First came the Awakening Potion.
Dawn held the crystal-clear potion in his hand, uncorked it, gave it a light sniff, then tipped his head back and swallowed it.
This was his safeguard against the old headmaster.
No matter what, the completion of the ritual would take place at Hogwarts. Even if he could sneak in now, once he truly clashed with Avery, he did not believe Dumbledore would remain unaware.
So he had to be prepared.
Then—What methods would Dumbledore use once he discovered him?
The old headmaster rarely employed lethal spells, and he knew that Dawn could ignore Anti-Apparition magic.
Therefore.
To prevent him from escaping, using spells like the Stunning Spell to render him unconscious was the most likely course of action.
This Awakening Potion was meant for that exact moment, to ensure he would not truly be trapped here.
Gurgle—!
The potion slid into his stomach and began to spread.
Dawn wiped the corner of his mouth. Just as he set the empty vial down, his expression stiffened.
"Damn that Slughorn!"
He drew in a sharp breath and cursed under his breath.
As the potion took effect, Dawn felt as if steel needles were stabbing into every part of his body, stirring relentlessly along his veins.
Excitement and heightened perception? Damn that bald bastard. Why hadn't he mentioned that this cursed potion would hurt this much?
Dawn's temples throbbed as he hissed softly through clenched teeth.
An accident right at the start was hardly a good sign. It made him want to tear Slughorn limb from limb.
But soon, Dawn realized that even if Slughorn had harbored a hint of revenge, the potion had indeed achieved its intended effect.
Under the assault of pain, his mind was crystal clear. The fog that had lingered from long-term use of the Rage Potion and chronic sleep deprivation was swept away completely.
"Forget it."
Dawn pressed his lips together. Without wasting the duration of the potion's effect, he grabbed the bright green Shrinking Solution from the table.
This was not a particularly advanced potion. It was typically taught in third-year classes at Hogwarts.
The Shrinking Solution had two effects: one, it could make the user younger; two, it could make the user physically smaller.
The distinction lay in how it was used. Drinking it made one younger. Applying it externally produced the other effect.
Dawn removed the specially tailored clothing made for his body after the Flesh-Cloning Spell. He took out a piece of parchment, transfigured it into a mirror, and propped it up in front of himself.
The smooth surface reflected everything clearly.
His current appearance was undeniably bizarre—like two malformed bodies fused together at the back, two heads, two sets of arms and legs.
This vaguely spider-like silhouette looked especially unsettling in the dim room.
But Dawn did not care in the slightest.
He first covered the clone formed by the Flesh-Cloning Spell with clothing. Then he opened the Shrinking Solution and applied it to his original body.
At once.
Dawn's feet lifted from the floor, his limbs drawing inward as his body shrank proportionally.
In the blink of an eye, he went from the height of a normal eleven-year-old to something the size of a mouse, clinging to the clone's back through their shared flesh.
Dawn's reasoning was simple.
To make Avery fully believe that he had killed him, there had to be a clear corpse left at the scene.
And.
That corpse could not be disguised using another body. If Dumbledore exposed the deception, Avery would no longer firmly believe that he had killed Dawn.
So Dawn used the Flesh-Cloning Spell on himself, preparing this clone as the body to be left behind.
Once the Shrinking Solution was fully applied, Dawn burned the special clothing that had wrapped the clone.
Then he controlled the clone to put on normal, loose robes, completely hiding his own original body.
Strangely enough, before, even though both heads were awake, he could not see both front and back at the same time.
But now, with his own vision blocked by clothing, he gradually found that he could see through the clone's eyes instead.
What had been intended as a blind fight with Avery unexpectedly turned into a pleasant surprise.
As for why this happened, Dawn had a vague idea, but now was not the time to investigate.
He took a few steps around the room, adjusting to controlling the clone's body, while also looking for a place to hide the Time-Turner.
This return to the past required more than just letting Avery "kill" him. There was another matter he had to address.
Since on January 17th he had encountered Avery at the Skye Island Quidditch pitch, that meant at least half his plan had succeeded.
Avery had returned to the past.
Whether Avery had done so using the Time-Turner in his possession or not, Dawn chose to prepare as if he had.
As long as he combined Legilimency with shared memories, revealing the existence of a Time-Turner in the Room of Requirement, he should be able to complete the alignment of past events.
As for whether Avery would find the hidden Time-Turner—Dawn was not worried.
As long as Avery made the request of the Room of Requirement, the castle itself would provide what he needed.
"It's time."
With all preparations complete, Dawn drew a deep breath and sat back down in the chair.
Clink—!
