Dawn took a glance at the wall opposite the tapestry, where layers upon layers of magical currents wove together like a dense mass of yarn. He immediately looked away.

No way!

This wasn’t something he could memorize or understand right now.

Dawn rubbed his forehead.

Speaking of which…

His ability seemed especially useful for finding hidden rooms within the castle. As long as the room involved magic, as long as there was a flow of magical energy, he could see it no matter how well it was concealed.

“I want a room to hide things, I want a room to hide things, I want a room…”

He silently chanted three times in his heart, and a doorknob immediately appeared on the wall opposite the tapestry.

Dawn pushed the door open and entered.

A stale, dusty smell immediately seeped out from the cracks.

It was a vast, cluttered room, winding and twisting like a maze.

Mountains of miscellaneous items were piled up to the ceiling, and occasionally something would tumble down from above, landing on the floor with a muffled thud.

Broken furniture, rusted weapons, old trunks, faded tapestries…

It felt as if everything forgotten over centuries had been dumped here.

Dawn bent down and picked up an old, tattered book, but to his disappointment, it was only a third-year Potions textbook, far from the precious tome he had imagined.

He tossed it back onto the ground and carefully treaded over the crackling debris deeper into the room.

He remembered…

Voldemort had hidden—after turning it into a Horcrux—Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem here, placing it on the head of a worn wizard’s bust.

Dawn searched around.

But before he found the diadem, he came across a broken broomstick. Sadly, it was completely unusable.

Looking at the split handle, Dawn thought for a moment and decided to take it anyway.

After all, repairing it would be easier than crafting a new one. He wanted to see if he could fix it.

He walked a few more steps forward.

Suddenly, Dawn’s eyes lit up. He finally spotted the bust with the diadem resting atop it, hidden behind a mountain of clutter.

He didn’t rush over to grab it. Instead, he kept a safe distance, carefully observing it.

It was an exquisite silver circlet, inlaid with a blue gemstone, with the Ravenclaw motto engraved along the lower edge: “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.”

According to the original descriptions, it could enhance the wearer’s wisdom. However, polluted by Voldemort’s soul fragment, it had clearly lost its original function.

Dawn stared at the complex weave of magical currents, shrouded in a dense mist of magic, feeling a pang of regret. He wondered if he could separate the two.

The magical mist likely represented Voldemort’s soul. If he could remove it…

Dawn’s mind raced, greedy for the diadem’s potential.

No, he needed to figure out his abilities quickly and find a way to make use of them. He had a feeling the method to succeed lay within that power.

Exhaling deeply.

After staring too long, Dawn suddenly felt as if his head had been struck with a hammer. Sharp pain flared up, forcing him to look away.

He pulled out a leather wallet from his robe, and from it, he retrieved a small box designed to isolate magical artifacts.

This was something a Flourish and Blotts employee had bought for protection while purchasing dark magic books. Dawn had spotted it and bought it from him.

While mentally sealing off his mind, Dawn cast a Summoning Charm, bringing the diadem over without touching it and sealing it inside the wooden box.

In an instant, the feeling of having his mind watched disappeared. Dawn let out a sigh of relief and stuffed the box deep into his leather wallet.

No matter what, better to keep it safe for now.

If he ultimately couldn’t purify the diadem, he could always hand it over to Dumbledore in exchange for something valuable.

After finishing all this.

Dawn wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

Instead, he began rummaging through the piles of junk like a treasure hunter. To his surprise, he actually found a few useful things—

Three Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and forty-seven Knuts; a few slightly damaged alchemical items perfect for practicing repair spells; and a copy of “The Tales of Beedle the Bard.”

Dawn picked up the book and flipped through it.

Just as Giggs had said when they were buying potion ingredients, this was the most famous collection of fairy tales in the wizarding world.

Since the fifteenth century, when Beedle the Bard from Yorkshire had written it, the book had been widely circulated.

It contained five stories—”The Wizard and the Hopping Pot,” “The Fountain of Fair Fortune,” “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart,” “Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump,” and “The Tale of the Three Brothers.”

In the original story, the most famous of them was undoubtedly the last one.

Three brothers who cheated Death and each received a magical item from the Grim Reaper, only to meet their ends because of them.

However.

Though merely a tale, and with no real proof of Death’s existence, the Deathly Hallows themselves were undeniably real.

The Elder Wand, currently held by Dumbledore.

The Invisibility Cloak, soon to be obtained by Harry Potter.

And the Resurrection Stone, embedded in the ring hidden in the Gaunt shack—another Horcrux created by Voldemort.

Thinking about this.

Dawn made up his mind. He would find a time to visit the Gaunt shack and secure the Resurrection Stone.

It was one of the Deathly Hallows, after all, a true treasure. Plus, its connection to resurrection intrigued him greatly.

Although Voldemort had cursed the ring and even Dumbledore had struggled to lift the curse, if Dawn could find someone to wear it temporarily, he might be able to transfer the curse and remove it.

Having decided to make the trip during the first school break, Dawn pulled his mind back to the present and refocused on the book.

“The Tales of Beedle the Bard” was a very common, ordinary item. Dawn had read it long ago.

What really caught his attention about this particular copy was that it had been stored inside a waterproof, airtight box, and the book itself was unnaturally swollen.

He casually flipped through it.

Inside, alongside the regular pages, he found many yellowed sheets of paper filled with dense, barely legible writing—badly corroded by time.

Understandable, considering it was a two-hundred-year-old book.

Dawn glanced at the publication date on the title page—May 17, 1776.

°Reparo°

He waved his wand.

A faint light flickered over the book, but unfortunately, it only improved slightly. The text was still far from fully legible.

“Not enough magic power,” Dawn sighed softly.

In this world, a wizard’s magic wasn’t like a game’s mana bar that depleted with each spell cast.

There were almost no cases where a wizard failed to cast a spell simply because they ran out of magic. Even young witches and wizards struggled not because of insufficient magic, but because their magic was unstable.

To Dawn’s understanding, a wizard’s magic was more like a certificate—a token that allowed spellcasting.

Beyond that, it determined the maximum strength a spell could achieve. The more magic one had, the stronger a spell could be.

Take his Reparo spell earlier—if Dumbledore had cast it, the book would likely have been restored to brand new in an instant.

Of course.

This wasn’t absolute.

For a wizard, another crucial factor existed—emotion.

Emotion acted as an amplifier for magical power. With enough emotional strength, a wizard could surpass their limits and achieve incredible effects.

Additionally.

The Elder Wand could also enhance magic power.

But since it was a unique, one-of-a-kind artifact, it wasn’t worth discussing further here.

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