"Run!"
The moment Dumbledore appeared, Voldemort's voice rang out immediately.
However, just as he relinquished control of Quirrell's body, Dumbledore struck without hesitation.
With a light flick of his wand, a shimmering white light shot out, fluid yet unbreakable like silk or an unyielding rope. In the blink of an eye, it spanned the entire room and tightly ensnared Quirrell before he could even react.
"Damn it!"
Quirrell, who had just regained control of his own body, was instantly restrained by Dumbledore's sudden spell. His eyes filled with terror as he struggled desperately.
But the more he resisted, the more he resembled a fly trapped in a spider's web. The magical silk tightened around him, making it even harder to move.
Quirrell could barely breathe.
"No! This is impossible!" Quirrell shrieked, his voice sharp with fear. "Dumbledore, you can't do this to me!"
"You useless fool! Didn't you say you had lured Dumbledore away? Why is he here?!" Voldemort's furious voice erupted from the back of Quirrell's head.
"You won't trap me here!"
With a roar, Voldemort began chanting an incantation.
In the next moment, thick black smoke surged out of Quirrell's body, twisting violently as it fled.
"Dumbledore, I will return!"
His words still echoed in the air as his shadowy form shot away at an incredible speed, vanishing into the darkness.
Only Quirrell was left behind, his body collapsing weakly to the floor.
"No… Master… you can't abandon me like this…"
Throughout it all, Dylan had stood motionless, never making a move.
Yet, he remained highly alert, ready to use magic at a moment's notice—just in case Dumbledore tried to silently invade his mind.
Silence settled over the scene.
Dumbledore did not attempt to stop Voldemort's escape. Instead, he lowered his gaze to Quirrell, who had fainted from the intense mental shock caused by his soul being forcibly separated from Voldemort's.
With a soft sigh, Dumbledore murmured, "Professor Quirrell, you should not have involved a young wizard in your schemes."
Then, he turned to Dylan.
Dylan gripped his wand tightly, blinking twice.
Occlumency—fully engaged!
Still, since he had already expected Dumbledore to appear, he wasn't too flustered. Instead, he tilted his head, feigning confusion, and asked, "Headmaster, was that Voldemort just now?"
Dumbledore nodded, his expression gentle as he studied Dylan for a moment.
Dylan continued, "Then why didn't you just finish him off when you had the chance?"
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes slightly before smiling kindly. "In his current state, he poses little real threat. If I were to destroy him now, perhaps another Tom would awaken."
"And this time, his mind might not be so fractured and twisted. He could become even more dangerous."
"Besides, even if I tried, I might not be able to truly eliminate his lingering soul."
Dumbledore spoke openly, without any attempt at concealment, which surprised Dylan.
What's this old man playing at?
Before he could ask further, Dumbledore suddenly posed a question:
"My child, do you wish to learn the Dark Arts?"
Dylan nearly lost control of his expression.
Does this old man always ask such blunt questions?
After a brief pause, Dylan chose not to lie.
Lies create inconsistencies, but the truth leaves no room for doubt.
So he simply met Dumbledore's gaze, pressed his lips together slightly, and replied, "If you're referring to those extremely evil spells just now, I have no interest in them."
—After all, I already mastered them ages ago. Interest isn't even a factor anymore.
Dumbledore studied Dylan for a long moment and realized that the young wizard was telling the truth.
Even though Severus had taught him Occlumency… how could a student possibly wield such an advanced technique so effortlessly?
Especially under the sudden stress of an unexpected encounter.
When a person is tense or emotionally disturbed, Occlumency's defenses usually show cracks, and even their emotions become easy to perceive.
Yet, from Dylan, Dumbledore sensed only curiosity, confusion, and a desire for knowledge—none of the negativity associated with Dark magic.
—In reality, Dylan was pondering something else entirely.
That was…
Dumbledore's sudden appearance just now didn't seem to involve Fawkes' magic or Apparition.
Which meant… had the old man been secretly watching for a while, witnessing Voldemort personally teaching him Dark magic?
And if so—how had he concealed himself?
Was it an advanced Disillusionment Charm?
If Dylan could master such an ability, he wouldn't have to spend a fortune—10,000 Galleons every time—on an Invisibility Cloak just to stay hidden.
A simple wave of his wand, and problem solved!
The Disillusionment and Invisibility Charms he had learned before were relatively low-level concealment spells, each with its own flaws.
They were tricky to control and dependent on the surrounding environment.
Not to mention their various limitations.
For example, they required absolute stillness and weren't true invisibility—just a form of transparency.
—Wait.
Had Dumbledore just been crouching in a corner all this time, completely motionless?
Dylan's mind suddenly conjured up an image of the old headmaster curled up, wand in hand, spying on Quirrell like some mischievous prankster.
"…Is that Harry's Invisibility Cloak?"
Dumbledore's gaze drifted to Dylan, whose body was still mostly concealed.
At the moment, only his head was visible, floating eerily in midair.
"Oh, this…"
Dylan suddenly remembered that he was still wearing the system-enhanced Invisibility Cloak.
Dumbledore's unexpected question caught him off guard, and he wasn't sure how to respond.
He quickly removed the cloak, folding it carefully as he thought of an explanation.
But just then—
"Dylan! Are you alright?!"
A rush of hurried footsteps sounded from the doorway.
Dumbledore and Dylan both turned to look.
They saw Harry, Ron, and the others sprinting into the room.
Seeing the two of them standing there, Harry froze mid-step.
