A sealed room.
A remote corner.
A quiet, empty night.
And a victim bound tightly with rope, unable to resist.
Everything pointed to something very bad happening here.
George struggled with all his strength, feeling the ropes tighten even more. His voice trembled as he cried out,
"Let me go, Fred! Let me go!"
Tears welled up in his eyes, his voice full of despair. "Why? Aren't I your brother? Fred, why would you do this? Answer me!"
"Why, you ask? That's a tough one," Dawn replied with a cold smile as he slowly reached into George's robes.
George's face changed instantly.
He tried to shrink back, but the wall blocked him. He could only shake his head desperately.
"Stop! Just stop! This... this is absolutely not okay!"
"Not okay? That's unfortunate, George. You're not getting away now."
Dawn smirked. After fumbling around for a moment, he pulled out his hand.
A quill and a small bottle of ink.
George's expression collapsed completely.
"No! Fred, I was wrong! Please, you have to forgive me!"
"...Don't you think you're overacting a bit?" Dawn rolled his eyes.
He dipped the quill in ink and began drawing on George's face.
Stroke after stroke.
Dark circles first, then exaggerated blush.
"Ha!"
Dawn could not help laughing. George looked like some indescribable creature dragged into reality. The longer he looked, the more ridiculous it became.
It felt oddly satisfying.
Dawn admitted he held grudges. Thinking about what happened earlier, not getting even would have bothered him.
He pulled the quill away and flicked a drop of ink aside.
"Alright, George. Now we're even."
"Then untie me already! It's getting in my mouth!" George twisted his head around, trying to shake off the ink.
Dawn had no intention of letting him go.
He wanted a good night's sleep, and George was far too troublesome.
Besides, if Voldemort took control of George while he slept, things could get ugly very quickly.
Clink.
Dawn was about to refuse when something fell to the ground.
He looked down and saw a small crystal vial.
Inside was a cloudy liquid.
What is this?
Dawn raised an eyebrow, picked it up, and tested a tiny amount.
"I see. It's an itching potion."
George's eyes widened in horror as Dawn casually poured the potion into the ink bottle and stirred it with the quill.
"Wait... wait a second!"
George's tone changed completely, panic replacing his earlier theatrics.
"What are you doing?!"
"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," Dawn said with a grin, bringing the quill closer.
"No! Fred, seriously, this is not okay! Look at me, we're brothers! Fred—no, no, no!"
The scream echoed through the room.
Dawn snorted, tossed the quill aside, and watched George desperately rub his face against his shoulder.
"This is an abandoned classroom. No one comes here, and I've cast a silencing charm. George, enjoy your night."
"Wait! No matter what, this is too cruel!" George shouted, half in disbelief, half in terror.
Dawn waved him off and shut the door firmly behind him.
"Think whatever you want."
"NO... NO—!"
The cries of despair lingered in the empty room.
With George out of the way, Dawn felt much lighter.
He headed up to the eighth floor and began pacing in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.
"I need a room to rest. I need a room to rest."
After repeating it three times, a handle appeared on the smooth wall.
Creak.
Dawn pushed the door open.
Inside, a soft carpet cushioned his steps. Near a standing lamp covered with a crystal shade, he saw a large, comfortable bed.
The exhaustion hit him instantly.
He yawned, barely keeping himself awake.
After washing up in the attached bathroom and setting up a few defensive spells, he collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.
The lights dimmed.
Night deepened.
A breeze rippled across the Black Lake. Leaves rustled softly, and distant animal cries echoed from the forest.
The castle, however, grew lively.
Brave students snuck out of their dorms, wandering the corridors and dodging Filch and Mrs. Norris.
In the abandoned classroom, George rubbed his face against the floor, groaning and swearing revenge for the next time he saw Fred.
Somewhere else, an owl returned to the castle, transformed into a beetle, and slipped into Lee's dormitory, waiting.
The night was far from quiet.
Dawn suddenly felt his body grow light.
In a hazy state, he saw and heard countless things.
Someone in the kitchen offering honey-roasted apples to a friend.
Students running down corridors, fleeing from Filch.
Ron and others in the Gryffindor dorm copying homework late into the night.
Boom.
Like a sudden explosion.
Dawn's eyes snapped open.
He sat up, clutching his head. After a brief moment of confusion, his expression darkened.
What was that?
It did not feel like a dream.
Everything had been too real.
Without hesitation, he threw off the blanket, got dressed, cast a Disillusionment Charm, and rushed out.
