Dawn opened his eyes.
The deafening roar of an engine filled his ears.
Specks of color flickered across his vision like scattered snow, gradually connecting into a complete and vivid world.
He found himself standing in a narrow aisle. Rows of seats lined both sides, filled with people of all kinds.
Where was this?
Dawn felt a mont of confusion and raised a hand to his head.
But the clarity ca quickly.
His gaze sharpened as he looked around. Through a round window on the wall, clouds rushed past at high speed.
An airplane.
He was in the sky.
Dawn frowned, then suddenly realized sothing. His eyes swept across the passengers one by one, finally stopping on a man wearing an eye mask, a man nad Cindy.
As expected.
Dawn took a slow breath.
This was the sa flight he had taken when leaving Egypt, heading toward New Zealand to study the Phoenix trait pattern.
After the initial surprise faded, he quickly cald down and ford a conclusion.
He had been captured by Dumbledore and thrown into the Veil. Yet he had opened his eyes here. There was only one explanation.
Soone had connected to his mind.
Dawn recalled his previous experiences and reached that conclusion with ease. He showed no panic and instead examined his current state.
He was a shadow.
There was no need for testing. His faint, translucent appearance made it obvious.
After a mont of thought, he coughed lightly and waved his hand in front of a nearby passenger.
Watching the lack of reaction, he confird that he could not be touched. At the sa ti, he was neither seen nor heard.
A strange state.
Could it be that when he had once connected to the minds of the dead, they had observed him in the sa way?
Dawn frowned slightly.
Then he turned his attention back to the cabin.
It was filled with people. They flipped through magazines, chatted with one another, or ate and drank.
This scene was unexpected.
When he had previously fallen into dreams caused by the Resurrection Stone powder, he had tested sothing at Hogwarts. That place could only show the dead who existed in reality.
So what was happening here?
Were all these people already dead a year later?
Dawn narrowed his eyes. That was impossible.
Which ant there had to be so special factor at work.
His thoughts naturally drifted to the Resurrection Stone, now ground into powder and completely consud.
He had no concrete proof, but he felt that whether the stone remained intact or was completely destroyed led to entirely different outcos.
Still, that was not the most important issue.
Dawn shook his head.
What mattered now was how to return to reality, just as Avery had taken over Lee Jordan's body before.
First, he needed to find the person connected to him.
That part was not difficult.
If connecting minds ant replacing soone and stepping into their experience, then he only needed to go to the place where he had once been.
Dawn acted imdiately. He walked down the aisle toward the rear of the cabin. Back then, he had been standing there under a Disillusionnt Charm.
Soon, he reached the cold tal wall at the back. He studied the seemingly empty space with interest.
He could not see the exact position of the other person, but he was not worried.
If he rembered correctly, what ca next would be—
Fred felt that his experiences today could fill an entire book.
First, he had been knocked out in the Forbidden Forest. Then he dread of the Burrow. After tripping in the garden, he had sohow ended up in a completely unfamiliar place.
None of it made sense.
It felt less like magic and more like so child's bizarre fantasy story.
He stared around in confusion.
A tal shell.
A low humming noise.
A trembling floor.
And a crowd of obvious Muggles.
"A dream within a dream?"
Fred muttered, eyes wide. For the first ti, he truly felt that sothing was wrong, yet he had no explanation.
He examined his surroundings and guessed that this was so kind of Muggle transport, similar in concept to a flying broom.
But why would he dream of this place?
Fred was completely lost.
He pressed himself against the wall and looked at the passengers ahead. After a mont of hesitation, he decided to approach them and ask for information.
But before he could take a step—
A sudden, overwhelming sense of danger seized him.
It felt as if a beast had clamped its jaws around his throat. Cold sweat poured from his body.
What was happening?
His hair stood on end. He tried to turn his head, but to his horror, he found that he could not move at all.
A sharp pain erupted in his chest and spread through his body, numbing his limbs.
Then—
Blood burst out.
A spray of warm liquid surged from his throat, splattering across the floor. His vision turned red.
He felt as though sothing had been taken from him. His body went weak. A cold wind seed to blow through him, producing a hollow, whistling sound.
At the sa ti, an old, obscure voice echoed faintly in his ears.
"Oh my..."
"It's Fred."
Dawn narrowed his eyes as he watched the red-haired boy appear out of thin air, a gaping hole torn through his chest.
He recognized him instantly.
So his suspicion had been correct. There was sothing wrong with the Weasley twins.
Dawn observed Fred lying on the ground and considered his next move.
At that mont, a strange pull began to emanate from Fred's body. Dawn's gaze wavered.
The feeling was difficult to describe.
Like seeing the warm glow of a fireplace in the middle of a frozen wasteland.
Dawn stepped forward instinctively.
After two steps, he regained control and broke free from the pull. But he did not stop moving.
Now he understood.
As Fred's life faded and the pull grew stronger, the answer beca clear.
If Fred died here, Dawn could attach his mind to him and return to reality in a different form.
Simple.
A faint smile curved on Dawn's lips.
In the past, he had survived this process by spreading a curse.
But Fred was not him.
This dream was terrible.
At the rear of the cabin, Fred lay half-collapsed on the floor. His pupils were unfocused. Blood mixed with clots spilled from his mouth.
He stared at the blood-soaked object lying before him.
Ah...
That was a heart, right?
It had to be a heart.
Wait...
Was it his heart?
Fred stared at the lump of flesh that still seed to twitch faintly.
For so reason, his thoughts drifted back to the first lesson Professor Hickman had given them, along with the strange object he had shown.
You shouldn't leave sothing like this on the ground. It could be worth a lot of money. Maybe it could fund a joke shop.
Fred felt a sudden sense of regret.
Perhaps because he was dying, his thoughts beca wildly active, jumping from one absurd idea to another.
At one point, he even wanted to reach out and touch his own heart.
But—
It hurt.
The pain was overwhelming, crushing what little consciousness he had left.
It felt as though a giant python was wrapping around him, squeezing the life out of him before swallowing him whole.
Damn it...
Wasn't this supposed to be a dream?
Why did it hurt so much?
Fred grumbled weakly in his mind. His breathing grew faint. Darkness crept into his vision.
He just wanted to wake up.
Then, in a haze—
A hoarse, sharp voice suddenly hissed in his mind, like a snake striking.
"Idiot! Check what you're carrying!"
Dawn stopped in his tracks.
___________
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