A fleeting moment, a thousand years upon the sundial.
Time slipped away within the brilliant interplay of sun and moon. Unnoticed, the snow melted, the air warmed, and the calendar quietly turned to June.
The final lines of text came to an end.
Dawn lifted his gaze from the last page of the book and rubbed his temples.
Seven straight hours of intense concentration, reading the entire volume in one sitting, had left his head faintly aching.
He drew back the curtains beside his desk, letting gentle sunlight fall across his face, and stared up at the blue sky to ease his fatigue.
Counting from the day the ritual ended and he obtained the Fountain of Fair Fortune, nearly five months had passed.
Many things had happened during that time. They were not as dramatic as the ritual itself, but they were still worth remembering.
Dawn's eyes unfocused. His peripheral vision caught the parchment on his desk, covered in five neatly written plans, and he drifted into recollection.
Over the past five months, some of his intended goals had already been completed.
First, guided by the memories of the original story from his dreams, Dawn traveled to the remote village of Little Hangleton. In the church graveyard, he found the gravestone of Tom Riddle Senior.
After reducing the bones within to ash using Fiendfyre, he carried the remains to the sea and scattered them into the waves, completely eliminating any chance of Voldemort ever retrieving them.
Moreover, not far from Little Hangleton, in Great Hangleton, Dawn also located the old Gaunt house. From there, he obtained the ring that Voldemort had turned into a Horcrux.
Naturally, the process had not been easy.
The house was riddled with bizarre and lethal defenses, layers of dark magic stacked one upon another, all of them deadly.
There was black sludge that would turn flesh into pus and blood within a second if touched, and pale shadows that froze anyone passing through them into solid ice.
Though Dawn possessed phoenix-like immortality, he had no desire to court danger unnecessarily.
He made repeated trips to Knockturn Alley, using the Imperius Curse on seven or eight dark wizards and forcing them to test each trap with their lives. Only after every hazard had been triggered did he retrieve the ring.
Still— Despite the trouble, the result was worth it.
Only the ring itself had been turned into a Horcrux. The Resurrection Stone embedded within remained intact and untainted by Voldemort's soul.
Thinking of this, Dawn reached into his wallet and placed two boxes on the desk. After casting Occlumency, he opened them one by one.
In the box on the left lay a black, crystal-clear stone resting on velvet—the Resurrection Stone that Dawn had ordered someone to pry from the ring.
Legend claimed that those who held it could see the souls they longed to meet most.
Dawn's gaze flickered. He slowly reached out, then paused just before touching it. With a quiet sigh, he closed the box again.
As for the box in the middle, it contained the ring itself, now stripped of the stone.
Though it had lost most of its value, Dawn was in no hurry to destroy it. He intended to study the changes in its magical pattern caused by soul attachment, and this ring was a perfect specimen.
These two boxes, along with the magical patterns of several magical creatures, were the entirety of Dawn's gains from five months of travel.
As for the remaining Horcruxes— The Black family's ancestral home was protected by the Fidelius Charm.
Dawn discovered that not even phoenix Apparition could force entry, leaving the Slytherin locket beyond his reach.
Likewise, he found himself unable to directly Apparate into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault in Gringotts to retrieve Hufflepuff's cup.
It was baffling. He could break into Hogwarts itself, where Dumbledore resided, yet a group of defeated goblins somehow blocked him completely.
What kind of magic had they set up inside?
Recalling his two fruitless attempts left Dawn displeased.
Still, he was not worried that Dumbledore might use the same magic to trap him.
He had a strange intuition: although he could not Apparate into certain locations, he could always Apparate out of any place without obstruction.
He did not know where this certainty came from.
Perhaps it was the Fountain of Fair Fortune?
He wasn't sure.
After all, over the past five months, he hadn't felt particularly lucky. Not only had he failed to collect all the Horcruxes, but his other plans had gone poorly as well.
In early March, seeking answers about the intermittent sense of discord and the long-absent Anubis curse, Dawn returned to Egypt.
Amid endless sandstorms, he once again attempted to spread collective beliefs, but after half a month of observation, Anubis never appeared.
Moreover, his visit to Tutankhamun's tomb yielded nothing.
There was nothing there that could block phoenix Apparition. Dawn easily reached the burial chamber once more—only to find it completely empty.
The gems, the gold, the life-giving lights, even Harris—whose body had once housed insect nests—were all gone.
Standing in the barren chamber, Dawn could only guess that Harris might have taken everything with him.
Through the Unbreakable Vow, Dawn knew Harris was still alive.
If Harris had endured the agony of insects nesting within his body, it was indeed possible that he escaped with everything, sustained by the vitality of that light.
Otherwise, someone else might have stumbled upon the tomb and taken it all.
That day, Dawn stared at the empty chamber, heart aching to the point of suffocation. It felt as though something that belonged to him had been shamelessly stolen away.
Yet there was nothing he could do.
He searched the tomb repeatedly for a full week. All he gained was a mouthful of sand.
By April, he had no choice but to leave Egypt in frustration, carrying only a small vial of necromantic insects.
As for William, the chubby boy— Dawn searched Britain for two days and found no trace of him. He gave up almost immediately and returned home.
Perhaps with more time, or by asking Amir at Hogwarts, he might have learned something—but it felt like too much trouble.
