[The Cursed Bones]
[This is a Dark artifact that has never truly appeared before the public eye and exists only in rumor.
It is said that if a person's blood is dripped onto the bones, then everyone related to that bloodline will lose their flesh within three days and become nothing but skeletons.
However, according to legend, the curse only lasts for seven days.
As long as one continuously drinks healing potions for seven consecutive days, the Dark artifact will lose its effect.]
[Whether these rumors are true or false remains unknown.
I gathered and organized every piece of information related to this Dark artifact and found that its origins vary greatly.
However, the following tale seems the most likely.]
[It is said that in the year 1463, a wizard couple was discovered by the Church and became the target of a massive manhunt.
After much struggle, the couple narrowly escaped, but their newborn child fell into the hands of the Church.
Ten years later, the child died in agony.
His hatred toward the parents who abandoned him attached itself to his decayed bones, transforming into a powerful curse.]
Dawn rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
He had every reason to suspect this thing had also been created under the Church's control through a young wizard's magical outburst.
At that moment, he suddenly thought of the witch hunts.
If the bones truly existed, and their effects were exactly as recorded, then to those unfamiliar with them, they would indeed be terrifying weapons.
Could it be...
That the Church's ability to launch large-scale witch hunts and gain the upper hand against wizards had depended on these strange magical artifacts?
After pondering for a moment, Dawn shifted his gaze toward the section discussing Egyptian alchemical objects.
To his surprise, he discovered something that he himself had once passed by.
[The Sun God's Disc]
[According to legend, Pharaoh Akhenaten possessed a golden disc capable of radiating brilliant light.
Anyone bathed beneath that light would gain immense vitality.
As long as the injury did not involve the soul itself, no matter how severe, it would gradually heal beneath the disc's warm radiance.]
The Sun God's Disc...
Dawn stared at the description, which lacked even a single illustration, and once again painfully recalled his experience inside Tutankhamun's tomb.
He was absolutely certain that the Sun God's Disc was the very object he had encountered in the burial chamber.
Back then, he had been only inches away from it.
All he needed was a little courage. One stretch of the hand and it would have been his.
Although caution had been the safest possible choice at the time, remembering it now still filled him with regret.
My disc...
Dawn let out a long sigh.
Following that train of thought, he remembered Harris, who had disappeared without a trace after the death scarabs nested inside him.
Dawn still did not know whether Harris himself had become part of the false memories created by World Correction.
He also thought of Amir, who had stopped appearing in the library at some unknown point.
Perhaps the blood curse had already killed him.
Dawn always felt that something else had happened behind the scenes, something he still did not understand.
Unfortunately, too many troubles currently tied down his hands and feet. He simply had no time to investigate.
Closing the book, Dawn checked the time and returned it to the shelf before preparing to head toward Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Honestly... The situation left him with complicated emotions.
Letting out a soft sigh, Dawn turned toward the corridor window.
Dark clouds covered the sky. Riding the cold wind, an owl gradually disappeared into the distance.
Dawn paused slightly.
Looking at the owl, he suddenly remembered something.
Right. Today was Wednesday.
Today, the past version of himself would enter the Death Arch once again, after which time itself would rewind.
From that moment onward, only one version of himself would remain within the current timeline.
Additionally—
Nicolas Flamel and Abel Davis would come into contact inside the hazy illusion and enter the state of mind-linking.
When the process ended, whose consciousness would return to reality?
Dawn thought about it carefully.
He believed there was over a ninety percent chance it would be Flamel.
Still, if the memory connected through the mind-link turned out to be relatively harmless, then Davis might still have a chance.
But if Flamel truly returned from death... What sort of impact would that have on him?
Dawn narrowed his eyes.
As he continued thinking, his mind drifted back to the alchemical objects he had just read about, causing another interesting question to surface.
Why was there such a massive difference between modern and ancient alchemy?
Standing atop the staircase, Dawn pondered quietly.
To be fair, he was not someone who blindly worshipped the idea that "the past was always superior."
Well... perhaps just a little.
