A spell capable of altering a Muggle's soul and body, pushing them closer to becoming a wizard and potentially granting them magic—did such a thing truly exist?
At first, Dawn had thought the idea ridiculous.
How could something that outrageous possibly be achieved so easily?
But in a moment of realization, after thinking about his own condition and then suddenly connecting it to Voldemort, Dawn abruptly discovered—
Such a spell might genuinely exist.
It was that nameless spell left behind by Olivia and later used by Voldemort—the spell that spread a person across others.
Dawn narrowed his eyes as thoughts surged through his mind in waves.
A spell that distributed a person among many others...
Dawn had wondered before: what was the original purpose of this spell?
Olivia had attempted to use it to spread out a blood curse, only to die immediately after casting it.
As for Voldemort, although he had used it in extremely bizarre ways, all of it depended on Horcruxes maintaining his consciousness.
In fact, without the Castle Consciousness, Voldemort's final outcome might not have ended well at all.
No matter how one looked at it, the spell itself seemed meaningless.
Perhaps even completely useless.
Dawn had once been curious about it, but only out of interest. He had never considered it particularly valuable.
But now— What if everyone had been using it incorrectly from the very beginning?
What if the spell's true purpose was not to spread a wizard across other wizards, like Olivia and Voldemort had done...
But instead to spread a wizard across a large number of Muggles?
Dawn slowly narrowed his eyes.
If all his previous assumptions were correct—
If Muggles could not use magic because their bodies and souls fundamentally differed from those of wizards—
Then perhaps spreading a wizard across Muggles could erase that difference and transform the Muggles into people capable of wielding magic.
Dawn leaned back against the hard bookshelf.
He felt this was extremely possible.
If Olivia's spell could cause donkey traits to appear in the students she affected...
If Voldemort could fuse fragments of his soul into other people...
Then—Couldn't Muggles also use this spell to obtain the very qualities unique to wizards?
In that instant, Dawn's pupils contracted.
The corners of his lips unconsciously tightened as excitement surged through him like electricity.
It was the thrill of uncovering a mystery. The desperate urge to verify his theory immediately.
But soon, he forced himself to calm down.
Because he suddenly remembered—He had absolutely no idea what the spell actually was.
With a helpless rub of his head, Dawn greedily sifted through every memory related to the spell, piecing together his theory like fragments of a puzzle.
First—Who created the spell?
Dawn felt the Church was the most likely answer.
After all, wizards had no need to gain magic through such a method. Aside from organizations in the Muggle world, who else would want to artificially create wizards?
However...
Viewed from that angle, perhaps the historical witch hunts had another hidden purpose behind them—Capturing wizards to transform Muggles.
Dawn rubbed his chin, feeling as though he had grasped the edge of some enormous historical mystery.
But then another problem became increasingly glaring and strange.
How exactly had Olivia obtained the spell in the first place? Could overdosing on Felix Felicis truly produce such miraculous effects?
The moment that thought appeared—
Dawn immediately left the library and rushed straight toward the hidden room where Olivia's portrait was stored, the one he had discovered during his first year.
He had far too many questions now.
Questions only that portrait might answer.
It did not take long.
Soon, Dawn arrived at the abandoned classroom on the same floor as the library and stood before the dusty wall in the back.
Although he could no longer see the magical circuitry inside it— Relying on memory alone, Dawn touched a specific spot with his wand.
Ripples spread across the surface like water, and a door emerged.
Dawn pushed it open and walked inside.
Before entering, he had imagined the familiar place might stir memories of the past.
But after stepping through the doorway, he realized everything had completely changed.
The broken wooden bed and chairs had been replaced with brand-new furniture.
The dusty curtains had become soft silk.
The air smelled fresh, no longer carrying the scent of decay.
Did Dumbledore renovate this place?
Dawn raised a brow.
As he silently admired how the old headmaster always managed to be considerate in small matters, his gaze shifted toward the only thing in the room that still felt familiar.
A portrait hanging on the wall.
Inside it sat a blonde girl beneath afternoon sunlight, her expression detached, as though calmly drinking tea.
At that moment, the girl inside the painting also noticed Dawn entering.
Slightly surprised, she greeted him:
"Hm, no one's visited in quite a while. Welcome, unfamiliar young wizard."
Dawn walked closer and looked at the portrait, now suddenly animated with life.
