Halloween offered no holidays—classes were scheduled to resume the following day.
However, after the incident last night, all classes had been canceled. The young witches and wizards from the four houses were ordered to remain in their dormitories.
Dawn had returned to the Ravenclaw dormitory after breakfast in the Great Hall and was now alone, reading a book.
Yes, completely alone.
Which wasn't all that surprising.
After reading the Daily Prophet, the other three students in the dormitory had clearly wanted nothing to do with him—either heading to the common room or seeking refuge in someone else's quarters.
At this moment—
Dawn flipped through a few pages irritably. The runes that had once been familiar now felt increasingly foreign. No matter how he looked at them, he couldn't memorize a thing.
After a moment of thought, he shut the book altogether, walked to the window, and opened it, gazing down at the Black Lake and the lush, distant forest.
Flocks of owls soared back and forth. Bright red Howlers streaked through the clear blue sky, their color jarring against the serenity.
He watched for a while. When his mood finally calmed, Dawn returned to his desk and thought about checking on the toad he kept hidden in his coin purse.
But the moment he reached out his hand, strange thoughts began to surface in his mind.
Possession… flesh… soul… separation…
One word after another rose to the surface.
But before he could make sense of them—
Creaaak—
The dormitory door suddenly creaked. As if someone had entered and gently closed it behind them.
Who was back?
Aemon Carter?
Dawn looked up.
And froze.
Because at the door… there was no one.
A sense of unease began to spread.
It was hard for Dawn to describe the feeling—it was like a horror film where the eerie soundtrack had just begun, making even the noon sunlight seem cold and dim.
"Who's there?"
Dawn narrowed his eyes, stood up cautiously. Even as the words left his mouth, he flicked his wand and cast a °Bombarda° at the door.
He trusted his instincts.
Sure enough—
The sudden spell had no effect.
It deflected at the doorway and instead blew Aemon Carter's suitcase into pieces.
"…Heh."
A cold, sinister laugh.
The transparent air twisted suddenly, and out of the nothingness appeared a pale-faced, gaunt middle-aged man.
He wore a conservative wizard's robe, a purple scarf wrapped around his head, and loosely held a dark-colored wand in his hand.
"Quirrell?" Dawn asked instinctively, startled.
But almost immediately, he realized something was wrong.
The man's usually drooping brows were now raised sharply, and the timid, cowardly eyes he normally wore were now filled with icy indifference.
It was the same face—but a completely different presence.
Dawn narrowed his eyes, silent for a moment. Then he tentatively asked, "...Tom Riddle?"
"A name I haven't heard in a long time."
Quirrell—no, Voldemort—frowned almost imperceptibly.
He touched the side of his neck, his voice rasping. "Seems Dumbledore's told you quite a bit about me… But personally, I prefer the name the world now knows me by."
He raised a hand and traced letters in the air. Glowing marks floated into place, forming a single line:
•I am Lord Voldemort•
Dawn ignored the theatrics. "I didn't think you'd have Quirrell walk straight into my dormitory."
He seemed surprised, but calmed quickly. One hand gripped his wand, the other tugged at his collar.
"With last night's chaos, you managed to keep Quirrell uninvolved. But pulling something like this now… you've just undone all that effort."
"Effort?"
Tom let out a scornful laugh.
"You're mistaken! That fool Quirrell had nothing to do with last night's events. I only faked a dark curse on him to buy time—for this very moment."
"Waste of a pawn, huh?"
Dawn looked at the obviously Imperiused Quirrell and quickly pieced it together.
"I see. So once you left Quirrell's body, his own deterioration became inevitable."
He remembered the scene in Dumbledore's office the previous night, when Quirrell had asked, full of hope, whether there was still a cure—only to leave in despair.
Dawn figured the man had already begun wavering then, simply waiting for a final push.
He tugged again at his collar, trying to recall the train of thought that had been interrupted earlier. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he spoke with sudden clarity.
"It's the Flesh-Splitting Curse, isn't it?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Once you sensed the Horcrux on me, you must've started watching from the shadows. And if so, you'd likely have noticed… the toad I keep with me."
In that instant, it all clicked.
He finally understood what had caused such a drastic butterfly effect.
"Oh? You know about Horcruxes? Dumbledore's teaching standards really are slipping."
Tom sneered, but offered no denial.
"That's right—it was the Flesh-Splitting Curse! Hogwarts' Restricted Section is truly a treasure trove. Even I didn't know something like that was hidden within."
He pulled out a chair like he owned the place and casually crossed one leg over the other.
"Because you carried one of my Horcruxes, I became curious about you.
"So, during your first visit to the Transfiguration Club, I requested the Room of Requirement you'd just used. That's where I saw the toad mid-split."
He smiled with dark satisfaction.
"What a delightful surprise… The Flesh-Splitting Curse—truly tailor-made for someone like me."
"It allowed my soul to finally separate from that imbecile Quirrell and move freely."
Dawn frowned. "Even if the host dies, it doesn't matter?"
"Host?"
Tom laughed mockingly. "Why would you assume that fool Quirrell was my host? His soul only existed by clinging to mine!"
Dawn narrowed his eyes. So Voldemort hadn't merely possessed Quirrell—it was something more parasitic.
After a moment of thought, he asked, "Then why did you attack Harry last night? And why do it while wearing my face?"
"Oh, the first question—I don't feel like answering. But the second… sure."
Tom leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, seemingly in the mood to talk.
"Originally, I planned to have Quirrell approach you once the public turned against you. He'd persuade you to flee through the secret passage, and retrieve my Horcrux along the way."
"But for some reason, you were unusually wary of him. And this morning… I discovered that the item I was after had disappeared from your person."
"So I changed my plan. I came to ask you directly." His gaze bore down on Dawn with unsettling intensity.
"My dear Dawn, tell me—where did you hide my diadem?"
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