"I didn't expect that after a real, no-holds-barred battle, your abilities would have improved so much compared to the little test I gave you last time."
Professor McGonagall smiled at Dylan, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "Especially your magical reserves—it's astounding! If your magic used to be a small pond, now it's practically a lake!"
"I've only seen two or three young wizards as talented as you."
As McGonagall finished speaking, Professor Snape, sitting below the high platform, shifted his gaze slightly.
Dylan gave a small, humble smile. "You flatter me, Professor. I think it's just because I grew a lot taller over the summer. Maybe that's why."
McGonagall looked at Dylan, whom she hadn't seen for two months, now nearly a head taller than before. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes deepened as she smiled. "Watching young wizards grow is always a moving experience—it gives me a real sense of fulfillment."
"Indeed. Witnessing students transform is one of the sweetest rewards of teaching."
A slightly aged voice suddenly rang out.
Everyone immediately turned toward the side door.
The brass handle of the door turned slowly, and Albus Dumbledore stepped in, dressed in light gray cotton wizard's pajamas. He squeezed through the door with ease, the starry embroidery on his loose lantern-sleeved robe swaying slightly as he moved. The cuffs were lined with an intricate silver trim. A deep gray belt was fastened around his waist, and he wore a pair of soft black leather slippers.
His signature pointed hat sat loosely atop his head, with a few strands of silver hair peeking out from beneath the brim.
Dumbledore's gaze, warm yet profound, swept over the group. "Dueling so late at night—are you trying to avoid being seen by the other students?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore, what brings you here?" Dylan blinked in surprise.
"I had a feeling something was going to happen tonight," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "A few portraits mentioned that some stone statues had disappeared, so I followed the trail and found my way here."
His eyes twinkled as they scanned the battle-worn platform.
The evidence of combat was everywhere. The guardian statues were in ruins, shattered stone strewn across the ground. Patches of dampness hinted at water-based spells, and scorch marks blackened sections of the floor.
Dumbledore took a few steps forward and clapped his hands twice in the air.
At once, the broken statue fragments trembled and lifted into the air, guided by an invisible force. They traced elegant arcs before converging at the base of the platform.
Each piece seemed to have a will of its own, fitting precisely into its original place. Within moments, the guardian statues stood once more, whole and lifelike.
Meanwhile, the water stains at Dylan and McGonagall's feet vanished as if absorbed by an unseen force, leaving behind a perfectly dry surface. The scorched patches of the floor shimmered under a soft glow before gradually fading, blending seamlessly with the surrounding stone.
Dylan felt the lingering magic swirl around him for a moment before everything returned to its original state. He couldn't help but pause in admiration.
"Restored completely?"
This was an incredibly powerful Repairing Charm. While not the most difficult spell, mastering it to such a level—enough to mend broken bones and even bodies—was a feat in itself.
For Dumbledore to achieve this without a wand, without even uttering an incantation, and on such a large scale—it was clear he had mastered the spell at the highest possible level. If not the pinnacle, then at least a level nine proficiency.
Dylan clicked his tongue in amazement.
Dumbledore was truly in a league of his own.
A casual wave of his hand spoke volumes of his skill.
Was this the power of a century-old wizard?
If Dumbledore had maxed out the Repairing Charm, then what about his other spells?
"If Voldy's spell repertoire—aside from the Dark Arts—consists of spells hovering around level six to eight, then Dumbledore's..."
Dylan could only imagine that Dumbledore's entire spell collection was at max level, with the weakest ones still at level eight or nine.
"Honestly, I shouldn't have gotten access to Voldemort's skill set last time. I'd rather have taken a peek at Dumbledore's instead! Putting the Dark Arts aside, Dumbledore definitely knows way more spells than Voldy does!"
Dylan felt a pang of regret.
But then again, he already knew all the Dark Magic he needed to. Anything beyond that was unnecessary.
If he had access to Dumbledore's spellbook, he'd probably be overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices!
Who knows what kind of high-level spells Dumbledore had developed in his office, training against past headmasters and legendary duelists?
He'd want to learn them all—choosing just one would be impossible!
As the guardian statues settled back into place, Professor McGonagall, standing beside Dylan, looked slightly embarrassed.
She cleared her throat and turned to Dumbledore apologetically. "I shouldn't have used that spell so casually."
The Piertotum Locomotor spell was specifically for Hogwarts' defense, meant to animate the protective statues in times of crisis.
When Dumbledore passed the Transfiguration Professor title to her, he had specifically warned her only to use the spell in emergencies.
And here she was, using it to test a student's dueling skills...
Now caught red-handed, Professor McGonagall couldn't help but feel sheepish.
Dumbledore, however, seemed to see right through her thoughts. Instead of reprimanding her, he chuckled and gave her a playful wink.
