Dylan felt a wave of frustration wash over him.
In his mind, since Gryffindor had the Sword of Gryffindor and its so-called "legacy," it stood to reason that the other three houses would also have inheritances from their founders. If he had been sorted into Ravenclaw, he might have had the chance to explore Ravenclaw's legacy. While the Sword of Gryffindor was undoubtedly powerful, it didn't suit him—he wasn't exactly the sword-wielding type.
"That's great, Dylan! We're in the same house!"
As Dylan walked toward the Gryffindor table amidst the applause, he made his way straight to Neville and sat down beside him. He wasn't surprised that the chubby boy had been sorted into Gryffindor. However, Professor McGonagall, who had been watching him, seemed slightly taken aback. After her brief interactions with Dylan, she had assumed he would end up in Ravenclaw. Seeing him in Gryffindor was unexpected, but it also brought her a sense of quiet satisfaction. At least he was now one of her students.
Meanwhile, at the head table, Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Dylan join the Gryffindor table. A faint smile played on his lips.
"Ollivander is being overly cautious," he thought to himself.
Two weeks ago, he had received a letter from Ollivander. The wandmaker had detailed the events that occurred when Dylan had chosen his wand and urged Dumbledore to keep a close eye on the boy, warning him to prevent Dylan from becoming another Tom Riddle. But now, seeing that the young wizard had been sorted into Gryffindor—a house known for its chivalry and bravery—rather than Slytherin or even Ravenclaw, Dumbledore felt that Ollivander's concerns were perhaps exaggerated. After all, a wand was merely a reflection of a wizard's magical inclinations. With proper guidance, the tragedy of Tom Riddle could be avoided.
"The Sorting Hat probably couldn't detect that I've learned the Unforgivable Curses," Dylan thought as he sat down. Seeing that Dumbledore didn't seem to harbor any suspicions about him, he felt a small sense of relief. Occlumency was still a challenge for him, and he worried that if he tried to shield his mind, it might backfire. If others noticed he was using Occlumency, they'd naturally wonder what he was hiding, which would only make him seem more suspicious.
"But honestly, these so-called Unforgivable Curses aren't all that impressive," Dylan mused.
After spending the entire summer studying them, he had gained a deeper understanding of the three infamous curses. While others might view them as cruel, Dylan couldn't help but think that in the era of the Hogwarts founders, chaos had been the norm. The witch hunts, the purges by the Church—every spell and method used back then had been brutal. To Dylan, curses like Avada Kedavra and the Imperius Curse hardly deserved their fearsome reputation. In the grand scheme of dark magic, they were practically amateurish.
"But over time, most of the truly dark magic has probably been lost to history," Dylan thought. "Otherwise, how could spells like Avada Kedavra have become the pinnacle of 'unforgivable' curses?"
As the Sorting continued, Harry and the other first-years were sorted into their respective houses. The ceremony didn't take long, and soon Dumbledore waved his hand, causing a lavish feast to appear before everyone. Neville, who had been starving, immediately dug into the roast beef with gusto. Dylan, on the other hand, cut his steak slowly, his mind elsewhere.
"If I'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, I'd probably have access to amazing food every day," he thought.
In his mind, the Hufflepuff common room was like having a 24/7 food court right next to your dorm. You could eat whenever you wanted without even leaving the building.
Suddenly, Nearly Headless Nick floated into view. The house ghosts had begun to join the feast. While Dylan remained unfazed, many of the younger students—even some second and third-years—shrank back nervously as the ghost passed by. Nick glided past Dylan and headed straight for Harry, who was sitting a few seats away.
Neville, feeling more comfortable around Dylan now, began to chat animatedly as he ate. "You wouldn't believe what my uncle did to test my magical abilities!" he exclaimed.
Dylan listened quietly, occasionally nodding or offering a brief response when Neville got particularly excited. His gaze, however, kept drifting toward Harry, who was sitting a few seats away. The Boy Who Lived was still shy and reserved, sitting next to Ron, but the other students around him were clearly fascinated. Even the presence of the ghosts couldn't dampen their curiosity.
"Dylan, you know so many spells—you must come from a really old wizarding family, right? I never expected you to end up in Gryffindor," Neville said, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of those nearby. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to look.
"Pure-blood? No, I'm from a Muggle family," Dylan replied casually, not bothering to hide his background.
"What? A Muggle family? You're joking, right?" Neville stared at him in disbelief, his toad croaking in agreement.
"Why would I joke about that?" Dylan shrugged.
"But… the spells you've been using aren't ordinary magic!" Neville exclaimed, his mouth hanging open.
"Oh, I just read a lot of books and textbooks over the summer. I taught myself," Dylan explained offhandedly.
His words left the other Gryffindors stunned and slightly deflated. What kind of kid spent their summer vacation studying magic? Shouldn't they be out having fun? Among the group, however, Hermione's eyes lit up. She looked at Dylan as if she'd found a kindred spirit, though she couldn't help but compare herself to him. She had already read half of the first-year textbooks and even some supplementary material. But when Dylan mentioned that he was now studying *Advanced Transfiguration: A Guide* and struggling with the complexities of safe, stable human transfiguration, Hermione's pride faltered.
"Wait, what?!" she thought, her jaw dropping slightly.
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