Dylan didn't quite dare to cast the Killing Curse on a Boggart—after all, that's a bit too much.
He didn't want to accidentally obliterate the poor thing.
Still, that didn't stop him from using other spells.
A blast of holy light rained down.
The Boggart, usually adept at transforming into one's greatest fear, now seemed completely feeble before Dylan.
Just then…
Ding!
A system notification rang out.
Dylan glanced up.
[Achievement Unlocked]: Master of the Non-Beings
[Description]: Congratulations! You've successfully tamed the three chaotic "interns" of the magical world.
Dementor – Comes with its own AC system, perfect for chilling toxic workplaces with depression. Boggart – Can transform into your ex's cockroach form. A psychological warfare specialist and PUA master. Peeves the Poltergeist – Hogwarts' eternal class clown. A chalk-throwing sniper with a vendetta against authority.
You've earned the Reverse CPU Award from the Non-Beings! Their fear fuels your KPIs, and their happiness—your year-end bonus!
[Requirement]: Torment all three Non-Beings.
[Reward]: Max-Level Spell – Xixiorwawa ("Heehee but also Waaa!")
"Huh?"
Dylan blinked.
Another achievement? Out of nowhere?
And unlike the usual upgrades to stats or abilities, this one came with a max-level spell.
Though the name…
"Xixiorwawa?"
He raised a brow. "Could've gone with xixiandwuwu while you're at it."
Still, curiosity got the better of him and he pulled up the reward.
Suddenly—
He found himself standing alone in a vast, empty square.
The surroundings flickered…
And then, *poof!*—a crowd appeared around him, seemingly out of nowhere.
Dylan drew his wand and raised it high.
With a firm wave of his arm, he shouted:
"Xixiorwawa!"
A brilliant light burst from his wand's tip.
The spell surged forward, radiating a strange, enchanting magic.
Everyone it touched convulsed violently.
The hostile faces and aggressive movements froze.
Then… twisted. Into hilariously distorted expressions.
"Heeheehee!"
"Waaaah!"
Dylan watched in mild disbelief as people around him doubled over laughing, their high-pitched cackles filling the air—only to abruptly burst into tears, bawling as though their hearts were breaking.
The tears streamed down like a broken dam.
But then—just as suddenly—they'd burst out laughing again.
The whole crowd seemed trapped in a cycle of manic laughter and hysterical sobbing, like they were suffering from full-blown magical schizophrenia.
Dylan's eye twitched.
And then, just like that, the illusion shattered, and the spell's knowledge poured into his mind.
[Notification]: Congratulations! You've unlocked the Max-Level Spell – Xixiorwawa ("Heehee but also Waaa!")
Dylan shut his eyes briefly, then opened them with a complex expression.
"…Couldn't this spell name sound a little more dignified?"
He smacked his lips and shook his head.
"Well, it's basically like Split-Side Giggleblast," he muttered.
—Especially the name.
One makes you laugh till you fall over.
The other makes you laugh and cry.
"Honestly… what's next, a spell called Snortysnifflepop?"
Still, having both at max level, Dylan was able to compare them.
Split-Side Giggleblast was simpler—less magical energy required, more of a steady emotional disruption.
But Xixiorwawa? It demanded more power and much more precise control.
To pull off the laughing and crying combo, you had to manipulate magical frequency in stages and sync it with emotional centers in the brain.
It wasn't just emotions. It went deep—messing with neurotransmitters, distorting the mind's wiring.
"Magic may be whimsical, but the results are disturbingly real," Dylan muttered.
But then… a realization.
While it seemed like just a stronger version of Giggleblast, Xixiorwawa also allowed him to sense the target's emotions.
But… why sense them if he could just control them?
"If I can make someone laugh or cry at will, what's the point of 'sensing' anything?"
Still, it was an interesting layer of magical complexity.
"Oh, and I guess tormenting Peeves that one time actually counted?" he recalled, chuckling.
Had he not toyed with the poltergeist recently, the achievement might not have triggered.
Which gave him an idea…
"This was just from tormenting them… what if I actually made all three Non-Beings submit to me?"
