Jerusalem.
7:00 a.m.
The first light of dawn had only begun to brighten the sky.
On a stretch of barren land at the edge of the Old City, a man in a police uniform crouched down and scooped up a handful of dry, granular soil.
Rolling it between his fingers, he couldn't help thinking how utterly bizarre the whole affair was.
His name was Jonathan.
He belonged to the Jerusalem investigative division of the Israeli Police—in other words, a detective.
The reason he was here was yesterday's bizarre report.
A boy had been found hanging on a cross.
Then, according to every witness present, the body had been consumed by flames and reduced to ashes.
Ordinarily, Jonathan would have dismissed such a story as impossible. But every witness had given essentially the same account.
That consistency had brought him back first thing in the morning.
Of course...
He wasn't here out of some lofty sense of justice.
He was simply curious. That curiosity had followed him since childhood.
Jonathan had long realized that he possessed an unusually strong fascination with mysterious cases.
The more baffling and grotesque a crime was, the more excited he became.
He loved solving puzzles.
He loved hunting criminals.
That obsession was precisely why he had become a police officer after growing up.
Unfortunately...
This case had left almost no clues behind.
If the witnesses were telling the truth, he couldn't even imagine a method capable of producing such an impossible phenomenon.
Just as he was lost in thought, a voice interrupted him.
"Sir, did you come here today after hearing about yesterday's case too?"
Jonathan turned around.
Standing behind him was a thin, dark-skinned old man.
"Hm? Ah... I suppose so."
He answered vaguely.
"Can I help you? Would you like me to tell you about it?"
The old man rubbed two fingers together and flashed a grin filled with uneven teeth.
"Only twenty shekels."
Jonathan simply stared at him.
The old man continued, "Come on, sir, it's worth every coin! I was the first person to find the body yesterday. I know all kinds of details."
"The first person?"
Now Jonathan's interest was genuinely piqued.
After a moment's thought, he pulled out a red banknote and handed it over.
"Then tell me. What do you know?"
"A lot."
The old man tucked the money into his pocket with a broad grin.
"For starters... I know the boy was British."
"British?"
Jonathan raised an eyebrow.
According to yesterday's witness statements, they had only been able to determine the victim was Caucasian.
Everyone had given different opinions regarding his nationality.
"You're certain?"
"Absolutely."
The old man answered confidently.
"When I found him yesterday, the boy was still alive. I heard him whispering for help in British English."
"Unfortunately...bHe died before I could fetch a doctor."
"British English?"
Jonathan eyed the man's worn clothing skeptically.
"I'm sorry...bBut are you sure it was British English?"
"Hey, don't underestimate me." The old man proudly shook his head. "I've met tourists from all over the world. I've heard countless languages."
"I'm certain. He spoke English with a London accent."
Jonathan nodded thoughtfully.
For the moment, he accepted the explanation.
But...
Why would a British boy die here?
"What else?" He continued questioning him.
The old man opened his mouth to answer.
Suddenly—
His expression changed. A violent fit of coughing burst from his throat.
"Cough! Cough... cough, cough, cough!"
The coughing was so severe that his back doubled over.
He covered his mouth with one hand.
His entire body shook like a leaf in the wind. Blood seeped through the gaps between his fingers.
"Sir!"
Jonathan froze for only a moment before hurrying forward.
"Are you all right?"
Even as he asked, however, he instinctively stepped backward several paces.
Police officer or not...
He had no desire to catch some strange illness.
"...Ah... sorry."
The old man gradually recovered.
"I don't know what's wrong. I woke up this morning aching all over."
He forced out a bitter smile.
"To tell you the truth...I was actually on my way to the hospital before I ran into you."
"I see."
Jonathan still suspected the man was merely trying to avoid giving him his money's worth.
But twenty shekels wasn't worth arguing over.
"In that case, your health comes first. You should get yourself checked."
The old man thanked him repeatedly before hurrying away.
Jonathan wandered around the scene a while longer.
Finding nothing, he finally headed back toward the station to see whether yesterday's soil samples had revealed anything.
Walking through the crowded streets...
Perhaps because of that old man...
He unconsciously began paying attention to the faces of everyone around him.
Only then did he notice something strange.
Far more people than usual were coughing.
Every few meters someone would bend over, covering their mouth as they coughed.
Fortunately...
Unlike the old man, their symptoms were mild.
After coughing two or three times, they simply continued with whatever they had been doing.
"Seasonal flu?"
Jonathan clicked his tongue.
"Wonderful."
Feeling vaguely uneasy, he bought a face mask from a nearby shop and covered his face.
Then—
"Oh my God!"
"Someone's dead!"
"Another body!"
Shouts erupted from a nearby street corner. The crowd surged toward the commotion.
Jonathan froze for an instant. Then he sprinted after them.
"Move aside!"
"I'm police!"
He shouted while pushing through the packed crowd.
Less than ten minutes later... He reached one of the poorest districts near the Old City.
Stone walls and crude shacks crowded together.
Garbage and discarded belongings littered every corner.
And there...
Among the piles of refuse... He finally saw exactly what yesterday's witnesses had described.
