Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass dome of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
Refracted into seven brilliant colors, it bathed the two wizards standing before the image of Christ.
After Flamel finished making his request, Dawn remained silent, his head lowered.
He wasn't hesitating over whether to agree.
Once Voldemort was resurrected, joining forces to kill him would benefit Dawn in every conceivable way.
Even without Flamel's proposal, he intended to do exactly that.
But there was another matter he had no choice but to consider.
The Castle Consciousness.
Strip away all the hatred between himself and Voldemort this school year, and the true root of their conflict had always been their struggle over the Castle Consciousness and how to use it.
"Can the Castle Consciousness only be used once within a short period? Will Voldemort's resurrection ritual require the Castle Consciousness?"
Only if the answer to both questions was yes would Dawn lose the struggle for the Castle Consciousness completely.
And considering Voldemort had left Hogwarts to carry out what was likely a resurrection ritual modeled after Christ's resurrection...
It was difficult to believe the Castle Consciousness wasn't somehow involved.
What irritated him was... He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
A wizard's instincts were not something to dismiss lightly.
So...
He had to prepare for the worst.
Flamel had chosen not to interfere with Voldemort's resurrection, intending instead to destroy him once everything was over.
It suited Dawn's own preferences perfectly.
But it also meant surrendering every bit of initiative in the struggle for the Castle Consciousness.
"Child... are you still listening?"
The voice beside him interrupted his thoughts.
Massaging his temples, the alchemist sighed. Seeing Dawn remain silent for so long, he assumed the boy was bargaining for rewards.
"Child, I truly have nothing left to give you."
He sounded utterly helpless.
"How about I tell you where I'm buried? Perhaps you'll be able to squeeze a few drops of Elixir of Life out of my corpse."
Dawn's mouth twitched.
"...Mr. Flamel, you really do have a sense of humor."
Though...
For the briefest instant... He had actually been tempted.
The Elixir of Life...
Although becoming a phoenix had granted him a different kind of immortality, something like that was still worth collecting.
Suppressing those shameful thoughts, Dawn shrugged.
He decided to stop teasing Flamel and returned to the matter at hand.
"I agree."
"Wonderful."
Flamel visibly relaxed.
Blinking, he said in a tone that might or might not have been sincere, "Otherwise, I really wasn't confident I'd be able to defeat Voldemort."
That infuriating Dumbledore-like expression...
Dawn immediately turned his head away.
He was already thoroughly irritated with the Headmaster. He had no desire to look at that face any longer.
Ignoring Flamel entirely, he sank back into thought, wrestling once more with the problem of the Castle Consciousness.
But after considering it from every angle, he realized the alchemist was right.
They simply knew far too little about Voldemort's plans. There was no way to stop him in advance.
Does that mean...
I'll just have to gamble that his resurrection has nothing to do with the Castle Consciousness?
Dawn raked a hand through his hair in frustration.
He understood perfectly well why he had been driven into such a passive position.
In the end...
He simply hadn't prepared enough cards.
That was one thing he really ought to learn from Voldemort.
The Dark Lord seemed to possess endless methods of resurrection. Whenever one failed, another immediately appeared.
Still...
It wasn't as though Dawn had absolutely nothing left to play.
Half-closing his eyes, he let the growing chorus of hymns echoing through the church carry his thoughts back to the day he first realized Voldemort might be attempting a resurrection ritual based on Christ.
Back then, he had already begun wondering...
If Voldemort used the Castle Consciousness before he did... Was there any way to reverse the situation?
That train of thought, combined with Voldemort's search for church texts, had reminded Dawn of another famous religious story.
He believed it might prove useful.
The only problem...
He had never been certain whether it could actually be distilled into a magical ritual, nor whether he had correctly identified all the necessary ritual components.
So he had continued studying and refining the idea.
Unfortunately... Given the current situation, time had nearly run out. He would simply have to gamble.
Rustle...
The sound of fabric shifting suddenly came from beside him.
Though he couldn't see Flamel, Dawn recognized the sound of him preparing to leave.
"Mr. Flamel, are you going?"
"Yes, child." The alchemist's voice grew more distant. "There's still a great deal I need to do."
"Since you're watching over the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, I'll search elsewhere throughout Jerusalem.
And...
I'd also like to spend these three days making a few more preparations. Otherwise, I'd look terribly embarrassing when the time comes to fight."
"...Three days?"
Dawn immediately caught the phrase.
"Yes."
Flamel sounded resigned.
"Child, I'm not a fool."
"Since you pointed me toward Jerusalem, of course I investigated everything here related to resurrection."
He paused before continuing.
"God rose again on the third day after His death. No matter what happens, we must be fully prepared before then."
His footsteps gradually faded until they disappeared altogether.
Dawn no longer remained leaning against the wall.
After waiting a short while, he also left the church.
From a nearby street vendor, he picked up a copy of the New Testament and found a quiet place to read.
Tourists from every corner of the world wandered Jerusalem's streets.
People of countless nationalities happily posed for photographs before ancient church ruins.
The noise never disturbed him.
