But then—
Dawn quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.
Adding names to his list of suspects without reason would only lead to confusion and wasted energy. No matter what, the only real lead he had right now was Voldemort.
But then the question returned.
Why would Voldemort commit the attack using his face? There wasn't even any meaningful contact between them.
Then Dawn remembered the day he burned Malfoy's robes.
According to Dumbledore, it had been Quirrell who stepped in to help Malfoy afterward.
But could that really be all there was to it? Would a single indirect encounter be enough to warrant such "special attention" from Voldemort?
Dawn rubbed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.
But suddenly—
His elbow brushed against his inner robe pocket, where his enchanted wallet was stored.
A sudden flash of realization struck him like lightning.
He froze.
Could it be… because of the Horcrux?
The moment he thought of the diadem he carried with him, Dawn's expression darkened.
Of course—Horcrux!
Dawn lowered his head sharply, trying to hide the rapidly shifting expression on his face.
Because in that moment of clarity, he realized the one who had been arrogant all along… was himself.
Because of the descriptions in the original story, and his own pride and greed, he had only seen the diadem for its power—completely ignoring the danger it posed as a Horcrux.
No wonder.
No wonder Voldemort had taken such a special interest in him—he had sensed a fragment of his soul nearby.
Perhaps during Defense Against the Dark Arts class, while Dawn was watching Quirrell, Voldemort had been watching him as well.
All this time, he'd thought he was the one in control, observing the canon characters from above like a player in a game—only to realize he had been noticed and marked without even realizing it.
The thought made Dawn break out into a cold sweat.
But more than fear, what surged in him now was a wave of nameless fury.
He had to take Quirrell down.
He had to remove Quirrell from the board.
He repeated it to himself again and again.
"Professor, I still believe this entire incident is connected to Quirrell."
Aware now of the threat he had overlooked because of his pride, Dawn spoke without hesitation.
"What Headmaster Black said earlier wasn't wrong. Why not try Veritaserum? Even if this specific incident isn't tied to him, you know as well as I do—Quirrell is hiding something."
Dumbledore hesitated, then shook his head firmly. "That would be an abuse of power, Dawn. And using Veritaserum without consent is strictly forbidden by Ministry regulations."
Dawn's brows furrowed deeply.
He knew—
Dumbledore wasn't a rigid man. But perhaps to avoid stepping onto the wrong path himself, the old wizard held firm moral boundaries.
Dawn took a deep breath.
He thought back to the original story. He couldn't be sure whether Dumbledore already knew that Voldemort was possessing Quirrell.
But that didn't matter now.
Dawn spoke up with a hint of challenge. "Then why not remove his turban and take a look? You might find a surprise waiting for you."
As he stared into Dumbledore's calm face, the headmaster's expression slowly grew serious. "What are you trying to say, my boy?"
Dawn carefully chose his words and gave a logical explanation.
"Professor, you placed that dangerous three-headed dog in the castle to guard something, didn't you? And instead of securing it yourself, you used a creature like that because you were trying to draw someone out."
Dumbledore didn't confirm or deny it. He simply sipped his tea.
Dawn pressed on. "In this era, the only person worth such effort from you… is likely Voldemort."
He continued. "Think about it—the overpowering garlic smell around Quirrell, and how he never takes off his purple turban. Professor, isn't it possible that Voldemort is possessing him?"
Dawn stared hard at Dumbledore.
But he couldn't read anything in those clear blue eyes.
The old headmaster set down his cup and opened his mouth to respond.
But just then—
Bang—!
The door to the headmaster's office was suddenly thrown open.
"Dumbledore. The results of the wand trace spell are in."
Snape entered like a bat sweeping through shadows, his expression grim. "In Slytherin, I found recent traces of the Sectumsempra curse on the wand of Murphy Avery."
"He knows Sectumsempra?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes. I taught it to him."
Snape's voice was terse, his face growing darker. "And he's confessed. He admitted to attacking Harry at the second-to-third floor junction."
His own creation, used to harm Lily's son. Snape's anger was quiet but seething.
Dawn listened in silence.
Then he stood up and suddenly spoke. "Wait. Could he have been under the Imperius Curse? Why else would Avery attack Harry?"
He wasn't defending Avery. He just wanted to direct the focus back to Quirrell—he didn't want the real issue to get buried.
"You raise a valid point, Mr. Richter."
Snape turned his cold gaze on him. "Avery claimed that someone used the Imperius Curse on him… that it was you who cast the curse on him, when you visited him earlier today and attacked from behind."
"When, exactly?"
Dawn showed no sign of panic. He asked calmly, "When does Avery claim I used the Imperius Curse?"
"Just after lunch. Around one o'clock."
"Then that's impossible."
Dawn turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, the room you found me in—there's a portrait inside that can confirm I was there the entire time outside of class."
"A portrait's testimony is hardly reliable," Snape said coldly. "They can be easily fooled, even by a basic Confundus Charm."
He held out his hand toward Dawn. "Give me your wand. I'll perform a trace spell."
Dumbledore frowned slightly but didn't stop him. All students were undergoing wand inspections today.
Dawn handed it over without hesitation.
Snape cast the spell and frowned when it revealed only traces of Transfiguration. With a displeased grunt, he tossed the wand back.
"Severus, did Mr. Avery explain how he managed to take on Dawn's appearance?" Dumbledore asked.
"He says he doesn't remember. Maybe Polyjuice Potion?" Snape offered carelessly, clearly considering the question unimportant.
Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Then, Severus, can you bring Mr. Avery here?"
He opened a cabinet nearby and took out a worn Pensieve, filled with a swirling, silvery liquid.
"I think it's time we saw what really happened."
"I understand."
Snape's face remained unreadable. With a swirl of his cloak, he turned to leave.
But just then—
Dumbledore called after him. "One more thing."
As Snape turned to look back, the headmaster paused for a moment before speaking with solemn weight.
"Please bring Professor Quirrell here as well."
Snape stood still for a second, then replied in a cold voice, "That's the wisest decision you've made all week, Dumbledore."
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