Dylan's eyes sparkled.
If tormenting them got him an achievement…
Then dominating them might unlock something even better.
And considering this new reward was a max-level spell…
He could only imagine what an even greater achievement might yield.
"…Not like I can actually dissect a Boggart anyway," he muttered.
He glanced down.
Wisps of smoke curled from the tip of his wand as he stared at the trembling Boggart.
A black, gelatinous mass, it quivered like a terrified blob of fear incarnate.
Once the embodiment of a person's deepest terror…
Now it was struggling, shifting—
First into a fuzzy Persian cat.
It looked up at Dylan with big, watery eyes, meowing softly.
When that didn't work, it turned into a shiny Chocolate Frog—golden and jittery, spitting out sugary greeting cards.
Still no reaction from Dylan.
Then it transformed into a floppy plush clown doll wearing a ridiculous jester's cap, flailing and dancing desperately.
Trying everything to please him.
"Enough."
The plush doll froze mid-twirl and fell to its knees.
Its button eyes tilted up toward Dylan, practically begging.
Dylan rolled his eyes.
"Don't play pathetic with me. Answer one question correctly, and I'll let you go."
The doll's eyes lit up.
It scrambled upright, head tilted in anticipation.
Dylan smirked.
"Tell me—do you submit to me?"
As he spoke, he slowly raised his wand again, dangerous golden light sparking at the tip.
The plush doll froze.
It twitched.
Looked like it was thinking about shaking its head.
CRACK!
A blinding beam of gold shot past its face, slamming into the ground beside it with an ear-splitting BOOM!
The earth cracked, smoke and debris flying.
A blast crater formed right next to the doll.
Pebbles clattered off its plush body.
The doll's head snapped up.
Then—
It nodded.
Hard.
"That's more like it," Dylan said, lowering his wand with a smile.
"I said I'd let you go. Go play somewhere else."
—Just this once.
Dylan's figure faded from the clearing.
He couldn't apparate yet, but his body twisted like vapor, vanishing into a streak of motion.
He raced across the moonlit sea, leaving a shimmering wake behind him.
He landed quietly on a jagged, wind-battered island.
The salty wind whipped his robes as he stood among the rocks.
The air was thick with decay.
Seven Dementors floated lazily above, like drifting cloaks with claws, screeching softly beneath their hoods.
Suddenly—
The nearest one turned, spotting the dark figure on the rocks.
It froze.
Its hood quivered.
Then—stood to attention.
The others noticed and turned.
When they saw Dylan…
They stopped dead.
One by one, they hurried over and assembled behind the first Dementor—like terrified crows forming ranks.
Dylan chuckled.
His body billowed in black mist, gliding silently over the sand.
He came to a halt right before them.
They didn't move.
These were supposed to be terrifying creatures that drained all joy from the world…
But now they looked like panicked rookies at boot camp.
"I mean really, you're supposed to be scarier than me?" Dylan laughed, gazing at them.
They dipped their heads and exchanged awkward glances beneath their hoods.
"I'm not here to dissect you this time. Just one question."
His voice was calm, but they shuddered.
He frowned. "Don't give me that 'innocent victim' look or I swear, I'll eat you."
Instantly, the seven Dementors snapped to attention.
Their empty hoods even smiled—awkward, toothless grins.
Dylan nodded approvingly.
"Now, count off."
He crossed his arms and scanned the group.
"Start with little A. Backflip. Go."
Silence. Only the sound of waves.
Then—
Little A trembled.
With a crackle of joints, it inflated slightly and flipped backward.
A raspy voice emerged from the hood.
"One."
The rest were stunned—but followed.
Little B spun like boiling tar in mid-air.
Little C hesitated, but Dylan's wand flicked—and it obeyed.
One by one, they flipped, landing with dusty thuds and trailing black fog.
Finally, Little G landed and croaked out a "Seven."
Dylan smiled.
"Good. Now tell me… will you submit to me?"
His voice was light—but cold as death.
The Dementors didn't even hesitate.
They nodded rapidly.
"Nice," Dylan said.
That just leaves one more…
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