The Rapid Manifestation spell.
Dawn committed the incantation on the parchment to memory, thinking that it really was an effective way to uncover the truth.
Dumbledore truly was Dumbledore—he knew far more than most.
"Are there any other methods?" Dawn asked.
"This is the only idea I have for now," Dumbledore shook his head. "However, if the past truly cannot be changed, there should be other possibilities.
But as you know, for someone my age, filtering through memories takes a great deal of time."
The old headmaster rubbed his temples with a look of helplessness. Then, suddenly, he asked,
"And Dawn—about the Horcrux locations you promised to tell me?"
"I think you've misunderstood something, Headmaster."
Dawn's expression was flat. "What I promised was that once everything is settled, I will tell you what I know."
"I am, of course, willing to trust you, my child."
Dumbledore smiled faintly, his gaze sincere. "But whether in the Muggle world or the wizarding world, to protect both parties' interests, transactions usually require a deposit."
Dawn's face twitched.
Dumbledore said he was willing to trust him, yet asking for a deposit clearly meant the opposite—he did not trust him at all.
"You're really quite pragmatic," Dawn remarked dryly.
Still, he had nothing to say in rebuttal.
You reap what you sow.
Just like last term, when he burned Draco's clothes and, upon leaving the castle, the Malfoy family seized the opportunity to pile on in the Daily Prophet.
If others did not trust him because of what he had done before, that was only natural.
"One of Voldemort's Horcruxes is Hufflepuff's cup. He entrusted it to Bellatrix for safekeeping. It's currently in her private vault at Gringotts."
Dawn considered it for a moment.
For the sake of future dealings with Dumbledore, he chose the more difficult Horcrux to obtain as the deposit.
Dumbledore frowned when he heard this.
"At Gringotts?"
The old headmaster felt a headache coming on. He might have some ways to sneak into Gringotts, but extracting the cup legally left him at a loss.
Still, learning the location of a Horcrux was, in itself, good news.
Pulling his thoughts back, Dumbledore looked at the bright mirror and asked another question that weighed on his mind.
"Dawn, can you tell me why you killed Avery?"
"Sorry, Headmaster. That has nothing to do with today's discussion. If you have other methods in the future, feel free to come to me for another deal."
Dawn had no intention of explaining.
Seeing that there was nothing more useful to gain for now, he picked up the two-way mirror, preparing to end this less-than-pleasant conversation.
Before closing it, however, he suddenly remembered something precious he once possessed.
"Oh, right—Headmaster. What about Ravenclaw's diadem? Have you destroyed it yet?"
"Not yet."
Dumbledore opened a drawer and placed an ancient-looking diadem before the mirror. "After all, I promised you I would keep it for the time being."
"You really do keep your word," Dawn said with an ambiguous smile.
Dumbledore blinked and asked deliberately, "So, Dawn—are you coming to take it now?"
"Heh. There will be such a day."
Crack.
The image cut off.
The smile slowly faded from Dumbledore's face.
He sat alone in his office for a long time, then turned his head to look at the strip of moonlight flowing in through the window like water, and let out a soft sigh.
At that moment, the old headmaster felt a sudden loneliness—and a sense of quiet regret.
At twenty, he parted ways with Grindelwald. It was painful, but in his youthful vigor, he believed he could stop his lover's mistakes.
At sixty-two, he watched Tom begin calling himself Voldemort.
Though filled with guilt, he believed, with the steadiness of age, that he could still correct his student's errors.
But now he was over a hundred years old.
Standing in the twilight of his life.
And it was precisely now that he encountered yet another younger, more talented child—and once again, in the realm of education, he had failed.
Under the lonely moonlight, in this night where thoughts churned endlessly, Dumbledore truly felt lost.
World correction.
Magical creature transformation.
Though he had not shown it during the conversation, how could he not have been shocked by these revelations?
How could he not have felt uneasy over Dawn's experiences, and the dark emotions so plainly visible in his eyes?
Yet Dumbledore realized he felt utterly powerless in the face of it all.
Did he still have enough time left to correct another child's mistakes?
The future—
What would it become?
Dumbledore gazed at the eternal moon.
With quiet sadness, he realized that there were now very few people left in the world who could stand in the role of a guide and help him find answers.
At this moment, the only person he could think of was Gellert Grindelwald, imprisoned in Nurmengard.
With a sigh, the old headmaster forced down his melancholy, steadied himself, and left his office.
He still needed to visit the Gryffindor common room to check on the Weasley twins who had been placed under the Imperius Curse.
Vatican City.
After saying his final words, Dawn shut off the two-way mirror.
However, he did not tuck it back into his wallet to carry with him.