The shimmering sand flowed downward through the narrow glass.
The Time-Turner was finally flipped.
Dawn had mailed that letter to Avery on the morning of January 19th. That meant Avery would arrive here after reading it, likely around the same time.
Dawn silently counted the rotations.
The colors of the world stretched vertically, forming a long tunnel. He felt himself pulled into it, floating weightlessly as the sound of rushing wind filled his ears.
Then the darkness vanished.
When the colors of the world stabilized once more, the room was bright as day.
Dawn knew—He had returned to the morning of January 19th.
He lifted his head slightly while seated.
At once, he saw Avery with his back to him, walking toward the wardrobe, opening it with his wand, and carefully checking inside.
Dawn did not speak immediately. Taking advantage of the moment, he placed the Time-Turner into a wooden box, levitated it, and hid it inside the ceiling lamp.
"Not here yet?"
Avery muttered upon finding the wardrobe empty.
But then.
As if sensing something, he suddenly turned around.
Dawn drew a soft breath and stood up from the chair. "Sorry, I'm late. Just like last time—you're always earlier than I expect."
He spoke softly. Seeing the confusion in Avery's eyes, he had intended to explain, but suddenly lost interest.
With a trace of weariness, Dawn said, "Let's end this quickly, Avery."
At this point, he only wanted to complete the ritual as soon as possible.
Avery raised his wand at him. "Where's my father?"
"Here."
Everything was unfolding as expected.
Dawn decisively took the stone transformed from old Avery's corpse out of his pocket, showed it briefly, then tossed it over.
Bang!!
The stone expanded back to its original form and crashed heavily onto the floor.
Dawn watched Avery's expression shift multiple times in an instant—anger, doubt, pain, despair—
But not the reaction he had anticipated.
"Strange."
Dawn frowned. "Avery, why aren't you crying? Don't you feel sad?"
He needed tears born of despair and pain.
He had assumed that seeing his father's corpse would make Avery shed at least a few tears. Yet there were none.
Was this the first unexpected variable?
Dawn narrowed his eyes.
"Sad? I don't know."
Avery lifted his wand, his voice icy. "But I think the thing I should do right now—is kill you."
Bang!
A spell suddenly flew straight toward him.
Dawn did not care.
Only after seeing Avery cast a Shield Charm did he control the clone to release a deliberately weakened spell, letting the two pass by each other.
Brilliant light splashed across the floor.
But soon—
Dawn noticed a second problem.
"Avery, why aren't you using the Killing Curse? Facing the man who killed your father, your cowardice is laughable."
He deliberately taunted Avery while bending to dodge a Severing Charm.
He assumed Avery was hesitant about using an Unforgivable Curse, so he tried to provoke him into crossing that psychological barrier.
But gradually.
After several exchanges, Dawn realized that Avery's hatred burned fiercely, yet he still relied only on Severing Charms.
Then Dawn knew.
This was serious.
Avery did not seem to know how to use the Killing Curse.
Dawn's eyelid twitched.
He had never imagined that Avery, a pure-blood wizard with access to extensive family libraries, would not know the Killing Curse at seventeen.
The Killing Curse was terrifying and classified as an Unforgivable Curse, yes—but in truth, it was not that rare.
Eleven years ago, Voldemort's upheaval of the British wizarding world had indirectly made the Killing Curse something most wizards knew, whether they were dark wizards or not.
Its incantation had spread widely.
Even when Dawn was young, the very first batch of dark magic books he had a clerk from Flourish and Blotts retrieve for him from Knockturn Alley had included it.
So.
When devising his plan, he had never considered the possibility that Avery would be completely ignorant of it.
This was a huge problem.
Dawn's gaze darkened.
To deceive Dumbledore and make Avery firmly believe he had killed him, Dawn had paid a heavy price, using the Flesh-Cloning Spell to create a clone as the corpse.
But.
No matter how many limbs were split, in the end, there was only one soul.
That meant—After Dawn left, the clone left behind as a corpse contained nothing related to a soul.
And Dawn's departure was instantaneous.
Therefore.
To avoid suspicion, the clone had to be killed by a spell capable of annihilating all soul traits instantly, one that could not be healed.
Only the Killing Curse met that condition.
Dawn had already tested it. Killing a wizard with other spells did not produce the effect of instant soul annihilation.
But now everything was unraveling his plan.
Dawn clenched his teeth.
He suddenly felt that the decline of pure-blood families was not without reason. Just look at how they educated their descendants—each generation worse than the last.
Exhaling slowly.
After venting internally, Dawn forced himself to calm down.