After a moment's thought, he asked:
"Miss, are you lonely?"
"Obviously."
"Then would you like me to move your portrait outside?"
Dawn's tone sounded sincere.
Before asking questions, he did not mind offering a small favor first.
After all, portraits were different from living wizards. Without effective ways to deal with them, interacting with them was often far more troublesome.
"Such a kind child." Olivia smiled before shaking her head. "But no thank you. I dislike noisy people."
Rejected, Dawn merely shrugged.
At that moment, the girl in the portrait stood up and walked closer, occupying more of the frame.
"Unfamiliar young wizard, did you also come after hearing my story?
Are you here to ask about what I left behind, just like that white-bearded headmaster and that red-eyed child before?"
Olivia went straight to the point.
Dawn paused slightly, but did not lie.
"Something like that."
"I see..."
Olivia murmured softly before sitting back down in disappointment.
"Then give up already. I won't tell you anything.
And besides, didn't that white-bearded headmaster say someone already took what I left behind? Asking me now is pointless."
The portrait's tone instantly turned cold.
Dawn frowned.
Instinctively, he felt this conversation would end just as fruitlessly as it had in his first year.
Still, he tried:
"No. Compared to your belongings, I'm more curious about what it felt like to overdose on Felix Felicis. And that spell—did you really obtain it that way?"
"Oh? That's all?"
The portrait looked surprised.
Hearing the question, some of the coldness faded from her face.
"Well... if it's only that, I suppose there's no harm in answering."
Resting her chin on one hand, she thought for a moment before describing it:
"There really wasn't anything particularly special about it. It just felt like having a dream. Like living through another life...
And that spell was something I discovered within that dream."
Wait a second!!
Dawn's expression suddenly froze.
That description—
His brows drew together.
Perhaps it was only an illusion, but didn't that sound strangely similar to the effects of consuming powdered Resurrection Stone?
"Miss Carter, are you certain you only drank Felix Felicis? There wasn't anything else mixed into it?"
Dawn immediately pressed further.
Olivia gave him a strange look and spread her hands.
"What else could there have been?"
"Some kind of powdered stone?" Dawn blurted out.
The portrait's face twitched slightly.
After staring at him for a moment, she raised her voice, "...Are you joking, young wizard?"
Dawn carefully studied her expression.
Though he had no idea whether such observations even mattered for portraits, he truly saw no signs of deception.
Could it be—Did overdosing on Felix Felicis also connect a person to the thoughts of the dead?
That was far too bizarre.
Dawn frowned deeply, utterly unable to understand it, pacing several steps around the room.
He desperately wanted to force-feed someone a few bottles of Felix Felicis just to test it, but remembering he was trapped inside Hogwarts, he could only stare helplessly at the floor.
"Miss Carter, do you remember what happened in that dream?"
Dawn asked.
He wanted to better understand the nature of her dream.
And beyond that, he wanted to know whether the spell truly had connections to the Church.
But—
Olivia merely shook her head.
"Sorry. I don't remember."
As she spoke, she sighed softly.
"As time passes, I can feel myself remembering less and less... Perhaps after a few more decades, I won't even be able to speak anymore."
"Hah. That's the fate of portraits."
Dawn stood silently where he was.
Although sorrow appeared on the face of the girl inside the painting, he could not empathize with it in the slightest.
His mind remained entirely focused on his own questions.
"Miss Carter, can you tell me the spell?"
Dawn tried once again.
But—
"No."
The figure in the painting remained as resolute as ever, leaving Dawn utterly unable to understand her reasons.
He asked several more times.
Only when Olivia stopped responding entirely did Dawn finally give up.
After thinking briefly, he raised his wand and cast Legilimency on the portrait.
As expected, it had absolutely no effect.
Clicking his tongue softly, Dawn gave the motionless girl one final look—she now resembled nothing more than an ordinary portrait again—and turned to leave the room.
He understood there was no point staying any longer.
Walking out of the abandoned classroom, Dawn gazed through the half-open windows lining the corridor.
The outside world had dimmed into evening.
Sunset clouds hung low.
Birds returned to their nests.
Students flooded out from classrooms and corridors, laughing and chatting as they made their way downstairs.
It was dinner time now.
After a moment's thought, realizing he had nothing especially urgent left to do, Dawn joined the flow of students and headed toward the Great Hall.
