HP: Beyond Miracle

Hermione left.

Once again, only the original three boys remained in the compartment.

Aemon clicked his tongue, clearly wanting to complain about Hermione's rude behavior, but Abel stopped him with a wry smile.

After a few more exchanges, the atmosphere quickly became warm and lively again.

Dawn tuned out their idle chatter, narrowing his eyes as his thoughts returned to Merlin.

When would Merlin appear before Lai? Would it happen when Lai was alone?

Or...

Had that single meeting been the only one?

At the same time, another question weighed heavily on his mind.

What exactly had his past self done that caused the world before and after World Correction to become so drastically different?

Dawn rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

According to the memories he possessed, he had transformed into a magical creature to escape Dumbledore's pursuit.

Only afterward, upon discovering a missing stretch of time, had he realized World Correction had taken place.

But judging from Lai's personality...

Dawn simply couldn't imagine him ending up in the same situation.

Then...

What had Lai—or rather, his true past self—done to trigger the natural magic behind World Correction?

And did Merlin have anything to do with it?

While Dawn silently pondered these questions, the train continued its journey.

Its whistle echoed across the wilderness before it finally came to a stop at the weathered station hidden among mist-covered woods beneath the fading evening sky.

A voice sounded through the train.

The compartment contained only boys, so there was no need to wait for anyone.

The three of them changed into their school robes together and stepped off the train side by side.

Dawn had no choice but to follow.

In the distance, a swaying lantern cut through the fog.

Its light revealed Hagrid's enormous figure approaching through the mist.

The half-giant had just begun shouting for the first-years to line up and follow him when—

The world abruptly shattered.

The cheerful voices disappeared.

The colorful scenery fractured like broken glass.

Without the slightest warning, Dawn fell once more into endless darkness and chaos.

So...

It's over. I'm waking up.

He understood immediately.

A moment later—

"Ah!"

He shot upright in the cabin.

The loose wooden bedframe groaned beneath him. The familiar ceiling came into view.

But Dawn had no intention of getting out of bed.

Thinking back on everything he'd just witnessed, he uncorked another sleeping potion, swallowed it, and immediately lay back down.

Soon enough, darkness welcomed him once more.

Unfortunately...

The point of light from before never appeared. Instead, the dream reverted to its old form.

Disembodied voices drifted through the void.

"Before next week's Potions class, every one of you will submit an essay on the Healing Paste Potion.

There is no minimum length.

However, let me make one thing perfectly clear.

The house belonging to the student who writes the shortest essay will lose ten points."

How unlucky.

Having only voices was bad enough. Why did it have to be Snape?

Even asleep, Dawn's face twitched.

He woke once again, immediately drank another sleeping potion, and threw himself back into bed.

"Look at that ridiculous technique!

Even a troll has more brains than you. Mr. Lane, what exactly are you laughing at?

Do you find it amusing when I criticize other students? Disrespecting a professor.

Thirty points from Ravenclaw."

Dawn was speechless.

He opened his eyes for the third time, forcefully banishing Snape's sarcastic voice from his mind.

Still unwilling to give up, he tried again.

And again.

After repeating the cycle several more times, he finally accepted reality.

The ability to see complete scenes had disappeared.

Maybe it has a cooldown...

"Please don't tell me I only get one of those every six months."

He ran a hand irritably through his hair.

Since the dreams weren't yielding anything useful anymore, he decided not to force the issue.

After getting dressed, he planned to visit Lai's present-day home instead.

A burst of flames appeared.

Concealing himself, Dawn returned once more to Kent.

Walking across the green fields, he surveyed the surroundings, searching for the house from his dream.

Come to think of it...

Before becoming completely occupied during the previous school year, he'd investigated this area many times after suspecting that Richter wasn't his biological father.

Now...

The result could only be described as bitterly ironic.

And speaking of that...

He suddenly remembered something.

The last time he'd cast the Rapid Manifestation Charm here, he'd seen Harris passing through with William.

Why were they here? Did that have anything to do with his past?

Two more mysteries surfaced.

The web of unanswered questions only grew denser, wrapping tightly around him.

