The Ferris wheel continued turning in the snowstorm.

Neville wiped his eyes with his sleeve and said stubbornly, “I’m going home.”

“Home? And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Dawn laughed softly.

“Do you even know where this place is in the Muggle world? Do you know which direction your house is? Do you know what excuse you would use to ask Muggles for directions?”

He looked at Neville, who had suddenly gone stiff.

With a teasing smile, he took out his wand.

“You can’t go back, Neville. There’s nowhere for you to go. You’ll stay here forever.”

Stay here forever?

Neville looked up at him, pressing his lips together.

“Dawn… are you going to kill me?”

“Yes,” Dawn replied casually. “Why? Are you afraid? If you beg for mercy, I might let you go.”

Perhaps because he had spent the whole day playing around, he had actually said a line that sounded exactly like a villain in a television drama.

Neville looked upset.

“I’m not afraid!”

“Then why is your stomach shaking?”

Neville was silent for a moment. Then he sniffed and shouted loudly, as if gathering courage.

“Because I’m hungry!”

Dawn burst out laughing.

It was as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

But suddenly, his mood dropped just as quickly.

Everything felt meaningless.

“Neville… honestly, sometimes I think it’s unfair to you.”

Dawn spoke quietly.

Looking at the boy standing there with clenched fists, he suddenly felt an urge to say something cruel.

“Neville, I heard that when your parents encountered Death Eaters, they were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse so many times that they lost their minds. They’re still lying in the hospital now.”

“How tragic.”

“I’ve been hit by that curse once myself. To be honest, it’s not a pleasant experience.”

His voice remained gentle as he said words that hurt Neville deeply.

“Harry became the savior of the wizarding world because his parents died for him. He gained incredible fame and endless tolerance from everyone.”

“But what about you?”

Dawn curled his lips.

The frustration of having his goodwill rejected churned inside him, making him eager to lash out.

“You have nothing, Neville. You lost your parents. You lost your family. That made you insecure.

Because of that, you have no friends. Everyone in the castle laughs at you and bullies you.”

“But look at Malfoy.”

“His family helped Voldemort rise to power. They did all sorts of terrible things. Yet now he still struts around school proudly, enjoying the so-called glory of being pure-blood.”

Dawn watched Neville’s eyes grow redder.

A strange sense of satisfaction rose inside him.

“What did your parents’ sacrifice achieve? Other than leaving you hurt, who even remembers what they did?”

“I remember!”

Neville suddenly shouted, interrupting him.

“I remember! My grandmother remembers! The Longbottom family remembers! A lot of people remember!”

He glared fiercely at Dawn, his chest rising and falling. At that moment, he truly looked like a roaring lion.

Dawn fell silent.

After a long time, he scratched his hair.

“Honestly… why am I even arguing with you about this? I only came to repay a favor.”

“Forget it. Let’s end it here.”

He didn’t want to say anything more.

Raising his wand, he spoke a complicated incantation while Neville watched warily.

°Memory Erasure°

A red light shot forward.

Strands of silvery threads drifted from Neville’s mind, floating into a crystal vial.

Dawn sealed the vial and put it away.

This was a spell Dawn had found in the Restricted Section during the previous school year.

It was essentially an enhanced version of the Memory Charm. It could completely extract memories, leaving no possibility of recovery.

“The nice day is over, Neville.”

Looking at the dazed boy, Dawn sighed softly.

In the end, he hadn’t had the heart to kill him.

Crack.

Flames flashed briefly inside the Ferris wheel. Dawn Apparated back to Neville’s bedroom with the confused boy.

After dropping him onto the floor, Dawn turned to leave.

Then he noticed the silver-glowing herb on the windowsill.

After a moment of thought, he took the Silverstar Grass with him before disappearing again.

Crack.

The loud sound drew the attention of an elderly woman.

“Neville!”

Augusta Longbottom burst into the room, her hat crooked and hair disheveled.

When she saw Neville suddenly appear, she rushed forward and hugged him tightly.

“Thank goodness! Thank goodness you’re back!”

“Grandma?” Neville said slowly, finally shaking off the haze. “What happened to me?”

“That’s what I should be asking you!” Augusta snapped. “Where did you go this afternoon?”

“This afternoon…?”

Neville looked confused and held his head.

“I… I don’t know. I think… I fell asleep somewhere and had a really beautiful dream?”

The experienced Augusta Longbottom frowned immediately.

Something was clearly wrong.

Forgetting her anger, she hurriedly took Neville to St. Mungo’s Hospital.

Neville rested in his grandmother’s arms. His gaze drifted around the room until it settled on the empty windowsill.

For some reason, he felt like something very important was missing.

