing Neville's troubled frown, Dylan knew that even with the Remembrall's reminder, he definitely would not remember what exactly he had forgotten.

"Who gave you that Remembrall?" Ron asked from beside him.

"My grandmother sent it." Neville held the Remembrall in one hand.

With the other, he gently rubbed his chubby cheek. His brows were slightly furrowed, his eyes narrowed into slits, and his head tipped back slightly as he desperately searched through his memories.

"But what did I forget?"

Seeing his face turn red from the effort, Dylan pursed his lips, took the Remembrall straight from Neville's hand, and stuffed it into his schoolbag.

"Alright, Neville. If you can't remember it, then it definitely wasn't important. If it was important, you'll naturally remember when you actually run into the situation."

Neville blinked. "Uh, but what if I run into something and haven't prepared what I need in advance?"

"How do you know that whatever you run into will definitely be something that requires advance preparation?" Dylan asked in return. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"(υυ)..." Neville's expression went slightly blank.

Dylan patted him on the shoulder, then stuffed a cup of milk into his hand. "I know every assignment each professor has given. Other than that, I don't think there could be anything more important."

Neville lifted his round face and nodded in agreement. "That makes sense."

Very quickly, Neville tossed the matter to the back of his mind and began eating breakfast again.

After they finished eating, the group stood up and prepared to head to class.

Once Dylan had taken a seat in the front row, something suddenly occurred to him.

"Wait, the thing Neville forgot, couldn't it be..."

Before he could sort out his thoughts, the professor had already entered.

Dylan immediately shifted into study mode as well.

After class, he even followed the professor around to ask his usual questions.

Then came Flying Class in the afternoon.

Dylan and Harry arrived with the others at the open ground in front of the Castle gates.

The Slytherin Young Wizards had gathered there as well.

Looking ahead, Dylan saw nearly thirty Flying Broomsticks laid out on the ground in two rows.

"Huh? I feel like I forgot something."

Madam Hooch approached from the distance.

The moment he saw the professor, Dylan slipped back into study mode.

"Good afternoon, Young Wizards. Now, everyone stand to the left of your Flying Broomstick. Quickly, quickly, quickly!"

Madam Hooch had short gray hair, neatly combed back. Her features were sharply defined, and her thick eyebrows tilted slightly upward.

The moment she reached the Young Wizards from the two houses, she briskly directed everyone into class formation.

The first-years, who had previously been clustered into two groups, quickly split into two lines.

As soon as the first person stepped beside a Flying Broomstick, the others from the same house immediately followed.

Dylan stood together with Neville, Harry, and the others.

He lowered his eyes and examined the Flying Broomstick at his feet.

Its wood was dark and dull, its bristles uneven, some even scorched black and broken. The binding rope was loose, and several pieces of wood were missing from its tail.

"..."

He seriously suspected that taking this Flying Broomstick into the air might lead to some kind of accident.

For example, it might fall apart halfway through a ride.

Or even...

"Can this broom still carry me into the air?"

What if it could not even fly?

"Very good. Now, hold out your left hands above the broom handles, then shout—up!"

"Up!"

The Young Wizards shouted at the tops of their lungs, one after another.

Nearly every first-year succeeded on their first try.

After Dylan shouted once, the battered broom actually jumped up from the ground, allowing him to grab its tail end.

"To learn how to fly, posture comes first! But before that, I need you to remember the key points of flying, and you must keep the safety precautions firmly in mind!"

Madam Hooch's voice was hoarse but powerful, carrying a sharp, penetrating quality.