Only His Mouth Would Float Above Water

"How are you?"

Madam Hooch immediately strode forward to Neville's side, looking down at the chubby boy sitting on the grass with a dazed, vacant expression.

Neville did not speak. Tears spilled from his eyes first.

He had clearly been frightened badly.

Dylan stepped forward, not bothering to check whether Neville was injured.

"Episkey!"

The wood grain of his wand faintly emerged in the glow.

With a light flick of his wrist, a soft golden light shot from the tip of his wand.

Neville finally came back to himself and looked at his knee.

"It doesn't hurt anymore..."

Dylan raised his eyebrows. His Levitation Charm was already fairly proficient, but this chubby boy's weight was honestly a little over the limit.

In his haste, he had not been able to completely offset the impact of Neville's fall.

There were probably a few minor scrapes, but they should not have been serious.

And with several layers of his spells supporting him, Neville did not seem to have suffered any severe internal injuries.

At most, he had gotten a fright.

A few bitter doses of Potion should more or less do the trick.

Madam Hooch still held her wand in her hand, but she stared blankly at Dylan as he circled Neville three times, seemingly checking whether the Young Wizard had suffered any other injuries.

"Madam Hooch, my Episkey might not completely heal Neville's wounds, and if he has internal injuries, they won't be easy for us to detect."

Dylan looked up at Madam Hooch. "So I'll have to trouble you to take him to the Hospital Wing."

Madam Hooch came back to her senses, glanced at Dylan, and nodded lightly. "You did very well."

She had never expected that, as a Flying Class professor—

she would handle a student accident less well than a first-year student.

That was also because she had seen too many flying accidents. She believed that Young Wizards needed more hardship to truly learn how to fly.

But then she remembered that she could not apply the same standards to first-year students.

After helping Neville to his feet, Madam Hooch pondered for a moment, then turned back and looked at Dylan once more.

"Your reaction was quick, and you handled the situation very appropriately. Gryffindor gets five points for that!"

"Woohoo!"

The Gryffindor Little Lions immediately burst into cheers.

Meanwhile, Slytherin's Little Snakes all pursed their lips, their faces full of dissatisfaction.

"Now, everyone put your Flying Broomsticks back where they belong. Until I return from taking Mr. Longbottom to the Hospital Wing, no one is allowed to attempt flying!"

Before leaving, Madam Hooch sternly warned all the Young Wizards, "If anyone dares to fly without permission, they can wait to be expelled!"

Dylan did not go with Madam Hooch to take Neville to the Hospital Wing.

After Madam Hooch left, the Young Wizards stood where they were, looking blankly at one another.

Suddenly, Malfoy stepped forward with his broomstick in hand.

"Hey, did you see that fat kid's face? God, it was hilarious! How could anyone be unable to even hold on to a broom?"

Malfoy's voice was extremely arrogant.

Harry and Ron immediately shot him displeased looks.

Malfoy provocatively stared back, his little mouth still chattering away.

Dylan narrowed his eyes.

He remembered that during Flying Class, Malfoy had apparently gotten into a conflict with Harry after taking Neville's Remembrall.

This time, Dylan had stuffed Neville's Remembrall into his backpack beforehand and had not brought it along at all. Yet Malfoy had still come looking for trouble.

He walked straight up to Malfoy.

Malfoy paused.

The several spells Dylan had cast in quick succession earlier were beyond even him, a Slytherin.

And over the past two weeks, Dylan's outstanding performance in every class had made Malfoy instinctively feel inferior whenever he stood before him.

"What do you want?" Malfoy glared at Dylan, trying to sound fierce despite his fear. "Everyone from our House is here!"

He looked around at the Slytherin Young Wizards, but none of them dared meet Dylan's gaze. One by one, they lowered their heads.

"You..." Malfoy choked.

Dylan's gaze remained calm. "Mr. Draco, I really don't understand how someone as stupid as you has survived in this cold and heartless world."

"What?!"

Malfoy's eyes went wide as he stared at Dylan in disbelief, as though he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard.

"Do you know who my mother is? How dare you speak to me like that? Your parents are nothing but Muggles!"

This time, Dylan's gaze changed.

He began looking at Malfoy as though he were an idiot.

"What I mean is, failure is the mother of success. You're just a little too attached to your mother."

Dylan had no interest in bickering with a Young Wizard. It was far too boring.

Besides, he didn't care whether Malfoy liked Harry and, because of his awkward big-boy pride, only knew how to express his affection by bullying him.

He had no intention of becoming everyone's emotional mentor, nor could he.

So, when Malfoy opened his mouth to speak again—

Dylan raised his wand. "Silencio!"

In an instant, an invisible force of magic seemed like a Binding Spell, locking Malfoy's throat shut.

Before Malfoy could spit out the vicious curse he had racked his brains to come up with, his voice cut off abruptly.

All that remained were his wide, bulging eyes, burning with a mixture of fury and shock.

He clawed at his tightly sealed mouth. His thin, cruel lips trembled with effort, and his cheeks puffed up.

He looked exactly like an enraged pufferfish that had suddenly been silenced.

He pulled out his wand, intending to dispel Dylan's spell.

But whether it was Finite Incantatem or a Counter-Charm, he had not mastered either one and couldn't cast them at all.

Compared to Dylan's smooth spellcasting, the difference between them was obvious.

The Gryffindor Little Lions beside them all burst into laughter.

Ron and Harry rushed over to Dylan, their faces full of excitement.

However, Dylan stopped them from mocking Malfoy.

"As a Pure-blood Wizard of Slytherin, I hope you'll improve your magic instead of becoming someone who falls into the water and has nothing floating above the surface but his mouth."

With a light wave of his wand, Dylan lifted the spell.

Malfoy continued glaring at Dylan, but he didn't dare say another word.

He hadn't expected this Gryffindor fellow to be smart, let alone know so many spells.

More importantly!

His tongue was even sharper than those of the Slytherins!

"I hope you can all keep quiet and not disturb me."

Shaking his head, Dylan first put the Flying Broomstick back where it had been.

Then he sat directly on the grass, took out the Potion Safety Guide, and began reading it carefully over and over.