Halloween passed.

Dumbledore cleared Harry of suspicion and, as was his habit, kindly concealed Aral’s wrongdoing.

He paraded the basilisk before the right audiences and shifted all blame for the incident onto the creature.

After that, he brought the basilisk to the Ministry of Magic.

No one quite knew what he did there, but somehow Hagrid’s old accusation was finally overturned, and the half-giant regained the legal right to use a wand.

On that day, Hagrid cried so loudly that even Dawn, seated in his office, could hear the booming sobs drifting in from the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

As for the unfortunate victim who had been petrified, recovery came swiftly once Snape purchased mature mandrakes from outside the school.

Within days, the student was restored to normal.

Three days later, Newt arrived to take the now-blinded basilisk away. And just like that, the Halloween turmoil faded quietly into memory.

Aside from Draco, who felt some regret at failing to see Harry expelled, most of the students were thoroughly satisfied.

They had gained a new story to whisper about in corridors and dormitories.

But once Halloween ended, the professors found themselves caught in an undercurrent of tension.

After consulting Hogwarts’ restricted archives and speaking at length with the portraits of former Headmasters, Dumbledore finally narrowed down the method Voldemort might have used.

In the Headmaster’s office, several professors sat in heavy silence, studying records of the Olivia incident from years past.

“Albus, are you saying many students in the castle carry fragments of You-Know-Who’s soul?” McGonagall pressed her fingers to her brow, unwilling to accept it.

“I’m afraid so,” Dumbledore replied quietly.

“Merlin’s beard,” Sprout groaned. “Is there truly no way to undo such magic?”

“At present, we know of no counter-curse,” Dumbledore said. “We attempted counter-spells on Aral. They had no effect.”

Flitwick adjusted his spectacles.

“During lessons these past few days, I have observed the students carefully.

But I cannot distinguish who carries the Dark Lord’s soul and who does not. Have any of you found a method?”

The divided soul had fused completely with the children’s own. There was no clear boundary.

From a spiritual standpoint, nothing appeared amiss.

“We might investigate the medium,” Dumbledore said slowly. “This magic requires blood. I will look into that avenue. However…”

He trailed off.

Everyone understood.

Stealing a drop of blood was absurdly easy. A brushing shoulder and a silent spell would suffice.

Young students would never notice.

The office grew heavy with gloom.

After a long silence, McGonagall asked the question none of them wished to voice. “If the worst happens… what becomes of the children?”

The Headmaster sighed but did not answer.

Thomas’s case had already hinted at the answer.

In the worst scenario, Voldemort would gradually erode their will, overwriting them until only another version of himself remained.

He turned to a portrait on the wall. “Headmistress Derwent, do you recall anything about this spell?”

“I’m sorry, Albus,” the portrait replied. “I only learned fragments after the Olivia incident. She acted alone. Even her own family was kept in the dark.”

“And the Carter family?” McGonagall asked.

“You may try them again, but I doubt they know more.”

Flitwick sighed. “If the Dark Lord’s soul is fully integrated, how does he exert control?”

Dumbledore considered. “In Muggle terminology, it might resemble a second personality.”

Snape tapped his fingers thoughtfully.

“Then I shall brew potions to strengthen willpower and mix them into the evening drinks. With long-term use, it may help.”

Decisions were made.

Dawn listened throughout, maintaining a suitably troubled expression. When addressed directly, he admitted he had no solution.

The meeting dispersed.

After Halloween, time seemed to accelerate.

With the basilisk gone, peace returned to the castle. The feared incidents of students being controlled did not surface again.

Or perhaps they did, unnoticed.

In truth, the most serious visible mishap was a rogue Bludger that struck Harry during a Quidditch match, sending him tumbling from his broom.

The professors continued searching quietly for answers, yet as days passed without catastrophe, their tension slowly eased.

Dawn, for his part, had no interest in worrying about Voldemort.

He kept to his own rhythm.

Monday through Friday, he taught, visited the library, and maintained routine.

On weekends, he left the castle and cast the Echo Summoning Charm to retrace fragments of history.

Beyond that, he did nothing extra. He even declined an invitation from Professor McGonagall to attend a small gathering.

Unfortunately, despite pouring himself into his research on World Correction, he achieved nothing.

Even with frequent historical tracing, scenes from within the past century appeared only rarely in the floating visions.

Meanwhile, the Headmaster had ceased contacting him through the two-way mirror.

Dawn understood.

Dumbledore was undoubtedly overwhelmed by Voldemort’s matter. He had no time to spare for an unremarkable professor.

Another event occurred in mid-November.

Amir, who had previously injured a student during a blood curse episode, suddenly returned to the castle.

Dawn was curious where the Headmaster had sent him. Had it involved some hidden secret?

One afternoon in the library, Dawn attempted to read Amir’s memories.

To his surprise, Amir had learned Occlumency.

Though only at a beginner level—easy enough for Dawn to break—doing so without Amir noticing would no longer be guaranteed.

After weighing the risks, Dawn abandoned the attempt.

There would be other opportunities.

And so, amid ordinary days and the arrival of the first cold snowfall, December came.

Christmas approached.

“Professor Hickman, will you not remain at the castle for Christmas?” McGonagall asked in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

She had hoped the holiday might help the new professor integrate more fully into Hogwarts life.

“I’m afraid I must return to Egypt,” Dawn replied with an apologetic smile. “There are matters requiring my attention.”

“No need to apologize. I was presumptuous.”

She paused. “One moment, please.”

Ten minutes later, she returned with a gift box.

“A Christmas present,” she explained. “It was meant for the day itself, but an owl to Egypt might not arrive in time.”

Dawn blinked before accepting it. “Thank you, Professor. I shall prepare something for you as well.”

They exchanged a few polite words before she departed.

Watching her leave, Dawn rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

He would remain at Hogwarts for at least another half year. If he wished to avoid awkward encounters, it would be wise to send gifts.

He had not considered that at all.

After finishing the final stack of graded assignments, Dawn tapped the brass nozzle of the Floo network.

With a clear chime, the wall shifted to reveal a fireplace room.

He stepped through and traveled to the Leaky Cauldron.

This time, instead of Apparating directly back to the Vatican, he slipped into Diagon Alley.

The entire street shimmered with Christmas decorations.

Dawn wandered among the bustling shops, pondering what to buy.

Originality required thought.

Efficiency required none.

In less than an hour, he had finished.

At the owl post office, he arranged for the gifts to be delivered on Christmas Day and packaged them carefully.

For Sprout, he sent a bundle of magical plant seeds, along with an unusual Egyptian specimen he had once purchased out of curiosity but found impractical.

For McGonagall, a full set of cat scratching boards, a spacious cat bed, and an enormous bottle of catnip.

He hoped she would not take offense.

For Flitwick, he bought a complete set of commemorative photographs from the day the diminutive wizard won his dueling championship.

They were the most expensive of the lot.

For Snape, Dawn briefly considered including shampoo, then decided against it. Instead, he settled for rare potion ingredients.

For the Headmaster, he selected a mountain of brightly colored sweets in peculiar flavors.

After finishing, Dawn was about to leave when another idea struck him.

He changed his appearance, purchased a book, and returned to send it anonymously along with the others.

Then, with nothing left to do, he slipped into a quiet alley near Knockturn Alley and Apparated away.

___________

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