At the same time—

In the library.

Madam Pince raised her head from the book in her hands for what must have been the umpteenth time.

She simply couldn’t concentrate today.

Because there was a faint but persistent smell of garlic tickling her nose.

“Why has Professor Quirrell been coming to the library so often lately?” she muttered discontentedly, forcing herself to focus back on the pages before her.

But in the Restricted Section, out of Madam Pince’s sight—

Quirrell, wrapped in his purple turban, was clutching a thin book tightly in his hands.

His face was as pale as paper as he lowered his voice with effort.

“Master… Master… I’ve found it. I’ve finally found it!”

“Idiot! Is that something to boast about? You’ve wasted five whole days!”

A sharp voice scolded him from inside his mind. “Memorize the contents quickly, leave the library, and go cast the spell somewhere private!”

…

…

Good times always end too quickly.

When Madam Hooch announced the end of class and began collecting the brooms, a chorus of reluctant sighs rose from the young witches and wizards.

Still, since it was their last class of the week, they quickly cheered up and broke into groups, chatting excitedly about tomorrow’s Quidditch match.

“Aemon Carter!”

After exiting the flying grounds, Dawn stepped forward and blocked the path of the blond boy heading back to the tower.

Aemon blinked, startled.

He looked up and frowned at the familiar boy in front of him, speaking coldly, “What do you want?”

Because of their conflict before the school term began, Aemon held quite a grudge against Dawn. He had vowed to study hard and someday reclaim his dignity, returning every ounce of humiliation with interest.

But…

Two weeks had passed.

And based on Dawn’s performance in Charms and Transfiguration, Aemon realized he might need more time than he thought.

Although he was astonished by the other boy’s grasp of magic, it didn’t mean he had warmed up to him at all.

Noticing the tension, the two Ravenclaw students walking with Aemon exchanged glances and shrugged, stepping around Dawn and continuing on their way.

Several Gryffindor students lingered nearby, observing the interaction, but since it involved Ravenclaws, they hesitated to intervene.

Dawn ignored the others. He raised his hand, displaying a photograph.

“Do you recognize this person?”

“What?” Aemon clicked his tongue impatiently.

He was about to act tough—after all, with a crowd around, he had nothing to fear.

But the next moment, as he glimpsed the rain-splattered photo up close, his eyes widened in shock.

“That’s… my great-grandmother? How do you have a photo of my great-grandmother?! Give it back!”

He spoke in disbelief, reaching to grab it.

But Dawn swiftly pulled the photo away with a flick of his arm.

As expected.

Dawn sighed inwardly and said calmly, “Don’t worry. I’ll return it to you. But first, you’ll need to answer a few questions.”

Aemon hesitated for a moment, but after another glance at the photo, he gave in.

“…Fine. Ask.”

“Is your family large?” Dawn asked.

Aemon was momentarily confused.

“From a wizard’s perspective, I suppose. Not as big as the Weasleys, though… But why do you ask?”

The Carter family, while not among the Sacred Twenty-Eight and known for marrying Muggles, didn’t control any major industries. Still, in terms of sheer numbers, they weren’t small.

“I see. So quite a few from your family attended Hogwarts as well?” Dawn asked thoughtfully.

“Of course. There’s only one wizarding school in the country… My cousin graduated from Hogwarts just two years ago.”

Though puzzled, Aemon explained.

So that’s it… Dawn felt a bit more relaxed.

He had found the diary from the fairytale book in the Room of Requirement, and now he had coincidentally run into a descendant of the diary’s author… perhaps it wasn’t such an unlikely coincidence after all.

“…Alright! Can you return my great-grandmother’s photo now?!”

Aemon, growing impatient at the silence, reached out again.

But Dawn took a step back, once more avoiding him.

“You—!” Aemon stumbled into a muddy puddle, frustrated.

Dawn calmly wiped the rainwater off the surface of the photograph.

“Relax. Just one last question… Your family’s bloodline carries a curse, doesn’t it?”

“How did you…” Aemon flinched, his voice dropping low.

He was about to demand how Dawn knew, but seeing the photo in the boy’s hand, he swallowed the question.

This time, Aemon hesitated longer.

He glanced around at the nearby students and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Yes. It’s true. Our family is cursed… Damn it! You already know all this!”

Dawn raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “So, are you a carrier of the curse?”

“Of course not!” Aemon snapped.

Realizing he’d overreacted, he paused before continuing.

“I really am not. Ever since my great-grandmother, no blood curse carriers have been allowed to attend school.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

“No idea. It was ages ago. I never bothered to find out… The only reason I recognized the photo is because everyone used to say I looked like her when I was a kid.”

Aemon replied, then said irritably, “Are we done? I’m not standing in the rain for this!”

“Oh, my bad. I forgot… From what I’ve seen, you don’t exactly look like someone who could cast a water-repelling charm.”

Dawn shrugged.

Ignoring Aemon’s clenched fists, he finally handed the photo back.

He’d already examined it. Just a normal picture. Nothing hidden.

“By the way, what does the blood curse do to your family?” Dawn asked casually. The diary had referred to it using the name of a beast, and he was curious.

Aemon considered this. Since Dawn already knew about the blood curse, this hardly felt worth keeping secret.

“Donkey,” he answered bluntly.

“…What?” Dawn’s hand, still holding the photo, froze.

“Donkey,” Aemon repeated, puzzled by Dawn’s sudden wide-eyed stare.

Donkey…

The word echoed in Dawn’s mind, momentarily stunning him.

His pupils went unfocused as memories surged back—of the book’s rough leather cover, of the strange manuscript scrawled in fury.

[Those damned, stupid, ugly wizards! Jealous of me, they dared to say the nightmare I brought forth was nothing but an ordinary donkey!

Ha! Ridiculous!

My masterpiece—how could it possibly be… a donkey?]

It was as if the scent of aged ink from the diary wafted back into his nose.

Aemon Carter…

Carter…

Donkey…

Bang!

Dawn’s expression shifted dramatically. He grabbed Aemon by the collar and growled, “Sika Carter… what is your family’s connection to Sika Carter?!”

________________

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