Time passed quickly.
After seventeen rolls of thunder echoed across the sky, Herbology class finally came to an end.
Dawn removed his dragon-hide gloves and used magic to clean the dirt from his clothes before leaving the greenhouse.
George instinctively started moving toward him, but after only two steps he stopped abruptly and awkwardly changed direction.
Unfortunately—
Dawn didn't notice any of it.
He walked into the Great Hall, finished dinner, spent some time in the library, and then headed toward the eighth floor of the castle at exactly the time Flamel had specified.
At that moment, the Headmaster's Office had been rearranged.
The clutter that once occupied the room had been pushed into the corners. In its place stood a large round table at the center, surrounded by six chairs.
Nicolas Flamel sat beneath the window.
The four Heads of House sat around him, each wearing a troubled expression as they contemplated the Voldemort situation.
Silence filled the office.
After fifteen uninterrupted minutes of listening to rain batter the windows, Snape finally lost his patience.
Frowning, he tapped the table sharply.
"Dumbledore, if you have something to say, say it. I still have potions to brew. I don't have time to sit here doing nothing."
"Just a little longer, Severus. Just a little longer," Flamel replied soothingly.
"One more person hasn't arrived yet."
He pointed toward the chair directly opposite him.
The other professors turned their attention to the empty seat.
They had all been curious about the identity of the mysterious sixth participant, but Flamel had stubbornly refused to tell them.
Suddenly—
Bang!
Bang, bang!
Someone knocked on the door.
The door, which hadn't been fully latched, swung open.
A red-haired boy familiar to everyone stepped inside.
Dawn glanced at the five people already seated and shrugged.
"Sorry. Looks like I'm a little late."
"...Mr. Weasley?"
Professor McGonagall immediately recognized one of her students and frowned.
"Why are you here?"
She already had a suspicion.
Turning toward Flamel, she received a confirming nod.
Internally, she was furious.
How could he involve a student in something like this?
"Oh? A round-table meeting? Not bad."
While Flamel was attempting to explain himself through increasingly helpless looks, Dawn had already pulled out a chair and sat down.
He couldn't be bothered with dramatic mysteries.
Interlocking his fingers, he introduced himself directly. "Since we're meeting again, I suppose introductions are appropriate."
"I'm Dawn Richter."
"Good evening, professors."
Click.
For a brief moment, it felt as though the storm outside intensified. The rain swallowed every tiny sound within the office.
Five pairs of eyes locked onto Dawn's face.
After a long silence, McGonagall finally spoke.
She stared at the calm boy seated before her and at Flamel, who wasn't denying anything.
"Wait a moment!"
"If I remember correctly, Albus, didn't you just capture him outside the Forbidden Forest not long ago?"
"Well... yes, that's true."
Flamel's explanation was vague.
"There were some complications during his confinement, so..."
Bang!
A loud explosion interrupted him.
Snape reacted instantly.
Without hesitation, he fired a Sectumsempra.
The curse slammed into the Shield Charm that appeared before Dawn and ricocheted away.
A deep gash was carved into a cabinet in the corner of the room. Wood splinters scattered across the floor.
The atmosphere immediately became tense.
The remaining professors instinctively gripped their wands.
At the same time, a familiar floral fragrance drifted through the room from somewhere nearby.
Dawn blocked it immediately.
McGonagall's determination.
Snape's hatred.
Flitwick's complicated emotions.
Sprout's regret.
Four entirely different feelings collided with Dawn's calm gaze.
The tension was so intense it felt as though the room might explode.
"Enough!"
At the critical moment, Flamel shot to his feet and stopped the situation from spiraling out of control.
Snape's wand froze midway through another spell.
"Dumbledore!"
he snarled.
"Capturing him won't accomplish anything."
Facing the others' confused looks, Flamel rubbed his temples and explained helplessly.
"Dawn's real body isn't here."
"You mean the Imperius Curse?" McGonagall asked.
"No. Something even more troublesome." Flamel sighed. "Only his consciousness is occupying Mr. Weasley's body."
McGonagall frowned even harder. "Like Voldemort possessing students?"
"Similar, but not exactly the same."
Flamel attempted to reassure her.
"Don't worry. This condition is temporary. Before long, Mr. Weasley will return to normal."
Unfortunately, the explanation was too weak to ease their concerns.
At that moment, Dawn raised a hand.
"Actually, I can confirm that part."
He shrugged.
"Although this entire mess started because Dumbledore displayed absolutely no professional ethics and threw one of his poor students through the Veil of Death..."
"...the statement he just made wasn't a lie."
An unfortunate accident?
Flamel glanced at Dawn, whose expression remained perfectly composed.
After their earlier discussion about the Resurrection Stone eventually reappearing, Flamel was already convinced that Dawn was deeply involved in that matter.
Still...
Whatever.
Flamel shook his head and chose not to pursue it.
Silence once again settled over the office.
Everyone had arrived.
Yet the meeting still hadn't truly begun. Only the rain against the windows could be heard.
After another long pause, Flamel tapped the table.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen."
"For now, let's set Dawn's situation aside. Our primary objective is determining how to deal with Voldemort."
The discussion had finally begun.
The frozen atmosphere thawed slightly.
Professor Flitwick sighed and slipped his wand back into his sleeve.
"Sorry, Albus."
"I searched through several goblin magical texts, but I still couldn't find a solution."
The other three professors followed in turn.
Each reported similar results.
No one had discovered a method to remove Voldemort from the students.
Dawn pressed his lips together.
Naturally, he didn't know the answer either.
Still...
Remembering his earlier deductions—and wanting to create as many obstacles as possible for Voldemort—he spoke up.
"Professors. While I don't know how to solve the problem either...
I think we should pay attention to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Voldemort may be planning something there."
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
The legendary site associated with Jesus' death.
Although Dawn hadn't identified every element of the ritual, he had reached one conclusion.
If Voldemort was deliberately driving students away from Hogwarts, then the ritual likely couldn't be completed within the castle.
In other words—
Location mattered.
And if location mattered, then the most obvious suspect was the place where Jesus' resurrection supposedly occurred.
"Why?"
Flamel didn't dismiss Dawn's suggestion.
He simply wanted stronger evidence.
"Hard to explain." Dawn shook his head. "I just think Voldemort intends to recreate some kind of ritual there."
"The conclusion is based entirely on intuition."
Entirely on intuition.
In most Muggle stories, saying something like that would earn immediate ridicule.
Yet everyone around the table merely fell into thoughtful silence.
Even Snape, who disliked Dawn the most, merely snorted. He offered no criticism.
Because every person in the room understood one thing:
For wizards, intuition was never something that could be casually ignored.
___________
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