Monday.
It was a day universally disliked, whether by Muggles or wizards, students or professors.
At least, that was how Dawn felt.
From the morning onward, he endured the faint but persistent stench lingering in the air while teaching three consecutive classes.
By the ti the sun finally dipped below the horizon, he was done with the miserable routine for the day.
The sa task felt completely different depending on one's situation.
Right now, Dawn could not understand how he had ever tolerated this kind of work before.
Pushing aside his complaints, he cast a Cleaning Charm on himself, assigned howork, and left the classroom. After turning a corner, he returned to his office.
Following the sequence of actions he had seen in his future self, he first finished grading the accumulated assignnts.
Then, when the moon had risen high, he took out the Resurrection Stone from his robes.
The black stone glead faintly inside the wooden box.
Dawn pulled out a piece of parchnt, transford it into a file, and held the stone between his fingers.
He narrowed his eyes.
To be honest, even now, he still did not understand the purpose of grinding the Resurrection Stone into powder.
To connect to the thoughts of the dead? To allow the dead to return to reality?
What did any of that have to do with him?
In fact, if this entire situation had never happened, his own consciousness would not have ended up inside the Weasley twins, nor would he have fallen into a coma.
No matter how he looked at it, this was clearly a harmful act.
Yet, because he had seen his future self do it, he had no choice but to follow through.
Dawn shook his head and dragged the file across the stone.
A thin layer of powder fell onto the parchnt.
He continued.
At that mont, a loud noise ca from outside the window, making him pause.
"Mr. Weasley, what do you think you're doing?"
McGonagall's angry voice echoed, loud enough to seem like it shook the floor.
Dawn glanced outside instinctively, then rembered this scene from his mories. He shook his head and ignored it.
A few owls, startled by the commotion, flapped past the window, drawing his attention.
He knew that one of them was his past self.
That version of him was probably watching right now, cursing him in frustration.
After all, he himself had done exactly that before.
Dawn smiled wryly.
At this mont, he finally understood the terrifying nature of ti.
His past self had seen him grinding the Resurrection Stone, and so, when that version eventually used the Ti-Turner, he would be forced to repeat the sa action.
Just as he himself had seen his future self, and now had to follow the sa path.
As for the real reason behind this action?
No one knew.
Within a closed ti loop, so actions existed without cause, while others that seed perfectly logical were simply erased.
It was as if—
Ti itself dictated the path he had to walk.
Dawn's expression darkened under the lamplight.
He hated this feeling of having no control.
The scraping sound of file against stone continued, steady and chanical, as he thought more deeply about ti.
Throughout history, countless wizards had been fascinated by ti, and naturally, many studies had been left behind.
Dawn recalled a book he had once read.
It was thin, containing only a process with no conclusion.
At the ti, he had treated it like a simple story. But now, he rembered it clearly.
The experint described in the book was simple.
One morning, the author had soone create a test based on the contents of his personal library.
The questions were difficult, many of which the author did not know the answers to. However, the test was solvable, as long as one consulted the books.
But the author did not do that.
Instead, he used a Ti-Turner and firmly convinced himself that he would complete the test, then travel back in the evening to give the answers to his past self.
The mont he made that decision, a completed answer sheet appeared in the room.
He copied the answers onto the test.
Then, instead of studying, he spent the rest of the day doing sothing else.
In the evening, he wrote down the answers, traveled back in ti, and tossed the paper to his past self.
The loop was complete.
So the question was—.If he never looked up the answers, where did they co from?
The book ended there, offering no explanation.
Back then, Dawn had thought about it briefly, found no answer, and set it aside.
Later, he beca absorbed in studying magical creature transformation and forgot about it entirely.
But now, after everything he had experienced, the mory returned vividly.
Ti was far more terrifying than he had once thought.
He had once used ti to complete the Felix Felicis ritual, and because of that, he had grown sowhat dismissive of it, treating it as nothing more than a useful tool.
And now, he was being restricted by it.
Still—
He did not believe his past decision had been foolish.
Replacing his present self with a future version had allowed him to delay disaster.
