[In our view today, this conversation is astonishingly accurate. It spans centuries and predicts elents of modern society.]
[This mystery has drawn countless witches and wizards to seek the truth.
Through continued research into Diels himself, scholars have ford two main interpretations of his experience.
The first theory claims there is nothing supernatural about it. The figure in the painting simply expressed Diels' own imagination of the future.
Just as the knight and the demon reflected his understanding of war and torture, the so-called "future man" may have been shaped entirely by Diels' expectations.]
[As for the death of William II and the shift in the throne, it is possible Diels had prior knowledge or even influenced events himself.
Perhaps Diels was an exceptionally insightful thinker, and combined with vague, suggestive language in The Questions and Answers with the Future Man, it created the illusion of prophecy.]
[The second theory, however, takes a very different stance.
It argues that the figure in the painting truly was a person from the future.
Non-portrait paintings can display unusual behavior because they connect to a kind of "presence."
For example, when Diels painted a knight or a demon, the painting might have connected to individuals who embodied those traits, forming a kind of indirect portrait.
And the sa may apply to the future man.
Perhaps soone from the future had traveled back nearly a thousand years due to a distortion in ti, leaving behind a trace of their presence, which Diels' painting captured.]
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
Both explanations were convincing in their own way. Even the idea of ti travel, absurd as it sounded, felt strangely plausible within the rules of magic.
He beca more absorbed in the text.
Even if it did not directly help his current situation, the book carried the kind of mystery magic was ant to have.
A painting that connected to soone in the future.
He continued reading.
[Regardless of which theory is correct, the surviving fragnts of The Questions and Answers with the Future Man are undeniably precise and conceal deeper secrets.
It is said that the original manuscript exceeded five hundred pages and contained over three hundred questions.
Unfortunately, only a few scattered pages remain...]
Smack.
A sharp sound interrupted him.
Dawn felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.
He turned his head and saw a face dark with fury, like a volcano about to erupt.
"Fred. I finally found you."
George.
Dawn sighed inwardly and raised his hands. "Madam Pince, soone is disturbing in the library."
"What?! You actually—" George's eyes widened in disbelief.
Smack.
Another sharp sound.
George felt a hand seize his shoulder. Cold sweat ford instantly.
He slowly turned his head and t an equally terrifying expression.
"Fred! You traitor! You told the teacher!" George shouted as he was dragged away, struggling like he had suffered a great betrayal.
Silence returned.
Dawn adjusted his robes and refocused on the book.
Unfortunately, the rest of the content no longer ntioned Diels or the future man. It returned to technical discussions about painting magic.
Useful, yes. But not what he wanted.
He flipped through a few pages, then glanced at the clock and closed the book.
Ti to check it out.
It was almost ti for Dumbledore's announcent in the Great Hall.
He left the library.
As he walked down the corridor, he passed a painting and suddenly paused.
The book's content lingered in his mind.
Should he try it?
Dawn turned toward the painting of a sailor standing on a ship at sea. After a mont, he spoke.
"After death, everything returns to nothingness. No awareness, no senses, only chaos."
No response.
The sailor waved chanically, smiling in a hollow, repetitive way.
A rigid painting.
Dawn tried again.
"After death, the soul passes through a liminal world, crosses a gate, and begins a new journey."
Still nothing.
The sailor laughed heartily as the ship rocked over the waves.
Dawn frowned slightly. Not enough detail? Or were the most common beliefs simply wrong?
He tried again, recalling sothing Nicolas Flal had once said.
"After death, the soul remains, but cannot use magic. Everyone lives like Muggles in the world of the dead."
No change.
The ship surged forward. The sailor laughed.
Dawn's eye twitched.
One last attempt.
"After death, there is heaven or hell. The dead are judged. So enjoy eternal peace, others suffer punishnt."
Silence.
Nothing happened.
Dawn exhaled.
Ridiculous. If it were that easy, the mystery would have been solved long ago.
Or perhaps—
The story itself was fiction?
He shook his head and turned to leave.
Then laughter rang out behind him.
"Ha! Fred, I saw that! Talking to a painting like that. That's sothing little Ron would do!"
George appeared again, pointing and laughing.
Dawn did not even respond. He kept walking.
"Hey! You're ignoring now?" George rushed forward, trying to trip him, but Dawn stepped aside smoothly.
They ended up running noisily toward the first floor.
Inside the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore had already gathered the students.
Dawn stood at the back instead of joining Gryffindor. George remained beside him.
"What's going on?" George whispered.
"Students," Dumbledore began, "I have unfortunate news."
The speech matched Dawn's mory exactly.
Dumbledore attributed the attacks to a magical creature and presented a potion developed by Nicolas Flal, claiming it could remove foreign influences from the body.
Dawn glanced upward.
Near the ceiling, a beetle hovered.
That was his past self. It was ti to leave.
He clutched his stomach and gestured awkwardly before slipping out of the hall.
George raised an eyebrow, then suddenly grinned and followed.
Everyone knew that soone was most vulnerable in the bathroom. He intended to get revenge.
In the corridor, George chased after him. But he was too late.
Dawn disappeared around a corner.
A loud bang echoed. The bathroom door slamd shut.
George rushed forward and grabbed the handle.
Locked.
No problem.
He drew his wand.
°Alohomora°
Click.
The lock opened. But before he could react, he felt soone appear behind him.
A wand pressed against his back.
"What—"
His clothes tightened instantly, binding him in place.
Dawn stepped in front of him.
"Locking Charm plus Disillusionnt Charm. Your awareness is terrible, George."
"Again? I lost again?" George groaned dramatically.
"Stop ssing around. I don't have ti for this."
"ssing around?" George glared. "After what you did last night? I refuse to let it go!"
"Are you sure?"
"Even if I fall into hell, I won't forgive you!"
Dawn thought for a mont, then calmly raised a damp stick. "This stick was dipped in toilet water."
George froze.
"What?!"
Dawn smiled and nudged it closer. "Well? Still want revenge?"
George stared at it in horror.
No. Think.
Fred wouldn't actually do sothing that disgusting.
Right?
...Right?
His resolve shattered instantly. "I understand. Nothing happened last night."
He could not risk it.
Not even a little.
When the bindings released, George collapsed to his knees.
Defeated.
Completely defeated.
Dawn tossed aside the stick. It had only been dipped in clean water. "Co on. We still have things to do."
"What now?" George asked weakly.
"We missed the rest of the speech. Let's go ask Dumbledore."
"Why not ask in the common room?"
"Do you want to be pranked again?"
"...Fair point."
They headed to the Headmaster's office.
Inside, Dumbledore sat at his desk, holding a letter.
From Nicolas Flal.
Dawn and George entered.
"Good afternoon. What brings you here?"
"We missed the second half of your speech," Dawn said.
Outside the window, an owl pressed its face against the glass.
Watching.
Waiting.
Dawn ignored it completely.
He followed the script.
When they finally left, Dawn felt a sense of relief. This exhausting charade was almost over.
He walked down the corridor, thinking.
If he wanted to use the castle's collective consciousness, he needed a believable idea.
A rumor.
Sothing people would accept.
Maybe—
"When people sleep, they see their true past."
Would that work?
He frowned.
Then another problem arose.
How would he spread it? He could perceive other students' senses, but he could not control them.
Influencing them directly seed impossible.
Frustrating.
How had Voldemort done it so quickly? Maybe it required ti.
That seed likely.
He exhaled slowly.
As they reached the Gryffindor tower, the Fat Lady was singing loudly, ignoring George completely.
"...Kitchen?" George suggested weakly.
Dawn sighed.
The day was far from over.
___________
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