A towering wooden cross stood wedged firmly into the debris.
Two naked boys hung nailed upon it.
Blood drenched their bodies.
Their heads drooped limply as crimson drops fell steadily onto the ground below.
Not one victim.
Two.
One nailed to the front of the cross.
The other nailed to the back.
A dozen thoughts flashed through Jonathan's mind.
After quickly calling his colleagues, he instinctively forced his way toward the front.
"Everyone back! I'm police! Step away from the crime scene!"
After struggling through the crowd, he reached the center.
Without wasting a second, he immediately began examining the scene.
Both boys were blond.
Very young.
One appeared to be around twelve years old.
The other was slightly older.
Their small bodies were drenched in blood.
Judging by the color and flow of the blood, Jonathan's experience told him they had been nailed to the cross while still alive.
"How cruel..." he murmured.
Yet beneath the horror...
A twisted excitement rose inside him at the thought of hunting down the murderer.
Putting on a pair of gloves, he carefully examined the bodies.
Both boys' faces had frozen into expressions of unbearable agony.
He reached out for a closer look.
Then—
A sudden wave of heat washed over him.
Instinctively lowering his head, Jonathan saw flames erupting at the base of the cross.
The fire rapidly climbed upward. Its crimson glow illuminated his face.
He reacted immediately.
Tearing off his jacket, he tried to smother the flames. But the fire only grew fiercer. His jacket was swallowed whole.
Forced backward several meters, he could only watch.
The flames crawled across the bodies.
The flesh blackened.
Turned brittle. Then crumbled into foul-smelling ash beneath the wind.
The fire...
It was real too?
Jonathan stared blankly.
Meanwhile... Hidden beneath the shadows cast by drifting clouds...
Two figures floated silently high above the ground, watching everything unfold below.
Flamel rubbed his forehead.
"That's three now, Dawn."
"Yes. There are still four left."
Dawn's voice carried no emotion whatsoever regarding the students' deaths.
"We'll probably see the rest soon. Tomorrow, perhaps."
He turned toward Flamel. "Mr. Flamel. You went out yesterday to install those surveillance mirrors."
"Did you discover anything?"
"I'm afraid not."
Flamel sighed helplessly.
"After yesterday's incident, I concentrated on placing every mirror around the wasteland."
"I hadn't prepared anything over here."
Dawn nodded.
He wasn't disappointed.
Considering that Hogwarts' surveillance mirrors only covered the four common rooms...
Monitoring all of Jerusalem in a single day had never been realistic.
Tilting his head, he asked instead:
"Mr. Flamel... Did you activate those anti-Apparition alchemical devices yesterday?"
"I did." Flamel nodded. "Why? Were you planning to go somewhere?"
"Yes."
Dawn answered calmly.
"Last night I intended to visit Diagon Alley and buy some potions to stay awake."
"Only then did I realize Apparition wasn't working."
"I see." Flamel smiled. "No wonder you sound so exhausted."
Reaching into his robes, he tossed over a potion bottle. "Use it sparingly. I don't have many left."
Once it left the invisible alchemist's hand, the bottle briefly appeared in midair.
The moment Dawn caught it...
It vanished again beneath the Disillusionment Charm.
After a moment's thought, Dawn asked another question. "Mr. Flamel. Do you have healing potions? Could you spare a few?"
"Hm?"
"What do you need those for?"
"When fighting Voldemort, getting injured is practically inevitable. I'd rather not interrupt the middle of a battle just to ask you for medicine."
"...Fair point."
Flamel admitted.
After rummaging through his belongings, he tossed over several differently colored potion bottles.
Dawn put every one of them away with obvious satisfaction.
Then he casually asked,
"By the way..."
"Weren't you worried about alerting Voldemort? Why activate the anti-Apparition devices so early?"
Flamel answered helplessly,
"After you burned the body yesterday... Voldemort would undoubtedly realize another wizard is opposing him here."
"There was no point hiding any longer."
Dawn remained unmoved.
He still believed destroying the corpse had been the correct decision.
Looking down at the scorched earth below, he said:
"Then the fact that Voldemort could still place today's cross here despite Apparition being blocked...
Means the students under his control must be hiding somewhere nearby.
And despite knowing hostile wizards are in Jerusalem... He still chose this location.
Which suggests... The site of his ritual cannot be changed."
Watching the gathering crowd below, Dawn drew two conclusions.
Neither seemed especially useful.
After a brief silence, he muttered, "Still..."
"Blocking Apparition across an entire city... Those alchemical devices of yours are impressive."
"One device?" Flamel laughed. "Of course not."
"Covering all of Jerusalem required nearly every resource I possessed."
Dawn snorted.
"I knew it."
"So you really were hiding more treasures. All that nonsense about leaving everything to Beauxbatons..."
Flamel spread his hands helplessly.
"Oh, spare me, child."
"Aside from what I'll be using against Voldemort... I truly have nothing left."
Dawn clicked his tongue.
Although none of it belonged to him... He still somehow felt as though he had suffered a huge loss.
After a moment's thought, he decided to squeeze out one last benefit.
