By late October, the Scottish Highlands were fully steeped in the essence of autumn.
Each morning, a thick fog draped the valleys like clumps of cotton, wrapping Hogwarts Castle's spires in a hazy outline. Only when the sun climbed higher would the mist lazily drift away, leaving a lingering chill in every corner of the castle.
The stone bricks in the corridors felt icy to the touch, and students' breaths formed faint clouds of vapor as they moved about. The weather grew more unpredictable by the day. One moment, sunlight peeked through, warming herbology students as they followed Professor Sprout to the greenhouses. The next, the sky darkened, and fine raindrops fell silently, dampening hair and shoulders, soaking through cloaks in no time.
At night, if rain began, it often turned to tiny ice pellets by midnight, pattering against the castle's glass windows and courtyard leaves. The sound was soft but distinct, mingling with the howling wind, cutting through the quiet night.
The campus settled into an autumnal calm. The buzz around the Triwizard Tournament selection had faded, leaving the once-crowded assessment classroom corridors quiet. Where students once lingered, whispering about selection criteria, only a few now hurried past. The library, too, saw fewer visitors; the afternoon reading area often had half its seats empty, and even Madam Pince sorted books at a leisurely pace.
Talk of the selection process had dwindled, replaced by chatter about Professor Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Whether in the Gryffindor common room or at the Slytherin table, students dissected the details of his practical lessons.
"Did you catch Moody's demonstration of the Disarming Charm redirection trick yesterday?"
"Dylan's defense sequence against three spells last time was clutch—I tried it three times and still couldn't pull it off."
"I heard next class we're practicing quick-casting Finite Incantatem. You can't be slow with that one."
Even Crabbe and Goyle, who rarely talked about lessons, could ramble on about "Moody's magical eye seeing through concealment charms." That's how popular the class was.
During breaks, students practiced with their wands in open spaces. Some rehearsed defensive stances against tree trunks, while others paired up for mock duels. The swish of wands and the pop of clashing spells became the liveliest soundtrack of Hogwarts' autumn.
In the corridors, conversations buzzed.
"Remember Dylan sparring with Moody? Man, you could tell Moody was holding back with us—the spells were light. But with Dylan? I bet he was going all out."
"Yeah, didn't Dylan get called up to duel again recently? It looked like he was the one taking it easy, while Moody seemed exhausted."
"Probably 'cause Moody's getting old. Dylan just dodges, and Moody's bad leg makes it hard for him to keep up. If he can't block a spell, it looks like he's struggling."
The group chatted as they descended a slowly shifting staircase, their steps matching its rhythm.
As they neared the marble staircase, a commotion erupted from the entrance hall—raised voices discussing something excitedly.
"I heard it!" one student stopped short, eyes lighting up, grabbing their friend's arm. "It's about the Triwizard Tournament! Gotta be!"
"You're right!" their friend replied, voice brimming with excitement. "It's almost Halloween—late October. They're probably arriving soon!"
Others nodded, faces glowing with anticipation.
At that moment, Luna Lovegood drifted toward the marble staircase. Spotting Dylan, she wandered over.
"What's all the excitement about?"
Dylan glanced at her with a smile. "Probably Triwizard Tournament news." He pointed toward the entrance hall. "Let's go check it out. Could be about the other schools visiting."
As they started down the stairs, an owl swooped through the castle's oak doors, flapping its wings and hovering before them. Luna raised her arm, palm up, and the owl landed neatly, tilting its head to nuzzle her sleeve.
"You're here! Sorry, I forgot to feed you today. Let's go see what's up," Luna said softly.
The owl tilted its head again.
Dylan chuckled. "Don't worry, I fed it earlier."
"Oh, thanks," Luna said with a nod. "You're a lifesaver."
"No big deal," Dylan replied, waving it off.
They approached the noticeboard, where a crowd of students had gathered, their chatter filling the air. Luna spotted Anthony and a few others squeezed together, arms linked, pushing through the throng. The crowd jostled, nearly knocking them off balance, but they finally reached the board.
Luna's owl tilted its head, round eyes fixed on the bustling scene, wings twitching as if it wanted to fly closer. Luna gently pulled it into her arms. "No, no, it's too crowded. You'll get bumped."
"Hoo?" the owl hooted, confused, but settled down, nestling comfortably against her wrist.
Anthony and his group, after reading the notice, fought their way out of the crowd. Someone stepped on Anthony's shoe, and Michael's bag strap got yanked loose. Gasping for air, they stumbled into open space.
Just then, Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned from an outdoor class, smelling faintly of grass and rain. Ron spotted them and hurried over, curiosity all over his face. "Dylan, what's with the crowd by the noticeboard? What's going on?"
"It's the other schools!" Anthony said, catching his breath, his voice electric with excitement. "Their delegations are arriving on October 30th!"
He took a deep breath and added, "At five in the afternoon… and get this—the second class that day is canceled so we can all go welcome them!"
