“Wa-Wait a moment!”

Not long after Dawn stepped into the castle, his mind full of questions, a voice suddenly called out from behind him.

Dawn turned his head.

At the castle gate, he saw a hesitant-looking Neville.

The chubby boy was dripping wet, his hair matted to his forehead. He wanted to come closer, but seeing the water soaking the hem of his clothes, he deliberately stopped at a distance.

“What is it?” Dawn asked him.

“That pot of Silver Star Herb…”

Neville’s voice was soft, hesitant yet hopeful. “It bloomed last night… it was really beautiful. Would you… would you like to come see it?”

“It bloomed?” Dawn was slightly surprised.

He then remembered—Professor Sprout had mentioned once that if nurtured with care, the Silver Star Herb could indeed bloom at night with crescent-shaped flowers that shimmered faintly.

“Mhm!” Neville nodded and gathered his courage to repeat, “Really, it’s very beautiful… I thought, maybe you’d be interested…”

Interested?

Maybe the old Dawn would’ve been.

But right now, he just wanted to find a quiet place and finish reading the final pages of the parchment diary—to see if it contained any more information about the Carter family’s blood curse.

Dawn rubbed his cheek and gave Neville an apologetic look. “Sorry, Neville… maybe next time. I have something to take care of right now.”

“…Oh.”

Neville’s eyes dimmed a little, but he didn’t insist.

He nodded faintly and pressed his lips together. “Then… I’ll keep the flower blooming until you’re free.”

“Is that so? Thanks, that’s very kind of you.” After saying a few casual words, Dawn waved and walked off.

Neville watched his back disappear, biting his lip with a disappointed expression, then turned and left with his head down.

…….

Back in the Room of Requirement.

Dawn took out the remaining part of the diary and continued reading from where he had stopped before flying class.

[…]

“Perhaps because I didn’t believe in the Fountain of Fair Fortune, Headmistress Derwent secretly told me something.”

“She said that in the story of the Fountain, the witch who was robbed of her wand and gold—longing for the waters to relieve her poverty and weakness—was named Altheda Derwent.”

“Yes, that was the headmistress’s ancestor from a thousand years ago!”

Dawn raised an eyebrow.

Why did it feel like the word “ancestor” kept showing up in his life lately?

That said, in *The Tales of Beedle the Bard*, the witch named Altheda was indeed known for her skill in herbology and healing others.

So Headmistress Derwent moonlighting as a healer at St. Mungo’s—was it a family tradition?

A few thoughts passed through Dawn’s mind.

But these weren’t what he was focused on right now, so he quickened his pace and began skimming the lines rapidly.

“The headmistress gave me a notebook, said to be passed down from Altheda herself. It recorded all her life’s achievements and experiences.”

“I opened it and found it filled with dozens of methods and potions for healing!”

“Headmistress Derwent must’ve noticed my surprise and smiled, saying it was fine—these methods had long been shared with St. Mungo’s, so I needn’t feel burdened.”

“She also said learning some healing methods would help me suppress the blood curse within myself.”

“She told me to flip to the back of the notebook.”

[…]

Dawn also flipped the last page of the parchment.

Although he was more eager to learn about the Carter family, he couldn’t help but be curious about the secret behind the Fountain of Fair Fortune.

He looked down at the final remaining piece of parchment.

But unexpectedly, there was no continuation of the story.

Large portions of the diary were missing, even the dates had jumped ahead drastically.

“1782. I am 17 years old.”

“The blood curse is getting more frequent. Based on my calculations, I won’t last more than a month before fully turning into a beast.”

“I know I no longer have time to pursue the secret of the Fountain.”

“But I’m not willing to give up!”

“If I had no hope, perhaps I could sigh and accept death peacefully before I lose myself.”

“But now—I can’t.”

“I want to try one last time!”

“But before that, I will hide my diary between the pages of a fairy tale book, somewhere in the castle, as proof that I once existed.”

“If I succeed, I’ll return and complete the diary, and reveal it to the world as one of my greatest achievements.”

“But if I fail, then those mistaken theories are better left buried, not laughed at.”

“So—”

“To the one who follows—”

“Whoever you are… if you one day find this in the castle, it means… I ultimately failed.”

……..

“Harry, are you saying… your scar hurt a little when you saw Dawn Richter?”

In the Gryffindor common room, Ron gave an order to his wizard chess pieces while asking the boy across from him.

Harry nodded, a little distracted. “Yeah, but it only hurt that one time. It hasn’t reacted since.”

“You know, maybe your scar can detect future dark wizards or something… Remember what we overheard that night? This Dawn doesn’t seem like a good guy!”

Ron joked, “After all, your scar is linked to You-Know-Who, it having some weird powers is totally normal.”

“Ron, that’s not funny.”

Harry ruffled his hair, a little annoyed, but didn’t want to be harsh to his friend, so he replied jokingly too.

“And I never felt anything like that when I looked at Malfoy!”

“Right, right! We know that git’s bad to the bone. He’s definitely going to be a dark wizard one day!”

Ron sounded so convinced that he even convinced himself.

“Maybe I just caught a chill or something.” Harry thought for a moment. Since he couldn’t figure it out, he shook his head and focused on his chess game.

But at that moment—

He saw the Gryffindor common room door swing open, and a girl carrying books walked in.

“Hey! Hermione!” Harry stood up and waved.

Hermione looked over at the sound, and after a moment of thought, walked in their direction.

But just as she passed by a windowsill, she paused in her steps. “Huh? Isn’t this a Silver Star Herb? Who left it here?”

“Oh, that’s Rad Llewellyn’s.”

Ron replied, “He got it from Professor Sprout but didn’t want to take care of it, so he left it here. Said whoever sees it can water it if they like.”

“…How irresponsible.”

Hermione frowned, looking at the wilted leaves. She fetched some water and poured it into the pot.

Ron shrugged, a bit smug and amused.

“If you ask me, he’s just jealous that Neville’s Silver Star Herb bloomed… He always talks down to Neville, saying he has no magical talent, but turns out—he’s not even close to Neville!”

“What did you say? Neville’s Silver Star Herb bloomed?!”

Hermione’s expression turned shocked, her words tumbling out faster.

“I also got a Silver Star Herb from Professor Sprout. I looked it up in the library.”

“For it to bloom, you need fertilizer specially mixed with Mooncalf dung, and you must warm it with magic for half an hour every night at exactly midnight and again at 3 a.m.!”

“If it’s interrupted even once, the flower will instantly wither!”

She looked doubtful. “Are you two sure you didn’t see it wrong?”

Hearing all those troublesome steps, Harry and Ron glanced at each other, suddenly unsure, “But… Neville’s Silver Star Herb really did bloom…”

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