Only when the sun stood high overhead and lunchtime arrived did Dawn finally close the book, his stomach loudly protesting.
His routine remained exactly the same.
Become invisible.
Enter a supermarket.
Pick whatever he wanted from the shelves. Stuff everything into his robes.
Walk out.
It wasn't because Dawn particularly enjoyed stealing. The truth was much simpler.
He possessed no currency that could actually be used in Jerusalem.
Or rather...
He didn't have a single piece of Muggle money.
Walking down the street, he opened a packaged cream-filled bun and took a bite.
It tasted unbelievably strange. He had to wash it down with water just to swallow it.
Then another thought crossed his mind.
Would all those students sleeping throughout Hogwarts eventually starve to death?
Or would the dream world only last a very short time?
Or perhaps...
Would Fawkes simply fly around feeding everyone one by one?
Imagining the phoenix feeding students mouth-to-mouth made Dawn visibly grimace.
He quickly decided not to think about it anymore.
After finishing his meal, he stuffed the bread wrapper into the empty water bottle and tossed it toward a nearby open trash bin.
Thunk.
The bottle bounced off the rim yet again.
"Tch."
With obvious annoyance, Dawn flicked his wand. Using the Levitation Charm, he forcefully shoved the bottle into the bin.
Just then...
As he prepared to return to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre...
A wave of commotion erupted in the distance.
Turning toward the sound, Dawn saw crowds converging upon a single location.
People poured together like ants returning to their nest.
What's happening? Without the slightest hesitation, he hurried after them.
Not because he wanted to satisfy his curiosity...
Well...
Perhaps a little.
But more importantly...
At a time like this, any unusual event might be connected to Voldemort.
He had to investigate.
The streets became increasingly crowded.
Soon Dawn realized everyone was heading toward the outskirts of the Old City, where the buildings became older and patches of undeveloped land still remained.
Frowning as people jostled him from every side, he slipped into a side alley.
Casting the Levitation Charm on his robes, he suspended himself into the air.
His view immediately cleared.
Following the stream of people, he spotted something standing atop a distant mound of earth.
Red.
And white.
The distance prevented him from seeing it clearly.
But the wind carried the crowd's frantic voices.
"John! Is this real? Could someone have staged this? Some religious fanatic?"
"Holy shit! If it's staged, then call out to him! Tim, stop standing there and call the police!"
"I already did! They're on their way! Damn it, stop pushing!"
The people closest to the scene shouted over one another.
Fear filled their voices.
Yet none of them could tear their eyes away.
Realizing something, Dawn floated forward.
Within moments...
He finally saw what had drawn the crowd.
A large wooden cross stood planted firmly in the earth.
Hanging upon it was a pale boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, suspended in the unmistakable pose of the Crucifixion.
He was completely naked.
Iron nails pierced both hands, fastening them to the crossbeam.
His feet overlapped, secured to the upright by a single spike driven through both ankles.
Lashes crisscrossed his body.
The killing had happened only recently.
Fresh blood still trickled downward like countless tiny crimson snakes, filling the air with a nauseating metallic stench.
Dawn frowned.
Although the boy wore nothing identifying him as a wizard...
Years of teaching as Lea Hickman allowed him to recognize the face immediately.
A fourth-year Hufflepuff student.
Voldemort has begun.
The thought appeared instantly.
At the same time, Dawn became even more certain. Voldemort's resurrection ritual truly was tied to Christ.
His eyes narrowed as he searched every face in the gathering crowd.
Nothing.
No suspicious figures.
Nor any sign of the other six missing students.
"Using Polyjuice Potion or something similar to disguise himself?"
Dawn clicked his tongue. Once again, he was reminded just how inconvenient this body could be.
Then...
A black silhouette flickered into existence beside him before disappearing again, like static across an old television screen.
The glimpse lasted only an instant.
But it was enough.
Floating upon a flying carpet sat the bearded figure of Nicolas Flamel.
The brief appearance had clearly been meant to let Dawn know he was nearby.
"Voldemort has made his move."
Flamel's voice was solemn.
"Obviously."
Dawn had no interest in stating the obvious.
"Do you have any alchemical device capable of distinguishing wizards from Muggles?"
"I'm sorry, child."
The alchemist spread his hands helplessly. "There wasn't enough time. I couldn't manufacture so many."
Adjusting his glasses, he added, "Besides you and me...There's no one else here using a Disillusionment Charm."
Dawn clicked his tongue again.
Voldemort was hiding well. All the more reason to wait until after his resurrection before striking.
"Mr. Flamel. What do you make of this?"
Dawn wanted to rely upon the older wizard's experience.
Flamel merely shook his head. "I can only guess that this is one necessary step of the ritual."
"Beyond that...I know nothing."
More useless answers.
Dawn pursed his lips.
After a moment's thought, he suddenly drew his wand. Pointing it toward the cross, he silently completed an incantation.
Instantly—
Brilliant golden flames erupted around the cross. The boy's flesh blackened beneath the inferno, crumbling into charred ash.
Smoke billowed outward, carrying an overpowering stench of burnt flesh.
"Fire!"
"It's on fire!"
