"The waters divide the merpeople—big differences in habits between groups." He glanced toward the Black Lake and kept explaining. "The bunch in there? They hardly ever show off their singing to outsiders. Part of it's the specific steam conditions needed to make it sound nice... and maybe they're just shy. Not big on baring something that personal to strangers."
Ernie hurried over with a quick hello to Dumbledore.
Dylan gave a nod too.
Ernie chewed on the words, then piped up. "But Headmaster, they're just magical creatures. Sure, they're smart, but... human-like emotions? That shy stuff?"
He looked back at the lake. The Durmstrang kids were still on deck, wands up, facing off with the merpeople—those guys looked pissed, gray-blue skin veined up, sharp teeth flashing with every yell, all rough and rugged.
Kinda over the top, right?
"You're not wrong." Dumbledore nodded lightly, already heading lakeside. "Gotta smooth this over now. Can't have our guests thinking Hogwarts can't even keep order in its own waters."
Right then, something cool happened. Dumbledore stopped at the edge; the lake surface shimmered pale blue. A clear bridge of water rose up, solid and steady, stretching right to the merpeople cluster.
He stepped on, walked calm and steady to the front one, crouched down, and started talking soft.
From shore, it wasn't going smooth. Merpeople kept jabbing arms toward the Durmstrang ship, mouths flapping fast, tone pure gripe—nowhere near chilling out.
"Looks like a tough sell," Ernie said, rubbing his chin, worried. "And it was Durmstrang's fault—chucking rocks, mocking 'em. If this drags on, with Karkaroff's temper? He'll flip the script for sure!"
Dylan totally agreed.
He watched the water: merpeople zipped around like pros. Durmstrang spells barely clipped a few Grindylows. Meanwhile, their side? Guys getting beaned by rocks and shells, clutching spots, dragged below deck by buddies.
Karkaroff jumps in with his usual "my kids first" vibe? Blame the merpeople, mess gets worse.
Dumbledore crouching to talk—no force. With his power, ending it would've been a flick.
Dylan hustled onto the water bridge, sidled up. "Headmaster, maybe the Cheerful Charm? From what I've seen, it calms merpeople fast—makes talking easier."
"Cheerful Charm?" Dumbledore murmured, looking deep at Dylan, getting it. "Dylan, you cracked the egg riddle... and picked up more Black Lake secrets?"
"Yeah." Dylan nodded straight. "Experiments showed this group reacts special to it—dials down anger, drops guards quick."
"Magic that only works on certain clans?" Surprise flashed in Dumbledore's eyes, then a proud smile. "You're making real strides in magic."
He waved his wand gentle. Soft pink waves rippled from the tip, spreading like lake circles over the mad merpeople.
Worked like a charm—literally. Bodies eased, angry faces softened, breathing slowed.
"Nice." Dumbledore smiled.
Same pitch: stop attacks, he'd hash it with Karkaroff, get compensation for the insult.
Cheerful Charm did the trick. Lead merperson listened, waved an arm with a low grunt.
Crew and Grindylows froze, then dove with splashes. Lake went calm.
Karkaroff rushed over—probably to squeeze cash—but facing Dumbledore? Mumbled through talks. Done, Dumbledore walked the bridge back.
Shore side, Dylan laughed with a group, sun warm, vibe chill—no trace of the standoff.
Dumbledore joined; they slipped into a quiet hall to pick up the chat.
Talking it out, Dylan's fuzzy ideas sharpened.
That's why he shared—spitballing clears blind spots.
Deep soul stuff? Kept that locked. Too personal.
"Your take on that world? Interesting." Dumbledore walked. "And you're holding back a bit."
Tone shifted, still kind but sharp. "I'm old, hair's white, but I dig what you kids are into. Not that stuck in the mud."
He popped a pale pink juice jelly in his mouth, chewed slow. "Guessing why you're quiet—ideas too wild for an old-school wizard like me?"
Nah.
"Headmaster, not that." Dylan paused. "Just theories—no solid data yet. Don't wanna steer you wrong with absolutes."
"That so? Good." Dumbledore stroked his beard, smile back, understanding. "Ideas without rushing, testing careful—that's real research."
They hit the headmaster's office.
Door opened; red blur—Fawkes swooped from his perch, landed light on Dylan's shoulder.
Dylan pulled a baggie of berries, offered palm-up careful.
Fawkes pecked happy, eyes slitted blissed.
Dumbledore settled in his armchair, another jelly, watching with a grin.
"Your ritual magic work? Love it. You're a good kid, Dylan. Glad you're our youth rep."
Dylan smiled. "Thanks to you, sir. Otherwise? No shot at this honor so young."
He paused—mind elsewhere.
Ritual magic? Breakthrough hit like lightning.
Not out of nowhere.
Years of buildup: hooked on ritual theory early, devoured old texts, logged flows and energy from every school.
Solid base. Plus his style: using ritual logic on unrelated spells—like linking transfiguration shifts to energy guides. Cross-field thinking fit him perfect, spotting links everywhere.
Mind racing: that Black Lake space study? Core hunch—magic's not wizard-only; it's been around since the world.
Break it down: shared nature, Muggles/plants/animals, wizards/magical creatures.
Muggle-magic link? Not yet—lifestyles, senses too different. Needs more data.
Nature magic? Touched via spells, looped back to deepen grasp.
Post-Ravenclaw transfig theory? Leveled up: wizards and nature aren't boss/servant—adapt, harmonize.
Nature's packed with magic power.
Seasons, weather—raindrop, breeze, thunderstorm, blizzard. All nature's spells.
Too vast, spread out—like an invisible net. We miss it, like forgetting air when breathing.
Wizard spells? Guide and tweak nature's magic.
Channel emotions for tone: happy for sun, calm for drizzle. Memories scale it—storm recall amps rain, dawn mist for fog. Will shapes it—lightning pace, snowflake size.
Emotions + memories + will = wizard as conductor, nature's energy plays the symphony.
Not casting—collaborating. Wand like baton.
Clicked: ritual magic's heart? Connect to energy, guide via steps to goal.
Nature control and rituals? Different bins, same soul—understanding + guiding for harmony with world/magic.
Deeper Black Lake/real world energy ties now.
"Wizards are the key..." Dylan tilted his head. "Perfect ritual setup—weather, medium spot, flow path—all align by chance. But no wizard? Framework's dope, energy huge—still dead. Needs the wizard to spark and steer."
Dumbledore watched Dylan zone out, pondering solo—said nothing, just observed.
Dylan paced, fingers tapping desk, thoughts flying. "Rituals need nature's base energy, medium for channels, wizard for control..."
Looked up. "Headmaster, quick question."
"Shoot."
"Black Lake merpeople songs—pretty? Or compared to warm-water ones, which sounds better?" Clear, directed.
Dumbledore shook head, fair. "If comparing... warm-water wins. Clearer, more melodic. Black Lake's got that rough edge."