Hogwarts.
Eighth Floor.
Headmaster's Office.
Under the bright daylight, Dumbledore sat behind his desk with his hands clasped together, watching the "Fred" before him drift into thought after discussing the cursed black dog.
Only now did everything begin to feel real.
Dawn had appeared again.
The thought continued looping endlessly through his mind.
Though it rather damaged his dignified image, there had truly been more than one moment when he desperately wished reality were not this terrible.
Pouring himself a cup of black tea, Dumbledore closed his eyes.
Within the faint bitterness lingering on his tongue, he quietly began considering one problem:
How exactly had Dawn appeared inside Fred's body?
Voldemort could inhabit students because he had used a spell that split his own mind apart.
But Dawn?
How?
Dumbledore was absolutely certain he had personally thrown Dawn through the Veil of Death.
So how had he reappeared inside Fred almost instantly afterward?
Was there something about the Veil itself that he fundamentally misunderstood?
Massaging the bridge of his nose, Dumbledore briefly considered whether he should speak with George.
After all, the Weasley twins were practically inseparable. Perhaps George had noticed something unusual.
Thoughts twisted endlessly through his mind.
And with growing despair, Dumbledore realized he had once again fallen back into the same exhausting anxiety that made one want to pull out all their hair.
And he had only enjoyed less than a day of peace.
Sighing softly, he looked toward the boy before him.
Dumbledore did not trust Dawn.
That much was unquestionable.
Especially not after the boy had mysteriously appeared inside a student's body and voluntarily come seeking cooperation.
If Voldemort intended to use the castle consciousness to resurrect himself through the students' minds—Then could Dawn truly be satisfied with merely returning to his own body?
Did he not have other schemes?
Dumbledore could not help wondering whether any method existed to restrain him.
Then suddenly—
In front of the desk, the dazed Dawn's eyes shifted slightly.
His unfocused pupils regained clarity as he rubbed his forehead.
"Sorry, Headmaster. I got distracted just now."
The mind-link had ended.
First, Dawn checked his own condition.
Just as expected—
Besides Fred, he could now also control Blaise, who was currently asleep in the Slytherin dormitory.
Having two perspectives at once felt somewhat strange.
But it was hardly a serious problem.
As Dawn adapted to his altered senses, another realization suddenly filled him with delight.
Though difficult to describe precisely, he could clearly feel that the fragments of his consciousness inside the other students had become more active.
Could it be—After Voldemort died inside the black dog's jaws, all of Voldemort's mental fragments had been suppressed slightly rather than merely allowing Dawn to occupy Blaise's body?
Closing his eyes briefly, Dawn confirmed the sensation several times before his pupils lit up with excitement.
If that were true—Things were far simpler than he had imagined.
As long as he continued killing Voldemort during each mind-link, then after perhaps only two more experiences, he would completely overwhelm him.
Satisfaction and anticipation flashed through Dawn's eyes.
Yet once he remembered everything he had witnessed during the recent mind-link, his emotions quickly settled back down.
Thinking carefully—
He actually understood almost nothing from that experience.
He had merely spent half the time fleeing pursuit before stumbling across a magical riot experiment log.
Beyond that—He still had no answers.
Why had Voldemort died so suddenly? Had he discovered something inside that room?
What secrets surrounded the identity of the dead man connected to the mind-link?
And most importantly—
The Church.
This organization, now completely fallen into obscurity in the modern age, seemed to have hidden countless secrets throughout history.
Both this experience and the information Dawn had gathered while acting as the plague doctor confirmed that fact.
Then he remembered the final parchment title he had glimpsed before the mind-link ended:
Granting Magic to Ordinary Humans.
Had that experiment succeeded?
If it had—How had the Church accomplished it? Was magical riot still involved somehow?
The mysteries clawed at Dawn's curiosity unbearably.
Only after a long moment did he realize the office had fallen silent.
Looking up, he discovered Dumbledore had drifted into thought as well.