He needed to confirm it.
The journey was smooth.
Soon, he reached the kitchen again. The place was even more crowded than before, despite the late hour.
Students sat in small groups, chatting and eating.
Dawn scanned the room, then fixed his gaze on two students eating honey-roasted apples.
Exactly the same scene.
So it was not a dream.
A house-elf noticed the door open without anyone visible and bowed.
"Is there a wizard present?"
Dawn ignored it and left immediately after confirming his suspicion.
The corridor outside was dimly lit.
He sat absentmindedly on a barrel near the Hufflepuff entrance, thinking.
The answer was not hard to figure out.
He had just entered Fred's body and had limited experiences to analyze.
Then he remembered that strange sensation of being torn apart while falling through darkness.
Now, after what felt like possessing multiple students and sharing their senses, he understood.
If Fred's death in the mental connection allowed Dawn's consciousness to enter this body…
Then Voldemort had died there too.
Which meant Dawn's mind had followed those fragments and spread across all the students Voldemort had possessed.
"...Alright. That makes sense," Dawn muttered, rubbing his face.
He remembered joking before that things might spiral out of control.
Well, now they had.
But he did not feel like laughing.
And how exactly did multiple minds fit into one body? Wouldn't that feel crowded?
Dawn grimaced.
After a moment, he shook his head and refocused. This was not the time to worry about others.
The real question was whether this situation was good or bad for him.
He almost tapped the barrel absentmindedly, then stopped himself, remembering the vinegar trap.
The downsides were obvious.
With his consciousness scattered like this, how was he supposed to gather it back and return to his original body?
Before, being inside Fred alone, he could have considered extreme options.
Now? Was he supposed to eliminate every student in the castle?
Dawn clenched his teeth.
If there was no other choice, he might actually consider it. Even if it would be incredibly troublesome.
Taking a deep breath, he continued thinking.
There was another question. What state was his consciousness in now?
Fragmented?
No.
If it were fragmented, he would not have been able to defeat Voldemort or share sensory input across multiple bodies.
So the only reasonable conclusion was that his consciousness was still whole, just existing in a strange, higher-dimensional way across multiple hosts.
Dawn cursed under his breath.
He jumped off the barrel and decided to head to the library immediately.
But as he approached, he noticed a light inside.
Filch was patrolling with a lantern.
Dawn hesitated.
Should he knock him out?
After a moment, he gave up the idea. Better not risk alerting Dumbledore.
He sighed and returned to the Room of Requirement.
The next morning.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains.
Dawn opened his eyes, exhausted.
He had barely slept. That strange "surveillance" sensation kept interrupting his rest.
After splashing cold water on his face, he forced himself awake.
There was no time to waste.
He had too much to do.
He needed to plan his next steps, search the library for information about consciousness, and study the condition of other students.
Then he suddenly slapped his forehead.
Right.
He also had to keep playing hide-and-seek with his past self.
Dawn sighed again, feeling even more tired.
But it would end soon.
By the end of the morning, his past self would figure everything out and stop investigating Fred.
After that, things would be easier.
Or so he told himself.
As he walked down the corridor, a classroom door suddenly creaked open.
George staggered out, looking utterly miserable. The moment he saw Dawn, his expression twisted with rage.
"Fred, you bastard!"
He lunged forward, fueled by pure vengeance.
Unfortunately, his numb legs gave out, and he slid across the floor, landing right in front of Dawn.
"...That's not necessary," Dawn said, instinctively patting his head before turning away.
George froze.
Then he gritted his teeth, got up, and chased after him.
"Get back here!"
But Dawn was already gone.
It was Sunday.
The castle felt unusually quiet, as many students had gone to the Forbidden Forest.
Dawn knew his past self was in the Gryffindor common room. This was the perfect time to go to the library.
He entered.
Madam Pince immediately cast a suspicious glance at him.
Dawn coughed awkwardly and slipped into the shelves.
Understandable.
The twins were not exactly her favorite students.
Shaking his head, he began scanning the books. The library was vast, and what he needed was not categorized neatly.
Still, he had a direction.
Ghost studies.
If ghosts lacked logical thinking compared to their living selves, then their study must involve the nature of consciousness.
And then another thought came to him.
The Sorting Hat.
Unlike ghosts, it was an alchemical object that possessed human-like thought.
That had always intrigued him.
Dawn sighed.
He really should have taken it during Christmas.
___________
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