Dylan's footsteps made no sound at all as he moved.
"At this hour… where would Peeves be lurking?"
Shrouded completely in shadow, Dylan had just stepped out of his magical suitcase after dealing with the Dementors and Boggart. Ron and Harry were already fast asleep, so he wandered the now curfew-quiet Hogwarts, looking for a certain mischief-making ghost.
Just then, a bizarre cackling echoed from the end of the corridor.
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
Found you.
He followed the sound to a cluttered storage room packed with old brooms. From the narrow crack beneath the door came a series of strange, sputtering noises—
—almost like something repeatedly passing gas.
There was also a rhythm of broomsticks clacking together.
—some sort of eerie marching tune, maybe?
Whatever it was, it sounded dreadful.
Dylan glanced left, then right.
With a flick of his wand, he cast a Silencing Charm over the room.
Then, without hesitation, he kicked the door wide open.
It slammed against the wall, and in the same instant, he locked eyes with a glowing green puffball—
—Peeves.
The poltergeist was riding a Flying Broomstick, wildly jabbing a random tree branch into a rusty old bin in the corner.
The lid of the bin flapped open and shut with each jab, making a ridiculous clanging rhythm.
Dylan's sudden entrance startled Peeves so badly he almost dropped the broom.
"Who—?!"
All the noise cut off. Peeves whirled around, assuming it was a professor.
But what he saw was even worse.
Air.
"Who's there?!"
He remembered the last time he caused trouble—some invisible menace had given him a thumping so bad he couldn't find his own ectoplasm.
And now it was back!
Peeves yelped, dropped the broom, and shot up to the ceiling, glaring toward the doorway with wild eyes.
Just then, Dylan stepped out of the shadows.
Peeves recoiled again.
"You! Was that you last time?! Sneaking around after curfew?! I'm telling Dumbledore!"
Truth was, Dylan had already had a few run-ins with Peeves back in his first year. But he'd been too busy since then to deal with the poltergeist's constant mischief.
Now Peeves yanked a whistle from thin air.
One blow from it and the noise would wake every soul on the floor—maybe not those in the House dormitories, but certainly Filch.
Dylan just smirked.
He flicked his wand lazily.
Just as Peeves bit down on the whistle, it suddenly turned… soft?
He looked down. He was gnawing on a banana.
"Hey!"
Peeves snapped the banana in two, furious.
"You cheated! That spell didn't even sparkle!"
"To deal with the likes of you, I don't need fireworks," Dylan replied calmly, his eyes scanning Peeves.
"If I took you away, do you think anyone would even notice? Given your track record of chaos, they'd probably just be relieved."
Dylan's voice was slow and deliberate.
Peeves backed away, unnerved by the hungry look in the boy's eyes, inching toward a corner of the ceiling.
"Don't you dare! If I disappear, everyone will know something's wrong!"
Dylan pulled a glass bottle from his pocket.
He'd already secured two other non-beings in his space—he didn't intend to waste time arguing with Peeves.
Might as well bag him too. Maybe it would trigger a new achievement.
Once Peeves was secured in his spatial vault, Dylan could take all the time he needed to… "educate" him properly.
"I suggest you come quietly. It's curfew, after all. Let's not make this harder than it has to be. For your sake… and mine."
But Peeves wasn't having it.
"You want to shove me into that? That's not for my sake! I'm Peeves the Poltergeist—I don't do bottles!"
"Relax."
Dylan smiled coldly. "That's exactly why you're going in."
No more small talk.
With a twist of his wand, invisible magic surged forth.
To Peeves, it looked like nothing had happened. He grinned, ready to mock Dylan and make a dash for the door.
But then—he felt it.
A force gripped him tight.
"What's happening?! What did you do?!"
He flailed, levitating helplessly as the magic bound him.
"Come here. Don't make me repeat myself."
Dylan jerked his wand, and Peeves flew straight toward him.
"Wait! I'm Hogwarts' official poltergeist! You can't take me! Hogwarts will—"
Before he could finish, Dylan uncorked the bottle.
Fwoosh!
Peeves was sucked in.
Dylan sealed the lid and gave the bottle a shake.
Clink. Clink.
Peeves bounced around like a glowing, green snowglobe flake.