Dawn was not particularly familiar with two-way mirrors. He did not know whether possessing one could allow someone to locate the other.
So, to be safe, he decided to leave the mirror here and return to use it only when needed.
After all, this house was protected by the Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore would never be able to find its location.
Dawn had no idea that someone, on this very night, felt sorrowful because of him. Nor did he have the mood to savor any late-night loneliness.
He simply pulled over a sheet of parchment and, by the dim glow of an oil lamp, began organizing his thoughts.
To investigate this instance of world correction, he currently had five possible angles to pursue.
First, the most direct option: using a Time-Turner to return to December 26.
This was the simplest and fastest method.
However—
After realizing he had already been subjected to world correction, Dawn harbored deep reservations about this approach.
This was not like the Luck Spring ritual, which involved only a two-day rewind. Going back more than half a year carried far too many uncontrollable variables.
Time itself was another boundary the world could not cross.
If some careless action were to affect the proper course of history, would that also trigger another round of world correction?
Or even—
Dawn had another unsettling suspicion:
Could this instance of world correction have nothing to do with magical creature transformation at all, but instead be caused by his future use of a Time-Turner to rewind too far—resulting in the current confusion of his memories?
If he used a Time-Turner to return to December 26, would that merely complete the history of this world correction?
Such hidden dangers forced Dawn to think carefully.
After some consideration, he decided to list the Time-Turner as his final, last-ditch option—something to be used only when all other paths had failed.
The second avenue was Amir and William.
Dawn had not experienced world correction only once. In Egypt, when he transformed Amir into a phoenix, it had also triggered a round of world correction.
Perhaps, through Amir—the one who experienced it firsthand—and William—the one indirectly affected—he could learn something about how world correction worked.
But could those memories really be trusted?
Was his trip to Egypt even real?
Dawn tapped the parchment with the tip of his quill, feeling lost. His distrust of his own memories had trapped him in a vicious cycle of doubt.
And even if that experience was real, the chances of finding useful clues were slim.
After all, in Egypt, once they emerged from Tutankhamun's tomb, he had already used Veritaserum to question Amir and William about related memories.
Yet the result was that he found nothing useful within those logically consistent false memories.
The third approach was to start with his own family.
Since Dawn had noticed inconsistencies in his past, probing from this angle might reveal something.
But—
Even if he uncovered contradictions this way, it would only prove that his memories had been altered. It would not help him uncover what the truth actually was.
The fourth lead was the Rapid Manifestation spell Dumbledore had told him about.
As Dumbledore said, even if world correction caused everyone's memories to deviate, if the past itself could not be changed, then what truly happened would always have existed.
Through this spell, he might find traces of things he had done—things absent from his memories—and glimpse a fragment of the truth.
But—
This method would require an enormous amount of time and a great deal of luck. Results might appear in a single day, or they might take a full hundred years.
Oh, right.
Dawn reminded himself that if he wanted to use this spell to investigate Iceland, it would be best to wait for a while.
After all, Dumbledore already knew his intentions. There was a significant chance the old headmaster would lie in wait there, like a hunter by a tree.
Dawn believed Dumbledore could not truly stop him, but there was no need to go looking for trouble.
The final method was ritual magic.
World correction was related to natural magic, so he might be able to use rituals to mobilize natural magic and counteract the correction.
However, unlike last year's Luck Spring ritual—where he had already identified the most deeply ingrained story within the collective consciousness and only needed to extract its elements—
This time, he did not even know what kind of collective consciousness he should draw upon to oppose world correction.
"Looks like I'll need to visit the Muggle world and buy some books on mythology," Dawn muttered, twirling his quill.
After all, myths and legends were most likely to permeate the public mind and condense into collective consciousness.
Oh—and religion.
Religious belief ran deep as well and could achieve the same effect.
Thinking of the fact that he was currently in Vatican City, where Catholicism flourished, Dawn added that note in his mind.
Additionally—
Why, when a wizard performed magical creature transformation, did the world's response take the form of memory correction rather than outright erasure?
Perhaps—
This, too, was determined by collective consciousness?
He might also be able to search through common beliefs to find clues related to world correction.
Looking at the ink slowly drying on the parchment, Dawn let out a quiet sigh and set his quill aside.
His thoughts were gradually becoming clearer.
Dawn stood up, ready to make use of the weekend and investigate as much as possible.
As for Monday, once classes resumed, he intended to return to the castle and continue being Professor Hickman.
After all, Hogwarts' library contained a vast collection of knowledge.
He needed all the information he could gather to deal with this incident—and he had no intention of giving up his position as a professor just yet.
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