"Teach me how to make the Philosopher's Stone."
"The Philosopher's Stone?" Flamel blinked in surprise. "I left the complete method inside the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents."
"Didn't you read it?"
Dawn fell silent.
At the time, he had been busy helping Flamel kidnap students. When would he have had time to read every book?
The conversation came to an end.
Watching the crowd gradually disperse, Dawn no longer felt like lingering.
Patting the healing potions hidden inside his sleeve, he said, "It's getting late. I'm going to find some breakfast."
"See you later."
With that, he lowered himself to the ground using his robes, preparing to part ways and continue his own work.
However...
Flamel remained where he was.
Hearing footsteps following behind him, Dawn stopped and turned around.
"Mr. Flamel? Is there something else?"
"Not here."
Flamel gently pushed him forward.
"Find somewhere secluded. There are a few important things I need to tell you in advance."
Important things?
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
Glancing toward the invisible alchemist, he changed direction and headed toward the deserted wasteland outside the Old City.
Before long...
The noise of the city faded away.
The two reached an abandoned stretch of land where not a single Muggle could be seen.
Following Flamel's suggestion, they both canceled their Disillusionment Charms.
Dawn looked questioningly at the white-bearded old wizard.
"Child."
"If we're going to work together against Voldemort...bI think it's only proper that I explain the alchemical tools I'll be using."
Flamel went straight to the point.
Dawn's interest was immediately piqued.
He silently prepared to listen.
He was equally curious about what treasures the alchemist had hidden away.
Flamel first produced a foldable trunk enchanted with the Extension Charm. Opening it, he reached inside and began searching.
"First..."
He pulled out something enormous.
It was... A thin, pale-yellow wooden door.
Dawn blinked.
The object looked remarkably familiar. "Isn't this the same thing you left inside the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents?"
"Exactly."
Flamel nodded.
"I call it the Universal Door. You can think of it as an improved version of a Portkey."
After briefly explaining how ordinary Portkeys functioned... He knocked gently on the wooden door.
"I incorporated certain principles of Apparition during its creation."
"Now... Any place I've personally visited can become this door's destination."
Dawn's eyelid twitched.
The appearance. The ability. Only two words came to mind.
Anywhere Door.
Wait...
Doraemon had begun serialization back in 1969... Had Nicolas Flamel actually read it?
Dawn looked at him suspiciously.
Completely oblivious to the strange expression, Flamel continued stroking the rough wood.
"I've already set this door's destination. The glacier beneath the Andes Mountains.
Dawn. When you fight Voldemort tomorrow... Find a way to push him through it."
He continued, "We should avoid fighting him in Jerusalem."
"Otherwise... It would be irresponsible toward the people living here.
And it would constitute a serious violation of the International Statute of Secrecy.
The Andes are virtually deserted. I've also installed anti-Apparition devices there.
It's a far better battlefield."
Flamel finished his lengthy explanation. But Dawn had focused on only one detail.
"Wait."
"Are you saying... This door still functions in places where Apparition is forbidden?"
"Naturally." Flamel smiled confidently. "Because fundamentally... It's still a kind of Portkey."
Now that's impressive.
Dawn's eyes lit up as he thought of the identical wooden door already in his own possession.
Still...
He quickly calmed himself. "What if Voldemort also uses a Portkey to escape?"
"The chances are slim." Flamel shrugged. "But even if he does..."
"Leave him to me."
Dawn nodded.
Since Flamel had already considered the possibility, he offered no further objections.
Nor did he ask about the other alchemical artifacts hidden within the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents.
He preferred discovering their secrets himself.
Seeing that Dawn had no more questions, Flamel retrieved a second item.
A small glass bottle.
Inside swirled a tiny silver storm cloud that never seemed to dissipate.
At the bottom rested a single silver-white feather. Tiny arcs of lightning danced constantly across its surface.
Dawn immediately recognized it.
A Thunderbird feather.
"This is the Storm Bottle.
I created it by combining a Thunderbird's abilities with weather charms.
Once the cork is removed... It produces a thunderstorm lasting roughly an hour."
As he spoke, Flamel handed Dawn another Thunderbird feather.
"Keep this with you."
"It will prevent the storm from targeting you."
Another excellent item.
Dawn accepted both objects, turning the bottle over thoughtfully before waiting for Flamel to continue.
Time passed steadily.
By the time Flamel had finished introducing every preparation... The sun had already begun descending toward the west.
After packing everything away, the old alchemist glanced at the dimming sky.
Just before the two parted, he spoke quietly.
"No matter what happens, Dawn... Tomorrow... Everything will be decided."
"Yes."
Dawn answered softly.
God rose again on the third day after His death.
Neither of them possessed any concrete proof. Yet with each passing moment...
Their instincts only grew stronger.
Like lightning flashing endlessly within dense storm clouds before the thunder arrived.
Like smoke billowing from an active volcano before the lava finally erupted.
Whenever Dawn and Nicolas Flamel thought of the bodies hanging upon those crosses...
They could both feel it.
Something was drawing closer. Something inevitable.
They both knew...
Tomorrow...
Everything would finally be settled.
___________
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