But what was it?

Time continued to pass.

Countless burning emotions froze into dust during winter.

Like the collapse of Napoleon’s army in the Russian snow. Or the ear Van Gogh severed in the storm.

January 5.

The snow kept falling.

The temperature had dropped sharply.

The damp wind was so cold it felt as though it could strip the flesh from your bones.

Even amusement parks across the country had closed temporarily. But the young witches and wizards could not remain in warm rooms.

Hogwarts had reopened.

Dawn once again transformed into the appearance of Professor Leia Hickman.

After greeting Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, he used the fireplace to return to his office.

He glanced around.

Dust had begun to gather on the decorations. Inside the clock, the little teddy bear lining was sleeping soundly.

Dawn flicked its backside.

Startled awake, the bear hurriedly began adjusting the time.

Dawn looked toward the flower bed in the corner of the office.

He took out the pot of Silverstar Grass from his wallet. With mixed emotions, he planted it into the soil.

Immediately, the alchemical weather device released a few clouds.

A light drizzle began to fall over the flower bed.

The Silverstar Grass swayed gently in the rain.

Unfortunately, since Dawn had never gotten up in the middle of the night to braid its roots, the beautiful flowers had already withered.

Only dark leaves remained.

Dawn dusted off his hands and cleaned both himself and the office with magic.

Then he turned toward a stack of boxes beside the cabinet.

Aside from Professor McGonagall’s gift, which he had received before leaving school, the rest of the Christmas presents had been delivered here.

Curious, he carried them to his desk and began opening them one by one.

Most were from students.

Nothing unusual.

Mostly candy and small decorations.

Fortunately, none of them contained love potions. The sweets were safe to eat.

Compared to those, the gift from the Weasley twins stood out. When Dawn opened the box, the teapot inside sprayed a burst of ink.

Unfortunately for them, Dawn had already noticed the magical circuitry inside.

After organizing the student gifts, he began opening the presents from other professors.

Professor Sprout had apparently heard about the flower bed in his office. She had sent a large collection of seeds.

Dawn had to admit their tastes were remarkably similar.

Professor Flitwick had given him an automatic quill.

According to the label, it could grade assignments automatically once the correct answers were entered.

Very practical.

Dawn placed it beside his desk. Then something unexpected appeared.

Hagrid had sent him a gift.

Inside was a bundle of unicorn hair. High-quality hair taken from the neck.

“Oh…”

After reading Hagrid’s card, Dawn scratched his head awkwardly.

Had he sent Hagrid a gift in return?

Thinking back to the list of recipients he had filled out that afternoon, Dawn realized he had completely forgotten about the giant.

He felt slightly embarrassed.

Knock.

Knock knock.

Dawn heard tapping at the window.

Looking up, he saw the snowy owl he had brought back from the forest.

The owl had grown quite fond of the castle and was practically Hogwarts’ public owl now.

Although it behaved like an ungrateful freeloader, it seemed to be carrying something.

Dawn waved his hand and opened the window with magic. The owl flew inside, shaking snow from its feathers.

It placed a small box on the desk.

“What’s this?”

After checking it with magic to ensure it wasn’t dangerous, Dawn opened the box.

Inside was a pale purple potion.

With his knowledge of potions, Dawn quickly identified it.

A Draught of Living Death.

Opening the card inside confirmed his guess.

It was a Christmas gift from Snape.

Apparently he had only remembered to send it after school reopened. And the gift itself was rather perfunctory.

Dawn examined the potion.

Although the Draught of Living Death was a fairly advanced potion taught in sixth year, it couldn’t compare to the Felix Felicis Slughorn had given him.

But thinking about it, the gift Dawn had sent Snape hadn’t been particularly thoughtful either.

Just some low-grade potion ingredients.

If anything, Dawn had come out ahead in value.

He rubbed his chin and looked again at the simple card. For some reason, Snape’s handwriting seemed darker than usual, as if written in a bad mood.

What Dawn didn’t know was that it actually had something to do with him.

After being knocked out by Dawn that day, Snape had grown increasingly irritated.

He couldn’t even focus properly while brewing potions.

Suddenly—

Knock knock.

Someone was knocking on the office door.

Dawn put the potion down and opened it.

Standing outside was an elderly man with a white beard, wearing pajamas and half-moon glasses.

“Headmaster?”

Dawn looked surprised.

“Good afternoon, Professor Hickman,” Dumbledore said politely, removing his hat. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” Dawn replied.

He stepped aside.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you.”

Dumbledore entered the office.

As he closed the door, he looked at Dawn curiously.

“Professor Hickman, have you not been resting well? You seem rather tired.”

