Parasitic Jellyfish.
Dawn had once read about them in a book titled Illustrated Guide to Rare Creatures.
They were amphibious magical creatures, capable of floating in the air, resembling translucent jellyfish.
Most of them were found near the seas around Japan, and they were classified as Dark creatures.
Their ability was to melt into a wizard's body and partially control them.
According to the British Ministry of Magic's classification, they were rated XXXXX—on par with dragons.
As Dumbledore explained this creature to the Great Hall, the students immediately erupted into chaos.
Gasps and murmurs spread across the hall.
They hadn't expected something so terrifying to be among them.
Yet amid the panic, Harry Potter felt a strange sense of relief. Good. He hadn't been betrayed by his friends.
Dawn, however, stared at Dumbledore in confusion.
He knew.
Dumbledore knew.
Every professor knew.
The students' abnormal behavior had nothing to do with Parasitic Jellyfish. It was caused by Lord Voldemort's soul.
So why say this?
Was it simply a cover story after repeated incidents? A convenient explanation for public consumption?
At that moment, Hermione raised her hand.
"Headmaster, then why do the possessed students all attack Harry?"
"That is still under investigation," Dumbledore replied seriously. "Perhaps these creatures were deliberately sent here to kill him."
The students' faces changed again.
Who would want to kill Harry?
Almost everyone thought of Voldemort—and the remaining Death Eaters.
"Calm down, ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore said again, soothing the room. "There is no need to worry. We professors will handle this."
His calm demeanor gradually settled the students.
"Then what about those things in the castle?" Draco asked from the Slytherin table. "Have you caught them?"
He looked genuinely worried.
"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said apologetically. "According to our investigation, some of them have already hidden themselves inside students' bodies."
Draco turned pale.
"If someone is possessed... what happens to them?"
He had wanted to ask if they would die, but changed his wording at the last moment.
"Rest assured, Mr. Malfoy."
Dumbledore gently reassured him, then took out a crystal vial from his robes and held it up.
Dawn glanced at it.
Inside was a pink liquid—clearly some kind of potion.
"This is a potion I asked Nicolas Flamel to brew specially," Dumbledore announced.
"If you drink it continuously for a few months, anything in your body that does not belong to you will be expelled."
The Great Hall burst into noise again.
One student couldn't help asking, "Nicolas Flamel? The alchemist who's lived for centuries? He can brew potions too?"
"Of course he can!" Ron immediately said loudly. "He made the Elixir of Life! Brewing potions is nothing to him!"
His confidence spread quickly.
If Flamel could create immortality, then potion-making was surely trivial.
As more students shared stories about Flamel, the unease in the hall gradually faded.
Even Draco abandoned his earlier thought of going home.
At the staff table, Snape shot Ron a cold glance, clearly displeased at his dismissive tone toward potion-making.
He silently decided that Ron would "personally" learn the value of potions in the next class.
Meanwhile, floating high above, Dawn grew even more confused.
What was going on? There really was a potion meant to expel the jellyfish?
Or—
Was the potion actually meant to remove Voldemort's soul, merely disguised under a different explanation?
This didn't feel like something Dumbledore would do.
Even if the potion worked, Dumbledore would normally act quietly—not make such a public display.
Dawn narrowed his eyes and focused on the potion.
In an instant, abstract magical patterns filled his vision.
...They looked familiar.
He stared more closely, comparing them to potions he had seen before.
After a moment, a thought surfaced—
From the similarity of the patterns, didn't this look more like a stimulant potion?
Dawn frowned.
At that moment, in the back row, Fred suddenly clutched his stomach, his face turning pale. After enduring it for a moment, he rushed out of the hall.
George glanced at him, worried, then followed.
Dumbledore saw this and easily guessed the cause. Probably just an upset stomach.
He didn't interfere.
After all, it wasn't something that could be helped. And whatever he said next would surely reach them later.
But—
Dawn, hovering high above, didn't notice any of this. His attention was fixed entirely on the potion.
The noise in the hall masked the twins' departure.
He continued pondering Dumbledore's intentions.
What exactly was he trying to do?
A stimulant potion, presented as Flamel's work, with its function completely altered.
Such serious nonsense.
"...Hmm?"
Dawn paused.
Serious nonsense.
He had thought something similar before, hadn't he?
His thoughts drifted back—
To when he had first learned about natural magic in the Pharaoh's tomb, and later observed the phoenix's unique magical patterns in New Zealand.
At that time, he had considered—
If one gained enough reputation and authority in the wizarding world, could one publish impossible theories and make them real simply by gaining widespread belief?
If that were the case— Was Dumbledore trying to use collective consciousness to counter Voldemort's soul magic?
And attributing the potion to Flamel to make people believe in it more quickly?
Dawn frowned.
Was he overthinking this?
Yet when he looked at Dumbledore again, especially at the phrase "expelling anything that does not belong to you," it felt deliberate.
But how would Dumbledore know about collective consciousness?
Dawn didn't believe he was the only one capable of discovering such a concept.
History was full of geniuses.
The ancient Egyptian pharaohs, for example, had used an entire nation's belief to influence natural magic.
But if Dumbledore had known about this all along—
Why act only now?
Dawn narrowed his eyes further.
And even then— Could a castle of just five hundred people generate enough collective consciousness to make this real?
He doubted it.
Unless—
Dumbledore intended to use Hogwarts as a starting point to influence all of Britain.
After all, rumors that began in Hogwarts often spread rapidly throughout the wizarding world.
Like the legend of the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
That had started here too.
At that moment, the discussion in the Great Hall died down.
Dumbledore spoke again.
"Additionally, regarding certain unpleasant rumors circulating in the castle—those concerning the Dark Lord's return—I urge everyone to view them rationally. They are not true."
He blinked lightly. "Perhaps someone is simply preparing a fright for next Halloween."
The students paused, exchanged looks, then laughed awkwardly in response.
But Dawn felt even more unsettled.
A denial? Dumbledore was publicly denying rumors of Voldemort's return?
That was strange.
Even if the subject was Voldemort, this didn't seem like something Dumbledore would do.
Dawn's eyes flickered.
Unless— Dumbledore believed the rumor itself was dangerous.
Could it also trigger collective consciousness? That was the only explanation Dawn could think of.
But then— Why deny only this rumor?
There were countless terrifying rumors in Hogwarts.
Why this one?
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