Another mouthful of blood burst from Dawn's lips.
His vision darkened further, and strength drained from his limbs. Even though this was only his consciousness, the pain felt unbearably real.
Ever since gaining the Phoenix's immortality, he had not experienced anything like this for a long time. He had never expected that this immortality would be useless in a realm of thought.
Dawn dug his fingers into the floor, carving five bloody grooves as the pain forced him to stay awake.
The situation was extremely bad.
A heart pierced by Anubis's curse could be treated. The real problem was that he had no healing potion at all.
What now?
What could he do?
As darkness crept into his vision, Dawn clenched his teeth, the taste of blood filling his mouth. His gaze turned colder and sharper.
There was still a way.
"Look at you now, Dawn Richter," Voldemort said as he advanced step by step, wand raised. "Perhaps you should start thinking about what you want to say before my spell hits you."
Spells slammed into the corner where Dawn hid.
Explosions rang out as seats were blasted apart.
Voldemort moved with practiced elegance, like a conductor leading an orchestra. But he knew he was not putting on a show.
His resurrection mattered too much.
He would not tolerate any risk. Any threat had to be eliminated immediately.
The only reason this was taking time was because his heart had not fully recovered, disrupting his control over magic. Most of his focus was spent stabilizing the Fiendfyre around him.
Still, it did not matter.
A few minutes were all he needed.
Gathering the flames into a single mass, Voldemort pointed his wand and sent the fire screaming toward Dawn's position.
Heat swept through the cabin.
Collapsed seats caught fire and burned away piece by piece.
Voldemort's lips curled as he prepared to laugh.
But a shadow suddenly burst out from beneath the seats, moving so fast that his laughter caught in his throat.
It was—
A scarecrow?
Voldemort frowned at the familiar clothes and the straw poking out from the sleeves and collar. Then understanding dawned.
"The Scarecrow Charm."
He recognized it.
This spell had originally been created to revive the dead. It had failed in that purpose, but it still possessed unusual properties.
Turning into a scarecrow allowed one to temporarily ignore fatal injuries. Even the loss of a heart would not matter.
A clever idea.
But—
"This spell is classified as a branch of Transfiguration for a reason," Voldemort said coldly. "Once transformed, you cannot cast other magic."
His wand flicked, sending more spells toward Dawn.
"So what now? Are you planning to fight me like this? Or just run around like an animal to amuse me?"
Spells streaked past from all directions.
Dawn ignored him. His body, light as straw, slipped through attacks and darted into the crowd, using panicked passengers as shields.
Voldemort did not care.
Time was on his side.
Once his heart recovered, killing Dawn would be effortless.
He continued casting.
Passengers were struck down one after another. Some screamed. Some exploded. Some simply collapsed.
The smell of blood spread.
Through the chaos, Dawn narrowed his eyes and stared at Voldemort.
He needed more time.
The plane jolted violently in the turbulence.
On the floor, a broken watch ticked faintly.
Then suddenly—
Voldemort's smile twisted.
The scattered Fiendfyre surged with renewed life, transforming into serpents that lunged at Dawn from every direction.
"It's over!"
Flames crashed down like a tidal wave, engulfing Dawn and everyone around him.
Screams filled the air.
Bodies burned into ash, rising toward the ceiling in drifting clouds.
Voldemort grinned.
Then—
A voice cut through the roar of flames.
"What are you laughing at, Tom?"
A shadow moved within the fire.
Step by step, it grew clearer, until a foot emerged from the flames.
Dawn walked out.
He raised a hand to block the heat as he stepped forward unharmed.
The fire snakes curled obediently around him. The floor beneath was scorched black, but his clothes remained untouched.
Control had shifted.
"Impossible!"
Voldemort hissed, his composure breaking. "What did you do this time?"
Dawn canceled the Scarecrow Charm, returning to normal form.
Yet he did not die, despite lacking a heart.
"Why won't you just die?" Voldemort's face twitched. "Why do you always defy me?"
Frustration surged through him.
The green light of his killing curse intensified.
Dawn did not suppress his own emotions either. Rage and killing intent fueled his magic as he met Voldemort's spell head-on.
The collision sent shockwaves through the cabin.
The plane trembled.
At last, the windows shattered, and fierce winds roared inside.
Blue Fiendfyre scattered into sparks, drifting like fireflies across Dawn's body.
He reacted a fraction too late. By the time he extinguished the flames, his back was already scorched, his clothes torn open.
"I see... the Flesh Splitting Curse."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he spotted the swollen, infant-like growth on Dawn's back.
"You used a split body's heart to stay alive."
Then he frowned.
"No... not just that. You transplanted it into your main body. The Scarecrow Charm, wasn't it?"
As a master of dark magic and body manipulation, Voldemort quickly deduced the truth.
Dawn shrugged. "That's right."
He reached behind his neck, grabbed the lifeless infant form, cut it free with a spell, and tossed it into the fire.
Sparks scattered.
Dawn looked back at Voldemort.
At the moment he had nearly died from the curse, he had used the Flesh Splitting Curse on himself.
His plan had been to transfer his consciousness into the new body.
The spell was strange. It allowed a person to grow additional organs or limbs while retaining a single consciousness.
From his experience at the Fountain of Fortune, Dawn knew that as long as one body remained functional, the other could be discarded.
But things had not gone perfectly.
Time was the problem.
A split body needed time to develop. An embryo alone was not enough to sustain life.
And time was exactly what he did not have.
So he thought of the Scarecrow Charm.
This time, everything worked. As a scarecrow, he temporarily avoided death from losing his heart.
More importantly, the Flesh Splitting Curse continued working during this state.
It was the perfect outcome.
All he had to do was stall until the new body developed.
When Voldemort's flames approached, he reverted to normal form just before they reached him.
His guess had been correct. The missing heart was no longer fatal.
But then a second problem appeared.
His main body became lifeless, like a vegetable. His soul remained, but he could not control it.
The only body he could move was the newly formed infant. But fighting Voldemort as a baby was absurd.
So he came up with another solution.
Once again, the Scarecrow Charm.
It had another effect.
Perfect transplantation.
If two scarecrows swapped limbs, those limbs would function normally after reverting, at least for a time.
So Dawn turned the infant's heart into straw and placed it inside his main body.
Despite the size mismatch, the effect worked. The small heart supported his entire body.
It was not perfect. He felt weak, dizzy, nauseous, and unfocused.
But he was alive.
And more importantly—
He had found a chance to kill Voldemort.
Across the aisle, Voldemort watched him with cold eyes.
He had to admit it. Dawn's skill and understanding of magic were exceptional.
Far beyond what someone his age should possess.
But that only strengthened his resolve to kill him.
He calmed himself.
There was no need to rush. Time was still on his side. When the curse struck again, he would simply heal himself.
And this time, he would not give Dawn another chance to escape.
___________
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