Chapter 259: He will still be scolded by Professor Snape
"How bizarre," Dylan said, clicking his tongue. "No wonder I haven't seen Wood rushing you to practice lately."
"I'm not entirely sure it's true," Harry quickly added. "Fred and George might have exaggerated. I mean... trying to drown yourself in a rainstorm just sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"
Dylan just chuckled and nodded. "That's a definite 'yes.'"
The first full week after the Christmas holidays passed by, and another Quidditch match arrived. The final result was a win for Slytherin. Despite the outcome, many Gryffindors were surprisingly happy.
Dylan was in the dorm, reading a book, when Wood burst in, overflowing with excitement.
"Harry! This is great! Slytherin beat Ravenclaw, so all we have to do is beat Ravenclaw, and we'll come in second place, despite our previous loss!"
Wood rushed to Harry's bed. He didn't seem down at all; he was practically radiating energy. Harry blinked, looking at the seemingly fully-healed Wood, then smiled and nodded. "That's awesome! I'm sure we can win next time!"
Wood gave a goofy grin, about to say more, when he caught sight of Dylan sitting at his desk, flipping through a book with a neutral expression. Wood froze instantly. He turned back, swallowed, and asked cautiously, "Uh... Dylan, am I interrupting you?"
Dylan glanced at Wood. Wood stood still, unmoving. He didn't know why, but whenever he talked to Dylan, he felt an immense amount of pressure, like he was standing in front of Professor McGonagall.
Dylan looked at Wood, who was nearly a graduate but was acting like a nervous first-year in front of him. Dylan pursed his lips, let out a puff of air, and waved his hand. "No, no. You just burst in and started chattering at Harry. How could you possibly be interrupting me?" Dylan said with a smile.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down Wood's forehead. That certainly didn't sound like he wasn't interrupted.
"Go on, you have more to say to Harry. Don't mind me," Dylan said, looking back down at his book.
He and Harry were the only ones in the dorm. Dylan wasn't angry, so Wood didn't need to apologize to anyone else. Seeing that Dylan genuinely didn't seem to be looking for trouble, Wood finally relaxed. He turned back to Harry, his voice now a low, excited whisper.
"You've got a broom to practice with now, right?"
Harry nodded. "Dylan gave me a broom earlier. I've been using it for practice, and the one that got confiscated didn't affect me much."
Wood nodded vigorously. "That's perfect! So, you can start training with me again, right?"
Harry blinked. "I can, but..." He looked Wood up and down. "Are you okay? I heard you were in the infirmary for a while after the last match."
Wood immediately waved his hand. "I'm fine! The most important thing now is training. Everything else can wait!"
Harry's mouth opened, but Wood didn't give him a chance to speak. "Let's start today. Go to the training field right after you eat. I'll get everyone else there." He continued. "From now on, we should practice at least five times a week. Six would be even better, and seven would be perfect!"
Harry froze. "Every day?" he asked in shock.
Wood nodded. "Yeah! That's how we'll give it our all in the match and win! You don't want to lose to Ravenclaw and let Slytherin take first place again, do you?"
Harry's face fell. "It's not that I don't want to, but... I have weekly homework to do, and I have to go to Professor Lupin for spell practice every week. I just don't have enough time to train every day."
Wood paused. He knew he couldn't ask Harry to abandon everything for Quidditch, even though the victory would be a huge honor for all of Gryffindor. But deep down, his relentless training schedule was driven by his own personal goal. He couldn't stand seeing Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup and Gryffindor never even get close. After a moment of hesitation, he compromised.
"Alright. How about this: We train every day, and you take two days off between Monday and Friday for your own things—one day for Professor Lupin's lessons and one for homework. On Saturday and Sunday, we spend the whole day at the training field. What do you say?"
Wood's face was full of hope.
Harry's lips twitched. But seeing the look on Wood's face, he was afraid that if he refused, Wood would just go try to drown himself in the next rainstorm. So, he nodded. "Okay... but I'll only have one evening a week to finish all my homework..."
Wood's eyes sparkled. He slapped Harry's bedspread. "Don't worry! If you don't know how to do something—" Wood's eyes darted to Dylan, who was still reading. "Just ask your roommate. I'm sure they're so kind, helpful, handsome, and righteous that they won't let you get a bad grade and get punished by the professors!"
Harry's mouth opened slightly, his eyes glazed over. He just stared blankly at the bed. "Uh... I guess so."
"Haha, right?!" Wood chuckled. "Come on, let's go eat! Then we're heading to the practice field!"
Wood grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him off the bed. Harry sighed. "Alright, alright, let's go." He put on his shoes and robe, and grabbed his spare clothes.
Before leaving, Harry looked back at Dylan. "Dylan, want to come eat with us?"
Dylan shook his head. "You two go on. I want to finish this part, and besides... Wood will probably make you eat everything in two bites anyway. I won't hold up your practice time."
