This was a plan Dawn had already prepared before stepping into the tent.

He needed the Carter family’s help, whether it was for lifting curses or obtaining certain resources.

Since he had already decided to make an Unbreakable Vow, there was no need to waste time with the inefficient use of the Imperius Curse for interrogation.

Still—

Dawn had originally intended to rely on life-threatening coercion, worried there was a chance his subject might choose death over compliance. But now, with the presence of a child, things had become much simpler.

“No.”

It was the man—Harris—who spoke. “Everything I’ve told you is true.”

Harris felt a flicker of relief.

Since the questions were all about curses and such, he figured there was no need to lie. He hadn’t expected that telling the truth here would actually work to his advantage.

Dawn was a little surprised, but since the Unbreakable Vow hadn’t reacted, he chose not to press the issue.

Before moving on to his next question, Dawn released the Disillusionment Charm he had been maintaining, his figure appearing in the air as it twisted back into place.

“You…”

Harris froze in shock when a child suddenly appeared before his eyes. Judging from the voice and manner, he had assumed the other was some shriveled old dark wizard.

But when he saw those scarlet eyes, he blurted out instinctively, “Dawn Richter?”

Dawn raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You actually know me?”

Though the Ministry of Magic had posted his wanted notice, the photo had only been out for a little more than a day. He hadn’t expected someone in Egypt to recognize him so quickly.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d never report you to the Ministry.”

The man quickly recovered and raised his hands, showing the flame-shaped mark on his wrist.

“Aemon Carter is my nephew,” he explained hurriedly.

“He once wrote home saying you had found a portrait of Olivia, perhaps even something she left behind in the castle. And since my son is also a blood-curse carrier, I couldn’t help but pay attention to you.”

Seeing Dawn’s expression, Harris gave a nervous, harmless smile.

To be honest—

He had thought the Daily Prophet’s story was nonsense. A boy killing a professor sounded far too exaggerated. But after what he had just witnessed, he was starting to believe that in this world, nothing was truly impossible.

“I see.” Dawn shrugged, showing that he understood.

At that moment, Harris hesitated before asking cautiously, “Forgive me, but… if you really do have something of Olivia’s, could you let me see it?”

“You care that much?”

Harris nodded earnestly. “Yes. I want to know if she left behind anything that might slow the onset of the blood curse.”

“Oh?” Dawn stroked his chin with interest. “That is strange.”

He recalled how he had once tried to stir Aemon Carter’s curiosity so that he might pass along information, but the attempt had failed.

Pulling out a stool, Dawn sat down. “If you truly cared, I would have thought that after Aemon wrote back, your family would have taken greater interest.”

Harris gave a bitter smile. “That’s because what Olivia left behind was nothing but trouble…”

He took a deep breath.

“Can you believe it? After her time, the Hogwarts Board of Governors even issued a joint statement refusing to admit any child from the Carter family.

Eventually, the ban was limited only to blood-curse carriers, but most of the family wanted nothing more to do with her.”

Thinking of that cryptic portrait back in the castle, Dawn assumed a look of curiosity. “And what did she do?”

Harris did not hold back. “Do you know she was searching for the Fountain of Fair Fortune?”

“Of course. I found her diary.”

Dawn took out a stack of parchment from his wallet and pressed it against the counter.

“By the way, I also know that Headmaster Derwent gave her a copy of his ancestor’s notes. Did the Carter family preserve that record?”

Harris shook his head. “Not the original, but I know the gist.”

He explained,

“Headmaster Derwent’s ancestor, Eldrithe, wrote in her notes that—at the age of sixteen—she accidentally knocked over a vial of Felix Felicis.

She inhaled its vapors and, in a half-dreaming state, wandered into a forest where she found a spring. She drank from it, and in that same hazy state returned.”

Dawn tapped his thigh with a finger. “So that spring was the Fountain of Fair Fortune?”

“That’s what Eldrithe claimed.” Harris nodded.

“According to her, ever since that day, everything she did succeeded. She could cure illnesses she had never even seen before, just by instinctively mixing herbs.

And she was lucky throughout her life—whenever she faced hardship, whether it was poverty or conflict, someone always appeared at just the right time to help her through.”

Harris wore the expression of a man telling a legend.

Dawn could understand—such tales hardly sounded like reality.

“So Olivia tried the same thing? Inhaling Felix vapors?”

“Yes, she did,” Harris admitted. “But that wasn’t what caused disaster.”

He sighed, glancing at his vacant-eyed child beside him, then pulled out a piece of clothing from behind the counter and carefully dressed William as he continued.

“After every attempt to find the Fountain failed, Olivia decided that before the blood curse completely transformed her into a beast, she would take one final gamble.

“She snuck into the Potions master’s storeroom, stole everything inside, and slipped out of the castle to sell or trade it all for Felix Felicis.”

At that, even Dawn was momentarily stunned.

He couldn’t help wondering—if it had been Snape who discovered his stores stripped bare, what kind of expression would he have worn?

“You foolish, greedy little brats—one hundred points from each of you!”

The thought made Dawn chuckle.

Harris went on:

“Though Felix Felicis was scarce, by paying exorbitant prices Olivia managed to obtain enough for about seventy-two hours of effect.

“And then… she drank it all.”

“All at once?” Dawn arched a brow.

When Harris nodded, Dawn could only exclaim silently to himself.

Everyone knew the rule: in one year, no more than twenty-four hours of Felix Felicis in total.

An overdose not only made the drinker recklessly overconfident but also inflicted irreversible damage on the body.

But to consume seventy-two hours’ worth in a single gulp… Dawn couldn’t help but wonder what on earth that would do to someone.

As Harris recounted the tale, his face twisted with an indescribable expression.

But more than anything, he remembered the mountains of gold Galleons in compensation, and sighed at how utterly ruinous his ancestor had been.

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