What mattered now was finding a solution.
His thoughts quickly turned to Legilimency. Could he teach the Killing Curse through shared memories?
The most important factor in successfully casting a spell was unwavering intent.
Looking at the hatred etched across Avery's face, Dawn thought that in such a state, if he simply told him the incantation and wand movement, Avery might truly learn the Killing Curse quickly.
Dawn hated this lack of control.
In his original plan, he had intended to fabricate and share only two memories.
One was the reason old Avery had gone to Skye Island.
The other was having seen a Time-Turner in the Room of Requirement.
The purpose of sharing those memories was simple: to dispel Avery's doubts and provide him with a method to save his father, thereby aligning the events of January 17th.
But now, it seemed he needed to share even more.
He needed Avery to see his father's suffering, to extract tears of despair—this was to compensate for the unexpected lack of tears upon seeing the corpse.
And he needed to teach Avery how to use the Killing Curse, praying that under sufficient hatred, Avery would grasp it quickly—this was to prevent the fake death from being exposed.
Dawn thought of the letter he had waited for all day on January 20th and never received. The shadow in his heart grew heavier.
But with the arrow already nocked, he had no choice but to fire.
Bang!
Two more spells collided.
Seeing the sweat covering Avery's forehead, Dawn narrowed his eyes and silently cast a Levitation Charm.
Several droplets of sweat lifted from Avery's body.
While controlling multiple things at once, Dawn guided them into a crystal vial hidden in his sleeve, without drawing any of Avery's attention.
Good.
Dawn felt a surge of excitement.
Now he had the sweat, combined with the memories taken from future Avery on January 17th.
All that remained was the final component—tears of despair.
Whoosh—
The air shrieked.
A Severing Charm slashed downward toward his ankle.
Dawn stepped sideways, circling the table to evade it.
But in that movement, his eyes suddenly narrowed.
In the corner of the Room of Requirement, a dense, surging mass of magical mist had appeared at some point.
Dumbledore had arrived.
Dawn recognized him instantly, even while invisible.
He licked his dry lips.
Occlumency had not yet finished fabricating the new memories, and the old headmaster had arrived far too quickly.
So—Should he continue the duel to buy time?
Since Dumbledore had not acted yet, he would likely observe for a while. During that window, Dawn might complete the memory fabrication.
Dawn deflected Avery's attacks, his gaze unreadable.
No… that wouldn't work.
He felt the piercing pain from the Awakening Potion beginning to fade.
Dumbledore would not stand idle forever. An attack was inevitable.
And Dawn was not confident he could evade it completely.
So.
Rather than wasting the potion's effect while dueling Avery, it was better to deliberately lure Dumbledore into attacking.
That way, while pretending to be unconscious, he could continue fabricating memories.
Otherwise, if the headmaster waited until the potion wore off, one mistake would spell the end.
In Dawn's judgment, the probability that Dumbledore would use a Stunning Spell was higher than the probability that he himself could evade the headmaster's magic.
He adjusted his plan in an instant.
Dawn subtly glanced at the debris and flaking wall he had knocked loose earlier, casually moving closer.
A flicker of light appeared in Avery's eyes. Though it vanished quickly, Dawn caught it.
As expected—he noticed.
With silent understanding between them, the wall fragment transformed into a small snake, springing up and sinking its fangs into Dawn's wrist.
°Expelliarmus°
Avery roared, seizing the opportunity. The Disarming Charm pierced through the Shield Charm and struck Dawn hard.
Bang!
The wand spun out of Dawn's hand, clattering to the floor and sliding far away.
Avery panted, wand aimed at Dawn, triumph blazing in his eyes. "You're right, Richter. This should end now. Any last words?"
"Last words?"
Dawn laughed softly, grabbed the snake by the tail, and tore it off.
He glanced subtly toward Dumbledore's position in the corner.
"Avery, I admit I underestimated you. Then let this end here—but next time, I will kill you."
He was warning the headmaster that he was about to flee.
His heartbeat quickened, a gambler's thrill surging through him. Then a spell flew from the corner, striking him before he could react.
Dawn knew immediately—he had gambled correctly.
It was a Stunning Spell.
His mind grew hazy, darkness flooding his vision. He stumbled a couple of steps and collapsed to the floor.
But at that moment—Slughorn's potion took effect.
The omnipresent needle-like pain anchored his last shred of clarity.
His dulled senses rapidly returned.
Dawn woke from the stupor almost instantly, but he did not move. Eyes closed, he controlled his breathing and heartbeat, continuing to feign unconsciousness on the floor.
He still needed time to fabricate the new memories.