As morning sunlight spread across Kent, Dawn wandered through the quiet streets, searching for familiar landmarks while simultaneously reading the memories of passing pedestrians for anything related to the Lane family.

Eventually...

His efforts paid off.

The moment he exchanged glances with a bearded middle-aged man, Legilimency activated almost instinctively.

At last.

He found what he was looking for.

Crack.

With another Apparition, Dawn appeared before a house that immediately struck him as familiar.

After examining it carefully, he matched it perfectly with the one from his dream.

This is it.

He pushed open the front door. A stale odor thick with dust drifted out through the widening gap.

Frowning, he waved a sleeve before his face.

The house had clearly stood empty for years. Spiderwebs hung from the ceiling.

The tablecloth crumbled into powder the moment he touched it.

None of this surprised him.

The bearded man's memories had already revealed the truth.

The Lane family had moved away two years earlier. No one knew where they had gone.

There was something else.

From those memories, Dawn had also learned that the couple had never had a son named Lai.

Instead, they had adopted a boy from an orphanage.

That child looked nothing like Lai.

And when the family moved away two years ago... He had only been three years old.

Keeping all this in mind, Dawn slowly explored the house.

Eventually, he entered the bedroom from his dream.

The furniture was gone.

Only an empty shell remained.

No desk.

No chair.

No photographs.

No diary.

Nothing.

Not even a single clue.

Dawn wasn't disappointed.

He had come here only as a precaution. Before arriving, he'd already expected to find nothing.

This merely confirmed those expectations.

He raised his wand.

°Rapid Manifestation°

Pink bubbles drifted into the air. Within them appeared an empty wasteland beneath gray skies.

Dawn shook his head.

After the vision faded, he cast the spell again.

This time... Smoking factory chimneys and clouds of coal dust appeared.

Equally useless.

He repeated the spell over a dozen times.

The Rapid Manifestation Charm proved every bit as disappointing as before.

It accomplished absolutely nothing.

With no other choice, he left the abandoned house.

Afterward, he entered a neighboring home, used Legilimency on its occupants, and confirmed everything matched the bearded man's memories.

Only then did he finally give up.

Clouds drifted across the sun.

Interesting shadows stretched over the grass.

Walking through the gentle breeze, Dawn bent down and picked a yellow flower.

Its fragrance was pleasant.

It did nothing to improve his mood.

"Another wasted effort." He muttered under his breath.

Curling his lips in annoyance, he simply threw himself onto the grass and rolled over once like a sulking child.

There were simply too many unanswered questions.

Lai.

So different from himself.

Possibly possessing memories of a previous life.

Merlin.

Lurking somewhere in this era for reasons completely unknown.

A fabricated past.

An uncertain identity.

And the mysterious World Correction that had caused all these contradictions.

Dawn folded his hands behind his head. This sort of melancholy was rare for him.

But when the question became, "Who am I?"... Even he couldn't avoid feeling lost.

The situation he faced now was fundamentally different from the first two years recorded in his memories.

Everything had already happened.

It was all in the past. Even if he wanted to interfere... He had no idea how.

He hated that feeling of helplessness.

Fortunately... Ever since childhood, he'd constantly wavered between truth and illusion.

Though it bothered him deeply, he was still able to steady himself.

"Ah... I forgot." He muttered softly. "I don't even know whether those memories are real."

He laughed to himself.

The sentence carried a strangely dark sense of humor. Like a ridiculous stage play.

After lying there for a while... His mood finally settled.

Brushing the grass from his clothes, Dawn stood up.

He looked once toward the distant direction of his own home. Then he quietly turned away.

Before returning to the Vatican, however, he made one more stop in Britain.

He bought a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Something to read over breakfast.

A burst of flames.

Moments later, he was back inside his hidden base.

After requesting breakfast from Hufflepuff's Cup, he cut into a steak, unfolded the newspaper, and began reading.

Recently... British headlines had once again been completely dominated by him.

Even Sirius Black's wanted poster had been pushed to the back pages.

The further Dawn read, the happier he became.

Especially when every article praised him without reservation.

It was thoroughly enjoyable.