"It's no big deal. I'll let you in on a little secret—I used to find excuses to use that spell all the time."
Then he turned toward Professors Snape and Flitwick, who had just risen from their seats.
"So, how far have things progressed? I didn't arrive too late, did I?"
Professor Flitwick quickly shook his head. "Not at all!"
"Good, good." Dumbledore sighed in relief. Then, with a curious gleam in his eye, he added, "May I watch your duel? It's been quite a while since Hogwarts had such an interesting event."
Huh? Didn't something just happen last term?
Dylan blinked but readily agreed. "Of course! To be honest, I was wondering if the professors would invite you to join in."
McGonagall: ...
Flitwick: ...
Snape: ...
Was this kid trying to throw them under the bus?
Flitwick quickly let out a hearty laugh. "Well, you see, Dylan, this duel was a rather last-minute decision. It was so sudden and so late that we didn't think to invite the Headmaster."
As he spoke, he conjured a new lounge chair and table, setting out fresh fruit and a bottle of fine red wine.
Dumbledore smiled and took a seat.
Professor McGonagall stepped down from the platform, and Dumbledore turned to Dylan. "Have you recovered your stamina and focus?"
Dylan took a deep breath, calming his mind before nodding.
Professor Flitwick leaped onto the platform.
It seemed that Snape would be the final challenger.
"Are you ready?"
"Bring it on, Professor."
"Expulso!"
Professor Flitwick wasted no time, launching a powerful explosive spell right from the start.
A burst of sulfur-colored light shot from his wand, splitting into three comet-like energy bolts mid-air.
Dylan swiftly traced a perfect arc with his wand. "Protego Totalum!"
A golden barrier materialized before him.
The explosion hit with a deafening boom, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the shield.
McGonagall tensed, nearly crushing the almond biscuit in her hand.
Snape smirked—but his amusement was quickly drowned out by the crackling energy of Flitwick's next spell.
"Ventus!"
As the incantation was spoken, the twelve crystal chandeliers hanging in the hall began to sway wildly. Dylan's figure wavered slightly in the fierce wind.
Facing the hurricane summoned by Professor Flitwick, Dylan's eyes sharpened, his pupils contracting. His wand spun rapidly between his fingers, leaving afterimages in its wake.
"Glacius Tria!"
In an instant, three ice walls shot up from the ground in a triangular formation.
"Boom!"
The outermost layer of ice was instantly shredded into diamond-like dust under the violent impact of the storm.
"A beautiful variation of the Freezing Charm!"
Professor Flitwick couldn't help but praise him aloud.
His wand flashed with one spell after another, unleashing an unrelenting barrage of magic that countered Dylan's attacks flawlessly. It had been a long time since Flitwick had fought like this—his movements only grew faster, forcing Dylan into a defensive stance.
"No wonder he won the championship without ever resorting to dark magic—just ordinary offensive spells!"
Dylan suddenly swung his wand. "Repello!"
At that moment, all of Flitwick's incoming attacks were deflected back.
Dylan quickly traced several circles in the air, summoning a protective shield around himself.
Professor Flitwick chuckled, then used a Levitation Charm to gracefully rise three meters into the air. The hem of his custom-made, amethyst-trimmed robe brushed against the lingering frost below.
"Well then, try this—silent casting."
Though he said that, he still gave Dylan a verbal warning.
At the same time, Dumbledore, who had been watching from the sidelines, subtly straightened in his chair. His honey mead rippled at the rim of his glass.
"Using silent casting against a young wizard?"
Professor McGonagall glanced at the slowly rotating stars on Dumbledore's robe, recognizing the subtle sign that he was ready to intervene if Dylan faced real danger. She smiled slightly.
"Relax. I think he can handle it."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, then leaned back into his chair again—but the stars on his robe continued their slow, deliberate spin.
"Buzz—swish!"
From the high platform, twelve invisible blades sliced through the air, even piercing through Dylan's protective barrier.
Relying purely on instinct, Dylan bent backward in a swift dodge, repositioning his shield just in time to avoid most of the attack.
Still, three shallow cuts appeared on his left shoulder.
Dylan frowned. "Episkey!"
The bleeding from the torn fabric of his school robes stopped instantly.
Then, he sensed another wave of danger closing in.
Without hesitation, he raised his wand. "Revelio Obscurum!"
As the spell was cast, twelve transparent blades shimmered into visibility in the air, gleaming with a chilling light.
"Now it's my turn." Dylan smirked, his wand trembling violently in his grip.
"Serpens Invoco!"
The twelve spectral blades that had been aiming for him suddenly transformed into twelve king cobras, their massive jaws snapping open as they turned toward Professor Flitwick.
Dylan immediately followed up with a Levitation Charm, allowing the serpents to strike at the airborne professor.
A gasp rippled through the audience.
