Snape clearly had no patience for gentle persuasion.
"Mr. Vreil," he said coldly, "you would do well to consider carefully. Extracting memories is hardly a difficult task for a wizard."
Ael visibly paled.
He glanced at Snape, then at Dumbledore. His shoulders slumped.
"…Fine. I did it."
Dawn silently scoffed.
He cracked that easily. Not just young—foolish.
Dumbledore seemed slightly displeased with Snape's harshness, but he knew what mattered most.
"What method did you use to place Mr. Taylor in this condition?"
Ael swallowed.
"A basilisk."
"Basilisk?" The Dumbledore's brows lifted slightly. "Where did you obtain such a creature?"
"I didn't obtain it. It was already in the castle."
Now that he had spoken, Ael seemed strangely relieved.
"A week ago, I fell asleep in the library while doing homework. When I woke up, I suddenly knew many strange things."
"I followed those memories and found Slytherin's Chamber. The basilisk was inside. Taylor's always been against me, so I wanted to teach him a lesson."
He hurriedly added, almost pleading, "I never meant to kill him. You have to believe me."
The Chamber of Slytherin?
The professors exchanged glances.
"Where is this chamber?" Snape demanded. "Take us there."
Ael nodded faintly and led the way.
The professors followed.
Dawn clicked his tongue softly and joined them.
Since the chamber had already been exposed, he might as well record the basilisk's structural pattern while the opportunity presented itself.
"Albus," McGonagall murmured quietly, "do you believe him?"
It was not that she wished to accuse a student falsely, but his description was bizarre. Falling asleep and awakening with knowledge?
It sounded neither rational nor magical.
The Headmaster did not answer. His expression suggested he was wrestling with the same question.
At the back of the group, Dawn frowned.
Something about that description felt familiar.
They exited the office and followed Ael to a third-floor lavatory at the end of the corridor.
Moaning Myrtle was absent, perhaps still lingering after the Deathday celebration.
Dawn suppressed a sigh.
The chamber entrance was indeed here, exactly as described in the story from his dreams.
Ever since he began doubting his own memories, the alignment between dream and reality had begun to unsettle him.
He did not want to believe the dream's narrative.
Yet reality mirrored it with disturbing precision.
"The entrance is here," Ael said, pointing at a copper tap engraved with a serpent.
Dumbledore stepped forward, examining the mark. He seemed prepared to demonstrate his fluency in Parseltongue—
But before he could speak, a hiss filled the room.
"Sss… open."
The tap glowed.
With a rumble, the sink sank into the floor, revealing a dark, slanted pipe descending into darkness.
No one moved toward it.
Instead, all eyes turned toward Ael.
Shock rippled through the room.
Even Dawn was stunned.
"Parseltongue?" Snape demanded sharply. "Are you descended from Slytherin?"
"Of course not!" Ael protested. "My family keeps records. There's no connection."
"Then how did you learn it?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"I don't know. After I woke up that day… I just could."
Dumbledore's experience told him the boy was speaking the truth.
That made it worse.
Speaking a language and possessing Parseltongue were not the same.
One could learn a language through study, as the Headmaster himself had learned snake speech.
Parseltongue, however, was an innate gift—historically passed only through Slytherin's bloodline.
The sound Ael had produced was not mere imitation.
It was authentic.
If he truly had no Slytherin ancestry—
Then what kind of dream could implant the knowledge of the Chamber and grant him Parseltongue itself?
Dumbledore fell silent in thought.
He did not notice Dawn at the back of the group.
Dawn's expression had shifted dramatically.
Shock.
Recognition.
A creeping dread.
The Headmaster might not yet fully grasp that Harry himself was a Horcrux.
Dawn did.
He also knew that Harry's Parseltongue stemmed from the fragment of Voldemort's soul within him.
Ael had awakened with knowledge of the Chamber—and Parseltongue.
There was only one logical conclusion.
Voldemort.
More precisely— A fragment of Voldemort.
Under what circumstances would a random Slytherin student suddenly acquire Voldemort's memories and soul?
Dawn's mind raced.
Trelawney's prophecy resurfaced in his thoughts.
"The knight who hunts the demon, look—there he stands. Though you cannot find his body, every spring you drink is filled with his laughter."
Another memory followed.
A conversation in Egypt.
"That magic does not merely divide a curse. It divides everything about you into dozens of pieces and attaches them to others."
"Including the body. Including memory."
Dawn's expression tightened.
Olivia Carter, seeking to escape her blood curse, had consumed excessive Felix Felicis and discovered a ritual in her dream—a spell that divided her burden.
When she cast it, she vanished.
Her memories—and her soul—were scattered among more than a dozen young wizards.
And now—
Ael.
Waking from sleep with Voldemort's knowledge.
With Parseltongue.
Dawn felt a chill crawl down his spine.
Had Voldemort discovered something Olivia left behind in the castle?
Had he cast that same spell— Dividing himself across multiple students?
___________
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