[From Criminal to Genius: A Perfect Transformation! Tempered Through Adversity, His Extraordinary Talent Has Changed the Wizarding World!

What Can a Thirteen-Year-Old Wizard Accomplish?

Dawn Richter. A Name Familiar to Us All! A Brilliant Wizard Whose Magnanimity and Kindness Are Beyond Question!]

[Can You Believe It?

A child who suffered slander, persecution, and endless injustice at the hands of the wizarding world has nevertheless selflessly published his original spell for every witch and wizard to learn.

And not merely any spell.

But one of immense practical value. A spell destined to benefit the entire magical community.

The Rejuvenation Charm.

A miraculous spell capable of restoring the appearance of youth.

Although it cannot restore one's lifespan, nor cure injuries or disease, these limitations in no way diminish its usefulness.

For from this day forward, age-related memory loss and declining mobility will no longer be unavoidable burdens for witches and wizards.]

[So...

Let us remember the name Dawn Richter once more.

And let us offer our deepest gratitude for his contribution to the advancement of magic.

This reporter firmly believes his achievements are worthy of the highest class of the Order of Merlin.

We eagerly await that day.]

"Tsk. What excellent writing."

Seeing Rita Skeeter's name beneath the article, Dawn nodded approvingly.

Who said she only fabricated stories? This report was practically documentary-level journalism.

It suited someone as benevolent as himself perfectly.

He continued reading.

Most of the remaining articles were similarly overflowing with praise.

Still...

Perhaps to preserve the newspaper's appearance of fairness, a small corner on the final page contained a handful of skeptical opinions.

Their general argument was simple.

The Rejuvenation Charm was fake.

People had practiced it repeatedly without achieving any results.

Dawn understood why.

The Rejuvenation Charm had been created by disguising his understanding of the Special Trait Patterns beneath the framework of an ordinary spell.

If someone had never witnessed the spell being successfully cast—and couldn't completely believe it would work—even perfect incantations and wand movements wouldn't necessarily produce results.

Still...

That was merely a minor detail.

Finishing breakfast with a sip of wine, Dawn returned to his desk.

He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and wrote down two more spells.

These, too, would be sent to Fudge for publicity.

Last night's dream had made him care even more about the upcoming Magic Presentation.

To be honest...

His investigation into the true past had never really been about changing history.

He was perfectly satisfied with who he was now.

His true objective was to understand World Correction well enough to find a way to defend against it.

Given how mysterious his own past had become...

He decided it was worth devoting even more effort toward gaining fame.

After all... Fame allowed him to mobilize the Collective Consciousness.

A burst of flames carried him away.

Finding a nearby owl post office, he addressed the envelope to the British Ministry of Magic.

He watched as the owl disappeared into the distance.

In truth... He could have Apparated the parchment directly to the Ministry.

That would have been much simpler.

But Dawn believed personally delivering messages for a subordinate would be giving Fudge far too much face.

He dismissed the idea immediately.

Having preserved his entirely unnecessary sense of dignity... He returned to his hidden base.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he began considering which spells should be released next.

Which ones would create the greatest sensation? Which ones would earn him the most prestige?

Several ideas slowly began taking shape.

Meanwhile...

Far away in Britain...

The students at Hogwarts were reading that very same newspaper over breakfast.

"Oh, Merlin's beard!"

Ron stabbed at his food with his fork.

"Listen to these descriptions! 'Extraordinary talent that changed the wizarding world'? Honestly, I think I'm going to be sick."

Hermione had long since grown used to his attitude.

Calmly, she replied, "But the spell really is useful, isn't it? It's incredibly important for older people."

"Useful?"

Ron snorted.

"How?"

Carefully taking out his treasured wand, he performed the wand movement exactly as shown in the newspaper before reciting the incantation.

Then he spread his hands.

"See? Nothing happened.

I think the article on the last page is right. Richter probably made the whole thing up."

"That's because your wand movement was completely wrong." Hermione answered mercilessly. "And your pronunciation was terrible."

"Besides, Ron... If you're really that jealous, why don't you invent a spell yourself?"

"Hmph. I'm not jealous of a lying Dark wizard."

"I'd have to be insane."