Yes, using the Ti-Turner had shown him the bracelet, forcing him to wear it to maintain consistency.
But everything that had happened since then was also shaped by circumstance.
Even without the Ti-Turner, if he had walked straight into Dumbledore's trap, could he have avoided it?
The final grains of powder fell.
The black stone was gone.
Dawn poured the powder into the spray bottle, stood up, and returned to his bedroom. After concealing himself with magic, he took out the white bracelet.
The one he had removed from his future self.
Holding it under the light, he examined the intricate magical circuits.
The design was exquisite.
Circuits concealed within circuits, runes hidden beneath runes.
Dawn had to admit that with his current understanding of alchemy and runes, he could not detect any flaw.
Which ant: Even without the Ti-Turner, he might have worn the bracelet without realizing anything was wrong.
And without another version of himself to remove it— He might never have woken up.
That would have been an even worse outco.
Dawn rubbed his temples.
The question that had been troubling him resurfaced again. How had his identity been exposed?
He carefully reviewed his actions during the Christmas period.
In the end, he identified the only possible flaw: The magical creatures created from his blood.
Had Dumbledore used them to track him?
Thinking of the creatures he had not had ti to destroy, Dawn made a decision to recover all of them when he had the chance.
The night passed in thought.
The next morning, before dawn, Dawn got up and carried the spray bottle filled with Resurrection Stone powder to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Each year group had two classes per week.
Even starting from Tuesday, the powder would eventually reach almost every student.
Except for those who had failed their fifth-year exams and lost the right to continue the subject.
He opened the spray bottle.
A minty mist spread through the room.
He inhaled the powder first..Perhaps because of the small dosage, he did not fall asleep.
He sat quietly at the front.
A few owls flew past the window.
Dawn turned his head to look.
He knew his past self was among them, watching, hoping to glean sothing about the future.
But—
"Sorry," Dawn murmured inwardly. "I didn't get any answers either. And to maintain the tiline, I can't give you any."
The classroom door burst open.
Several students rushed in, laughing and shouting, only to freeze when they saw the professor already present.
Dawn waved them to their seats.
Once everyone had arrived, he began the lesson. At the sa ti, he observed their reactions to the powder.
Everything appeared normal.
When the bell rang, he assigned howork and imdiately headed for the library.
If he was going to be captured through unconsciousness, then he needed a counterasure.
Perhaps a magical creature immune to Stunning Spells.
Unfortunately, he found nothing.
Only a disturbing idea crossed his mind about breeding magical creatures with Muggles to create wizards.
Leaving the library, he encountered two Slytherin students.
One of them, Blaise, was complaining.
"I had the strangest dream at lunch. I was boxing a Muggle and getting beaten for ages."
So the powder was already taking effect?
Dawn listened from behind.
Blaise showed no signs of being replaced.
That ant even after the Resurrection Stone was destroyed, connecting with the dead did not necessarily bring them back.
There must be other conditions.
And—
Blaise only talked about the dream. He did not ntion the liminal illusion at all.
Which suggested, Dawn had not failed to enter that place before. He had simply forgotten.
With those conclusions in mind, Dawn moved on.
Everything proceeded as expected.
Classes continued.
Dumbledore discussed part of the weekend plan with McGonagall.
At seven in the evening, Dawn left his office.
He knew his past self was waiting as an owl, expecting to switch places. But that plan had already been abandoned.
Following the tiline, Dawn went to the library instead.
Partly to signal the change.
Mostly to find ways to protect his mory.
He rembered that Dumbledore would try to read his mind after he fell unconscious.
He needed preparation.
He had an idea.
To fix the altered ntal patterns caused by Occluncy onto an external layer, using natural magic to stabilize them.
After hours of searching, he found nothing useful.
The best thod ntioned was extracting mories entirely, like what he had done to Neville.
Dawn rejected that option.
He chose his original plan.
Back in his office, he experinted with the outer layer, identifying which patterns were tied to his immortality.
Then, using Occluncy, he reshaped the outer layer accordingly.
Soon, he felt a faint sense of sothing covering his mind. He nodded in satisfaction.