"Headmaster—why are you here?"
He heard Avery ask in the darkness.
"There is no need for surprise, my child. As headmaster, the castle informs me of everything that happens within it."
The two conversed beside him, discussing the Dawn lying on the floor.
And Dawn, busy shaping memories, wished with all his heart that they would waste as much time as possible.
Time passed.
Dumbledore said, "So before going to the Ministry, I will first take him to see Newt Scamander and Nicolas Flamel, to see if there is a way to restrain him."
Truly vicious, Dumbledore.
Dawn sneered inwardly.
At that moment, he finally finished his work.
He opened his eyes just a sliver and, through that thin line of light, saw Dumbledore's back turned toward him.
Dawn opened his eyes fully.
And then— From below, his gaze met Avery's eyes in silence.
°Legilimens°
Boom!
A thunderous ringing filled his head, as if struck by a hammer. Avery staggered and nearly collapsed, and Dawn was not much better off.
Colors in his vision began to flow, as if paint were being washed from a canvas and then reapplied.
Memories streamed past their eyes.
Through their locked gazes, both Dawn and Avery saw those memories—half real, half fabricated.
A fleeting glimpse of a Time-Turner in the Room of Requirement.
Old Avery's screams and blood in the banquet hall.
The chaotic battle on Skye Island, where underground dark wizards pursued Dawn.
And finally.
Beneath the towering broom statue.
With sea wind blowing, Avery saw his father standing before him.
Forced into Dawn's perspective, he felt the rough grip of the wand in his hand. Unfamiliar syllables spilled from his throat.
With the correct casting motion.
Avery shouted "Avada Kedavra," using the Killing Curse to slay his own father on the spot.
Everything felt real.
As if he were truly there.
No—no!
Avery roared internally, eyes blazing red.
In despair and agony, a tear spilled from the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek, drawing Dawn's burning gaze.
At that moment, Dumbledore suddenly turned around.
"Professor, it's time to end this—"
Dawn half-sat up from the floor, baring his teeth in a grin.
He had done everything he possibly could. The final outcome now depended on how well Avery grasped the Killing Curse.
Still.
To prevent Avery from learning the curse only to be stopped by Dumbledore, Dawn needed to create chaos.
Whoosh—!
Heat surged as wind howled.
Dawn silently recited the incantation for Fiendfyre.
Brilliant flames erupted, leaping wildly through the room, greedily devouring everything they touched.
Dumbledore's expression sharpened. He reacted instantly, gripping the Elder Wand and uttering the complex syllables of the counterspell.
"Finite!"
Under the surge of overwhelming magic, the raging flames were forcibly suppressed.
But in that moment, Dawn summoned the inconspicuous tear from Avery's cheek and drew it into another vial hidden in his sleeve.
Thump. Thump.
His heart raced.
Almost there.
Everything he needed was collected. All that remained was for Avery to believe he had killed him.
Dawn looked at Avery, hatred blazing as the young man slowly raised his wand.
It worked.
Dawn's lips curled upward.
A streak of green light tore through the air.
It struck home.
Driven by overwhelming hatred, Avery completed the Killing Curse despite his lack of practice.
"My boy, you—"
Dumbledore turned too late.
It was already irreversible.
Dawn was flung into the air by the tremendous impact.
To be honest.
He felt little pain.
Only a chill spread through his body as darkness swallowed his vision, stealing away his ability to perceive color.
Sound, scent, touch—every sensation faded toward silence.
Clang!
Suddenly.
From within the void, Dawn heard a clear cry. Warmth flowed from the depths of his soul.
Like a lone campfire seen in endless darkness, Dawn snapped back to awareness from the brink of shutdown.
Just as he thought. The Killing Curse could no longer kill him.
Joy surged through Dawn, a deep sense of reassurance settling in his heart.
He adjusted his angle midair, finding a patch of Fiendfyre that had not yet gone out, ensuring he would fall into it.
Then—He wasted no time.
The shrunken original body hidden behind the clone opened its eyes and decisively used magic to sever the flesh connecting it to the clone's back.
The clone's pupils instantly lost focus.
Shrouded by robes and unseen within the flames, Dawn Apparated into the clone's sleeve, grabbing the vials containing sweat and tears, as well as the Marauder's Map.
"It's over."
Dawn bared his teeth in silent laughter as fire enveloped him once more.
The next instant, he vanished from the castle without a trace.
On the scorched floor, a body devoid of any soul signature lay still.
And by coincidence.
A patch of dying flame scorched the corpse's back, concealing the marks where flesh had been cut away.
___________
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