The room beyond looked remarkably similar to the one from yesterday: a table, two chairs, and a cabinet against the wall.

Were most of the rooms here like this? The thought flickered through his mind.

But he had no time to dwell on it.

On the table in the center of the room lay an hourglass attached to a golden chain.

There really was one.

Avery clenched his fist in excitement and hurried forward, lifting the Time-Turner into his hand.

“Sleep a little longer, Father. I’ll wake you soon.”

He glanced at old Avery’s lifeless body and, for the first time, even felt in the mood to joke.

But he quickly calmed himself.

He knew that obtaining a Time-Turner was only the simplest first step in saving his father.

What came next?

Avery paced anxiously around the table. He understood one thing very clearly.

The past could not be changed.

Since Dawn Richter had killed old Avery at the Skye Island Quidditch pitch, that fact could not be undone by simply going back and killing Dawn first.

Time would not allow that.

But—

The past could be completed.

The person Dawn killed was merely a wizard wearing old Avery’s face.

If someone else were transformed into his father using Polyjuice Potion, replacing him at the Quidditch pitch to be killed by Dawn, wouldn’t that avert the tragedy?

No.

Not avert it.

Rather, perhaps that was the true shape of history. Light flashed in Avery’s eyes.

As for why the impostor still bore old Avery’s face after death— That was easy to explain.

He remembered Professor Snape mentioning two interesting traits of Polyjuice Potion during an advanced Potions class.

Everyone knew that adding human hair to Polyjuice would transform the drinker into that person.

But if animal hair were used instead, animal-like features would appear—and these traits were extremely difficult to reverse, often becoming permanent without treatment.

Furthermore, if one died while under the effects of Polyjuice Potion, the corpse would retain the transformed appearance permanently.

Avery’s eyes grew brighter as a hasty but entirely feasible plan took shape in his mind.

Then—

His gaze toward the corpse suddenly became strange.

If history truly required that an impostor die in his father’s place, then didn’t that mean—The body beside him was the impostor he himself had chosen?

With that realization, a large portion of his grief vanished in an instant, replaced instead by an awkward feeling.

Because of that photograph, he had been influenced by first impressions. Though he had searched for inconsistencies, he had already believed it was real.

Shaking his head, Avery pushed those emotions aside.

He examined the body carefully, trying to determine which outcome represented the true past.

Unfortunately, he could not tell whether the corpse before him was truly his father, or an impostor who had died under Polyjuice Potion.

Even so—Avery believed he would succeed.

He eagerly tucked the Time-Turner into his robes, ready to turn speculation into reality.

The first step was leaving Hogwarts.

For a sixth-year student, that was not difficult at all.

After living here so long, and with notes left behind by family members, he knew several secret passages leading outside the castle.

For convenience, Avery left the body in the Room of Requirement, closed the door, and went to the sixth floor, where he found the bust of Gregory.

Gregory was a medieval wizard famous for inventing Gregory’s Favor Potion, still featured on Chocolate Frog cards.

The potion caused the drinker to view the giver as a close friend, similar to a Love Potion, which was why scandalous rumors about Gregory and King Charles I had circulated for centuries.

Recalling these facts automatically, Avery opened the secret passage behind the statue and left Hogwarts, emerging beneath a paving stone in a small alley in Hogsmeade.

“Cough—cough!”

Dust tickled his throat. Avery waved a hand in front of his nose and coughed several times.

Though the place was filthy, he did not hurry to leave.

After ensuring no one was watching, he finally could not restrain himself and pulled out the Time-Turner again.

His father had died on January 17th at the Skye Island Quidditch pitch.

Which meant he needed to turn back at least two days. That exceeded the Ministry’s safety limits.

But Avery was willing to risk it.

Still, as he flipped the hourglass, his movement paused for a moment.

In truth—He had always harbored doubts about his father appearing on Skye Island.

In Avery’s mind, old Avery was a man who valued safety above all else. Even if he discovered Dawn’s whereabouts, he should have sent dark wizards rather than going himself.

But—

When Avery thought of how he himself had abandoned reason and gone alone to the Room of Requirement, it no longer seemed strange that his father might act irrationally for his sake.

