As expected... better to bury him.
After a moment of consideration, Dumbledore made up his mind.
Once everything here was settled, he would go deep into the Forbidden Forest, find a secluded place, and bury Dawn properly—deep enough.
But before that, there were other things to take care of.
The old headmaster reached into Dawn's robes and pulled out a wallet, opening it to search through its contents.
To his disappointment, he found only a few ordinary potions, the Ravenclaw diadem, and Harry's Invisibility Cloak.
Nothing else.
Not on him at all.
Had Dawn hidden them somewhere else?
Or…
Was this another fake?
Even now, Dumbledore couldn't be completely certain. Dawn's unusual nature made it impossible for him to feel at ease.
After thoroughly searching him, Dumbledore had no choice but to accept that this was all Dawn carried.
After a brief hesitation—
Forget it.
No matter what, treat him as the real one for now. With that thought, Dumbledore took a deep breath.
Then, suddenly, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out the gnarled Elder Wand, placing it into Dawn's hand.
Immediately after— Without using a wand, he cast a Disarming Charm at Dawn.
The Elder Wand spun through the air and returned to his own hand.
He was trying to reclaim its allegiance.
Dumbledore was not someone who refused to accept defeat.
If he had truly been defeated by a younger wizard, he would acknowledge it and even offer his blessing.
But that did not mean he would allow the Elder Wand to remain in the hands of someone as dangerous as Dawn.
However— As he ran his fingers over the rough wood, he could still faintly feel its resistance.
Magic was tied to intent. This kind of trick could not fool his own heart. The wand did not return to him.
Though he had expected it, the reality still made him sigh softly.
On a nearby tree branch, an owl tilted its head.
What was that supposed to mean?
Putting the wand into someone's hand, only to snatch it back with a spell— Was that some kind of abuse?
Dawn narrowed his eyes.
His mind wandered briefly into absurd thoughts, but Dumbledore's actions were too obvious.
He quickly arrived at the correct conclusion.
Could it be...
That during their last duel, he had already become the master of the Elder Wand?
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
Even though the fight had ended with his departure, if no one had interfered, Dumbledore would have died at his hands.
Dawn stared at the gnarled wand, his eyes growing brighter— Then filled with anger.
So that's how it is.
Dumbledore... you've been using something that belongs to me.
And you even tried to take it back with such a cheap trick.
Fortunately— Judging from Dumbledore's expression, the attempt had failed.
At that moment— Dumbledore finally steadied himself and prepared to proceed with his plan.
But suddenly, he heard a commotion in the distance.
Turning around, he saw a group approaching from the direction of the Black Lake.
Leading them was Cornelius Fudge.
What was he doing here?
Dumbledore frowned.
Out of both surprise and distrust, he quickly concealed Dawn's body with magic.
He stood still, waiting.
A few minutes later, the group arrived.
"Fudge, what brings you here?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"Oh, nothing important, nothing at all!"
The Minister for Magic stepped forward with a wide smile, subtly angling himself so the reporters behind him could get a better shot.
"Albus! I heard Hogwarts has introduced a new course, so, in the spirit of caring for our children, I came to take a look."
He wore a solemn, responsible expression. Behind him, cameras flashed, capturing the moment.
McGonagall frowned slightly at the display.
Fudge noticed but said nothing.
After all— He knew perfectly well this was just a performance.
Ever since Dawn's intrusion into Hogwarts, public opinion had turned against the Ministry.
People blamed the Ministry for failing to act.
Fudge had taken the hit. His approval ratings had plummeted.
And he was furious about it.
So when he heard about the new practical lessons in the Forbidden Forest, he saw an opportunity.
If the public cared about the school and its students— Then he would show how much he, as Minister, cared too.
Fudge exchanged pleasantries with Dumbledore, posing skillfully for the cameras.
But just as he was about to push further and request a tour of the forest—
A reporter behind him suddenly stiffened.
"Minister... look at this."
