"Yeah, it's kind of a shame, but I figure I might try becoming an Animagus someday," Dylan said casually.
He hadn't told anyone about his ability to transform into a fire dragon.
Dumbledore's comment, though, broke the stern atmosphere of the courtroom.
The wizards present chuckled knowingly, and even Fudge, who'd been stone-faced, let a small smirk slip.
Once the laughter died down, Dumbledore's expression turned serious again. "Years ago, when Dylan first started at Hogwarts, I could tell he was a brave and remarkably clever young wizard."
"In his first year, he showed incredible talent, single-handedly taking down a troll and saving his friends. And with Voldemort's forces stirring again recently, I think it's time for us to make some changes."
The name "Voldemort" dropped like a stone.
A low buzz of murmurs filled the courtroom.
Most of the wizards there had lived through the First Wizarding War.
The mere mention of that name brought back memories of the terror it carried.
And the fact that Dumbledore said it outright, without hesitation, made many faces grow grim.
His steady, commanding voice continued to echo through the room. "By his second year, Dylan, alongside Minerva, co-authored a paper titled 'Transfiguration Techniques for Rapid Combat Applications,' published in the most prestigious Transfiguration journal, Today's Transfiguration."
"The editor's foreword praised the paper for 'paving new paths in practical Transfiguration.' More impressively, it's now part of the mandatory Auror training curriculum. The techniques outlined have boosted Aurors' combat efficiency against dark wizards by at least thirty percent, making a real impact in the fight against dark magic!"
Dylan blinked.
When had he published a paper?
Then it clicked. In his second year, he'd had a long discussion with Professor McGonagall about using Transfiguration in combat.
He also remembered not receiving his copy of Today's Transfiguration for a week that year.
Could that have been it?
Had McGonagall turned their conversation into a published article?
Dylan paused.
Why hadn't anyone mentioned it to him?
Then again, young wizards didn't usually read academic journals.
Even if someone had, they probably wouldn't have brought it up.
As for Harry and his dormmates? Forget it—none of them cracked open a book unless forced.
Hermione might've read it, but knowing her, she'd probably just sulk, annoyed she wasn't as accomplished as Dylan.
So, Dylan had no idea he'd been published in Today's Transfiguration.
Was McGonagall trying to surprise him?
He was a third-year graduate now and only just finding out. Unbelievable.
Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes shifted to the right side of the circular seating.
A man with thick golden hair and shoulders broad as a lion stood, his voice booming with confidence. "I can vouch for that."
It was Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office, his hands braced on the table as his gaze swept the room.
"Since we integrated that paper into our training, our Aurors have been quicker to transform everyday objects into defensive tools during surprise attacks. Last year's second half saw a nearly forty percent increase in dark wizard arrests compared to the previous year—all thanks to Dylan's work."
Scrimgeour sat, and Dumbledore continued, "That's not all. Recently, Dylan destroyed a dark magical artifact left by Voldemort, one that amplified negative emotions. Left unchecked, it could've caused serious harm."
"And in his third year, he rediscovered Ravenclaw's lost diadem, bringing a sacred relic of Ravenclaw's legacy back to light!"
Several wizards in the left-hand seats sat up straighter.
A bespectacled witch leaned forward, whispering to her neighbor, "So he's the one who found the diadem!"
Her companion nodded, eyes gleaming with pride.
A few Ravenclaw alumni exchanged glances, their looks toward Dylan now filled with genuine respect.
"I'm sure you all remember the trial of Sirius Black two months ago," Dumbledore said, his tone growing grave.
"Dylan was a key witness. He not only provided evidence that Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater but revealed that Pettigrew had been hiding for years as an Animagus—a brown rat—lurking in the Weasley household, passing information right under our noses."
He paused, tapping the podium lightly. Though soft, the sound carried a magical clarity to every ear.
"Without Dylan's discovery, a Death Eater serving Voldemort would still be hiding among us."
The courtroom fell silent.
Some wizards paled, others gasped softly, their relaxed postures stiffening.
The thought of a Death Eater in their midst sent chills through the room.
Dylan listened quietly.
Truth be told, he hadn't warned Harry much about Pettigrew—he'd just spotted him on the Marauder's Map.
How had he gotten credit for exposing Pettigrew?
Oh well, it was just another feather in his cap. Dumbledore could spin it however he wanted.
"That's the gist of my recommendation," Dumbledore said, giving a slight bow. "Now, please vote on whether Dylan Hawkwood should join the Wizengamot as the Youth Wizard Representative."
Dylan kept his face neutral, unfazed by the stares.
With Dumbledore backing him, this was practically a done deal.
The only wild card was Lucius Malfoy's stance.
He glanced at Lucius, who seemed to sense his gaze and quickly looked away, fingers absently rubbing his ballot, his expression blank but his eyes betraying a hint of coldness.
Soon, the staff began collecting votes.