"October 30th? The second class is…" Harry's grin froze, his brow furrowing. He glanced toward the stone steps leading to the dungeons—Potions class. A complicated look crossed his face before he broke into a cheer. "That's Potions! This is awesome!"
Ron high-fived him, their hands smacking loudly. "One less chance for him to poison us! If we can just make it to Christmas…"
"Poison?" Chris Moen leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity. "Who's poisoning who? Snape?"
"Who else?" Harry shrugged, his mouth twisting as if recalling an unpleasant memory. He glanced at the Ravenclaws around him, hesitating. "Wait… has he never said anything like that to you guys?"
The Ravenclaws shook their heads in unison. Terry took a half-step back, clearly thrown by the "poison" talk.
"You lot have Potions with Hufflepuff, right?" Ron's face darkened, his brows knitting together. "So it's just Gryffindor and Slytherin at risk?"
"Probably just Gryffindor," Michael Corner said, pushing up his glasses with confidence. "Snape poisoning Slytherins? Unlikely. No, impossible."
"Poison? What are you talking about? Is this about that 'universal antidote' lesson?" Dylan chimed in, looking at Harry and Ron. "Maybe Snape just wanted to test if your antidotes were up to par."
"Could be," Ron mumbled, scratching his messy hair, uncertain. "But Snape's face that day…"
"It was like he couldn't wait to knock us out before Christmas," Harry added, shivering at the memory of Snape's grim expression.
Anthony Goldstein jumped in. "What if he's messing with you?"
Harry and Ron's eyes lit up, hope flickering. "You think?" they asked in unison.
"Totally!" Anthony nodded firmly, dead serious. "Maybe he's waiting for the Christmas break when fewer people are around—higher success rate. Remember what Moody said? Dark wizards strike when you're off guard."
"Ugh, now I don't even want a holiday," Ron groaned, tugging at his hair. "Fighting Snape even during break? That's rough."
"What if he waits until after the holidays?" Harry's voice dropped, his guess even darker. "Moody said you wait until your enemy's totally relaxed to strike."
Luna, stroking her owl's feathers as it nuzzled her fingers, spoke softly. "Maybe you could prep some antidotes? Make a few extra to keep on hand."
Dylan didn't usually care much about Harry and Ron's classes or daily gripes—they rarely came to him with this stuff. Still, he asked, "Your universal antidotes turned out okay, right?"
"Should be… fine?" Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, their voices hesitant. Ron scratched his cheek. "I mean, last time we turned in our potions, Snape looked ticked, but he didn't say they failed."
"Your potions were fine, and Snape still looked mad?" Terry frowned, stepping closer, puzzled. "That doesn't add up. If your potions passed, shouldn't he be… okay with that?"
"It's a pattern we've noticed," Ron said, lifting his chin with the confidence of experience, pointing at himself and Harry. "Just for us two. Doesn't apply to anyone else."
"Basically," Harry added with a shrug, his mouth twisting again, "whenever we make a decent potion, Snape never looks happy. It's like us passing is a bad thing."
He paused, his tone darkening. "But the real problem is, even if we made a universal antidote, it probably won't help. Snape said he's using a custom poison."
"There's a way to handle custom poisons," Dylan said with a calm smile. "Pair a universal antidote with specific ingredients."
"How?" Harry leaned forward, eager.
"For something like a tongue-swelling poison, it's simple," Dylan explained. "Add three drops of leech juice to the antidote, shake the vial hard until it forms thick white foam, then smear the foam on your tongue."
"That's it?" Harry blinked, skeptical. "I've got leech juice in my bag. Just shake it into foam?"
"It's a quick fix," Dylan said patiently. "It'll stop the swelling and ease the pain long enough to get to the hospital wing."
He continued, "For a burning-sensation poison, crush fresh peppermint, add three small pieces to the antidote, shake until foamy, and drink it. For a knockout poison, mix equal parts Coollick and antidote, then pour it down the throat to wake them up."
"Coollick works like that?" Ron's eyes widened. "I thought it was just for staying awake in class!"
"Coollick's basically a supercharged stimulant," Dylan said with a nod. "It's great for countering knockout poisons, but these are all temporary fixes. You'll still need the hospital wing for a full cure."
He added, "If you're in a pinch with no ingredients, shove a bezoar in your mouth. That'll work."
"Why's that better?" Harry asked, frowning. "We already use bezoar powder in the antidote. Why's a whole bezoar stronger?"
"A natural bezoar is a top-tier emergency antidote," Dylan explained. "They're rare and expensive. The powder in antidotes is just a small amount to save cost and works with other ingredients, like mistletoe, to unlock its full potential against multiple poisons. A whole bezoar is overkill but acts faster."
"Got it!" Harry and Ron exclaimed, exchanging looks of sudden clarity.
The surrounding students, who'd gathered to eavesdrop on Harry and Ron's Snape fears, gasped in awe. Some clapped, thrilled to have picked up practical antidote tips.
Terry pulled out a notebook, scribbling Dylan's methods furiously to avoid missing a single detail.
"Dylan," he said, looking up, "I really think you should be in Ravenclaw!"