The woman left with her son.
Lupin hadn't detected anything wrong with the boy, but because of the old headmaster's suspicions and the unknown nature of the treatment process, he was still filled with doubts.
"Mr. Richter, Miss Orphee is a very unfortunate woman.
Her husband was killed by a dark wizard, and her child was turned into a werewolf when he was only two.
They've struggled at the very bottom of society all these years..."
"Oh, is that so? Then she won't have to worry anymore."
Dawn smiled pleasantly.
"I've cured her son. If he really won't turn into a werewolf anymore, their life should be much better from now on."
As he spoke, he glanced at Lupin beside him.
The werewolf professor had fallen silent, his lips tightly pressed together.
Dawn clicked his tongue inwardly.
Lupin had suddenly started telling him about that woman for one obvious reason: he wanted to stir up his empathy.
If Dawn really had done something to the boy, then Lupin wanted him to undo it.
However—
Although Dawn had done all of this for the sake of spreading his reputation, he didn't think the situation was particularly bad for the woman.
The new boy created from the material was exactly the same as the original, both in memories and emotions. There wasn't the slightest difference.
And even a false dream was still a beautiful dream.
Besides—
Dawn hadn't actually done anything to the original boy.
In keeping with his principle of conserving resources, he had merely exchanged the boy's identity with that of the material.
The boy was still alive and well.
He would still transform into a werewolf, of course, but in Egypt, where dark wizards ran rampant, that hardly seemed like a major problem.
Returning to his senses, Dawn looked at the man beside him and casually suggested:
"So, Professor Werewolf, now that you've seen a successful case, would you like me to treat you as well?"
Professor Werewolf?
The title stabbed Lupin rather painfully, and his expression wavered.
However—
What he was mainly thinking about was this:
If there really was something wrong with Dawn's treatment, could he discover the problem by experiencing it himself?
Lupin knew that after today's mother and son left, there would definitely be countless more werewolves coming to Dawn for treatment.
He wanted to eliminate any hidden danger for them.
But—
Before he could make a decision—
Dawn had already waved his hand.
"Forget it. I was just joking. I know you and Dumbledore are both heavily prejudiced against me."
After saying that, he turned around and continued carefully examining the kitchen equipment and walls, looking for secrets.
He looked exactly like an archaeologist searching for some priceless artifact.
Lupin was left speechless.
After a moment of silence, he intended to leave.
But then another question came from behind him, making him stop once more.
"By the way, Professor Lupin, I've always been curious. If a werewolf bites a Muggle, does that give the Muggle magical power?"
Lupin slowly frowned.
"Why are you asking that?"
But since it wasn't a particularly difficult question to answer, he hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.
"No."
The werewolf professor explained in a tone filled with disgust:
"Fenrir Greyback... He tried something like that before. But when a Muggle is bitten by a werewolf, they simply die very quickly. They don't become werewolves."
Is that so?
Dawn rubbed his chin.
His eyes half-closed as some thoughts faded away while others began to take shape.
He didn't say anything else to Lupin.
Instead, he casually picked up an iron pot containing magical circuits and began examining it seriously.
By the time he looked up again, the werewolf professor had already disappeared.
Dawn didn't care.
After searching through the kitchen once more and finding nothing, he regretfully shook his head and walked away into the night.
On the way, he even ran into several Hufflepuffs who had come looking for a late-night snack.
When he returned to the space he had created with the Secret Charm, Dawn pulled out a book and read for a while before lying down and falling into a deep sleep.
His consciousness once again sank into that familiar darkness.
"All right, what are you lot waiting for? Everyone stand beside a broomstick! Come on, hurry up, we're running out of time!"
Ah.
This time, it was a conversation from Flying class.
When Dawn opened his eyes the next morning, he rubbed his forehead.
After confirming that the dream contained nothing useful, he tossed it aside.
He cleared his head, got out of bed, used the Golden Cup to prepare breakfast, and began another day of research and exploration.
But obviously—
This wasn't his lucky day.
He made no progress in either area.
The only thing worth remembering was probably that when he encountered Professor Flitwick on the way, his head of house had actually taken the initiative to greet him.
"Now that's the difference between people."
Thinking of Professor McGonagall, who reminded young wizards to stay away from him every time they attended Transfiguration class, Dawn couldn't help sighing.
But then again—
Snape, who had always had a problem with him, hadn't said anything these past few days.
Or rather, Dawn had barely encountered him.
Apart from teaching classes, that man spent most of his time locked inside the Potions office, and Dawn had no idea what he was busy with.
Dawn muttered inwardly.
Amid this routine and his constant complaints, another day quickly passed.
That evening—
After treating the patients who had come to him that day, he once again met the mother and son from the previous day.
The two nervously invited him outside beneath the full moon.
After confirming that the boy really didn't transform into a werewolf beneath the moonlight, Dawn nodded in satisfaction.
He completely ignored the mother and son crying in each other's arms and returned to the castle alone.
In a daze, the world changed.
Time flew by.
Before he knew it, half a month had passed.
During this period, as the number of patients and werewolves he helped continued to increase, Dawn's reputation spread even further.
Among certain groups, he had already acquired considerable influence.
However, the castle guidance he had been waiting for never came.
His own attempts to actively search for the sculptures had likewise produced no results.
Out of helplessness, he had asked the Grey Lady several times.
The only responses he received were coldness and distance.
What a day and age this was.
Even the Ravenclaw ghost was leading the way in giving a young wizard the cold shoulder.
People's hearts really had changed.
Furthermore—
Following the Grey Lady's trail of thought, Dawn had naturally considered Peeves, who was always wandering around the castle.
He had intended to find the poltergeist and ask him about the matter.
Yet that fellow seemed to be deliberately avoiding Dawn.
During the entire half month, Dawn hadn't even seen him once.
"What a cold-hearted castle..."
Thinking about these encounters, Dawn sighed again.
He didn't reflect on his own behavior at all.
Instead, he merely felt that the Four Founders, who had once built Hogwarts with such beautiful hopes, had really gotten the short end of the stick.
But things had already come to this point, and Dawn had no interest in complaining any further.
He glanced at the hazy moon in the sky.
For once, he didn't return to the secret space he had created.
He was going back to the Vatican.
Half a month had passed.
It was once again time for him to see images in his dreams.
He would sleep more deeply during these nights, and returning there would be safer.
Whoosh!
A flash of fire disappeared into the cold night.
After returning to the wooden house, Dawn first used magic to clean away the dust that had accumulated in the room.
Then he washed himself before lying naked on the bed.
He closed his eyes.
Darkness descended.
After falling asleep, Dawn once again found himself in that directionless chaos.
And sure enough—
He saw a hazy white light within it.
He immediately slammed his consciousness toward it.
"I hope I can get some useful information this time."
Thinking about the recent World Correction, as well as the discrepancy between the Sorting Hat and his dreams, Dawn muttered with complicated emotions.
And in the blink of an eye—
The sky became bright!
___________
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