Harry's lips twitched again. Wood, meanwhile, nodded to Dylan gratefully. "Dylan, you're so considerate! I'll bring you some new cream puffs from Hufflepuff next time! They're really good!"
Dylan shook his head. "Thanks, but no need. I taught Hufflepuff how to make those."
Wood stared at him. "('-.')… Dylan, you really are a six-sided fighter. You don't have a single weakness."
Harry laughed. "He's got a lot of magic talent."
Wood nodded. "I know. Alright, let's go." He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out the door.
Thinking of the relentless training ahead, Harry trudged after Wood toward the Great Hall. He hadn't even started practicing yet, but he already missed the two days of relaxation he'd had.
Seeing the two of them leave, Dylan shook his head and returned to his book. It was an ancient tome left by Rowena in his treasure hoard. It contained some fascinating magical experiments that had completely captivated Dylan, who had been devouring the book, forgetting to eat or sleep.
After Neville and the others had all returned from dinner, Dylan finally made his way to the Great Hall.
Time flew by. It was another Friday evening.
Dylan was in the library, reading a book, with Harry and Ron sitting beside him. Ron had several assignments on the table in front of him and was scribbling away furiously. Harry's situation was even worse. He had twice as much homework as Ron. While Ron would usually get at least some of his homework done, Harry hadn't touched a pen all week because of Wood's practices. He now had to finish all his assignments that night.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
The sound of Harry's quill was loud and clear. It was almost a wonder his quill wasn't sparking on the parchment. He only relaxed a little after writing the last word, but his expression was still as miserable as if he'd just eaten a fly that had been in a latrine.
"Dylan..." He gently pushed the parchment toward him.
"What is it?" Dylan looked up at Harry.
"Uh..." Harry was a little embarrassed. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Could you please take a look at this essay for me?"
Ron leaned over. "That much? Is that for Professor Snape? I thought you were just going to do a quick draft. How did you write so much?" Ron looked down at his own parchment, which had sparse and sloppy handwriting. "Don't let me be the only one Snape yells at! He'll rip me to shreds!"
Dylan took Harry's parchment and put it in front of him, giving it a quick scan. "You've written this much. What do you need me to look at?"
Harry sighed. "I'm not expecting a high grade. I just don't want Snape to give me a 'T' and make me rewrite it. I really don't have time."
Dylan gave a small laugh. Harry was clearly self-aware now. He knew that if he put his homework in front of Snape, he was going to get yelled at. It didn't matter how carefully he wrote it, how detailed the content was, or how unique his perspective was... Snape would still criticize it. Someone who wants to find fault will always find an excuse. So Harry had just given up. He would get yelled at, but so what? He'd just have to listen. Snape would use it as an excuse to take points from Gryffindor, and if the work was truly terrible, Snape would give him a "T" without even having to try and force him to rewrite it.
With Wood dragging him to practice every day, Harry was exhausted. If he had to rewrite this essay, he'd have to pull an all-nighter. As for being yelled at and losing points? He could handle being yelled at; it was just words. And the points would be earned back by others.
With that thought, Harry looked at Dylan, then glanced at Hermione, who was scribbling away furiously in the distance.
"Can you help me? If there's anything to change, you can make notes on another piece of paper, and I'll add them later," Harry pleaded.
Dylan nodded. "It's nothing. This essay is actually pretty good. If I add a few paragraphs, it will instantly be raised to a higher level. Then even if Professor Snape wants to give you a bad grade, he can't just slap a 'T' on it."
"Really? That's great!" Harry said, thanking him repeatedly before grabbing his next assignment and getting back to work.
Ron pouted. "Dylan..."
Without looking up, Dylan said, "It's fine. After I'm done making notes for Harry, you can take a look at it and rewrite it in your own words. Just copy a few parts." Ron wasn't Harry. Snape wouldn't give him a hard time.
Ron's eyes lit up. "You're a lifesaver!"
He then turned to Hermione, who had been completely silent throughout their conversation. The books piled on her desk almost hid her completely. She was occupying not one but three tables and was sitting in a corner of the library, far away from them.
Ron gently nudged Harry's arm with his elbow. "Hey! Don't move, you almost made me make a mistake!"
"Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to ask you, what's wrong with her?"
Ron pulled his hand back sheepishly but then gestured toward Hermione with his chin. Harry turned to look. He was incredibly busy, but Hermione looked even busier.
"Didn't Hermione take all the electives? It's normal for her to have more homework than me, isn't it?"
"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, how is she doing this?"
"Doing what?" Harry asked, confused.
"Look!" Ron pulled his class schedule out of his bag and pointed to the Thursday classes. "See? There was no Arithmancy class yesterday, but when I passed by Hermione and Professor Vector at lunch today, I heard them talking about yesterday's class. How did they have a class when it wasn't on the schedule?"
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