"Honestly, sweetheart, aren't you embarrassed?
Look around—what other child on this street still needs their mother to push them around in a stroller at the age of two?
Hmm? Why aren't you saying anything? Are you embarrassed? Let me see—are your cheeks red, sweetheart?"
In the darkness, a woman laughed softly.
It was a voice completely unfamiliar to Dumbledore. It began as a blur and gradually became clearer.
His thoughts stirred, and he slowly opened his eyes.
Blurry patches of color floated into existence. Sunlight filled his vision, carrying a warmth that seemed to seep into his very heart.
Dumbledore suddenly realized he was no longer in his office.
Instead, he was standing inside a clothing store lined with racks of garments.
What was going on?
Frowning, he looked around.
A salesperson was recommending clothing to a customer nearby.
Through the clear glass storefront, between rows of display stands, he could see a bustling street outside filled with pedestrians and flowing traffic.
This was...
The Muggle world?
Judging from the clothing of the people outside, Dumbledore quickly reached that conclusion.
Instinctively, he looked down at himself and discovered he was still wearing his pale silver wizard robes.
He was just about to try hiding them when he realized he could not use magic at all.
However, people continued walking past him without the slightest reaction, as if his clothing were perfectly normal.
The old headmaster remained calm.
After quietly examining his condition, he finally realized that all the magic within his body had vanished.
This is very similar to the descriptions in Research on the Resurrection Stone...
So have I taken the place of someone within this experience?
After observing his surroundings a little longer, Dumbledore reached that conclusion.
As he pondered why Felix Felicis would make him experience something like this, his gaze fell upon the two people standing before him.
One was a woman with her back facing him.
The other was a child sitting in a stroller, also facing away.
Judging by their positions, "he" seemed to be accompanying them.
Dumbledore quietly speculated about their relationship.
At that moment, the woman suddenly reached out and poked the child's cheek.
"Hey! Answer me, sweetheart. Why are you doing this again? When Mommy talks to you, you have to reply."
Her voice was exactly the same one he had heard in the darkness earlier.
That further confirmed his belief that the three of them were together.
Still...
Why was he here?
Could these two people somehow be connected to the spell Voldemort used to spread his soul?
Dumbledore silently followed behind them and continued observing.
Then—
His expression froze.
The child in the stroller tilted his head slightly backward to avoid the woman's finger.
A crimson eye became visible.
Dumbledore's breathing faltered.
His hand clenched instinctively inside his sleeve.
Dawn Richter.
Looking at that familiar face—only much younger—the old headmaster was momentarily stunned.
He had never expected to see Dawn here.
The child seemed utterly helpless in the face of the woman's teasing.
After a moment, he finally spoke in a clear, childish voice.
"I'm tired. I ran a thousand meters last night. I don't want to walk another step today."
Hmm?
Dumbledore blinked.
A thousand meters? At that age? Child abuse?
The thought instinctively appeared in his mind. Yet he immediately noticed something else.
Dawn expressed himself far too clearly.
Far more clearly than any child his age should have been capable of.
"You did not, Dawn."
The woman sighed.
"I held you while sleeping the entire night. I'm very sure you didn't run any ridiculous thousand meters."
Dawn glanced at her stubbornly and shook his head. Then he yawned and curled deeper into the stroller, refusing to speak further.
Listening to their exchange, Dumbledore frowned slightly.
This clearly was not what he had initially assumed.
Something else was going on.
His attention remained fixed on Dawn.
And in that moment, Dumbledore suddenly felt as though he understood why he had come here.
If he ignored the question of why excessive Felix Felicis consumption produced effects similar to Resurrection Stone powder—
Then Olivia had dreamed of the body-spreading spell because her desperate desire to solve her blood curse had been captured by the potion's tendency to grant what the drinker sought.
Meanwhile, before drinking Felix Felicis, Dumbledore had remained doubtful about that theory.
And after speaking with Nicolas Flamel, his thoughts had centered far more heavily on Dawn.
As a result, rather than dreaming about the spell itself, he had instead been shown Dawn's childhood directly.
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Dumbledore smiled bitterly.
For a moment, he genuinely could not tell. Still, since he was already here, there was no point dwelling on it.
His attention settled fully upon Dawn.
What sort of childhood could have produced someone with such an unusual personality?
Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly.
To claim he was not curious would have been a lie.
Conversations continued throughout the store.
The woman accepted a fluffy tiger-striped outfit complete with a tail from a salesperson and waved it before Dawn.
"Want to try this one?"
"No."
Dawn took one glance and immediately refused.
"Why not? Isn't it adorable?"
Smiling, the woman completely ignored his resistance and carried him straight into the fitting room.
A few minutes later—
A dark-faced child shuffled out.
A furry tail swayed behind him.
The sight made the woman burst into laughter.
Dumbledore silently watched from behind.
His feelings were strangely complicated, though he could not fully explain why.
Clink!
A crisp sound suddenly rang out.