"Headmaster," Dawn finally asked, "is there anything else you wanted to ask? If not, I'll be leaving."
Hearing the voice, Dumbledore slowly returned to himself.
Questions?
He had far too many.
But he also knew Dawn would never willingly reveal the truth. So he simply chose silence.
At the moment, what he needed most was space to think clearly and organize the chaos in his mind.
Thus, he merely spread his hands in a gesture of dismissal.
Still, before Dawn left, Dumbledore spoke with unusual seriousness, "Do not cause trouble, child."
"Ah, don't worry. I'll play the role of a good student."
Dawn waved casually and flashed an exceptionally obedient smile.
Bang.
The office door rotated shut once more.
After speaking with Dumbledore, Dawn returned to the library and began reading books related to the Church and medieval history.
Then, for the first time in a long while, he behaved like an ordinary Hogwarts student again, preparing for Monday's classes.
Time passed quickly within this strangely peaceful routine.
Day turned to night.
Sunday ended.
And amid fresh resentment—A new week began.
Crack!
The tip of a quill stabbed violently into a wooden table.
Monday afternoon.
Inside the Gryffindor common room, the sharp sound instantly attracted everyone's attention.
Dawn sighed helplessly and lifted his gaze from the book in his hands, following the trembling fingers gripping the quill toward the red-haired boy before him.
"George," he asked calmly, "doesn't your hand hurt?"
"...No."
"Then why are you shaking?"
"...I'm not."
"I see."
With an expression clearly saying "whatever helps you sleep at night," Dawn shrugged and lowered his head, preparing to continue reading.
The book he currently held concerned the fourteenth-century Church.
George nearly exploded at the sight of his indifference. "Fred! Don't you have anything to say to me?!"
"No."
"...Really?"
George sneered and suddenly slammed down a stack of blank parchment.
"Then why did the homework I finished yesterday become completely blank when I handed it in today?!"
He gritted his teeth fiercely.
The memory of McGonagall's sharp gaze during Transfiguration class still made cold sweat run down his back.
"Mr. Weasley, yours was the only assignment left unfinished this week.
Furthermore, in all my years of teaching, you are the first student who has dared to openly submit blank parchment. Splendid."
"Damn it! I worked until midnight writing that!"
George lowered his head and stared darkly at Dawn. "So tell me, Fred. Why exactly did this happen to me?"
Dawn turned his head aside. "Maybe someone stole it during the night?"
"You practically just admitted it!"
George roared in disbelief.
Dawn pushed George's face away with one hand while rubbing his forehead tiredly.
"George, this is embarrassing. You fell victim to a prank because you weren't careful enough, and now you're acting like this? That's awfully small-minded."
Then he added dismissively:
"You should understand that both good and bad are gifts from the world. If you only accept things that benefit you, you'll never become a real man."
Prank.
Not careful enough.
Small-minded.
Real man.
The words repeatedly smashed through George's brain. His eyes turned bloodshot.
He had clearly reached his breaking point.
"That's it! Fred, even if I get toilet water dumped in my face today, I'm settling this with you once and for all!"
"Sure," Dawn replied lazily. "I'm bored anyway. What's the challenge?"
"We compete making prank candy!"
George pointed dramatically.
"You remember Ton-Tongue Toffee, right? We each make one, eat the other's creation, and whoever makes the stronger effect wins!"
Ton-Tongue Toffee?
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
He remembered the candy.
One of the Weasley twins' prank products—it caused the eater's tongue to swell enormously.
George clearly refused to give him room to escape.
"Listen carefully, Fred! If I win, you return my homework, confess everything to Professor McGonagall, and personally buy her a box of catnip!"
Catnip?
Dawn narrowed his eyes instantly.
His instincts screamed that if he actually did such a thing, McGonagall would transform him into a scratching board and shred him apart.
Still—
"Interesting."
Dawn's curiosity had been fully awakened.
"Then if I win, you buy Snape an entire set of hair-care products. Potter-brand products. And while giving them to him, you must say: 'Your image will never win back the woman you love.'"