Dylan clearly saw Lucius mark "abstain" on his ballot before folding it and handing it over.
A few pure-blood wizards close to the Malfoys hesitated, some voting in favor, others following Lucius's lead and abstaining.
Dylan wasn't fazed by Lucius's choice.
In fact, he was a bit surprised.
Lucius hadn't opposed him?
Had he forgotten how Dylan had insulted him at the bookstore?
His behavior was oddly out of character.
With Dylan's influence, the timeline wasn't following the original story anymore.
Several Horcruxes were already in his possession.
Could Voldemort return sooner than expected?
It was entirely possible.
Had Voldemort already started reaching out to Lucius?
That might explain his strange behavior.
Dylan stayed calm, mulling it over.
In the original story, Lucius wouldn't recommit to Voldemort until he was fully resurrected and had demonstrated undeniable power.
Until then, Lucius would likely stay neutral, biding his time.
Dylan reflected further.
Since arriving in this world, he'd made plenty of changes to the original timeline.
Those changes might have thrown things off, making events less predictable.
But so what?
Dylan didn't care whether Voldemort was back or not.
"Alright, let's tally the votes," Fudge's voice cut through his thoughts.
He nodded to the clerk, a young wizard in a gray uniform and round glasses, who began sorting the ballots.
The clerk counted softly, "For: 1, 2… 4, 5. Against: 1… 6. Abstentions: 3."
After double-checking, he nodded to Fudge.
Fudge cleared his throat, reading from the tally sheet. "Of the 54 Wizengamot members present, 45 vote in favor of Dylan Hawkwood as Youth Wizard Representative, 6 against, and 3 abstain. The majority exceeds two-thirds, as required by Wizengamot regulations."
He paused, forcing a stiff smile despite his reluctance, and continued, "I hereby declare Dylan Hawkwood the official Youth Wizard Representative of the Seventh Wizengamot!"
Applause erupted.
The Ravenclaw alumni and Dumbledore's supporters clapped especially loudly.
Fudge took a purple silk robe from his assistant.
The robe's collar and cuffs were embroidered with gold patterns, and a Wizengamot crest adorned the chest, alongside a silver badge engraved with a bold "W" for Wizengamot membership.
Fudge stepped forward, handing the robe and badge to Dylan with a rigid tone but proper formality. "On behalf of the British Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot, I congratulate you."
"This is the exclusive Wizengamot robe and badge, along with the contract outlining your rights and responsibilities. You'll need to sign to confirm your duties."
Dylan accepted the robe and badge, his fingers brushing the smooth silk.
He looked at the silver "W" badge, a mix of pride and concern for the future stirring within him.
Below, Dumbledore watched with a warm smile, his white beard twitching slightly.
Instead of clapping, he tapped his left hand with his right, his unique way of showing approval, his eyes full of encouragement.
Moody, sitting nearby, gave a rare smile, his magical eye swiveling as he nodded at Dylan.
Back home, Dylan tucked the purple robe and silver "W" badge away.
He sat at his desk, picking up the silver contract stamped with the Wizengamot seal, his bloodied fingerprint still fresh from signing. The contract was now binding.
He read it carefully, noting the perks of Wizengamot membership.
Members could apply for tax exemptions on certain magical item trades and, when wearing the badge, could Apparate directly within Ministry grounds without using designated fireplaces.
His eyes lit up at the Apparition perk.
That would make things much easier!
Lucius's odd behavior earlier only confirmed Dylan's suspicion: Voldemort was likely contacting his old followers.
Let them regroup. Dylan would take them all down in one swoop.
He smirked.
Plenty of dark wizards were already rallying around him.
What would Voldemort think if he knew? Probably die of rage.
A sudden idea struck.
Dylan headed to his suitcase's laboratory and opened a wooden box.
The box was etched with anti-theft runes, lined with black velvet, and held a clear crystal vial.
Inside was a pitch-black heart, its surface veined and pulsing irregularly.
"Thump, thump."
The vial was filled with dense black magic, roiling and slamming against the glass, as if it might burst free.
This was an Obscurial's heart, something Dylan had swiped from Borgin and Burkes.
He held the vial to the window, letting sunlight hit the heart.
The veins gleamed with an eerie black glow. Saturated with Obscurial power, the heart had transformed into a destructive "bomb."
Dylan raised his wand, channeling a thread of his magic into the vial.
The heart's pulsing intensified, the black magic surging wildly, frost forming on the glass.
Back in his bedroom, he glanced outside. The clouds were thickening.
He decided to wait for nightfall to act, already planning a surprise for Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Night fell quickly.
It should've been a full moon, but heavy clouds blocked every trace of light, leaving the world in darkness.
The mention of a full moon made Dylan think of Professor Lupin.
Since assigning Lupin to the XY potion factory, Dylan had added an extra flexible day off each month for all employees, letting them choose their time.
Lupin was probably off somewhere now. Dylan couldn't keep tabs on him.