The reporter handed him a photograph.
"What is it? Can't you see I'm speaking with Albus?" Fudge snapped, though he still glanced down.
It was a long-distance shot taken when they first arrived by the lake.
Most of the image showed dense greenery.
At the bottom, Dumbledore and several professors could be seen standing.
And—
"...Hmm?"
Fudge narrowed his eyes.
He leaned closer.
Between the professors... Was someone lying on the ground? He looked again at the empty space before them in reality.
Something was wrong. Instinct told him there was a secret here.
He pulled out his wand.
After failing twice, he finally cast an Enlarging Charm. The photograph expanded.
And then—
Fudge saw the face clearly.
His expression changed instantly.
After a stunned pause, he shrieked, "Dumbledore! You've captured the intruder?!"
His face lit up with excitement.
He had only come for a publicity stunt—And now he had struck gold.
Perfect!
His approval ratings were saved!
"Quick! Albus, hand him over to me!" he urged eagerly.
Dumbledore had already sensed trouble earlier. Now that the secret was exposed, his headache worsened.
"Fudge, I believe this matter should be handled discreetly."
He tried to explain.
"Listen, Dawn is—"
"No, no, Albus." Fudge cut him off sharply. "That is not Dawn. Just a criminal impersonating him."
Snape let out a soft laugh.
Several professors looked openly disdainful.
None of them liked this Minister.
But Fudge didn't care. He handed the photograph to the Aurors behind him.
"Check the area. See if he's still there."
The Aurors exchanged glances.
Avoiding Dumbledore's gaze, they cast Finite Incantatem together. The concealment spell broke.
Dawn's body reappeared on the ground.
"Ah-ha!"
Fudge nodded in satisfaction.
He had no intention of staying any longer.
He gestured for the Aurors to take Dawn away.
Extending his hand cheerfully, he said, "Well then, Albus, thank you for your assistance in capturing a criminal. We'll take it from here."
He fully intended to make the most of this opportunity.
Dumbledore took a deep breath.
After a moment's hesitation, he did not forcefully intervene.
Instead, he asked gravely, "Fudge... Dawn is immortal. How do you plan to deal with him?"
"Immortal?"
Fudge's expression turned strange at those words, his lips curling into a mocking smile.
"Albus, you really have gone senile. How could there possibly be someone in this world who cannot die?"
Dumbledore remained completely serious.
"It is difficult to believe—but Cornelius, I am telling the truth. Dawn is right here. You can try it yourself."
Try it?
At those words, Fudge immediately sneered inwardly, convinced that Dumbledore had some ulterior motive.
Kill someone here?
If word got out, would he still be Minister for Magic?
"No need!"
Fudge waved his hand sharply, rejecting the idea.
"The law is sacred and must not be violated. I will deal with him according to his crime of breaking into Hogwarts. He will be sent to Azkaban."
"Do not do that, Cornelius!"
Dumbledore rubbed his temples. Seeing the situation spiraling further out of control, he suddenly made up his mind.
He raised his wand, pointed at Dawn, and spoke—
°Avada Kedavra°
A flash of green light shot forward and struck Dawn's body.
Everyone was stunned.
The professors.
The Ministry officials.
"Albus, you—?!" None of them could believe what they had just witnessed.
Dumbledore had used the Killing Curse. A spell he had never used, not even during two wizarding wars.
Fudge stood there, mouth agape.
Using any of the three Unforgivable Curses was punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban.
He should have ordered the Aurors to arrest Dumbledore immediately.
But the memory of that cold, green light froze him in place.
He had always dared to pressure Dumbledore because he understood the man's character.
But now—
That single spell made him recoil in fear.
Dumbledore closed his eyes in pain.
He hated this spell. He hated the emotions required to cast it. But when it came to Dawn, he had no choice.
Opening his eyes again, he pointed toward the figure on the ground.
"Cornelius. Look."
