Lost in thought, Dawn only realized where he was after he had already arrived at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.
"Sorry, could you help me for a moment?"
He stopped a boy who was in the middle of tapping one of the barrels.
"I'm looking for Abel Davis. Could you let him know I'm here?"
"Ah, sure! No problem!"
The boy answered readily, perhaps because he recognized Fred as one of Hogwarts' more famous students, or perhaps simply because Hufflepuffs were naturally friendly.
He gave Dawn a bright smile.
Then, in the very next second, the barrel exploded with a torrent of vinegar.
Splash!
The boy was drenched from head to toe.
The method for entering the Hufflepuff common room was fairly amusing.
One had to tap the barrels in a specific rhythm, and any mistake would result in being sprayed with sour vinegar.
"S-sorry!"
Ironically, the soaked boy apologized first.
His face reddened in embarrassment as he hurriedly tapped the barrels again before fleeing into the common room.
Dawn shrugged and waited outside.
He wanted to speak with Nicolas Flamel.
Not only about alchemy, but also about the Church and many other questions weighing on his mind.
After all, Flamel had been born in 1327, while Europe's witch hunts only officially ended in 1782.
As someone who had personally lived through that era, he undoubtedly knew far more about the Church than anyone else alive.
Besides, based on Dawn's understanding of Flamel's personality, if the old alchemist truly had taken over Abel's body, he certainly would not hide it from Dumbledore.
Which meant that sooner or later, his own identity would likely be exposed as well.
Of course, approaching Flamel directly and calling out his identity might also reveal that Dawn himself had been the mysterious stranger in the misty illusion realm.
But after some thought, Dawn concluded that it hardly mattered anymore.
Naturally, it would be preferable if Flamel sought him out first.
Still, Dawn could not be certain Dumbledore would ever introduce them.
While he was pondering all this, the boy returned from inside the common room.
He still smelled strongly of vinegar, clearly having rushed back before even changing clothes.
"Sorry, Fred. Abel isn't in the common room right now."
The boy looked apologetic.
"If there's something you need, I can pass along a message."
Abel wasn't here?
Dawn paused slightly, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.
After thanking the boy, he decided to borrow a book from the library and wait nearby for a while longer.
Besides, Abel had never been split by Voldemort's soul fragments, so Dawn had no way of monitoring his condition.
While Dawn waited for Flamel—
Inside the Slytherin common room, Dumbledore was currently enduring an exhausting conversation with Fudge and his Auror entourage inside the dormitory where the attack had taken place.
There was little worth describing about the process.
One could guess nearly everything without even being present.
Fudge maintained his usual righteous expression the entire time, endlessly repeating phrases like "severely punish the culprit," "restore the authority of the Ministry," and "Dumbledore, this is your negligence."
However, because nobody had actually died, and because the victim was not a pure-blood student, Dumbledore successfully brushed the entire matter aside using a Sinew Jellyfish that he had apparently acquired from somewhere unknown.
As for the blood-written message on the wall— Dumbledore did not even need to fabricate an explanation.
The instant Fudge saw it, he flew into a rage and loudly condemned modern students for being utterly shameless.
To him, the blood message was obviously just some foolish prankster deliberately tampering with a crime scene to create drama.
Exactly.
Within seconds, Fudge had constructed a complete explanation for himself, conveniently ignoring every inconsistency.
He even declared that tomorrow's Daily Prophet would harshly criticize this kind of behavior.
Dumbledore had never imagined there would come a day when he found Fudge pleasant to look at.
In fact, for one brief moment, he even felt that in terms of suppressing rumors about Voldemort's return, Fudge possessed far more enthusiasm—and perhaps even more talent—than he himself did.
With complicated emotions, Dumbledore finally sent off the Ministry delegation.
Afterward, he cleaned the bloodstains from the dormitory and arranged for the remaining students to move into different rooms.
Then he visited the hospital wing to check on the still-unconscious victim.
After instructing Madam Pomfrey to notify him the moment the student awoke, he finally returned toward his office.