Ron muttered angrily, his face turning red.

As always...

The two friends began bickering.

Harry listened absentmindedly beside them. He had long grown accustomed to scenes like this.

His thoughts remained fixed on the enormous black dog he'd glimpsed inside the castle.

And Professor Trelawney's ominous predictions of death.

Could he really be cursed?

Everything that had happened lately left him with an uneasy feeling that something terrible was approaching.

He hadn't been able to relax for days.

As though that weren't enough...

Malfoy had spent the past two weeks relentlessly mocking him for fainting aboard the train.

It infuriated Harry every single time.

On top of that...

According to Fred and George, the Great Hall would be hosting some kind of special event in another two weeks.

Even the Quidditch schedule had been postponed because of it.

"Everything's awful."

Harry sighed.

Just then, a familiar voice spoke beside him.

"What is it, Mr. Potter? Is something troubling you?"

Harry froze.

Slowly turning his head, he found himself staring at a long white beard.

An inexplicable sense of guilt washed over him. For a moment, he couldn't find any words.

Finally, he managed a quiet, "Headmaster Dumbledore..."

"Yes."

The elderly wizard smiled gently.

Without pressing the issue, he simply beckoned.

"Harry. Would you come with me for a moment?"

"Ah..."

"Of course!"

Harry hurried to his feet. "Headmaster... has something happened?"

"I mean... I'm fine!"

"Oh, don't worry, my boy. It's good news."

Dumbledore patted his shoulder.

Glancing at Hermione and Ron, who were both staring curiously in their direction, he added,

"If you'd like... The two of you may come as well."

"Really, Headmaster?"

Hermione flushed slightly.

Although embarrassed that her curiosity had been so obvious, she immediately stood.

Dumbledore nodded with a twinkle in his eye.

"Not at all."

"Strictly speaking... This matter concerns Mr. Weasley as well."

"...Me?"

Ron looked up from the chicken leg he'd been enthusiastically devouring. He wore an expression of complete confusion.

Dumbledore merely smiled and said nothing.

Leading the way, he guided the three students up the moving staircases.

Past countless portraits.

Finally...

They arrived outside the Headmaster's office.

"Lemon Sherbets."

With the password spoken, the entrance rumbled open.

The four of them stepped inside.

The first thing they saw... Was a gaunt man with tangled hair.

He clutched a bundle tightly against his chest, shifting nervously where he stood.

Hermione frowned.

He looked strangely familiar.

Harry, however, recognized him instantly.

His eyes widened.

"Sirius Black!"

"The Azkaban—"

The word "escapee" caught in his throat.

For some reason... Looking into the man's bright, hopeful eyes... He simply couldn't finish the sentence.

"...Headmaster."

Harry turned uncertainly toward Dumbledore.

Before the Headmaster could answer...

Sirius spoke first.

"Harry... I... may I call you that?"

"Your eyes... They're exactly like your mother's. And... You look so much like your father."

He stumbled over every word.

Eventually, lowering his voice almost pleadingly, he said,

"I'm sorry.

I hope I didn't frighten you. I... I haven't properly introduced myself.

My name is Sirius Black.

I was your father's friend. And..."

He paused for a long time before taking a deep breath. "I'm also... Your godfather."

"My father's friend? My godfather?" Harry looked completely lost. "But... the newspapers said..."

Sirius's lips trembled.

He wanted to say the newspapers were wrong.

But...

Remembering that it had been his own insistence on changing the Secret Keeper...

He couldn't honestly claim he bore no responsibility.

His eyes slowly dimmed.

Silence settled over the office.

At last...

Dumbledore sighed softly.

"Allow me to explain."

Looking at the uneasy Boy Who Lived, he began gently.

"Harry... This is what truly happened."

And so...

The Headmaster calmly recounted everything.

The hidden truth.

The betrayal.

The events that had led to James and Lily Potter's deaths.

As Harry listened, his expression changed again and again.

Anger.

Grief.

Pain.

By the time Dumbledore finished...

The way he looked at Sirius had become indescribably complicated.

At that same moment...

There was one more person in the office. Someone whose heart quietly shattered.

___________

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