What's Even More Thrilling, You Know?

"Dylan, aren't you surprised at all? That was a Three-Headed Dog!" Ron pouted and looked at Dylan.

Dylan paused mid-motion as he was about to drink his milk, his eyelashes fluttering twice. "Huh? Of course I am. I'm extremely surprised!"

Gulp, gulp~

He tipped his head back slightly and swallowed the milk in great mouthfuls.

By the time he set down the cup, a faint ring of milk still clung to his lips.

Dylan swept his tongue lightly across his lips, then picked up his fork, ready to take a fried egg.

Seeing how calm and at ease he was, Ron planted both hands on the table and abruptly sat up straight.

"God, Dylan!"

His suddenly raised voice drew quite a few students' gazes.

Ron paused, his body stiffening before he shrank back down again. Resting his head on the table, he leaned as close to Dylan as he could.

"A Three-Headed Dog! I mean, that was a Three-Headed Dog! Aren't you curious how powerful it is?"

Dylan glanced at the silly boy and smacked his lips twice.

"The headmaster already said those places were absolutely off-limits. You could really die there. It wouldn't even be impossible for there to be Dementors locked inside... You know what Dementors are, right?"

"Even if there aren't any Dementors, you said there was a Three-Headed Dog. There could be other creatures too, like a Basilisk, a Troll, or something."

"I'm genuinely surprised you all came back in one piece. Really."

Afraid Ron would not believe him, Dylan added that last sentence.

Ron's expression seemed to have been frozen. After staring blankly for a moment, he blinked rapidly.

He pursed his lips, scratched the back of his head with one hand, rubbed his feet against the floor, and lowered his head. "But last night was really thrilling."

Dylan smiled. "Do you know what's even more thrilling?"

Ron had a crunchy sausage clamped between his teeth as he looked at him. "What?"

"A Three-Headed Dog possesses limitless strength. Even an iron door would be shattered beneath its impact."

"At the same time, it has powerful Magic Resistance and is almost immune to most spells. Its bite force is astonishing as well."

"Even Hungarian Horntail scales could be bitten through in a single bite. If I had to put it into words..."

Dylan's half-smiling gaze fell upon the sausage hanging from Ron's mouth.

"Isn't it nice and crunchy when you chew it? That's what it's like when it eats you."

"When it holds you in its mouth, the first thing you'll hear is a pop—that's the sound of your body being bitten through like a punctured balloon."

"Of course, when its middle head has you in its jaws, the other two heads won't be idle either."

"The head on the left will bite off your head, while the one on the right will stuff your two legs into its mouth."

"In only a moment, the parts of your body separated by its three heads will meet in its throat, before sliding down into its stomach together."

Ron stared at Dylan's moving lips, his eyes bulging as the color drained from his face. His lips began trembling uncontrollably.

"Urgh..."

Ron retched and hurriedly spat out the half-eaten sausage in his mouth, though a few bits of sausage still clung to the corner of his lips.

Harry saw the sausage crumbs at Ron's mouth, swallowed, and quietly withdrew the hand he had been about to use to grab a sausage.

"Actually, I think... Hermione isn't as awful as Ron says. She could have left us behind last night, but she helped us a lot in the end. We could only get through that locked door because of Hermione, too. She's really smart."

Harry tried to move past the subject of the Three-Headed Dog.

Ron hurriedly put down the sausage in his hand as well.

He glanced at Hermione beside him, his mouth twisting nearly up to the sky.

He clearly did not agree with Harry. Red-faced and thick-necked, he said, "Actually, if she hadn't opened that door, how could we possibly have run into that huge thing?"

"That Three-Headed Dog was really dangerous! Dylan said so himself—it would swallow us like sausages!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, seized by the urge to pull out her thickest book and swing it straight at Ron's head.

"Too bad there isn't a history class today. Otherwise, A History of Magic would be just the thing."

She gave a soft huff and glared at Ron. "Actually, if it weren't for me, you would've been caught by the professors long ago and expelled in disgrace!"

Ron scoffed, just about to argue back.

But seeing that Dylan no longer wanted to pay them any attention, he hurriedly changed the subject again.

"I remember the day Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, he took out a small cloth bundle. That was also the day Gringotts was attacked by someone."

After what had happened the night before, Harry could not help suspecting that the Three-Headed Dog had been placed in the forbidden area to guard something—and that it was very likely the thing Hagrid had taken out!

"But what exactly was it?"

Ron was drawn in by Harry's words and began muttering along with him.

But no matter how long they thought, neither of them could figure out what it might be.

In the end, they both turned their gazes toward Dylan.

Dylan naturally knew what Hagrid had taken out: a Philosopher's Stone, something he considered not particularly useful.

The Philosopher's Stone's most miraculous effect was nothing more than brewing the Elixir of Life.

Yet even if one could live for a very long time with the help of such an Elixir of Life, after merely three to five hundred years, the body would become utterly decrepit.

In the end, even a handshake could possibly result in broken bones.

Dylan had no interest whatsoever in such a painful way of living.

In his view, Potions could certainly brew a more stable and perfect Elixir of Life without relying on the Philosopher's Stone.

It was only that modern wizards had yet to discover the method.

Dylan believed that as long as he brewed Potions a thousand times, experienced the different colors rising from the bubbling brew in the cauldron, tasted the bitterness of success and failure, and sensed pungent or strange scents—

With the ever-increasing talent for Potions granted by the Achievement System, he would surely be able to forge a new path toward immortality.

But he was only ten years old. Absorbing more magical knowledge was his top priority.

As for immortality?

By Voldemort, he was nowhere near the age to be thinking about that.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, could start considering it.

"Dylan, what do you think that thing might be?"

Seeing the two of them staring at him like puppies with wet, glistening eyes, Dylan resisted the urge to pat Ron and Harry on the head and set down his fork.

"If you think Hagrid put that thing in the restricted area and had a Three-Headed Dog guard it, then it must be something very precious."