"No one's taught me Apparition yet, and I don't dare try it on my own either."
Dylan rummaged through Voldemort's skill set, sifting through his options. After ruling out most spells that required complex rituals to take effect, he was left with things like the Unforgivable Curses—which he didn't need at all.
After all, he was already maxed out.
As for ordinary dark magic, he figured he'd be better off waiting until the school year started, grabbing that flamboyant signature, and heading straight to the Restricted Section to read forbidden books.
So, after flipping through everything, Dylan still wanted to master Voldemort's Apparition.
That aside, the Flight Charm Voldemort had developed wasn't half bad either.
The former could help Dylan teleport over long or short distances.
The latter would massively make up for any positioning issues during combat.
He recalled the moment when Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape had clashed. Snape had used the Flight Charm to dodge several of McGonagall's spells, then crashed through a window to escape Hogwarts.
Dylan thought the spell was pretty cool.
Plus, once he mastered the Flight Charm, he'd be able to turn himself into a streak of black mist, no longer needing a broomstick to fly.
In terms of raw speed, the Flight Charm couldn't compare to Apparition—that was basically teleportation.
But the reason Voldemort had invented the Flight Charm was that it allowed him to multitask. Even in the heat of a wizarding duel, he could use it without worrying about splitting his focus.
With Apparition, if you weren't careful during an intense magical firefight, a single slip-up could happen. You might not get killed by your enemy, but you could end up splinching yourself—torn apart or shattered into pieces. That wasn't exactly a worthwhile trade-off.
"If I want to make a name for myself as 'The Fool' and let the entire wizarding world know the terror of Carthus, I'll probably have to face off against other wizards this summer."
—And if he wanted to unlock more features of his suitcase, he'd need to make some money fast too.
"So, should I go with Apparition or the Flight Charm?"
The Flight Charm was a piece of dark magic Voldemort had completely developed on his own. By all logic, no one would ever teach it to him.
As for Apparition, that was usually something you couldn't even apply to learn until your sixth or seventh year.
But given the impression he'd left on the professors—whether it was Snape, McGonagall, or even Flitwick—heck, even old Dumbledore himself—they'd all taught him advanced magic ahead of schedule.
Once the professors were sure he could handle Apparition, they'd probably teach him that early too.
"The thing is, Dumbledore's clearly way better at Apparition than Voldemort ever was. Voldemort didn't even max out his mastery of it, so picking it up from him feels like a loss."
After some serious thought, Dylan decided to go with Voldemort's Flight Charm.
In truth, Voldemort had also researched the Killing Curse, but his proficiency wasn't all that high.
Dylan himself had studied the Killing Curse too.
His proficiency wasn't great either.
If Voldemort had fully mastered that spell, Dylan might've considered taking it. But Voldemort's grasp of the Killing Curse, while decent, wasn't anything extraordinary.
It didn't hold a candle to a high-level Flight Charm.
—Sure, Voldemort hadn't maxed out the Flight Charm either. It was his own creation, after all, and there were bound to be areas that still needed refinement.
But this was a spell Dylan didn't know yet.
"That settles it!"
[Notification]: Congratulations! You've mastered the Level 7 Charm—Tenebris Volo (Shadow Mist Flight)!
Dylan closed his eyes slightly, and the detailed knowledge of Voldemort's Flight Charm surfaced in his mind.
It was an incredibly strange sensation. The spell seemed to involve elements of Transfiguration while weaving in a hefty dose of dark magic knowledge.
The moment he grasped it, Dylan even felt a deeper understanding and boost in his comprehension of other dark magic.
Slowly opening his eyes, he mulled it over quietly.
"In the original story, little Voldy and Professor Snape were the only two wizards who seemed to master the Flight Charm. But in the movies, it looked like both good and evil wizards had some kind of flight ability—turning into black smoke or white smoke."
"Right now, I'm in this real world. I'm not entirely sure if anyone else might've mastered flight."
According to one of the most popular books in the Hogwarts library—Quidditch Through the Ages—Dylan remembered that even in the movie version, the first page said no spell had been invented yet to let wizards fly without tools.
That's why wizards in Quidditch matches all rode broomsticks.
But when Dylan had read the book himself, that line was gone.
This led him to speculate.
—Maybe the Flight Charm had already spread among the upper echelons of the wizarding world.
After all, it was a way to fly without a broomstick.
Once Voldemort showed it off, how could others not covet it?
And why did Professor Snape know this spell?
And use it so openly?
There's no way he could've secretly learned it from Voldemort, right?
Dylan figured Voldemort had a bit of a teacher complex.
—Otherwise, he wouldn't keep dreaming of becoming a professor.
On top of that, Snape was one of Voldemort's most trusted followers.
Teaching him a few spells didn't seem unreasonable to Dylan.
What if brainstorming together led to further improvements in the Flight Charm?
Wouldn't Voldemort be thrilled about that?