Finally, he took out the Ti-Turner and the white bracelet.
They could not be left for Dumbledore to find. The best place to hide them was his hidden base.
He had once monitored his future self and never saw him leave the castle. But that did not an it never happened.
Using the Floo network and Apparition, the trip could be done in minutes.
And so, during a quiet night, Dawn completed everything. No interference from ti.
With all preparations done, he waited.
Saturday arrived. The weather was clear.
Dawn dressed carefully. This would likely be the last ti he used the identity of Leah Hickman.
Then, after giving the office one last long look, Dawn closed the door behind him and left.
He stepped out of the castle, walked across the snow, and made his way to the outer edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The other professors were already there.
Dawn greeted them briefly, said nothing more, and took his place at the very back of the group.
During this ti, he discreetly observed Dumbledore.
The old headmaster's expression was calm and flawless, leaving no trace of anything unusual.
Dawn could only sigh inwardly at how masterful his acting was.
The wind rustled through the trees.
It did not take long before the students, having finished breakfast, arrived one after another.
They naturally split into four groups according to their Houses.
Once everyone had gathered, Dumbledore stepped forward from the line of professors and raised his voice to address the students.
"This practical lesson will last four hours, beginning at eight and ending at noon.
The activity area is restricted to the outer section of the Forbidden Forest, marked by boundary lines."
Dawn kept his hands tucked inside his sleeves.
His gaze lingered on a particular tree with thick foliage, and as Dumbledore spoke, his thoughts slowly drifted.
He knew what he was about to do.
Sothing that would make the owl watching from behind lose its mind in frustration.
But he had no choice.
He had once stood in that sa tree, cursing just as angrily. Yet what had happened could not be changed.
No matter how unwilling he was, he had to wear the bracelet today.
Dawn let out a quiet sigh.
By then, Dumbledore had finished explaining all the precautions.
He instructed the students to take the black bracelets and enter the forest one by one.
Before long, the sounds of triggered traps echoed from deeper within.
Amid startled cries and occasional screams, Dumbledore glanced at the professors, then took out a bag.
White bracelets floated out from within and landed one after another on a nearby stone platform.
"All right, let us begin our work," the headmaster said, stepping forward to pick up the first bracelet and fastening it onto his wrist.
McGonagall and the others followed in turn.
Finally, Dawn stepped forward and picked up the last remaining bracelet.
He narrowed his eyes, studying the magical circuits engraved upon it, then glanced at the ones worn by the other professors.
He could not help but admire the craftsmanship.
Though their functions differed, the surface patterns of the magical circuits were completely identical.
Such exquisite work reminded him of Nicolas Flal, and he began to wonder if this might be his handiwork.
The man was on the verge of death and still making trouble.
Dawn let out a faint snort.
He could feel Dumbledore's gaze on him, calm as ever.
Deliberately, he did not put the bracelet on right away, instead turning it over in his hand as if idly playing with it, wondering whether the headmaster felt any tension at this mont.
Even if he did not know Dumbledore's thoughts, Dawn knew his own.
He was far from relaxed.
Before, he had relied on the fact that ti had not yet looped back. He had boldly stepped through the Veil, confident that he would return safely.
Now, things were different.
The ti loop ended at the point where he lost his mind and fell unconscious.
After putting on this bracelet, whether he would wake up again, and what he would encounter, were all uncertain.
Perhaps the warning from the wooden slip about an impending crisis did not refer to falling into Dumbledore's trap, but rather to losing his consciousness within his own body.
The thought surfaced again.
Still, he was not entirely without hope. The strange behavior of the Weasley twins suggested that there was still a chance to turn things around.
Dawn steadied himself.
Under the rare sunlight, he lifted his head and smiled at Dumbledore.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.
In an instant, the magical circuits lit up.
A wave of drowsiness crashed into his mind, as if soone had struck his head several tis in succession.
His limbs began to lose control.
Before his vision faded into darkness, with the last trace of clarity, he dispelled the transformation of Leah Hickman and collapsed in his true form.
Faintly, in the blur of his fading awareness, he heard the sound of an owl crashing violently into a tree.
___________
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