January 21st.

Night.

Black velvet wrapped the world, and the towering castle atop the cliffs lay in profound silence.

An uninvited guest returned here once more, unnoticed by anyone.

Dawn concealed himself completely with a Disillusionment Charm and a Silencing Charm. Taking out the long-unused Marauder’s Map, he entered the castle through one of its secret passages.

“Mm. A long-overdue night stroll.”

Dawn glanced at the portraits that seemed to be asleep and the decorations steeped in history, the corner of his eye lifting slightly.

But this fleeting sentiment did not delay him for long.

Lowering his gaze to the Marauder’s Map, Dawn confirmed the locations of the professors and Dumbledore. With a sweep of his robes, he headed toward the Room of Requirement.

However.

Though he kept an eye on the names shifting across the map, he did not place blind faith in it.

When he had taken this item from the Weasley twins, Dumbledore had known about it.

So in Dawn’s view, the Anti-Apparition enchantment was a far more reliable indicator of his safety than the Marauder’s Map.

As long as he could still sense that magic within the castle, it meant Dumbledore had not yet discovered his presence.

Even though the reports suggested that returning to January 19th was already inevitable, there was still the possibility that he might be discovered today and only return at a later date.

Dawn had no intention of underestimating the old headmaster.

Although Dumbledore had seemed a step slow throughout this recent chain of events, that was only because Dawn had held a complete informational advantage.

The headmaster knew nothing.

He did not know what Dawn wanted, nor what Dawn intended to do.

And because the Department of Mysteries had been utterly incompetent, Slughorn’s theft had not alerted the Ministry, meaning Dumbledore was still unaware of the existence of the Time-Turner.

A faint glow from an oil lamp appeared in the distance.

Filch, accompanied by Mrs. Norris, was carefully inspecting each classroom.

Dawn glanced at the cat, cast a scent-masking spell on himself, and brushed past Filch without incident.

At night, the staircases were unusually well-behaved.

Dawn reached the eighth floor without any effort at all and saw the familiar tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

“I need a room where I won’t be disturbed. I need a—”

Recalling the letter he had sent to Avery, Dawn repeated the words silently in his heart while pacing back and forth three times along the corridor.

Soon, a handle appeared on the wall.

He pushed the door open.

Dawn stepped into a modest-sized room. The furnishings were simple: a table in the center, two chairs, and a cabinet in the corner.

He did not light a lamp. In the darkness, he pulled out a chair and sat down quietly.

Turning the Time-Turner over in his hand, Dawn did not rush to return to the past. Instead, he began once again to review his entire plan.

Public exposure.

Plunder.

Death.

Process.

Cycle.

From the ritual of the Fountain of Fair Fortune, he had distilled these five elements. Among them, the most troublesome was the final one: the cycle.

What was a cycle?

Dawn’s first thought was a time loop.

But on closer consideration, within a world defined by linear time, constructing such a loop was exceedingly difficult.

It might be possible to use Memory Charms to alter recollections, creating the illusion of a time loop for participants trapped in a closed space.

But that approach would be far too time-consuming and labor-intensive.

Dawn did not wish to choose that path.

So.

Combining plunder and death, he arrived at a sudden inspiration: perhaps a cycle could be formed from the concept of retribution.

You kill me.

I kill you.

Was that not also a kind of cycle?

Dawn believed this idea had far more practical potential than a literal time loop.

But then another issue arose.

Did mutual destruction truly count as a cycle?

Dawn was uncertain.

A cycle should have a process. Instantaneous mutual destruction likely would not satisfy the ritual’s requirements.

Yet if it was not mutual destruction, how could “you kill me” occur after “I kill you”?

Dawn thought of the Time-Turner.

Although time itself could not form the cycle, it could be used to complete one. With clever use of the Time-Turner, this was not difficult at all.

Of course.

Dawn had no intention of truly dying here just for the sake of a ritual.

But that was fine.

Magic was a matter of belief.

As long as Dawn believed he had killed Avery, and Avery believed he had likewise “killed” Dawn, that would suffice.

On a related note.

Dawn had considered not actually killing Avery on January 17th at the Skye Island Quidditch pitch, instead merely making himself believe that he had.

That would have made the cycle more symmetrical.

But Dawn had no idea how he could convince himself of Avery’s death while fully aware that Avery had only faked it.

So in the end, he abandoned that idea.

Though it sounded convoluted.

In truth, the entire ritual consisted of only two parts.

First, the Dawn of January 17th kills Avery who has returned from the future. Second, the Avery of January 19th “kills” Dawn who has returned from the future.

Dawn turned his gaze to the Time-Turner.

Now, the first part of the ritual was complete, and the outcome of the second part had already appeared.

All that remained was to fill in the second part properly to complete the ritual in full.

But—That did not mean Dawn could rest easy.

In fact. A shadow lingered in his heart, impossible to dispel.

According to his original plan, if he returned to January 19th and completed everything successfully, the ritual should have ended on that very day.

That meant— If everything had gone smoothly, during the three days from January 19th to January 21st, there should have been two Dawns in the world.

One was himself, who had not yet used the Time-Turner.

The other was the Dawn who had returned from the future, completed the ritual, and resolved the imbalance of natural magic within his body.

If events had truly followed that ideal course, then according to plan—

On January 20th, the Dawn from the future should have sent him a piece of parchment bearing the word “WIN,” to signal that everything had gone well.

But in reality.

Throughout the entirety of yesterday, Dawn had received only the newspaper sent by Rita Skeeter, and nothing from his other self.

Which meant—Things had not gone as smoothly as planned.

Perhaps he had completed the ritual but failed to find the Fountain of Fair Fortune.

Or perhaps he had truly died on January 19th.

Dawn drew in a deep breath.

The road ahead was shrouded in the unknown, and the uncertainty weighed on him.

Yet Dawn did not wish to retreat.

No matter what, if he wanted to resolve the issue of natural magic, he had to perform the ritual. And if he wanted to perform the ritual, he had to return to January 19th.

That was an unchangeable fact.

Dawn believed he had prepared every contingency.

If an accident truly awaited him, then only by returning to January 19th would he learn the truth.

He licked his lips, took out the Awakening Potion and the Shrinking Solution brewed by Slughorn, and began making his final preparations.

___________

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