The old headmaster needed time to think carefully about Voldemort's true objective and prepare for the inevitable battle of rumors that would follow.
However—
The moment the office door creaked open, Dumbledore froze.
Seated behind his desk was a "bold beyond reason" young student leisurely eating biscuits and drinking tea as though the office belonged to him.
Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose.
The scene was so bizarre and irrational that it immediately triggered a familiar sense of dread.
He already had a terrible premonition that whatever came next would be just as difficult to accept.
"You are... Mr. Davis, correct?"
Dumbledore recognized the boy immediately and asked with faint hope, "How did you get in here?"
"It's me, Albus."
The young boy looked up, calmness far beyond his age reflected in his eyes.
"I am Nicolas Flamel."
...Nicolas Flamel?
Dumbledore felt momentarily dazed.
Reality had once again delivered another merciless blow to the old man.
Still, perhaps because he had subconsciously prepared himself beforehand, he found himself strangely calm.
Looking at the boy claiming to be Nicolas Flamel, countless questions flashed through Dumbledore's mind.
Yet when he finally spoke, what emerged was, "How exactly did you get in here?"
"Hah! Albus, while I may have a different body now, my knowledge hasn't vanished. Opening the door to your office is absurdly easy."
Flamel chuckled lightly.
Dumbledore rubbed his temples with a headache. "That sounded suspiciously like boasting."
"No, merely a reminder that you should improve your security wards." Flamel smiled. "Though if you'd like, I could help."
Then he tilted his head slightly. "You look exhausted, Albus."
"Yes. Something happened in the castle."
Dumbledore let out a bitter laugh.
Amid the casual conversation, he once more forced himself to accept reality.
Conjuring another chair, he sat opposite Flamel and placed a candy into his mouth.
"Then perhaps you could explain something to me, Nicolas... How exactly did you end up inside this student's body?"
Even as he asked, the veins at his temples throbbed painfully.
At that moment, Dumbledore finally realized a horrifying truth.
Thoughts appearing inside students' bodies was not a phenomenon unique to Dawn alone.
This year's Hogwarts had become monstrously strange.
You are not you.
I am not me.
Besides Dawn, Voldemort, and Nicolas —How many more hidden cases might still exist within the castle?
The possibility deeply unsettled him.
For the first time, Dumbledore vaguely sensed that the truth hidden beneath the castle's mysteries was far larger—far more terrifying—than he had imagined.
Fortunately— Flamel's arrival at least meant there was now a chance to uncover the secrets concealed within the fog.
"That is precisely why I came here, Albus."
Flamel set down his teacup, his expression gradually turning serious.
"This morning, I breathed my last breath at home. Then my soul followed a strange guiding force into the legendary boundary between life and death—the misty illusion realm."
He explained the events succinctly.
"And there, I encountered two people. One of them was the student whose body I currently inhabit."
Dumbledore suddenly interrupted him.
"Wait."
The old headmaster clasped his hands together, his expression grave.
"Nicolas... are you saying that Mr. Davis also entered the misty illusion realm this morning?"
"Yes."
Flamel nodded firmly.
"I am absolutely certain. I met him there."
Dumbledore fell into thought, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Once he stopped interrupting, Flamel continued.
"Afterward, we came into contact with one another. The instant we touched, it felt as though we had crossed worlds entirely and arrived somewhere completely different."
As he spoke, Flamel slowly frowned.
"No... not another world." He corrected himself carefully. "To be more precise, we entered one of my memories."
"I remember it clearly. That memory came from 1521, during one of my most dangerous alchemical experiments."
A dangerous alchemical experiment?
Dumbledore's gaze carried silent inquiry.
Though he and Nicolas were considered old friends, the enormous age gap between them meant he actually knew very little about Nicholas' earlier life.
"That part is unimportant."
Flamel shook his head.
He clearly did not wish to elaborate on that experience.
"The important thing is this."
"That boy replaced me inside the memory... and happened to inherit the most dangerous stage of the experiment."
___________
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