“Dawn, love is not about fairness.

With different circumstances and different personalities, the measures taken can never be the same. But the wish for them to live better—that never changes.”

In the snow.

That was what Dumbledore said.

But Dawn found it absurd—ridiculous even. Was Dumbledore truly claiming that sending him to Azkaban was his way of showing love?

“So, Headmaster, you force your will onto others in the name of love?!”

“No. This is the difference between right and wrong. It has nothing to do with—”

“Enough! I don’t need your love, and I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense!” Dawn snapped irritably.

Even though Dumbledore had caught him, his expression showed no fear.

“Headmaster, let’s make a deal.”

A deal?

Dumbledore frowned.

Dawn looked calmly at him, then looked past him toward the distant red-roofed house.

“Release the Transfiguration binding me, and let me leave. In exchange, I will spare Amir and William in that house.”

Dumbledore’s face grew serious. “What do you mean, child?”

Dawn met his eyes without wavering. “When I left the house and transfigured those snakes from the snow, two of them were under my hidden control.

They crawled along the wall and into the second floor.”

“Snakes? Dawn, in the first class of Transfiguration it was explained—just like wood cannot become edible food, a snake created through Transfiguration cannot inject real poison.”

“Yes, Headmaster, you’re absolutely right. I’ve always remembered Gamp’s Law clearly.”

Dawn raised a brow slightly.

“That’s why, when I left the house, I dropped a bottle of actual poison I bought in Egypt. Right now, both snakes are holding that poison in their mouths.”

In an instant—

Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened.

Dawn smiled lightly, as if afraid the man hadn’t understood, and explained carefully:

“That potion is lethally toxic. Whether drunk or injected into the bloodstream, it will turn an adult wizard to pus and blood in five seconds. And as far as I know, there is no cure.”

“And right now, I can feel the snakes coiled around Amir and William, mouths open, waiting for my command.”

He paused, looked straight at the old wizard, took a breath, and asked softly, “So, Headmaster— what is your choice?”

A cold wind swept through.

Snow began to fall from the sky.

Dumbledore stared silently at the child before him. In the pure white world, Dawn’s scarlet eyes seemed violently out of place—dirty, even.

Seeing a student use the lives of others as leverage so casually, Dumbledore didn’t know what he should feel anymore.

The old headmaster looked tired. His face had grown dim.

In that moment, he couldn’t help thinking of another student who had once caused him such pain—the boy who brought terror upon the wizarding world.

Tom Riddle.

Nothing ever really changes, does it?

The old headmaster let out a bitter smile.

As an educator, he had failed yet again.

His eyes held disappointment and sorrow, but he forced himself to speak. “Child, when it comes to magic… you are still far from ready.”

Dawn frowned.

At the moment Dumbledore finished speaking, Dawn sensed something—an invisible ripple in the air.

And in the next moment—

In the distant house, the faint senses he had from the two transfigured snakes suddenly vanished.

Dawn’s expression twisted sharply.

Impossible.

How did he do that?!

In Dawn’s perception, the white mist symbolizing Dumbledore’s magic hadn’t changed at all.

“This is called multi-layered magic control. It’s a technique very few people have mastered.”

Seeing Dawn’s confusion, Dumbledore hesitated. Remembering he was still a teacher, he sighed and explained:

“Dawn, all magic ultimately comes from magical power. In a sense, magical power is the essence of all spells.

I cast the Anti-Apparition enchantment on that house. Just now, I used the residual magic from that spell to interfere with your transfigured snakes.”

Dawn frowned.

But he understood.

If magic was the process of magical power altering a pattern, and the duration of a spell was simply how long that power maintained the alteration—

Then within that duration, it was possible to use the same magical power to alter another pattern simultaneously.

“Impressive, Headmaster.”

Dawn said it sincerely.

Sometimes, strength wasn’t measured by the power of a spell. A single technique could reveal a gulf impossible to cross.

Dumbledore sighed and stepped toward him, too exhausted to lecture any further.

“That’s enough, child. It’s enough. We should go back now. Stop running from your mistakes.”

My mistakes?

Dawn let out a cold laugh. He didn’t believe he had done anything wrong.

Yet watching the old headmaster approaching him, a flicker of unwillingness stirred in his chest.

What rotten luck.

If he had only three or four more days—just enough time to complete the magical creature transformation—he would’ve gained phoenix abilities.

With that, even anti-Apparition enchantments couldn’t stop him. He would never have been caught.

But this sudden accident—

“No. Not an accident.”

Dawn whispered to himself. The unwillingness in his pupils ignited like dry wood catching fire.

Accident? That was just an excuse for surrendering to fate.

Dawn suddenly recalled all those legendary “accidents” he had once read and heard about—

In 1789, the people of Paris stormed the Bastille, a supposed accident that erupted into a revolution that toppled a monarchy.

In 1815, Napoleon lost a battle because of the weather, an accident that destroyed his empire.

In 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated—a seemingly random accident that triggered the First World War.

But behind the French Revolution’s accident lay financial crisis and structural inequality—inevitable.

Behind Napoleon’s defeat lay arrogance and reckless ambition—inevitable.

Behind the First World War lay imbalanced political and economic pressures—inevitable.

So—there is no need to blame fate.

Every hardship he faced now was the result of his own reckless choices. Complaining and calling it misfortune?

That would only prove his weakness.

The fire in Dawn’s eyes burned brighter and brighter. Within the fate he had brought upon himself—he would never surrender.

___________

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