"Cough! Back up! Everyone back up!"
"Damn it! You stepped on me!"
The crowd exploded into panic.
People fled in every direction. Several serious trampling accidents occurred almost immediately.
"Dawn. What are you doing?"
Flamel's emotionless voice came from beside him.
"I'm burning it."
Dawn's expression remained perfectly calm.
"The boy on that cross is already beyond saving.
If the body might become another component of Voldemort's resurrection...
It's better to destroy it now."
Flamel frowned.
After hesitating for a long moment... He said nothing. Silently accepting Dawn's decision.
The two watched from above as the flames continued raging.
Only after both the cross and the corpse had been reduced entirely to ashes did Dawn extinguish the fire.
After a brief silence, he asked, "Mr. Flamel... Does this place have a Ministry of Magic?"
He suddenly found himself wondering whether openly using magic like this would attract magical authorities.
Flamel replied, "Both Israel and Palestine have Ministries of Magic."
"However...
For over a thousand years, Jerusalem has been regarded by the Church as sacred ground.
The Ministries rarely interfere here. Few wizards come to this city at all."
"I see."
Dawn nodded in understanding.
No wonder...
Even after exploring nearly all of Jerusalem, he had encountered almost no signs of wizarding activity.
Nor had he found a single building protected by Muggle-Repelling Charms.
After observing the scene a little longer, Flamel finally spoke.
"Child... I'll be going now.
I've made several more enchanted mirrors for surveillance. I intend to hide them throughout the more secluded areas.
If Voldemort attempts something like this again... I'll try to interrupt him."
Although Flamel had only recently argued that they should wait until Voldemort completed his resurrection before acting...
That had been when they possessed no leads.
If there was even a chance to reduce the number of casualties...
He wanted to take it. Otherwise, meeting Dumbledore in the afterlife would be unbearably awkward.
Dawn paid little attention as Flamel departed.
He remained floating high above, waiting to see what happened next.
Not long afterward, police sirens echoed through the streets.
Officers arrived, dispersed the crowd, and began questioning witnesses while examining the scorched earth.
But...
The moment they were told there had once been a crucified corpse hanging here—one completely consumed by mysterious flames—they all wore expressions of utter disbelief.
"Wait."
"So you're telling me..."
"The body suddenly caught fire... And burned completely to ashes in under a minute?"
One officer looked at the witnesses as though they had lost their minds.
"As far as I know, not even a crematorium can do that."
"But Officer! We're telling the truth! Everyone saw it!"
The crowd erupted into loud protests.
Dawn silently watched the chaos below.
Eventually, he decided to leave.
Then... A spell he had nearly forgotten resurfaced in his memory.
Rapid Manifestation.
It was the very spell Dumbledore had once taught him while searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes.
The spell that had also revealed the greatest flaw of the Castle Consciousness.
With that realization, Dawn patiently waited several more hours.
By the time dusk approached, the crowds had finally dispersed.
The destroyed corpse offered nothing more to see.
The police, unable to uncover any clues, merely collected a few soil samples before departing.
Dawn slowly descended from the sky.
Drawing his wand, he cast Rapid Manifestation.
A pink bubble drifted upward from the ground.
Unfortunately... The scene within it clearly belonged not to recent years, but to centuries past.
Dawn shook his head.
Once the bubble vanished, he tried again. This time the image showed nothing but open wilderness.
Almost no buildings.
An even older era.
Rapid Manifestation really is difficult to use.
He sighed in frustration. That was exactly why he had gradually stopped relying upon the spell.
He had even forgotten to use it at the church with the black dog and during the murders inside Hogwarts.
After all...
Trying to reach the exact moment you wanted depended almost entirely upon luck.
He cast the spell several more times.
Nothing useful appeared.
Finally giving up, he tucked his wand back into his robes.
Looking skyward, he watched the setting sun bathe the clouds in molten gold.
Turning away, he headed toward another supermarket.
Dinner first.
Then he would begin the preliminary preparations for the ritual he had devised.
Walking through the streets, Dawn picked up a small stone from the roadside.
With a flick of magic, he transformed it into an open crystal vial and concealed it inside his sleeve.
As he brushed past the Muggles filling the busy streets...
Tiny droplets of blood drifted silently from them.
Like swallows returning to their nest, every crimson bead slipped unnoticed into the waiting vial.
"I've got a long night ahead of me."
Emerging from the supermarket, Dawn raised his bottle of milk toward the setting sun in a quiet toast to yet another sleepless night.
In the distance...
The magnificent dome of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre gleamed beneath the evening light.
Its stained glass shimmered brilliantly.
Holding a loaf of bread, Dawn stood quietly admiring the sight.
Then...
Another thought suddenly struck him.
Of course.
He could cast Rapid Manifestation on the Church of the Holy Sepulchre itself.
Perhaps... He might even uncover experimental records left there long ago.
After all...
The Church had flourished for centuries. The chances of seeing the correct period were far higher.
Dawn's eyes lit up.
But after remembering Voldemort... He forced himself to suppress the temptation.
There would be time enough to investigate...
After everything had finally come to an end.
___________
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