As the saying goes—know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated.
Hermione felt that if she could learn Dylan's entire approach to studying,
then maybe she too could communicate and debate with the professors the way he did.
After quietly observing him for a while, she discovered…
Dylan really did throw himself completely into his studies.
One day, she tried staking him out in the morning to see what time he actually got up.
She waited all the way until class time and still did not see him.
In the end, she almost ended up late herself.
That meant Dylan had to be waking up even earlier than she did.
This discovery left Hermione stunned.
She had gotten up at six-thirty to keep watch for Dylan.
And still missed him. What time on earth was he getting up?
He could not be studying all night, right?
Did he not need to sleep?
The next day, Hermione tried getting up at six—and still did not catch him.
It was not until she forced herself to get up at five,
dragging her dazed body to hide in the common room, that she finally "caught" Dylan.
That discovery completely shattered her desire to keep competing with him.
Compete to the end…?
Keep that up and she would be the one collapsing first.
She had always thought getting up at six-thirty was already very diligent—at that time, everyone around her was still asleep.
Turned out she had been too naive.
After she adjusted her mindset, Hermione noticed something else.
Dylan's attitude toward magic never showed the slightest anxiety, even when he ran into a particularly tricky spell.
Unlike her—if she could not finish her homework, or hit a passage she could not quite understand, she would get so anxious she could hardly sit still.
He stayed calm and steady.
Sometimes she really wondered if the Sorting Hat had put Dylan in the wrong House.
"Hermione, morning!" Harry looked at her and blinked. "You look a lot better than the last few days!"
Ron glanced over and nodded. "Yeah, what were you doing before? Those dark circles under your eyes were huge."
"…"
Hermione walked over and sat down with them. "Nothing. I moved to a new spot and wasn't sleeping very well at night."
Ever since she stopped getting up early to tail Dylan, her energy had improved a lot.
Last night she had slept like a log.
How could her complexion not improve?
"We've got flying lessons today. Are you ready?" Hermione asked.
Previously, in order to better follow Dylan, she had deliberately gotten closer to Harry and the others, planning to befriend Dylan's roommates first and pick up some intel about his study habits.
Because of that, she was now quite familiar with them, especially Ron and Harry—the three had become good friends,
often whispering about Dylan behind his back.
"A little nervous. I'm just afraid I'll make a fool of myself," Harry admitted honestly.
Dylan looked surprised, holding up a small piece of bread in his right hand. "Make a fool of yourself?"
"There's no need to worry that much, is there? We're all beginners at magic. Not doing well at first is completely normal. Just practice more and you'll get used to it."
Harry and the others all twitched their lips and looked at Dylan together.
Anyone else might have the right to say that, but you are the one person who does not.
They might all be beginners at magic, but what about him?
With those flashy advanced spells he showed off in class, he still dared to call himself a "beginner"?
Hermione picked up her glass of milk.
Then she pulled out a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and started reading carefully.
"I've heard flying is very hard to control. It's really easy to embarrass yourself. And if I don't do well, the professor definitely won't give me a high mark in the class!"
Dylan glanced her way. "As far as I know, our first-year final exam, even though flying is a required course, only evaluates our posture."
"You just need to control the broom and complete some simple maneuvers. Nobody's going to give you a low mark just because of your performance in the first lesson."
Hermione nodded lightly, but kept turning pages, trying to see if there were any flying techniques she could pick up from Quidditch matches.
Seeing this, Dylan shrugged.
Hermione might be smart and diligent, but she chased perfection too hard, desperate to memorize every single point and do everything flawlessly.
After mastering several max-level spells, Dylan had come to realize that some magic only needed to be usable, while other magic was worth perfecting.
Take flying, for instance. If someone could Apparate continuously and seamlessly, what was the difference between that and flying?
Absolutely none.
So among the endless ocean of spells, some effects would naturally be covered by others.
Instead of clutching everything at once, it was better to let go of a few and grip the truly important ones.
Whoosh—
Just as Dylan was about to sip some seaweed soup,
a large flock of owls swooped in from outside the Hall.
At the same time,
a white blur fluttered down and landed on the table beside him.
"Luna?" Dylan blinked.
Looking at the snowy owl in front of him, he noticed the letters tied to her leg.
"Is that a letter from my parents? But why are there two?"
No way his mom and dad had each written a separate letter.
They were an old married couple, after all. What could they possibly need to say to their son that the other could not see?
Dylan untied the envelopes from Luna's leg.
Hermione and Harry leaned in as well, but instead of looking at the letter in Dylan's hand, their eyes went straight to the small, silvery card tucked inside.
"Wow! What's that?" Ron asked curiously.
Dylan was not sure either, so he pulled it out and took a look.
Only then did he realize it was a license.
A license to keep a Shadow Wyrm.
Joy flared in Dylan's chest.
He skimmed the contents of the letter.
One was from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, basically saying he had been granted permission to keep a Shadow Wyrm.
But strangely, the person who had guaranteed and recommended him was not Hagrid, but Dumbledore.
Curious, he opened the other letter.
This one was from Hagrid, explaining that he had wanted to write the recommendation himself,
but because of some… hard-to-explain issues in his own background, he thought it would be better not to get Dylan mixed up in that.
So he had gone to Professor Dumbledore for help.
Hagrid added that, if Dylan had time, he should go thank Dumbledore in person.
"Uh…"
Dylan's joy shattered in an instant, leaving him a bit helpless.
Really now, Hagrid, if you couldn't help, you didn't have to agree so quickly in the first place.
Go to Dumbledore and thank him face-to-face?
That was not impossible.
It was just that…
(End of Chapter)
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