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The lion has to be golden, Hermione!"
As Seamus finished speaking, Dylan couldn't help but glance at the other side of the banner.
It turned out that there was a painting of a lion that barely resembled a lion at all.
"This is what I drew!" an excited voice announced.
Dylan turned to see that it was Seamus' friend, Dean.
Neville rubbed his head awkwardly. "I just happened to have a sheet I no longer wanted."
"You provided the bed sheet?" Dylan turned and looked at the pudgy boy.
After Neville nodded, Dylan scratched his head with his wand.
"In that case, should I do something?"
Neville blinked, but before he could answer, Dylan's wand was already in motion.
"Vera Verto!"
Pink starlight particles twinkled, shimmering under the sunlight, making the spell appear even more brilliant and dreamlike.
The magic seeped into the sheets, and suddenly, the fabric trembled violently.
The next moment, the words on the bed sheet began to move. As if brought to life by magic, they lifted off the fabric, transforming into small, animated cartoon figures that bounced around, shifting colors as they moved.
"Potter is the best!"
"Potter is the best!"
The little figures were dressed in bright, festive clothes, their faces full of enthusiasm as they cheered in unison.
Meanwhile, the crude lion design on the fabric started to morph. The once-faint outline became bold and vivid.
Finally, it leaped from the bed sheet, transforming into a magnificent, animated lion.
It had a powerful frame, radiating golden light. Its mane, like a cascade of flames, flowed as if caught in an unseen wind.
With a single step, the lion ran around the cheering figures, raising its head in a triumphant roar.
Ron, Neville, and the others stared in awe, their mouths hanging open.
"Merlin's nose, that's incredible!"
Hermione was equally astonished at Dylan's control over Transfiguration.
A spell that not only brought words to life but made them into sentient beings was no small feat.
Many other students nearby also turned to look, admiration and curiosity flashing in their eyes.
At that moment, Madam Hooch, the referee, walked to the center of the Quidditch pitch.
The players from both competing teams had already taken their places.
"I want the game to be fair, which means you have to be honest and not try to cheat!"
A sharp whistle cut through the air, echoing across the stadium.
Dozens of broomsticks shot into the sky.
Dylan had never been particularly interested in Quidditch.
But standing among the excited crowd, he couldn't help but be swept up in the electrifying atmosphere.
For the first time in a long while, he felt genuinely exhilarated.
Suddenly, a deep voice rumbled beside him.
"Would you mind lending me a bit of space?"
Dylan turned and looked up to see a massive figure looming over him—Hagrid.
Despite his enormous size, Hagrid had a friendly smile.
Dylan's section had some extra space, and as Hagrid settled in, the younger students instinctively shuffled aside, making room for him.
Hagrid's gaze remained fixed on the pitch, but he leaned slightly toward Dylan.
"That was some mighty fine magic you did back there. You've got a real knack for spells."
Dylan offered a polite smile. "Just a little trick, but yes, I do have a talent."
Hagrid smacked his lips, stroked his beard, and let out a chuckle before shifting his attention to Ron.
"The Snitch hasn't shown up yet, has it? I got here a bit late."
"Not yet," Ron replied, his eyes glued to the game.
Dylan also focused on the match.
Since he hadn't studied Quidditch rules in detail, he pieced things together based on what he already knew.
The Golden Snitch was the key to victory. Until it appeared, the players could only compete for control of the Quaffle.
However, Dylan couldn't help but notice that the match was more than just scoring goals—it was a full-contact battle.
Players jostled each other aggressively, sometimes throwing the Quaffle at opponents instead of aiming for the hoops.
The corners of Dylan's mouth twitched.
No matter the sport, it seemed that rough tactics were unavoidable.
Just then, gasps erupted from the stands.
Dylan's eyes snapped toward the field.
A streak of gold shot through the air.
Harry and the Slytherin Seeker bolted after it.
Just as Harry reached out for the Snitch, a Slytherin player suddenly veered into his path.
Harry was sent sprawling, nearly losing his grip on his broom.
Dylan's eyes widened.
"Hey! That's dirty!" Ron shouted.
"They fouled him!" Hagrid grumbled, his gaze flickering toward the teachers' stand. "Professor McGonagall's lookin' furious."
Madam Hooch soared into the air, her voice sharp as she reprimanded the Slytherin player.
Gryffindor was awarded a penalty shot, but the damage was done—the opportunity to end the game quickly was lost.
"For a foul like that, they should get a red card!" Dean fumed.
"This isn't football. There are no red cards," Seamus shook his head.
The Gryffindor crowd was seething with outrage, Hermione included.
Dylan, however, scanned the stadium carefully.
He vaguely recalled that someone had tried to attack Harry during a Quidditch match before.
"Was it Quirrell?"
As he pondered, he suddenly sensed something.
A faint yet malicious pulse of magic rippled through the air.
Ever since he had enhanced his wand's attack effects, he had become more attuned to magical auras.
This one was unmistakable—a jinx.
Dylan's expression darkened.
A low-level but dangerous hex.
Not as lethal as dark magic, but capable of causing serious accidents.
And if Harry got hit while flying at high speed…
He would likely spiral out of control, crash into the stands, or worse—plummet to the ground in pieces.
Dylan's fingers tightened around his wand.
"Quirrell, you dare make a move? You must be testing if Dumbledore is still in the castle, right?"
The jinx took effect almost instantly.
Harry, who had been flying smoothly, suddenly lost control.
His broom jerked violently, shaking him as if possessed.
Then, without warning, it rocketed upward.
Dylan's eyes sharpened.
Things were about to get dangerous.
(End of Chapter)
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