"Of course, no problem."
Dylan set down the book he was reading.
"What do you want to talk about?"
Cedric pressed his lips together, hesitant.
"Everyone says… when you faced the Boggart, it turned into a version of me—a Tree-man?"
Dylan shook his head. "I don't think so. It might've looked similar to you, sure—but that was just a Tree-man. It had bark for skin, literally."
"I think some students just saw the resemblance and exaggerated it. You know how rumors work."
"And besides," Dylan added, "once the Boggart turned into the corpse of that dead Tree-man, I did feel a sense of déjà vu. I think I saw it in a dream—maybe a nightmare I had once."
Cedric blinked in surprise.
"Really?"
He didn't press further. Instead, he nodded politely.
"Sorry for bothering you. A friend told me about it, and I didn't want to confront you directly at the time and make things worse."
Cedric gave a sheepish smile. "It seems like people have stopped talking about it anyway."
"I was passing the library and saw you sitting here alone, so I figured I'd come ask in person—hope you don't mind."
He stood next to Dylan—tall, lean, athletic. Sharp features, handsome in that effortlessly Hufflepuff way. His manner was gentle, humble.
**No wonder people call him Hufflepuff's golden boy.** Dylan smirked and shook his head.
"It's fine. Actually, I should be the one apologizing. I must've caused you some trouble lately, huh?"
Cedric gave a quiet chuckle—it *was* the library, after all. Madam Pince was nearby, eyeing them suspiciously.
"Not at all. I just found it funny how everyone kept asking me about Tree-men."
He paused, then gave a polite nod. "Well, I'll leave you to your reading. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask—or have someone pass the message along."
Dylan nodded. "Will do. I won't be shy about it."
Cedric chuckled again. *This little wizard's pretty interesting.*
Once Cedric left, Dylan returned to his book, completely unfazed.
**Hufflepuff's bright star, gone too soon… maybe he wasn't meant to die so early.**
---
That evening, after dinner, Dylan didn't head back to the dormitory.
Instead, he found himself standing outside Dumbledore's office.
*Knock knock.*
The door opened.
Dylan stepped inside.
Dumbledore was hunched over his desk, correcting something. Without even looking up, he suddenly asked:
"I have a question for you—Which reveals the truth more: the darkness before dawn, or the light after dusk?"
Dylan froze mid-step.
**Is this old man losing it?** What kind of bizarre question is that? Was he going emo because of all the Dementors around?
Still, when Dylan reached the desk, he thought better of ignoring it.
He grinned. "I'd say… maybe the truth hides somewhere in between. Is that answer good enough for you?"
Dumbledore finally looked up.
"Hmm, vague and noncommittal. Classic dodge."
Dylan didn't even pretend to be embarrassed and plopped into the seat across from him.
"So, why'd you ask?"
Dumbledore smiled kindly and set his quill down. "Oh, nothing much. Just dealing with some Ministry nonsense again. You know how they like to meddle."
Dylan remembered someone and asked, "How's that Auror doing—the one who came last time?"
"You mean Veela?"
Dylan nodded.
Dumbledore gave him a side glance. "She had a lot to handle when she returned to the Ministry. Flitwick told me that much. As for now, I'm not sure."
Then he asked, "Didn't you stop by her father's ice cream shop over the summer?"
"I did, but I was kind of busy. Grabbed my ice cream and left. Didn't chat with Uncle Florian."
Dumbledore nodded. "Shame. I thought you two got along. She was one of Hogwarts' best, you know."
"Yeah, it's impressive. Graduated and immediately became an Auror squad leader."
Dumbledore smiled. "Today's not your usual alchemy lesson, is it? What brings you here, my boy?"
Dylan didn't beat around the bush. "Professor, I want to learn about Gublai's Sacred Flame."
"That's quite the advanced topic. Alchemy does call for extraordinary fire, after all," he explained. "And from what I've read, the Gublai Flame has divinatory properties too."
He wasn't wrong.
Dylan had come across a detailed description in one of his books.
While it had a strong alchemical application, the **Gublai Flame** was actually more famed for its use in *divination*.
Through the strange symbols that flickered in the flame, a skilled witch or wizard could glean insights and answers.
Of course, it required both talent and training.
But Dylan had a system to help him unlock talents. That part didn't worry him.