"Whatever. Fate will decide."
Dawn muttered as he stretched, drew his gaze back from the sky, and turned once more to the bookshelf beside him.
For the past two months, he had gone nowhere, staying inside his Vatican house and reading.
Strangely enough, the house itself seemed fated to him.
Despite the Vatican's high population density, he had found a house that appeared to have been unoccupied for years the moment he Apparated there.
Had the ritual already begun at the time, he might have credited the Fountain of Fair Fortune.
Shaking his head with a smile, Dawn returned the finished book to the shelf and reached for another.
He did not choose his reading at random. He always prioritized books related to ritual magic.
Everyone viewed magic differently.
Some believed spells were the foundation of all magic. Others thought all magic could be reduced to potions. Still others argued for a unified theory of spells and potions.
Take the wizard who transformed the Blood Decay Ritual into a curse—perhaps, in his view, all magic could be expressed through incantations.
But because of Dawn's understanding of natural magic, he leaned toward ritual magic as the true foundation of all magic.
Thus, when he read praise for that wizard, claiming he had "successfully condensed a ritual into a spell," Dawn felt nothing but disdain.
The Blood Decay Ritual drew upon natural magic. Its effects were long-lasting and difficult to eradicate.
The Blood Decay Curse, however, relied solely on the caster's own magic. It lost the ability to infect blood relatives and could even be stopped by Finite.
They were entirely different forms of magic. It was absurd to claim one had been distilled into the other.
That said, none of these viewpoints were truly wrong.
In a world of belief-based magic, conviction shaped reality. If you truly believed in your theory, magic would reveal itself accordingly.
Dawn simply favored rituals.
Unfortunately, books on ritual magic were rare in his collection, making him increasingly miss the vast Hogwarts library.
Should he sneak back in next term?
The thought tempted him.
He now possessed free transformation. He could become another student and enter Hogwarts permanently, without needing Polyjuice Potion.
And even if Dumbledore discovered him, Dawn was confident he could escape.
His mind wandered, and the scales in his heart slowly tipped.
He was going to do it.
But then—
He slapped his forehead.
"How stupid."
He muttered.
If he could transform freely, why pretend to be a student at all? Why not become a professor?
That way, he could openly enter the Restricted Section without suspicion.
Teaching seven year groups might take some effort, but professors likely had no less free time than students.
The more he thought about it, the more viable it seemed.
But as the list of Hogwarts professors ran through his mind, Dawn quickly abandoned the idea.
No.
His teaching style and subject mastery differed too much from theirs. Impersonating them would be risky.
Unless it was someone he could convincingly imitate.
A grinning, flamboyant man suddenly appeared in his thoughts—the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from second year in the original story: Gilderoy Lockhart.
Dawn tapped the desk lightly, eyes flickering.
Lockhart's knowledge was far inferior to his own, and his classes consisted mostly of student performances. Imitating him would be easy.
But Lockhart had a fatal flaw.
Dawn was convinced Dumbledore knew perfectly well that Lockhart stole memories to write his books.
Lockhart had likely been hired as a cautionary example for Harry.
If Dawn entered the school as Lockhart, Dumbledore would watch him closely. And visiting the Restricted Section would clash with Lockhart's persona.
Another path, closed.
Yet Dawn smiled.
Thinking of Lockhart opened a new door.
Why couldn't he apply as himself? As a completely new person, with a brand-new identity.
A position so desperate for staff surely wouldn't reject him outright.
Excitement flickered in his eyes as he paced.
He imagined being personally recruited by Dumbledore, occupying the position Snape coveted, exercising full teaching authority without restraint.
His eyes curved into crescents.
The only real issue was the legendary curse Voldemort had placed on the position.
But that hardly mattered.
Phoenix immortality gave him incredible tolerance for failure. He hadn't come this far to fear Voldemort's curse.
Unnoticed by himself, Dawn's mindset resembled that of a seasoned gamer.
Early setbacks made him cautious. Overcoming challenges honed his skills. Once he mastered them, fear faded.
After being driven from the castle by Voldemort's schemes, he had been careful. Under the Anubis curse, he had been both bold and meticulous.
While seeking the Fountain of Fair Fortune, his ritual design had been daring yet precise.
Now that everything had unfolded as planned, and he possessed phoenix power, old habits resurfaced.
Still, there was no need to worry.
He had changed.
For example, even as excitement surged, he calmly planned ahead—and prepared for failure.
Sitting at the desk, Dawn pulled out parchment, dipped his quill in ink, and began writing to Rita Skeeter.
He informed the journalist of Lockhart's shameless plagiarism and urged her to expose it publicly.
That way, Dumbledore surely wouldn't allow a known fraud into the school again.
He folded the letter, handed it to the drowsy snow crow nearby, Apparated it to Britain, and sent it on its way to the newsroom.
Even so, Dawn knew that removing Lockhart didn't guarantee he would be hired.
Dumbledore might reject an unfamiliar applicant for safety reasons.
But that was fine.
The worst-case scenario was simple—replace a student and return to Hogwarts that way.
Still.
Just because he had a fallback didn't mean he should leave things to chance.
Dawn narrowed his eyes.
There were just over three weeks until the school year ended.
He planned to take on the appearance of the adult wizard he intended to become—and make frequent appearances in Diagon Alley to establish his presence.
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