A suffocating silence spread instantly.
In a brief hallucination, George felt as though a bottomless grave had opened before him.
Yet despite that instinctive terror, he shook his head and accepted immediately.
"No problem! Fred, let's start right now!"
The common room atmosphere exploded with excitement.
Students shouted and cheered wildly.
Harry, who had been watching enthusiastically, suddenly froze.
"Wait... Potter-brand?"
"Oh, I think I heard someone mention that before," Ron answered without turning around. "Pretty sure it used to be your dad's family business."
Scraping noises filled the room as tables and chairs were dragged aside.
The Gryffindors quickly cleared space and gathered in a giant circle, loudly cheering for whichever twin they supported.
"Come on, George! Don't lose! I want to see a glorious comeback!"
"Fred, you're going to win, right? I bet all my pocket money on you!"
"Group gambling is unacceptable! As a prefect and your older brother, I strongly condemn this behavior!"
Percy shouted furiously.
Nobody paid him any attention.
George confidently returned upstairs to retrieve his cauldron and potion ingredients.
Naturally, he also brought Fred's supplies.
Whoosh.
The fire ignited.
George smoothly placed his cauldron above the flames, filled it with water, then added two spoonfuls of dried nettles and crushed puffer-fish eyes once the liquid began boiling.
As expected.
"The key ingredient really is Swelling Solution."
Dawn narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
Strictly speaking, prank candies were not true alchemical creations.
They lacked magical circuits and runes.
Their effects relied mostly on potions and specialized spells.
Although Dawn did not possess Fred's memories of creating Ton-Tongue Toffee, he had already guessed the method based on the effect itself.
A Swelling Solution to enlarge tissue.
Combined with a Restriction Potion to localize the effect to a single body part.
Watching George's movements confirm his theory, Dawn calmly began brewing his own.
George glanced toward Dawn's ingredients, and a gleam flashed through his eyes.
Since this was a prank competition—Surely Merlin himself would approve of a few underhanded tricks.
Returning with the supplies earlier, George had intentionally given Dawn the worst ingredients available.
Old stock.
Poor quality.
Difficult to brew correctly.
Meanwhile, George had kept the best ingredients for himself.
So with their equally mediocre potion-making skills—Victory was guaranteed.
George's blood boiled with confidence.
But—Ten minutes later—
"No! Impossible! How did I lose?!"
George knelt weakly on the floor, his swollen tongue lolling absurdly from his mouth as he stared in horror at Dawn, who remained perfectly unaffected.
The surrounding Gryffindors burst into laughter.
Moments earlier, the twins had exchanged candies.
After eating them, Fred showed no reaction whatsoever. Meanwhile, George's tongue had swollen massively.
The result was obvious.
"George, don't forget the wager," Dawn said cheerfully. "And when you deliver the hair products to Snape, I insist on watching in person."
He was clearly enjoying himself far too much.
At the same time, Dawn silently mocked George's complete lack of brains.
The candy's effect enlarged the tongue. So all he had needed to do beforehand was cast a Shrinking Charm.
True, using the spell on an entire human body was difficult.
But targeting a single body part? For Dawn, it had been effortless.
After the chaos settled, the Gryffindor common room gradually returned to normal.
Watching the students laugh and chatter around him, Dawn found himself oddly tempted to urge everyone into taking afternoon naps.
He wanted to trigger the remaining two mind-links as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately, given his current identity, he lacked any proper excuse for saying such things.
So he simply shrugged and let events proceed naturally.
Finally, after briefly glancing at Neville—who had returned from the hospital that morning and was currently smiling foolishly among the crowd—Dawn sat back down and resumed reading.
Meanwhile—
Up on the eighth floor.
Inside the Headmaster's office.
Using a unique magical method to observe the entire scene, Dumbledore tilted his head slightly and fell into utter confusion.
At this point, he was beginning to genuinely wonder—
Was Fred claiming to be Dawn actually nothing more than an especially terrible prank?
___________
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