"Thank goodness! My dear, it's a relief you're all right—otherwise, I wouldn't even know how to explain this to your aunt and uncle."
Mrs. Weasley clutched Harry's hand tightly.
Even now, she hadn't fully recovered from the fright of him wandering into Knockturn Alley by mistake, her face still pale.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley. If something had really happened, I think they would've been delighted," Harry said with a bit of self-mockery.
The group made their way to Flourish and Blotts, where they saw many shop assistants constantly pulling large stacks of books from the shelves, stuffing them into bags, and carrying them outside.
Harry glanced over curiously—Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, and Voyages with Trolls.
They were all Lockhart's books.
Mrs. Weasley hurriedly asked, "Oh, excuse me—what's going on? Why are you taking all these books away?"
"Madam, you haven't heard?" the assistant she stopped shrugged.
"Not long ago, the Wizengamot issued its verdict.
It's been confirmed that Lockhart used Memory Charms to steal other people's experiences and pass them off as his own writing.
The Ministry has ordered that these books can no longer be sold publicly.
But there's no need to worry. The original owners of those experiences will revise the content, and the books will be republished later."
The assistant explained everything clearly, then took the opportunity to advertise the upcoming revised editions.
Mrs. Weasley looked crestfallen. "Oh my… to think Lockhart really was that sort of person. I always thought those rumors were just slander."
She shook her head, but since she'd already half-expected it, she didn't dwell on it for long.
"Sorry to trouble you. We're here to buy the textbooks for Hogwarts' first and second years. Some of them second-hand, of course."
"Oh, I guessed as much," the assistant said, eyeing the four children standing beside the Weasleys.
As he led them toward the shelves, he chatted amiably, "Honestly, we were all surprised when we got this year's book list from Hogwarts.
Tears and Blood: On Magical Injury isn't exactly a common title.
And to specify the unabridged 1700 edition… Merlin's beard, the contents are—"
He cut himself off mid-sentence, shaking his head in disbelief.
Mrs. Weasley immediately resonated with him, nodding vigorously. "Exactly! I really don't know what that professor is thinking, using a book like that!"
Hermione, walking behind them, looked curious. "Is that book very strange?"
"Um… I think so?" Harry scratched his head. He didn't really know the details and could only answer vaguely.
At that moment, Harry suddenly heard raised voices behind him.
He turned around and saw Mr. Weasley, furious, facing Lucius Malfoy, who wore a mocking expression, with Draco at his side.
The bookstore was crowded and noisy, so Harry couldn't hear what they were arguing about. He only saw Mr. Weasley suddenly throw a punch at Malfoy's face.
Good!
Harry remembered what Malfoy had said about Mr. Weasley in Borgin and Burkes and couldn't help cheering inwardly.
But when Malfoy started to fight back, Harry's heart clenched.
He hurriedly called Mrs. Weasley and the others over, pushing through the crowd. By the time they reached the center, the two men had already been separated.
Mr. Weasley's lip was split and bleeding slightly, while Lucius Malfoy had taken a book straight to the face, leaving one eye darkened.
Various items were scattered all over the floor.
"Here, girl—take your book. That's the best your father can afford for you!"
Lucius Malfoy's eyes flickered.
He had been holding a battered Transfiguration textbook, intending to shove it straight into Ginny's cauldron, when someone had bumped his shoulder.
The book flew out of his hand.
Malfoy panicked.
Then he quickly realized the diary hadn't fallen out—the entire book had been caught midair with precise timing.
He looked up and saw that the person who had collided with him was the same one who caught the book—a sturdy man in his thirties.
Malfoy frowned.
But when he saw the man use a Levitation Charm to gather the scattered items and hand them, along with the Transfiguration book, back to Ginny, his expression relaxed again.
"Thank you for your help," Ginny said softly, her face red.
"No trouble at all."
Dawn smiled faintly. With his right hand—still gloved in dragon hide—he gripped the hardbound diary hidden in his sleeve. After nodding politely to the flustered Mrs. Weasley, he turned and left.
Voldemort's Horcrux was in his hands.
Dawn stepped out of Flourish and Blotts.
But as the glaring sunlight hit him, a question suddenly surfaced in his mind.
If neither the Resurrection Stone nor the diary had gone wrong, then what exactly had Voldemort been doing during the time he could move freely?
Had it really all been for the Philosopher's Stone?
Dawn's eyes flickered, then he shook his head with a faint laugh.
Forget it. It had nothing to do with him.
This year, his main goal was to settle down properly and read as much ritual-focused knowledge as possible.
At most, he would casually research the Resurrection Stone and figure out a way to create a lamp that could reveal the surrounding environmental patterns.
As for everything else—he could deal with it later.
Rubbing his temples, Dawn realized that after a year filled with upheaval and completing his magical creature transformations, his mindset had grown a bit lazy.
Strictly speaking, there were still countless things worth researching.
For example, the relationship between the Patronus Charm and Dark wizards. Or why the heads created by the Flesh-Severing Curse couldn't share vision.
And after visiting Borgin and Burkes, he'd also been reminded of the Hand of Glory sitting in his wallet.
He had once wondered why its creation required the hand of an executed criminal. Was that a ritual? And if the runic circuits were replicated onto an ordinary hand, what would happen?
There was no end to the questions. The moment he started thinking, more and more arose.
But Dawn decided to slow down.
After all, with the abilities of a phoenix, perhaps he had already stepped onto the threshold of immortality.
Lost in idle thoughts, he placed the diary into a box, tucked it into his wallet, and continued strolling along Diagon Alley.
He wasn't planning to head back just yet.
Since he was already out, he intended to buy everything he needed to decorate his office.
Just then, outside a shop specializing in magical herbs, he unexpectedly saw a familiar boy run out, clutching a dusty gray bag.
Neville? What was he buying here?
The thought flickered through Dawn's mind, then faded just as quickly. He couldn't be bothered to interfere and brushed past the running boy.
He bought some Invigoration Draught, along with a few alchemical instruments like weather gauges, and, while watching the bustling crowd, forced himself to pull out the money.
When he passed Ollivanders, Dawn slowed to a stop, hesitating over whether he should get a new wand.
Back in early June, he had once disguised himself and slipped into the Ministry to ask about his own "corpse."
From some unnamed Ministry official, he'd learned that both his body and his original wand had been taken by Dumbledore.
That was troublesome.
Dumbledore suspecting he wasn't really dead had been expected—but the wand was another matter. He probably wouldn't be getting it back anytime soon.
After thinking for a moment, Dawn chose not to push open the door.
Ollivander had an uncanny intuition when it came to wand matching. If he noticed something off, it wouldn't be worth the risk.
Besides, a reasonably intact second-hand wand would work just fine.
Decision made, Dawn didn't linger and left immediately.
With the diary secured, there was no need for him to continue staying at the Leaky Cauldron. He packed up his things and headed for Hogwarts ahead of time.
And so—
Time flowed steadily, marked by discussions with Professor McGonagall and lines of carefully recorded knowledge. At last, the summer holiday came to an end.
September 1st.
The red train let out a long whistle as it departed from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, carrying hope with it as it steamed toward the castle straight out of a fairy tale.
The new school year had begun.
___________
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