"Professor Dumbledore? What are you doing here?"
Hermione blinked rapidly. "But Professor McGonagall said you were at a meeting?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "I was. But then I came back."
Ron gasped when he saw Quirrell lying on the ground. "Is he dead? Did you kill him because he tried to steal the Sorcerer's Stone?"
Dylan's mouth twitched. "No, he's not dead. He just fainted."
Harry's eyes lit up. "And V— I mean, *You-Know-Who*? Did you catch him? Quirrell must've been acting on his orders, right?"
Dylan shook his head. "No, Voldemort got away—he ran off after Dumbledore scared him off."
"What? You-Know-Who was here just now?!"
Hearing Dylan say Voldemort's name directly made Ron shrink back instinctively.
He had grown up hearing terrifying stories about Voldemort. "Don't say his name like that! What if he jumps out of nowhere and eats you alive?"
Dylan blinked. "It's fine, he already ran away. Although…"
"It seemed like he ran off in the same direction you guys came from. Didn't you run into him?"
Ron yelped again, terrified. "What?! Was that dark figure I saw *him*?"
Harry's brow twitched as he subconsciously reached up to rub his scar. "That explains why it hurt so much just now."
Hermione glanced at Harry. "I noticed that dark figure was deliberately avoiding you."
Ron, calming down a little, added with a nervous laugh, "Ha! No wonder that shadow looked so sneaky. So does that mean we actually scared off You-Know-Who?"
Seeing that Dumbledore was present and Dylan was unharmed, Hermione finally relaxed.
She shot Ron a side glance. "If anyone deserves credit, it's Harry. If it had just been you, You-Know-Who might've already possessed you by now."
Ron scowled. "Tch!"
Then he noticed something. "Huh? That's the Mirror of Erised! What's it doing here?"
Hermione slapped her forehead. "Obviously—the professor must've placed it here!"
Ron scratched his head. "But why? Was he hoping You-Know-Who would get distracted staring at his own reflection and die from admiring himself?"
"…"
Everyone present twitched at Ron's ridiculous comment, even Dumbledore's white beard seemed to quiver slightly.
*Ahem!* Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Alright, everything's settled here. You all should leave now. I'll have the other professors handle things."
Harry jogged over to Dylan and circled him a few times, making sure he wasn't hurt or feeling unwell. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and prepare to leave with his friends.
However, Dylan didn't move.
"Hmm? Dylan, what's wrong?" Harry asked.
Dylan took off the Invisibility Cloak and handed it to Harry.
Only then did Harry notice something Dylan had been holding all along.
When Harry took the cloak, he looked down at what felt like a solid object, even though he couldn't see it.
*Huh?*
Harry's mind raced with questions.
Then Dylan casually reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright red stone.
"Headmaster, don't forget to take this back."
Dylan's expression was calm and sincere. "The professors set up all those defenses, and they still couldn't stop Voldemort. If I kept the Sorcerer's Stone, I'd probably be in serious danger."
Dumbledore seemed to suddenly remember the Stone. He chuckled. "Ah, look at me—getting old and forgetful. I nearly left the Sorcerer's Stone behind!"
Dylan smiled faintly.
*What nonsense.*
*Old Dumbledore is definitely testing my attitude toward the Stone.*
With a slight raise of his wand, Dumbledore made the Sorcerer's Stone float out of Dylan's hand and into his own. A flick of his sleeve, and the stone vanished.
"This really is a remarkable object," Dumbledore mused. "Just holding it, I can feel a strange kind of magic flowing through my palm."
Dylan chuckled and spoke frankly.
Dumbledore then asked casually, "Dylan, are you tempted to keep this stone that can turn anything into gold?"
Dylan tilted his head thoughtfully. "It's a fascinating object. If I could study it, I'd love to."
He gave an innocent smile. "After all, Professor Snape always says that with a natural talent like mine around, helping with Potions, it'd be foolish not to dive into deeper research. Like their brains are stuffed with magical flobberworms."
*"When have I ever said something like that?"*
A deep, cold voice suddenly interrupted.
Dylan froze, his heart skipping a beat. He immediately corrected himself. "I mean, that's the general idea Professor Snape has expressed before."
Turning his head, Dylan feigned surprise as he looked toward the door where Snape had just entered.
"Oh? Professor Snape! You're here already? We were just talking about you!"
Snape approached silently, his black robes billowing behind him, his gaze cold and unreadable, like a bottomless pool.
Dylan's forced smile grew more awkward as Snape stared at him without saying a word.
"Hmph. If I hadn't come, I wouldn't have overheard a little wizard daring to spread rumors about me behind my back."
Snape's voice was low and magnetic, with a sharp, sarcastic edge.
Dylan blinked, not detecting any real anger. Seizing the opportunity, he tried to smooth things over.
"Heh, you heard that, huh?" Dylan's smile looked more like a grimace now. "Actually, what I meant was… You're like a gift from the heavens! Talented, dashing, and gracious enough to teach us—what a blessing for us little wizards!"
Ron and Harry both twitched at Dylan's obvious flattery.
Ron muttered to himself, *"You can keep that 'blessing' to yourself."*
—Not that he dared say it aloud with all the professors around.
"Ha ha ha ha!" Dumbledore burst out laughing at Snape and Dylan's interaction.
"Severus, it seems you've finally met someone whose sharp tongue can match yours!"
Snape shot Dumbledore a cold glare.
"Hmph. Great Headmaster Dumbledore, I see you've found something that truly amuses you."
*(End of Chapter)*