And the rest? Just elbow grease—he'd put in the hours, study the texts, and master the art of reading the flame.
Dumbledore looked surprised.
"Gublai's Sacred Flame? That's practically a forbidden magic. Where'd you read about it?"
Dylan smiled confidently. "I know it's not exactly beginner-friendly, but no one's officially banned it. And where did I find it?"
"In a book, of course."
He continued, "After learning it's useful for divination, I even asked Professor Trelawney. She told me it's only taught to upper years—with the Head of House's permission."
"Then why didn't you ask Minerva?"
"I checked *Hogwarts: A History*. You once demonstrated a modified flame-visualization charm in Transfiguration—it looked nothing like regular fire."
"So I thought, why not go straight to the top?" He grinned. "To the Headmaster himself."
Dumbledore let out a hearty laugh.
"Oh, I do appreciate your directness."
He suddenly waved his hand.
*Whoosh!*
A strange flame appeared in midair.
It didn't flicker like normal fire—instead, it shimmered like silk.
Its heart was a glowing blue orb, pulsing like a heartbeat. Golden patterns spread outward from the center like veins, crawling across its surface.
When the patterns filled the flame's body, it expanded into a prism shape, covered in intricate runes.
The runes squirmed like tiny silver worms, chiming faintly like wind chimes.
The edges of the flame glimmered like pearl-shells. Even the sparks it gave off weren't normal—they were transparent hexagons, forming momentary star maps in the air.
Dylan squinted.
Just the *look* of it screamed rare and powerful.
"In truth," Dumbledore said, holding the blue fire in his palm, "Gublai's Sacred Flame is both a spell… and a tool."
"Like a potion?" Dylan asked.
"If you really want to stretch the metaphor, yes," Dumbledore replied.
Then he snapped his fingers, and the curtains whooshed shut, blocking out the moonlight.
"It's not just a spell you cast. It's a *ritual*, a bond between you and the flame."
"You know the counter-curse for Fiendfyre, right? Then you should be able to tell me—what's the difference between Gublai's Flame and Fiendfyre?"
That was a tough one.
Gublai's Flame was powerful but not Dark Magic. It could burn eternally, serve as a divination aid, or even be given as a gift—though Dylan still didn't get why anyone would gift a sentient flame.
It was also great for alchemy, which, in a way, is a kind of magical forecasting.
Fiendfyre, on the other hand, was pure destruction—nearly uncontrollable, consuming everything, friend or foe alike.
"I'd say Gublai's Flame can be controlled. It's calmer, purposeful. Fiendfyre… is chaos. It just devours."
Dumbledore nodded. "Exactly. But remember, Gublai's Flame can still be immensely destructive. If you can't control it, it's no different from Fiendfyre."
Dylan nodded seriously. "I understand."
*Pop!*
Dumbledore suddenly clenched his hand, snuffing the flame out like a soap bubble.
Dylan: *?!*
He stared at Dumbledore… then at his still-smoking hand.
**Isn't that burning??**
"If you're willing to learn, then I believe you're ready to learn," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Just don't tell Minerva. She'll nag me again."
Dylan coughed lightly. "No worries, Headmaster. If she finds out I'm studying divination fire, she'll think I've gone full mystic."
Which was exactly why he'd come to Dumbledore instead of asking Professor McGonagall.
They exchanged a knowing smile.
Dumbledore stood, motioning Dylan over to a clear space.
"Watch closely."
His blue eyes glinted behind the half-moon glasses as he drew a complex arc in the air with his wand.
Silver light poured onto the floor like a stream.
Wisps of smoke curled from the stone tiles, forming tiny blue flames.
"Gublai's Flame is like summoning… but more accurately, it's shaping."
Dumbledore suddenly grabbed Dylan's wrist, guiding his wand toward the tiny flame.
"Normal fire needs fuel. This one feeds on your magic."
"Think of the thing you most want to protect. Not an image—feel it."
The first thing that came to Dylan's mind was the basilisk he nearly bled dry.
**Yeah, I *really* need to protect that thing.** It's no good if it dies before he finishes his experiments.
Then came the *feeling*—a thrill, a rush he felt when preparing for his research.
The tools, the rituals, the gruesome excitement…
**Ah, that feeling. That's it.**
Suddenly—*whoosh!*
The flame flared dramatically.
Dumbledore blinked in surprise.
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