After all, objectively speaking, ancient magic really had been more powerful, and magical innovation had flourished far more frequently in ancient times.
Even if part of that stemmed from the stability of modern society reducing the need for dangerous experimentation, and modern magic evolving toward accessibility and universal practicality.
Still—The difference in spellcraft was understandable enough.
Even now, many wizards continued improving spells. For example, Newt's modified Extension Charm.
But in alchemy, the gap between modern and ancient wizards was so vast that it practically resembled a complete collapse in quality.
Ancient magical artifacts were astonishing.
The relics left behind by the Four Founders.
The legendary Deathly Hallows.
Egypt's Sun God's Disc.
Even the Philosopher's Stone created by Flamel technically counted as an ancient artifact.
Yet within the past century, the wizarding world had produced nothing remotely comparable.
Not even second-rate substitutes existed.
When people discussed modern magical artifacts, all they could think of were joke products and prank toys.
Slightly more advanced examples included items like the Two-Way Mirror.
Such an abrupt decline absolutely had to mean something.
Even if alchemy depended heavily upon talent, the disparity between ancient and modern artifacts remained absurdly large.
So then... What if those legendary artifacts had never been created through the alchemy modern wizards understood at all?
What if they had instead been born through methods similar to magical outbursts?
Would Flamel, if he truly returned to reality, perhaps be able to answer that question?
Lost in thought, Dawn finally saw the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom appear ahead of him.
Returning to himself, he could not help sighing again.
Truthfully, he desperately wanted to find a child who had not yet undergone a magical outburst.
Creak!
Pushing open the classroom door, Dawn found a seat and casually responded to greetings from nearby students before preparing to continue his own thoughts.
But then— His brows suddenly furrowed.
Within the overlapping visions, he abruptly saw a blood-soaked wall.
A young wizard with a pale face had been pierced through the abdomen by a sword and nailed firmly in place.
This was not the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
It was the perspective being transmitted from Blaise, whose body Dawn occupied after the boy's death beneath the black dog's claws during the previous mind-link.
At almost the exact same moment, chaos and screaming erupted outside in the corridor.
Several terrified voices echoed into the classroom, instantly changing the students' expressions.
"Someone died!!"
"A Slytherin student is dead!!"
The Slytherin common room.
Located deep beneath the dungeons, it was a cold and gloomy place decorated in dark green tones. From here, one could directly see into the murky depths of the Black Lake.
Dawn had never truly adapted to it.
Among the three house common rooms he had experienced, Slytherin's was by far the most uncomfortable.
The only redeeming feature was the occasional sight of the giant squid and several rather unattractive magical creatures outside the windows.
Over the past two days, although Dawn had occupied Blaise's body, he had mostly focused his attention on Fred's perspective to avoid the torment of constantly split vision.
Blaise's side had been maintained at only the most basic level of activity. But now things were different.
The reason was simple.
Someone had died.
Taking a deep breath, Dawn stared intently at the dormitory ahead of him.
Half the wall had been dyed red with blood.
A young wizard had been pierced straight through and nailed to the surface by a blade.
To be honest, Dawn still had no idea exactly what had happened.
This morning, the first-year Slytherins had no classes. He had been controlling Blaise while lying in bed when sudden screams and frantic footsteps erupted outside.
Following the crowd out, he arrived just in time to witness this horrifying scene.
"I already sent someone to notify Professor Snape! Everyone move back!" A girl's sharp voice rang out as she pushed through the crowd.
Dawn raised an eyebrow, recognizing her immediately.
Gemma Farley, one of Slytherin's prefects.
The girl performed remarkably well under pressure.
After seeing the student nailed to the wall, she took a deep breath and first conjured a raised platform with Transfiguration to support the body.
Then she transformed the blade into straw before carefully removing it.
Finally, she quickly uncorked a healing potion and poured it over the bloody wound in the boy's abdomen.
At that moment, an icy voice carrying suppressed fury sounded from nearby.
"Damn it! Move aside, all of you!"
Snape swept toward them like a bat.
___________
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