On the ground, Dawn lay unconscious. His breathing was steady. He had not died.
Fudge's eyelid twitched.
Impossible.
He glanced at Dumbledore, then cautiously stepped forward. He placed a hand on Dawn's chest.
A strong, steady heartbeat.
Even faced with this undeniable reality, Fudge still resisted accepting it.
Perhaps it was instinct—his deep-seated opposition to Dumbledore.
It was easier to believe that Dumbledore's Killing Curse had somehow failed than to accept that someone could not be killed.
Fudge was no longer the sharp man he once had been, but he had lived through war.
He knew that a Killing Curse without sufficient intent would fail.
But—
Dumbledore's willingness to cast it at all made him hesitate.
If what Dumbledore said was true— If Dawn truly could not be killed— And if this was the same Dawn he had declared dead in the papers—
Then what should he do?
Fudge suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
He had publicly condemned Dawn before. And this was a powerful wizard with no regard for rules.
His expression finally changed.
He pointed at Dawn. "Albus... what state is he in now?"
Dumbledore answered, "The bracelet on his wrist was created by Nicolas Flamel. It forces the wearer into an eternal state of unconsciousness."
Only unconscious?
Once Fudge understood the situation, his attitude shifted completely.
Now, he was concerned about his own safety. He could not entrust his life to a mysterious bracelet.
So—
Was there a way to eliminate this threat entirely?
His first thought was Azkaban.
The Dementors. Those creatures could suck a person's soul out through their mouth.
If the Killing Curse did not work, perhaps the Dementor's Kiss would.
But—
What if even that failed? Was there something more reliable?
Fudge froze for a moment.
Then his eyes lit up.
A sudden idea.
Deep within the Ministry... Wasn't there an ancient archway said to be connected to death itself?
.....
What were they talking about?
High in the dense canopy, Dawn stood on a branch, frowning.
Even with an owl's keen hearing, he had only caught fragments of the conversation below.
It seemed someone had used an enchanted device—something that prevented sound from carrying upward.
Dawn brushed his wing against his head.
Then—
His gaze sharpened.
He saw Dumbledore, accompanied by another "himself," leading Fudge and the others toward the castle.
Without thinking, Dawn flapped his wings to follow.
But he stopped himself.
Hidden among the leaves, his form shifted— He became a tiny beetle.
Much better for stealth.
Satisfied, he took flight, circling wide before aiming toward one of the reporters, intending to land on his back.
But at that exact moment—
He heard a very familiar sound.
"Coo!"
The snow owl, which had just been set down beneath the tree, suddenly took off again.
It had been on its way to confront a new "friend"— When it spotted a small flying insect.
Its eyes locked on.
It darted forward and snapped the insect into its beak.
Dawn: "???"
He almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
Of all times—
Because he was too close to the professors below, he couldn't break free too violently.
Instead, he transformed again—this time into a sparrow.
He forced his way out and escaped.
But that brief delay was enough. The group had already disappeared into the castle.
Dawn ignored the dumbfounded owl, which now hovered midair in existential confusion.
He flapped his wings and rushed toward the castle gates.
But he was too late. All he saw was a brief flicker of fire in the Great Hall's fireplace— Then nothing.
Dawn frowned.
Without wasting time, he turned back toward the Forbidden Forest, found a secluded spot, reverted to his original form, and Disapparated.
.....
Flames flared.
Dawn appeared on a dirty street lined with crumbling buildings, a shabby pub, and a wall covered in chaotic graffiti.
A red telephone booth stood nearby.
The entrance to the British Ministry of Magic.
Located deep beneath London, it could be accessed through this worn-out booth.
After faking his death last year, Dawn had secretly searched the Ministry while looking for his lost wand.
So he was quite familiar with the place.
Now— Although he had lost track of Dumbledore's group thanks to that foolish owl— Dawn was certain of one thing.
If Cornelius Fudge was involved—
Then the Ministry of Magic was exactly where they would be.
___________
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