Dawn frowned as he looked at the final, weary lines of text. His expression grew strange.

The Resurrection Stone—

After consuming its powdered form, the author had experienced an incomparably vivid dream, as if living an entire second life—

The sense of familiarity in that description was far too strong.

Dawn brushed his fingers over the rough pages, thinking of the dreams he himself had experienced. Doubts rose in his mind, yet no matter how he tried, he could not clearly connect the two.

And—

The book stated that the Resurrection Stone had been completely ground into powder.

So where, then, had the Resurrection Stone he currently possessed come from?

Could it be that—

Because the Resurrection Stone carried certain forms of collective belief, as long as the legends surrounding it continued to exist, natural magic would recreate it even if it were destroyed?

Dawn’s thoughts spiraled.

He touched the wallet in his pocket and remembered that he had only found this book after drinking Felix Felicis.

That made him start wondering: if this book truly contained a way to deal with world correction, where exactly did that clue lie?

Perhaps this book had simply caught his attention because of its title.

But thinking of Felix Felicis, and of the Fountain of Fortune he had once bathed in, Dawn could not help but feel that maybe—just maybe—this time it really was inspiration guiding him toward a way to confront world correction.

He tapped the book lightly against his palm, recalling what he had read, searching for any possible hint hidden within.

It could not be grinding up the Resurrection Stone and eating it, could it?

Dawn frowned.

The author claimed that after consuming the powder, he had returned in his dream to the era of the Goblin Rebellions.

Did that mean that if Dawn consumed the powder, he might see his own self from before the correction, within a dream?

Was that not a little too absurd?

Dawn could not decide. His thoughts drifted inexplicably to powdered mummies. He shook his head, intending to find a secluded place to study the matter more carefully.

But after taking only two steps, he suddenly remembered that he still had a fourth-year class to teach in the afternoon. With a sigh, he slowed his pace.

It would have to wait until the evening.

Carrying the book under his arm, Dawn planned to reread it carefully when he had the time.

As he left the library, he happened to run into Madam Pince returning. He turned back and registered the book with her.

Then he asked, “Madam Pince, I heard there was an accident here earlier today. How are things now?”

“Thank you for your concern. Nothing too serious,” Madam Pince said, visibly relieved.

As she recorded the title of the book and the borrower’s name, she added, “The injured student has been properly treated.

Madam Pomfrey says that with two or three days of rest, he’ll make a full recovery. A blessing, considering what could have happened.”

Dawn nodded, putting on an expression of relief. But inwardly, his attention was on the other party involved.

“What about Amir?” he asked.

“He was taken away by Albus,” Madam Pince sighed. “That poor young man. The incident was not his fault. I only hope he won’t be treated too harshly.”

Taken away by Dumbledore?

Dawn narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if the headmaster had sent Amir out of the castle.

Something to keep an eye on later, he thought.

After completing the registration, Dawn turned to leave. Then he paused, lifting the book The Study of the Resurrection Stone.

“By the way, Madam Pince, do you know who the author of this book is?” Dawn asked. “It’s quite fascinating. I’d like to learn more about the writer.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Madam Pince replied with a shake of her head. “These books have been collected over nearly a thousand years. Many of them have lost their origins, especially the unique copies.”

“I see,” Dawn said.

He had expected that answer and was not disappointed. After saying goodbye, he left the library and returned to his office for lunch.

Time passed quickly.

Three-thirty in the afternoon.

“All right, that’s it for today’s lesson. Before our next class, please hand in an assignment related to Inferi.”

Dawn glanced at the clock on the wall, closed his textbook, and restored the desk that had been transfigured to resemble an Inferius, bringing the lesson to a close.

“The content is up to you, but it must be at least three inches long.

You may write about ways to deal with Inferi, how to detect them in advance through environmental changes or detection spells, or even about the methods by which Inferi are created.”

“I hope you complete it independently. If I find evidence of plagiarism, I will deduct points accordingly during the final assessment.”

With that, Dawn wasted no time. He opened the classroom door and headed straight toward his office just a few turns away.

The students were already accustomed to their new professor’s habit of wanting class to end even more than they did.

“Inferi—I’ve never even heard of such a thing before,” Fred said as he packed his things away. “But why didn’t Professor Hickman bring a real one for us to see?”

“Using Transfiguration alone feels so half-hearted.”

“Hey! That’s cruel, Fred!” George laughed. “You’re trying to get Professor Hickman sent to Azkaban, aren’t you?”

“Inferi are made from the bodies of witches, wizards, or Muggles. How could a professor possibly bring one into class?”

“Oh, you really don’t understand Professor Hickman at all!” Fred said solemnly. “What’s a mere Inferius? I bet one day we’ll learn the Killing Curse from him!”

The twins laughed and joked as they left.

Their recent experience of being placed under the Imperius Curse had clearly left no lasting trauma.

Occasionally they still felt a bit dazed, but under Madam Pomfrey’s care, one day of rest had mostly set them right.

“But who do you think we ran into in the Honeydukes cellar?” Fred asked as they walked. “It’s been bugging me.”

George shrugged. “No idea. He stayed invisible the whole time. I never even saw his face.”

Fred rubbed his chin. “Hey, didn’t he ask you about Dawn Richter? Do you think they might know each other?”

“Maybe it was Dawn Richter himself,” George said with sudden inspiration.

“You mean the corpse they reported in the papers came back to life?” Fred laughed. “Nice one. We should scare little Ronnie with that.”

The twins burst into laughter.

With no real clues to pursue, they soon shifted their attention back to planning their next prank.

Dawn returned to his office.

He locked the door, sealed the room with magic, and then took a small wooden box from his wallet.

The dark stone lay quietly inside.

After a moment of hesitation, Dawn reached out and grasped it. A woman slowly emerged from drifting mist.

“Mmm, darling, you must be missing me again, right?” Sophia smiled, poking his cheek.

But this time, Dawn did not respond immediately. Instead, he focused entirely on the Resurrection Stone itself.

He gently pinched its surface, feeling its hard, brittle texture. After a moment’s thought, he transfigured a small file and carefully scraped at it.

With a soft rustle, fine powder fell away.

___________

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