The hall was lively and crowded.
Lost in thought, Dawn instinctively walked toward the Gryffindor table.
Only when he got close did he remember that this body belonged to Blaise.
He should be sitting with Slytherin.
Changing direction, Dawn returned to the proper table.
The Slytherin table felt quieter than usual tonight.
Perhaps because of the day's events, every student seemed distracted, each lost in their own thoughts.
Dawn did not dislike such an atmosphere. Nor did he wish to interact with anyone.
He simply ate in silence.
Dinner passed peacefully.
Nothing particularly noteworthy occurred.
Dawn deliberately glanced toward the Hufflepuff table and noticed Nicolas Flamel was absent.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore also failed to appear at the staff table.
Once dinner ended—The dishes vanished instantly.
In their place, every student suddenly found a bottle of emerald-green potion before them.
So Dumbledore still hadn't abandoned that plan.
Dawn curled his lip slightly and tilted his head back, swallowing the potion said to "remove anything inside the body that did not belong there."
Afterward—
Before bedtime arrived, the castle became lively once more.
Students chased and played throughout the corridors.
Since Fred's body was currently being relentlessly bothered by George, Dawn focused solely on controlling Blaise.
He headed to the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor and quietly waited there alone.
Three days had already passed.
Surely another thought synchronization should happen tonight, right?
That was what Dawn believed.
But—
As time slowly passed...
The moon rose in the east alongside the cries of owls.
Students gradually returned to their dormitories. Filch began his nightly patrol with Mrs. Norris.
Yet the thought synchronization Dawn expected never came.
"What rotten luck."
Dawn muttered.
He even wondered whether the potion Dumbledore forced everyone to drink each night had interfered somehow.
After all, if someone drank a stimulant potion before bed every night, insomnia would hardly be surprising.
Shaking his head, Dawn cast aside the absurd thought and curled deeper into the sofa, continuing to ponder the events of the day while waiting patiently.
Meanwhile—
At the exact same time Dawn waited for thought synchronization—
Inside the Headmaster's Office on the eighth floor, Dumbledore had already begun preparing for his attempt at overdosing on Felix Felicis.
"Nicolas, after meeting Dawn today, what do you think of him?"
Before drinking the potion, Dumbledore asked quietly.
As headmaster, he naturally knew the two had spent a long time together earlier, even if he did not know the details of their conversation.
Flamel sat in a nearby chair.
After considering for a moment, he smiled.
"My impression?"
"I think he's a very interesting child. A wizard destined to accomplish great things."
Dumbledore paused slightly at the response, somewhat surprised.
"You like him?"
"Not like." Flamel corrected the wording. "Admire. I admire him greatly."
Seeing the seriousness in his old friend's expression, Dumbledore suddenly found himself unsure what to say.
Instead, Flamel asked:
"By the way, Albus, why did you tell him my identity? Did you need me to cooperate with some plan?"
"...No. I didn't tell him anything."
Dumbledore denied it instinctively, then looked genuinely puzzled. "Nicolas, wasn't it you who revealed your identity to him?"
Silence filled the office.
The two stared at one another for a long while before simultaneously realizing that Dawn probably possessed yet another hidden secret.
Truthfully, Dumbledore no longer found such things surprising.
Recovering quickly, he sighed.
"Forget it. We'll deal with that later."
He picked up the bottle of Felix Felicis from the table and removed the stopper.
Seeing this, Flamel tossed one of his white hairs into a Polyjuice Potion and drank it in one gulp.
His body trembled before transforming into Dumbledore's appearance.
"I'll leave the castle to you."
Dumbledore gave one final instruction before leaning back in his chair and drinking the entire bottle of Felix Felicis.
As the cold liquid slid down his throat, the colors around him slowly began growing unnaturally vivid.
Every shade seemed stripped bare of all concealment.
Black became infinitely deep.
Red painfully bright.
White perfectly pure.
The brilliance of the colors eventually became so intense that even Dumbledore felt dizzy.
He closed his eyes briefly.
The sensation resembled Apparating repeatedly without pause.
The entire world spun around him.
From Flamel's perspective, Dumbledore had already collapsed backward against the chair, falling into a state somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness.
"May everything go smoothly, Albus."
The alchemy master murmured softly.
He pulled a blanket over Dumbledore's sleeping form before quietly leaving the office.
___________
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