"Right. Time to head back."
Dylan intended to rough him up a bit—see if it earned him any kind of reward. If not, well… he'd just have to give Peeves a longer lesson on proper behavior.
Peeves had been right about one thing.
He wasn't like the easily replaceable Boggarts or swarms of Dementors.
Peeves was practically a Hogwarts landmark.
If he vanished for a day or two, most would just sigh in relief. But too long, and someone might notice.
And Dylan had no patience for that kind of unnecessary attention.
He slipped into shadow, riding the abilities of the coal dust creature, and returned to the dorms.
Instead of heading to his hut, he appeared directly on the remote island in his suitcase where he stored corpses and Dementors.
The seven Dementors, who had just been celebrating his absence, immediately halted their languid drifting.
Seeing Dylan return, they snapped to attention in a nervous line.
He waved them away.
"Relax. I've got other business."
The Dementors were clearly relieved and floated off.
They were starting to treasure these moments of peace.
Dylan pulled out the bottle and released Peeves.
"Where have you taken me?!"
Peeves emerged like a crumpled paper ball, hovering unsteadily in midair.
The sky overhead churned with storm clouds, reacting to Dylan's will.
This was his realm, after all.
He ruled here absolutely.
The salty ocean wind crashed waves into jagged rocks.
Peeves looked around, limbs shaking.
Moments ago, he was in a Hogwarts storage room.
Now he was on a windswept island in the middle of the sea.
Had this boy… Apparated?
Impossible!
Dumbledore would never teach a third-year such advanced magic!
The familiar warmth of Hogwarts was gone. No enchanted staircases, no yelling portraits, no enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall.
Just endless grey-blue ocean and twisted dead trees.
—And… Dementors?!
"Hey! Are those Dementors?!"
Peeves gaped. "We've got to get out of here! Didn't Dumbledore teach you anything?! You can't mess with those things! Are you mad?! You're worse than Voldemort!"
He flew over and started tugging at Dylan's robe.
"Run! Run, you idiot! I'm not helping you!"
But before he could flee, the Dementors closed in.
They thought Peeves might be a threat to their master.
Not that he was—the thing barely had any magical strength.
But if showing loyalty now meant avoiding torment later… why not?
Their hollow mouths oozed despair.
As one surged forward, its rotten claw brushed Peeves' translucent ear.
The poltergeist screeched and scrambled backward, practically folding in half from terror.
"Mercy!"
He ducked behind a dead tree, peeking out.
"I'm just passing through! Don't hurt me! We're the same kind—you don't want to eat me! Eat the human instead!"
—Typical Peeves. Always looking for someone else to throw under the Knight Bus.
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
So this was the "thanks" he got?
He smirked.
"Not bad."
Hearing the cold amusement in Dylan's voice, Peeves dared a peek.
The Dementors… weren't attacking?
In fact, they were just standing obediently behind Dylan like royal bodyguards.
He froze.
Wait a second…
This boy… had tamed them?
His mind flashed back to being shoved into that bottle like a firefly in a jar.
He floated toward Dylan, changing tactics instantly.
"Oh mighty lord! Forgive my blindness! I didn't recognize your noble soul—clearly you're a… a… *Dementor overlord disguised as a human!*"
He searched for the right flattery, eyes darting.
"Perhaps I could… join your ranks?"
Dylan cut him off with a chuckle.
"Of course you can."
He flicked his wand.
"ErebusNexus!"
A surge of black fog exploded across the beach.
Oh no.
He's transforming again!
Couldn't he have warned them first?!
The seven Dementors bolted for the sky.
Eyes—hundreds of them—opened in the dark. Eyes without sclera, deep-red, that swallowed all light.
Each blink sounded like claws scraping metal.
The moment the incantation echoed, Peeves felt like his soul had been skewered on cold needles.
The fog clutched his throat like a giant's fist.
He saw—something—writhing in the gloom.
Tentacles.
Covered in human faces, each screaming in agony.
The pain was worse than any scolding from Dumbledore.
"I was wrong, my lord! Have mercy! We're both non-human, aren't we?!"
Peeves' high-pitched wail could've cracked seashells.
His transparent body twisted and melted like wax.
"Please! Don't use that spell again! I surrender!"
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