Perhaps—Beneath the Slytherin nature of their family, there truly was a hint of a Gryffindor spirit?

Taking a deep breath, Avery stopped thinking further.

The dust inside the hourglass began to reverse.

One turn.

Two turns.

Until it stopped precisely after seventy-two turns.

Avery felt as though he were floating, rushing backward at great speed, the scenery blurring into clouds as a tremendous impact echoed in his ears—an impact no one else could hear.

He did not know how long it lasted.

Eventually, Avery could see clearly again.

He was still in the same alley. At first glance it looked unchanged, but the scattered debris on the ground revealed subtle differences.

Hiding his presence, he stepped out and entered a random shop, checking the calendar.

January 16th.

He had succeeded.

Avery clenched his fist.

Despite exceeding the Ministry’s safety threshold, he had safely returned to the past.

He took it as an unmistakably good sign for what he intended to do next.

The Skye Island Quidditch match would begin tomorrow at two in the afternoon. He still had ample time to prepare and reach the venue.

He had gone back an extra day specifically to practice the Imperius Curse.

The family estate lay not far from Hogsmeade. After orienting himself, Avery hurried there.

Bang!

He pushed open the manor gates, ignored the house-elf coming to greet him, and rushed straight to the study on the second floor.

Though the collection here was nowhere near as extensive as that of the old estate, among the shelves stuffed with Muggle books by old Avery, he could still find several magical texts.

And by sheer coincidence—

There was a section on the three Unforgivable Curses.

°Imperio°

Avery opened the book, memorizing the incantation and wand movements, ordering a house-elf to capture a goblin from the grounds so he could practice.

Driven by his determination to save his father, his progress was astonishingly fast. Before long, he was using the spell passably well.

Not perfect—but sufficient.

Night fell. Then passed once more.

Avery finally lifted his bloodshot eyes from the book. The sun hung in a pale, dawn-tinted sky.

January 17th had come again.

“I will change everything, Father.”

Taking a deep breath, Avery closed the book, retrieved a vial of Polyjuice Potion from the manor’s stores, and tucked it into his robes.

With a focused motion, he Apparated to Skye Island.

Pop!

The air cracked sharply.

Avery’s vision swam.

When the dizziness passed, he found himself on a beautiful island, sea-scented wind brushing his face.

“The match is about to begin! All spectators not yet inside, please hurry!”

“Two days ago, the Portree Pride lost by twenty points to the Caerphilly Catapults—”

The distant commentary drifted into his ears.

Avery steadied himself, tightened his hood to hide half his face, and headed toward the Quidditch stadium.

He bought a ticket and entered.

He reviewed his plan one last time.

Transform someone into his father with Polyjuice Potion, control them with the Imperius Curse, place them at the photographed location, and let Dawn kill them.

Then intercept his real father and escape under a Disillusionment Charm.

Everything was clear. Avery was convinced his father would survive today.

No matter the cost.

With that belief, he smoothly found the statue from the photograph, hid himself, and quickly selected a suitable target in the stands.

“It’ll be him.”

He raised his wand, preparing to strike the spectator who sat apart from the others.

Time was short. He had to complete the substitution before Dawn arrived.

But at the very instant the Imperius incantation left his lips—

Avery saw his chosen target unexpectedly climb onto the statue’s base, then unexpectedly transform into Dawn.

And worse— When he tried to change targets, that person somehow discovered his position and even called out his name.

Something felt terribly wrong.

When he attempted to Apparate away, only to be struck by a silent Petrification Spell, that sense of wrongness intensified.

This was not Dawn Richter’s level.

Avery felt as though he had fallen into a trap.

Especially when he was forcibly fed Polyjuice Potion, transformed into old Avery, and stood on the Quidditch pitch, moments away from being struck by the Killing Curse.

“January 17th.”

The date echoed in his mind. He suddenly remembered the murder announcement in the newspaper and, at last, understood something.

But it was too late.

On the axis of time, everything had already been fixed.

In the final moments, lying on the ground, Avery had no time to wonder how Dawn knew he would return here with a Time-Turner.

With his last strength, he spat out the curse filled with hatred.

“You’ll die too, Dawn Richter! Don’t think this is over! Just wait—wait for death to come for you!”

___________

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