Looking through the crowd, Dumbledore saw a man accidentally drop a coin while reaching into his pocket.
Dawn saw it too.
The woman crouched down and gently pushed him.
"Go on, sweetheart."
"It's only twenty pence. Losing it isn't a big deal."
Dawn twisted unhappily.
Yet faced with the woman's unwavering expression, he sighed and squeezed between countless legs.
He picked up the coin and tugged on the trouser leg of a nearby middle-aged man.
"Hm?"
The man looked surprised.
"Thank you, little gentleman."
He crouched down and accepted the coin with a smile.
When Dawn returned, the woman had already paid for the cat outfit.
She selected a dinosaur-themed one as well and handed it to the person standing behind her.
Dumbledore blinked.
The bag had been offered directly to him.
After a moment's hesitation, he accepted it.
Now he understood.
He was apparently playing the role of a butler or attendant. Not a family member as he had initially assumed.
Shaking his head, Dumbledore quickly adapted.
"Okay! On to the next shop!"
The woman beckoned to Dawn.
She tried walking ahead.
When Dawn stubbornly refused to move, she sighed and placed him back into the stroller before pushing him outside.
Dumbledore witnessed the entire childish exchange.
The rest of the afternoon remained lively.
The woman brought Dawn through several more stores, purchasing toys and clothes.
Eventually, she stopped in front of a pet shop.
Behind the glass doors were cages containing cats and dogs.
Barks and meows filled the air.
After considering for a moment, she entered and emerged carrying a tiny golden retriever puppy.
"Sweetheart, do you want one?"
She crouched before Dawn and held the puppy up.
The puppy wagged its tail excitedly.
When Dawn raised a hand to block it, the little dog licked his palm.
"Look. It seems to really like you."
She moved the puppy even closer.
Dawn immediately leaned backward in disgust.
"Dogs are a lot of work."
He already suspected caring for it would become his responsibility.
Trying desperately to discourage her, he added:
"And it's still so young. House-training it alone will take forever. Do you want it peeing on your bed?"
"It's fine. You weren't any better when you were little."
The woman ruffled his hair affectionately.
"You're both fluffy and adorable."
Dawn expressed his opinion through silence.
The woman physically lifted the corners of his mouth into a smile.
After verifying all of the puppy's vaccination records and ensuring there were no safety concerns, she placed the golden retriever into Dawn's stroller.
The puppy immediately tried licking Dawn's face.
Dawn grabbed its muzzle and held it back in obvious disgust.
The puppy whimpered pitifully.
"No bullying the weak."
The woman pinched Dawn's chin lightly.
Then she eyed him suspiciously. "Hmm. Dawn, have you put on weight recently?"
Dawn turned his head away and remained silent.
The woman simply laughed. Then she pushed the stroller down a stone path bathed in golden sunlight.
The scene looked almost like a painting.
Clouds drifted overhead.
Dumbledore followed them like a true butler, carefully observing Dawn's every movement.
Eventually, evening arrived.
The three returned to a grand house surrounded by lush greenery.
The front door opened.
The puppy immediately realized this would be its new home and jumped from the stroller, enthusiastically exploring every corner.
The woman set up its bed near the entrance.
Then she carried Dawn down and washed his hands and face.
Afterward, she turned toward Dumbledore.
"Mr. Billy, thank you for your hard work. Could you watch Dawn for a little while? I'd like to organize everything we bought today."
Dumbledore memorized the surname.
Then he gave a graceful bow worthy of a butler.
"Of course, Madam."
This was exactly what he wanted.
Yet he quickly discovered that Dawn had no intention of going anywhere.
The child simply curled up on the living room sofa.
Watching servants move throughout the house, Dumbledore abandoned any plans of striking up a conversation and instead quietly observed.
Soon, he noticed something.
Dawn's eyes were empty.
Emptier than any he had ever seen. Even emptier than during Dawn's use of Occlumency in first year.
Though they were crimson, it was as if a shadow covered them.
They looked more like artificial eyes installed inside a puppet than the eyes of a child.
What is he thinking?
Dumbledore found himself wondering.
He became absorbed in those eyes, searching for even the slightest emotional fluctuation.
The clock on the wall continued turning.
Dawn never changed posture.
Not once.
The longer Dumbledore watched, the more convinced he became that the figure on the sofa was merely a lifelike doll.
Gradually—
The sunset vanished into darkness.
Dumbledore switched on the lights.
The aroma of baked food drifted from the kitchen. Servants carried dishes prepared by the chef to the dining table.
Then—
Click.
The front door opened.
A young man entered, smiling broadly.
"Hey! I'm home!"
Acting naturally as a butler, Dumbledore stepped forward to take the man's coat.
He immediately guessed that this was Dawn's father.
Hearing the voice, Dawn's head turned slightly.
Mr. Richter instantly threw aside what he was carrying, spread his arms, and crouched down expectantly.
But Dawn merely stared at him with indifference.