For all he knew, Voldemort might've even held a lecture during one of those Death Eater meetings, just to make sure his minions picked up more magical knowledge—and to bask in their awe at his genius for creating spells.
But since the Flight Charm was so difficult, only Snape ended up mastering it.
In this spell, Dylan sensed the power of advanced Transfiguration—and more. Beyond that, he picked up on a wealth of profound magical knowledge.
—Maybe that's why Snape's standing in Voldemort's eyes went up another notch.
After all, who wouldn't take a liking to a subordinate who's completely self-focused, sharp as a tack, quick to catch on, and picks things up the moment they're taught—especially when they stand out like a crane among chickens in a crowd of dimwits and fools?
Forget little Voldy—even if Dylan had a subordinate like that, he'd treat them as a confidant!
—Not that he's saying he'd take Professor Snape as a subordinate.
—He hasn't even thought about it.
"But the wizarding world isn't just limited to Voldemort and Snape being the only smart ones. The Death Eaters might not have learned it, but that doesn't mean other wizards couldn't."
After Voldemort demonstrated the Flight Charm—and possibly even taught it to others—it's not impossible that the spell could've spread.
Even if other wizards couldn't create spells from scratch, Dylan figured it was entirely plausible they'd take an existing spell and tweak it to suit themselves.
"If everyone's keeping the Flight Charm under wraps, then that's all the more reason for me to learn it."
Having basically cashed out all the valuable achievement rewards, Dylan finally finished his sundae and cake.
"Ugh, I was hoping to poke around the black market and see if I could snag something unusual—like a live magical creature. But with things as they are, it's not exactly convenient to go there now."
Dylan shook his head.
Ordinary magical creatures were available for purchase, but he wasn't interested.
High-level magical creatures, on the other hand, usually required smuggling, and the black market was the only place to even consider getting them.
With Aurors patrolling back and forth right now, he couldn't pull off those kinds of moves.
Dylan also didn't think it was a good idea to let the names "Carthus" and "The Fool" spread any further for a while.
—Sometimes, showing up too often in a short span wasn't a good thing.
It made you lose that air of mystery.
And without mystery, people stopped feeling awe.
Dylan tidied up and decided to head home.
But before that, he figured he could swing by Diagon Alley and pick up a few simple items to spruce up his suitcase.
—Luckily, while the suitcase still had a bunch of locked features, the space it currently offered was something Dylan could work with.
—It was a suitcase, after all.
When you opened it, it wasn't like a regular bag where you could immediately see everything inside.
In that way, it was a lot like Newt's suitcase.
On the surface, it had a layer of disguise.
Even if you opened it right up, to Muggles it'd just look like an ordinary, unremarkable box.
"Once I start unlocking more of the suitcase's abilities, I'll be able to roughly divide the space inside into different sections."
By then, the suitcase would practically be its own little world.
He could even cast the Fidelius Charm on it to keep it hidden.
His proficiency with the Fidelius Charm wasn't great yet, but since the suitcase hadn't unlocked its other abilities either, there was no rush.
"If my identity ever gets exposed someday, Mom and Dad could just hop into my suitcase. If I can turn it into a whole world… they wouldn't be so bored in there."
After leaving Diagon Alley, Dylan popped over to the Muggle world and stocked up on food and various odds and ends.
Sure, most things from the wizarding world were useful and could save him a lot of hassle when stored in the suitcase.
But there were plenty of Muggle gadgets that were just as handy.
Take the Whispering Lamp, for example.
It could turn on or off based on its owner's voice commands.
—Wasn't that basically the same as a Muggle voice-activated light?
Time flew by, and nearly a month passed in a flash.
After laying low for a couple of weeks, Dylan once again donned his "Carthus" persona, sporting the title of "The Fool." He roamed the dark alleys every day, robbing a handful of dark wizards who tried to mess with him.
In one fell swoop, he raked in another forty or fifty thousand Galleons.
These guys weren't as loaded as Mr. Borgin, but there were a lot of them.
Every now and then, a few idiots would try to jump him while he was pacing the underworld.
And in the end, they all got jumped by Dylan instead.
"That's what you call digging your own grave."
Dylan weighed the money pouch in his hand, feeling quite pleased.
A million Galleons sounded like a lot, but if one person could cough up ten thousand, he'd only need to "collect donations" from a hundred people.
And if someone was as generous as Mr. Borgin, willing to open their wallet wide for him, he might only need to… "persuade" a dozen or so.
"Too bad this underworld route took me forever to find. After I've 'taught a lesson' to a few waves lately, there aren't even many dark wizards passing through anymore."
Especially these past couple of days, Dylan had been lying in wait for ages just to catch one brave soul gutsy enough to try sneaking up on him.
Shaking his head, Dylan slipped on the Shadow Ring and vanished from the spot in an instant.
By the time he'd changed clothes and stepped out onto the street, he glanced around twice.
"Ron wrote to me saying Harry's over at his place and invited me to come hang out. I've got nothing going on at home anyway, so I might as well head over."
