Aside from what he had already deduced, that magic would be lost, there was another factor.
In myths and legends, heaven and hell had always coexisted.
So rather than gambling on an uncertain death, it was better to hold onto the certainty of the living world.
Moreover, As time passed and collective consciousness shifted, the world of the dead might one day simply disappear.
From what he had seen with the castle's consciousness at Hogwarts, past collective belief could be influenced by the present understanding of young wizards.
That suggested something important.
The dead did not carry overwhelming weight.
Of course, Dawn did not deny that his aversion to death might also stem from fragments of his past.
His thoughts drifted.
Then he came back to himself.
Looking at Flamel, who seemed ready to depart, Dawn raised his hand and pointed behind him, toward the massive stone arch he had entered through.
"Can you see that door?"
"Of course."
Flamel paused and turned back.
"But young man, that is not a good choice. If you turn back, you will become a ghost trapped in the world of the living.
Believe me, it is not as pleasant as you imagine."
Dawn was briefly surprised. Flamel could see the Veil of Death too?
But he quickly understood.
What Flamel saw was not the literal arch in the Department of Mysteries, but a symbolic equivalent.
Just like the invisible door before him.
Symbol and reality.
What kind of secret lay between the two?
Dawn pressed his lips together.
His interest in the archway deepened, and at the same time, his curiosity about this liminal illusion and Flamel's state grew stronger.
Thinking of ghosts who had fled death to remain in the living world, Dawn turned toward the old man.
"Mr. Flamel, forgive my bluntness. Do you still have thoughts? Or rather, do you feel any different compared to when you were alive?"
"Different? Oh, I think not."
Flamel only paused for a moment before understanding the question.
"I still remember everything I learned in life, and I can still use that knowledge freely. If I imagine a new alchemical creation, I can still devise a method for it."
At that point, he gave Dawn a surprised look.
From that question, and the earlier one about magic, he grasped something.
"So you are alive."
These were things one could confirm through self-awareness alone.
If Dawn had to ask, then he must be different.
Flamel shook his head slightly, feeling that his earlier attempts at persuasion had been wasted.
Dawn, meanwhile, confirmed something important.
Flamel was not like a ghost.
He still possessed sharp and active cognition.
Interesting.
If one retained thought within the liminal illusion, then why did that disappear upon returning to the living world as a ghost?
Dawn thought back to the mist he had passed through earlier.
The shadows within it. The faint voices.
Could it be related?
"Enough, young man. This is not a place for you to linger. You should return to the world of the living."
Flamel waved his hand, interrupting Dawn's thoughts.
But Dawn had no intention of leaving.
He still hadn't found his future self.
After a moment's thought, he called out again to Flamel, who had already begun walking away.
"Mr. Flamel, wait. Tell me first, what do you see here?"
"What do I see?"
Flamel smiled faintly and shook his head.
"So you do know something about this place. What I see is the place where I first met my wife."
As expected.
The liminal illusion changed according to the individual.
Just like how Harry had seen King's Cross in this place.
Dawn nodded inwardly.
If he was seeing Kent County, then it meant that deep down, he still regarded it as home.
Then, Where did he think his future self would be?
After a moment of thought, Dawn shifted his gaze toward the small house he had once lived in.
That was the most likely place.
He planned to search it carefully. At the same time, he wanted to test something else.
Did this place have boundaries?
And if he went somewhere he had never been before, would the scenery be constructed from his imagination, or would it resemble reality?
Tap.
Tap tap tap.
A sudden series of hurried footsteps broke his thoughts.
Dawn turned his head in surprise.
From the distance, a boy of about twelve or thirteen was running toward them, dressed in a wizard's robe with the Hufflepuff emblem on the collar.
As the figure drew closer, Dawn's pupils shrank.
Flamel stopped once again, his attention drawn to the newcomer.
"Quite lively today," he murmured.
He had not expected to meet more people in death than he had while alive.
The boy ran straight toward them.
When he got close, he was panting heavily, his face full of panic. "Sirs, please, where is this place? How did I get here?"
"Calm down, child. This is the liminal illusion, the space between life and death, a transit point leading to the world of the dead."
Flamel gave his explanation once more.
"D-death?!"
The boy's voice shot up in pitch.
"That's impossible! How could I be dead? I, I was perfectly fine before I went to sleep!"
"Many people die in their sleep."
Flamel spoke gently, though his words nearly shattered the boy.
Then, glancing at Dawn, he added, "Of course, you may also be a living person who has wandered here by accident."
Following his gaze, the boy turned toward Dawn, hope filling his eyes.
But Dawn said nothing. He simply stared at him.
Carefully.
Then confirmed—He had not mistaken him.
Abel Davis. A second-year Hufflepuff.
They had shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express at the start of the term, along with Aemon Carter.
Why was he here?
Dawn frowned.
It was extremely rare for the living to enter the liminal illusion. Ordinary wizards simply could not have such an experience.
Dawn himself had entered through the Veil of Death, sustained only by his phoenix-like immortality.
In the original story, Harry had been struck by the Killing Curse, but due to love's protection and Voldemort using his blood for resurrection, he had retained his status as a living being.
But Abel Davis? What qualified him? His kindness?
Dawn's brows furrowed.
Or, Had he truly died, just like Nicolas Flamel? That was the most likely explanation.
But Dawn was not convinced. He replayed the boy's words in his mind.
'I was fine before I went to sleep.'
Sleep.
That word triggered something.
The powdered Resurrection Stone.
A substance that allowed those who consumed it to connect with the thoughts of the dead while dreaming.
Could it be, That consuming the powdered Resurrection Stone allowed the living to enter this liminal illusion?
But Dawn himself had been affected by the ritual before, which was essentially the same as using the powder.
Why hadn't he come here back then?
Was it because the effect only activated after the Resurrection Stone had been completely destroyed?
Or, Even if one came here, would the memory be erased upon waking?
Dawn narrowed his eyes.
And another question surfaced.
If they could enter the liminal illusion, how exactly were they connecting to the thoughts of the dead?
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