Seeing no sign of his son running over, he awkwardly scratched his head and stood back up.
The woman emerged from another room and greeted him with a kiss.
"Welcome home, darling."
The couple embraced.
Then she picked up Dawn and joined her husband at the table.
Dawn mechanically picked up a plastic fork and took a bite of shrimp.
His tiny face immediately frowned. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't you like the food?"
The woman, whose attention had remained glued to her son, immediately noticed.
"It's okay, I guess."
Dawn paused before answering.
"By British standards, it's pretty good... It's just not as delicious as the hotpot I ate last night."
The moment those words left his mouth—The atmosphere at the table froze.
Mr. Richter's expression changed slightly.
However, the woman calmly wiped Dawn's mouth and smoothly moved past the strange remark.
Not long afterward, Dawn finished most of his meal.
"I'm full."
Leaving those words behind, he jumped off his chair and ran upstairs.
Click.
His bedroom door closed.
Silence gradually settled over the dining room.
A long time later, Mr. Richter finally looked at his wife. "Sophia... do we really not need to get Dawn some medication?"
"My dear, why are we discussing this again?"
She set down her utensils.
"Trust me. There's nothing wrong with Dawn."
"And he's only two years old. Do you really want him taking psychiatric medication?"
"Of course I don't!"
Mr. Richter immediately replied.
Then he lowered his voice. "But... you've seen him lately."
He searched for the right words but failed.
Finally, he muttered, "I'm pretty sure he's never eaten hotpot in his life."
"There's nothing wrong."
His wife smiled gently.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I've been reading psychology books lately."
"I'm absolutely certain Dawn isn't showing early signs of schizophrenia like those doctors suggested."
After a pause, she repeated firmly, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with him."
Mr. Richter seemed somewhat reassured.
Still, he rolled his eyes.
"Honey, I don't want to discourage you, but are you sure a year of reading books makes you more qualified than actual doctors?"
"It's a mother's intuition."
She smiled and wiped his mouth.
The conversation was not hidden from the butler. After all, it was hardly a state secret.
Many wealthy families considered their butlers trusted confidants.
Thus Dumbledore stood quietly in the corner, listening.
Dawn had once been suspected of having a psychological disorder? Possibly even early schizophrenia?
The old headmaster felt genuinely surprised.
He knew the condition.
Yet throughout all his interactions with Dawn, he had never noticed symptoms remotely resembling it.
At that moment, Mr. Richter spoke again. "Sophia... what if something really is wrong with him?"
"Like possession."
"I heard young children are especially vulnerable to things like that. Maybe we should ask someone about it?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake." The woman slapped her forehead. "You're still believing that nonsense?"
"Tell me honestly. What movie did you watch this time?"
"...I rewatched Ghost Detective."
The answer came immediately.
Then he hurriedly defended himself. "But Sophia, doesn't Dawn genuinely remind you of that?"
He grabbed his hair.
"You know what I found him doing the other day? He was reading through books in my study!"
"He's only two!"
"When I was that age, I barely recognized letters!"
His expression carried confusion.
And beneath it—
Fear.
A child who behaved too much like an adult did not necessarily reassure parents.
Often, it did the opposite.
The woman covered his mouth with her hand.
"Relax, darling. I taught him those things...There's no supernatural mystery here."
Mr. Richter blinked. "You taught him?"
"Yes."
She sighed.
"I noticed how mature he was, so I started teaching him some words... I never expected him to actually learn all of them."
She smiled with admiration.
"People always say geniuses are never understood. Now I'm starting to think they're right."
"Yes, exactly!"
Mr. Richter nodded enthusiastically.
"Gifted children are often strange. Newton and Einstein both had mental health issues, didn't they?"
The atmosphere gradually relaxed.
Watching the couple, Dumbledore could immediately tell that Sophia was lying.
Why?
Because she did not want her husband to view their son as some kind of monster.
The old headmaster arrived at that conclusion instantly.
But rather than reassuring him, it only deepened his curiosity.
If Sophia had lied, then it meant Dawn had truly learned to read almost entirely on his own.
Something is wrong.
Dumbledore frowned.
This was clearly more than a simple psychological issue.
There was another secret hidden beneath it.
He looked once more toward the closed bedroom door.
Although deceiving a two-year-old felt somewhat unethical, Dumbledore had already begun devising ways to get information out of him.
Naturally, Dawn had no idea Dumbledore was preparing to take advantage of his younger self.
Back in Hogwarts, inside the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor, he remained curled up on a sofa, still waiting for another thought synchronization.
The night was silent.
Then—He heard hurried footsteps.
The sound was light but unusually noticeable in the stillness.
Dawn paid little attention. Probably another student caught wandering after curfew.
But a short while later—
The footsteps returned. They retraced the same route. And this time there were two sets of them.
Dawn blinked.
Curious, he jumped off the sofa and opened the door.
Just in time to see Dumbledore's back disappear around the corner.
___________
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