Dylan really didn't have much to do at home right now.
—He was the only one there.
A while back, when Dylan had been roaming the dark wizard underworld under the name "Carthus," his parents had kept him company at home for about half a month. But eventually, they couldn't sit still any longer. With Dylan's school year still a ways off and things not too busy yet, they decided to seize the chance to go on another trip.
They'd politely asked if Dylan wanted to tag along.
But after spending that time playing third wheel, Dylan flat-out refused.
He had a sneaking suspicion his mom and dad were trying to give him a little brother or sister.
"Ugh, once people strike it rich, they sure change their tune."
Back in the day, the two of them doted on him like crazy. But after just one year away at school, the tables had turned—suddenly, their hearts weren't with him anymore.
If his parents hadn't been away, Dylan wouldn't have been out prowling the dark alleys every day, baiting those dark wizards.
"But isn't it a bit late to drop by for a visit?"
After mulling it over for a moment, Dylan shrugged the thought off.
Who cares if it's a good time or not? Was Mrs. Weasley really going to turn him away?
"Perfect timing—this dark wizard had some little gift boxes on him. No idea where he swiped them from, but they'll make great presents."
No sooner said than done.
With the Shadow Ring on, Dylan cloaked himself and shot straight into the sky.
Ever since mastering Tenebris Volo—the Shadow Mist Flight Charm—he'd gotten so used to it that riding a broomstick felt outdated.
The two places weren't far apart.
The Weasley family lived just outside Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, England—a spot with the charming name "The Burrow."
Dylan thought "The Shack" wouldn't be a bad name either.
As he neared his destination, he hopped onto the Nimbus 2000 he'd just bought, dispelled the Flight Charm and Shadow Ring effects, and cruised leisurely down to the front of The Burrow.
—No way was he letting Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both Phoenix Order members, see him casually pulling off Voldemort's Flight Charm like a pro.
Once he was on the broom, he flew a bit farther and spotted the Weasley house right away. It was, well, pretty rundown.
The building was at least four stories tall, patched together crookedly in a way that made Dylan half-expect it to collapse any second.
A red roof sat atop it, with a chimney poking out, the whole thing looking like a stack of magical building blocks.
—It had a quirky, uneven kind of charm.
There was a yard out front and a garden in back, complete with a chicken coop, a garage, and a broom shed.
Oh, and a pigsty too.
The garden was full of weeds, though part of it had been cleared out and planted with vegetables.
It gave off a real rustic vibe.
Dylan didn't linger in the air too long. He soon guided his broom down to land.
—He noticed the plump figure of Mrs. Weasley standing at the doorway, quietly watching him.
When he touched down, Mrs. Weasley's face broke into a smile, though her eyes held a hint of curiosity as she sized him up.
"This late… child, is something up?"
Dylan glanced at the pitch-black sky and flashed an embarrassed, shy grin.
"Oh, you're so beautiful, you make all the flowers around here pale in comparison—you must be Mrs. Weasley, right?"
Mrs. Weasley hadn't expected Dylan to come out swinging with a barrage of over-the-top flattery. It was a little awkward, but since it was just a kid—and one with such a sweet tongue—she couldn't help but cover her cheek, her smile widening.
"I am."
Dylan jumped right in. "Hi there! I'm Ron's roommate. My name's Dylan Hawkwood. Has Ron ever mentioned me to you?"
"Huh?" Mrs. Weasley blinked, her gaze sweeping over Dylan again. "You're Dylan?"
How's he so tall?
Why hadn't Ron ever brought this up?
With that build, he could pass for George's roommate!
She'd just seen a wizard flying toward the house and wondered what was going on.
But then this wizard hopped off his broom, turned out to be a kid, and announced himself as a first-year who hadn't even started his second year yet!
Mrs. Weasley didn't dwell on it too much. She quickly softened her slightly stiff smile and said, "Ron's told me about you. Not just him—Fred and George have mentioned you too."
"They all said they'd made a good friend at school. Smart, well-liked by the professors."
Mrs. Weasley stepped to the side. "Come on in. Ron and the others aren't here right now—I'm waiting for them myself."
Dylan blinked. "They're not home?"
Mrs. Weasley took his hand, leading him over the threshold and squeezing into the house.
Before he knew it, she'd stuffed his arms full of all sorts of snacks.
"This is all Ron's share. You can eat it all."
Dylan stared at the huge pile of goodies in his arms, blinking again.
Is this really okay?
Mrs. Weasley tugged him over to the sofa, sat him down, and brewed him a cup of hot tea.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Dylan sat gracefully, gently setting the heap of snacks aside before taking the teacup from her hands.
Mrs. Weasley smiled, then muttered under her breath,
"You seem so well-behaved. If only Ron and the others could save me this much trouble. You have no idea—these mischievous little troublemakers actually—"
Before she could finish, a sudden clamor erupted outside the house.
Dylan tilted his head to listen. It sounded like…
"A car engine?"
(End of Chapter)