“Perhaps it’s because I just returned from Egypt and haven’t adjusted to the British climate yet,” Dawn said casually. “You know how different the temperatures are.”

In truth, he didn’t know why.

Ever since returning from the amusement park with Neville, he had felt strangely unmotivated.

Yesterday he had intended to investigate the past using the Reappearance Spell.

Instead, he had spent the entire day lying around in the Vatican house doing nothing.

After chatting briefly, Dawn decided not to waste time.

“Headmaster, did you come here for something specific?”

“Yes.”

Dumbledore placed his teacup down.

His expression became serious.

“As you may have heard, Hogwarts encountered a bit of trouble during the Christmas holidays.”

“So in order to prepare for possible dangers in the future, I believe we should add some practical lessons this term.”

He explained his plan.

“I would like to organize a weekly class for all seventh-year students together. It would take place in the Forbidden Forest, on Saturdays or Sundays.”

“Of course, since today is Thursday, we cannot start this week. So it will begin next week.”

“What do you think, Professor Hickman?”

Dawn frowned.

“Why not include it in the regular Defense Against the Dark Arts classes? I could adjust my lesson plans.”

He didn’t like the idea.

Holding classes on weekends would eat into his personal time.

Dumbledore explained calmly.

“The scale of the class will be quite large. Several professors will need to supervise for safety reasons. Coordinating that during the week would be difficult.”

Dawn understood immediately.

Dumbledore had already discussed the matter with the other professors. His objection wouldn’t matter.

So he reluctantly agreed.

Dumbledore didn’t stay long. After a few more minutes of conversation, he left.

Watching him disappear down the corridor, Dawn frowned slightly.

A new class created because of the Christmas incident. His own actions had ended up affecting him after all.

Dawn sighed.

Still, it was only one lesson. It shouldn’t take too long.

He shook his head and glanced at the clock. Then he grabbed a textbook and left the office.

The first class this afternoon was Defense Against the Dark Arts for seventh-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

Although it was annoying to work immediately after returning from vacation, at least this lesson required no preparation.

Because of the upcoming N.E.W.T. exams, seventh-year students didn’t need new material.

They simply needed time to review.

On the way to the classroom, Dawn saw a witch in green robes approaching. “Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall.”

She seemed lost in thought.

Hearing his voice, she stopped.

Seeing Dawn, her expression became strangely complicated. “…Good afternoon, Professor Hickman.”

Then she sighed and walked away quickly.

Why was her attitude so strange?

Dawn stood there, puzzled.

After thinking for a while, he came up with one explanation. Maybe she hadn’t liked the catnip he had given her.

Still pondering this, Dawn reached the classroom.

All the students had already arrived.

The seventh-years were tense.

None of them seemed affected by the end of the holidays. Each student practiced spells diligently for the upcoming exams.

Dawn sat at the desk doing nothing for the entire lesson.

When the bell rang, he dismissed the class and left immediately.

When he returned to his office, the prefects from each house had already delivered the Christmas assignments from all seven year groups.

For convenience, Dawn had assigned the same topic to everyone.

Research on Dark Creatures.

Students were supposed to find a creature not covered in class, research it thoroughly, and describe an effective method of countering it.

Dawn sat down and looked at the mountain of parchment. Then he looked at the automatic quill Flitwick had given him.

He regretted not assigning multiple-choice questions.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

Sipping his tea, Dawn sighed and began grading.

He expected to spend the entire afternoon on it. But Hogwarts students had kindly made his job easier.

More than sixty percent of the assignments were nearly identical.

For example—

Most Hufflepuffs wrote about banshees.

A creature similar to humans but capable of producing a shriek that causes dizziness.

Many Gryffindors wrote about boggarts.

Although boggarts were actually covered in the textbook, Dawn had skipped the topic because it was too simple.

The Gryffindors had clearly taken advantage of that loophole.

In Slytherin, more than sixty percent wrote about dementors. The creatures that guarded Azkaban and fed on happiness and souls.

Among all four houses, Ravenclaw performed the best.

Most of their essays were thoughtful and original.

Among the worst examples were the assignments from Harry and Ron. Their essays were over seventy percent identical to Hermione’s.

Dawn pulled the three essays aside.

After thinking for a moment, he wrote “Fail” on all of them.

He was curious to see how Hermione would react when arguing with her two unreliable friends.

Ah.

The power of being a professor was truly wonderful.

Dawn stretched lazily.

His mood had improved.

Clearly, his mind worked best when he was being mischievous.

By six o’clock, Dawn had finished grading all the assignments.

He stopped a Hufflepuff student outside and asked him to inform the prefects to collect the graded work.

Thus the first day of the new term passed slowly amid trivial matters.

___________

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