"Severus, did he learn that from you?"
Professor Snape scoffed. "I never taught him Transfiguration—also, stop shouting."
Flitwick, impressed by Dylan's quick reactions, beamed with satisfaction.
Laughing, he dispelled his Levitation Charm and, just as he fell, flicked his wand and called out—
"Avis Oppugno!"
Flitwick combined two spells into one. In the blink of an eye, a massive flock of ravens surged from his sleeve like a dark storm, scattering the incoming serpents.
The ravens and king cobras clashed fiercely in midair, black feathers and shimmering scales falling like abstract brushstrokes onto the moonstone-tiled floor.
"Do you remember the counter-curse I taught you? Here's your final test—Fiendfyre!"
The diminutive professor twisted mid-air, his robe billowing like a hummingbird in flight.
"Fiendfyre? Are you sure Dylan has mastered the counter-curse for that?" Dumbledore's phoenix-shaped ring suddenly flared with golden light.
"I believe he has." Professor McGonagall's hand was already resting on her wand, ready to act.
Snape, watching the two of them prepare for intervention, rolled his eyes and remained lounging in his seat.
"BOOM!"
A terrifying wave of Fiendfyre erupted from Flitwick's wand, spreading rapidly across the high platform.
Then, the flames twisted and coalesced into a massive eagle, its wings spreading wide as it prepared to take flight.
The Fiendfyre eagle radiated a searing heat so intense that even those below the stage could feel its oppressive waves.
Dylan stared at the blazing creature, blinking.
"Honestly, even Quirrell's Fiendfyre was more impressive than this."
As the fiery bird rushed toward him, Dylan pointed his wand.
"Glacius Maxima!"
"Aqua Eructo!"
A roaring torrent of ice and water surged forward, colliding head-on with the Fiendfyre.
As steam billowed and enveloped the ceiling in a dense fog, Dylan waved his wand once more, casting the counter-curse.
The Fiendfyre eagle trembled, let out a reluctant screech, and then completely dissipated.
As the steam slowly cleared, the high platform was left transformed—a surreal battlefield of elemental magic. On the left, a crystalline rose garden of ice shimmered under the light; on the right, smoldering, charred vines still radiated heat.
Dylan cast another counter-curse to ensure the fire wouldn't reignite.
"That was absolutely outstanding—I have to give you full marks!"
As the chaos settled, Professor Flitwick, his face flushed with excitement, looked at Dylan with deep admiration.
"I didn't expect your combat ability to be this overwhelming," Dylan said with a wry smile.
In truth, he had deliberately refrained from using the full extent of his dark magic knowledge. Instead, he had only relied on standard spells he had learned, choosing to fight on equal footing.
That decision had put him at a disadvantage from the very start.
While Flitwick had been unleashing a barrage of spells at him, Dylan had barely managed to respond.
"Being Karsas was so much easier…"
Dylan couldn't help but reminisce about his days in the shadows, outmaneuvering dark wizards who tried to target him.
Under the alias of Karsas, he had absolute freedom.
He could even take down Aurors if he wanted to.
But now, he was just another young wizard with some skill.
*Clap. Clap. Clap.*
Dumbledore rose to his feet, applauding Dylan.
At the same time, he cast a Repairing Charm, seamlessly restoring the cracks on the high platform.
"Severus, you haven't tested Dylan yet, have you?"
Professor Dumbledore looked over at Professor Snape. The latter wore his usual cold expression but gave a slight nod.
"Fantastic! There's still more to watch!"
Dumbledore clapped his hands twice in quick succession. "Well then, hurry along! I've already arranged the dueling platform for you!"
Professor Snape's eyelid twitched. "He just finished a duel."
Dumbledore blinked, as if suddenly remembering. "Oh—right! I nearly forgot about that. Getting old does that to you. My memory isn't what it used to be. You, on the other hand, are still young, Severus."
He playfully winked at Snape.
Snape, however, was entirely unmoved by his antics. He merely let out a soft scoff before turning his gaze to Dylan.
"I taught you how to brew a special restorative potion. Now would be a good time to actually use it—unless you're planning to save it for Christmas?"
"…"
Caught off guard, Dylan let out an awkward laugh. "I, uh… didn't bring any with me."
—He wasn't exactly keen on pulling potions out of thin air in front of both his professor and Dumbledore.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Then what exactly did you brew those potions for? To put them on display in your dorm room?"
"…"
Professor, do you really have to be this ruthless?
Someone needs to nerf you!
Despite his sharp words, Snape gave a flick of his wand, summoning a bottle of restorative potion and tossing it to Dylan.
"Drink it. Don't waste my time."
"Yes, yes, right away."
Dylan caught the bottle as it floated through the air, popped the cap, and downed the potion in one go.
Snape stood up as well.
(End of Chapter)