Paris, France.
Les Halles District.
The time difference put France nearly an hour ahead of Britain. It was still deep into the night, yet without the rain that drenched England, the streets remained lively and crowded.
Dawn concealed himself beneath a Disillusionment Charm before Apparating.
A few Muggles nearby heard the sharp crack, but finding nothing unusual, they quickly dismissed it.
Now he stood at the edge of a plaza, illuminated by surrounding lights, scanning his surroundings as he walked deeper inside.
The Place des Innocents.
After the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents had been completely cleared in 1786, the square had gradually been built over its former grounds.
Commercial buildings now surrounded it on all sides.
Neon light spilled from shopping centers, cinemas, and storefronts, tearing apart the tranquility of the night.
Narrowing his eyes against the light pollution, Dawn soon spotted the Fountain of the Innocents.
It was not a large fountain.
At its center stood a Renaissance-style stone pavilion covered in carved reliefs.
As the only remaining structure in the square still bearing the name "Innocents," it was naturally the first place he investigated.
He ignored the prominent stone monument itself.
After all, no Muggle-Repelling Charm would be placed somewhere that obvious.
Instead, he walked along the edge of the fountain and peered down into the murky water.
Halfway around the basin, he suddenly stopped.
"Oh?"
Crouching down, he reached into the cool water.
"As expected."
Embedded into the stone wall of the fountain was a slightly protruding slab. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a partially buried gravestone.
"Nicolas Flamel really likes hiding things in fountains."
Dawn shook his head.
He was convinced the Fountain of the Innocents existed because of Flamel.
After all, Beauxbatons possessed a famous enchanted fountain said to have been donated by the alchemist himself.
Drawing his wand, Dawn pushed aside those thoughts.
Following Flamel's instructions, he traced a plus sign across the gravestone's surface and then placed a dot within each of the four sections.
According to Flamel, it was an ancient alchemical symbol for water.
The moment the final dot was completed, the scenery around him warped slightly.
The sensation reminded him of Apparition.
"A Portkey variant?"
His vision blurred.
The neon lights vanished. Darkness swallowed everything.
°Lumos°
Dawn calmly cast the Lighting Charm.
Since only a controlled body had come here, he felt no concern whatsoever.
Light blossomed from the tip of his wand.
Looking around, he discovered he had arrived in a sealed underground chamber resembling a tomb.
Its walls consisted entirely of packed earth.
The air was dry.
Hot.
Stifling.
At the center of the room stood the most eye-catching feature:
A large wooden coffin.
.....
Flamel's sense of humor again?
Dawn rolled his eyes.
With a wave of his wand, he levitated the lid aside.
After waiting a moment and confirming no traps were triggered, he stepped closer.
The coffin's interior was surprisingly spacious. An Extension Charm had clearly been applied.
Five or six people could easily fit inside.
Leaning over, Dawn sniffed cautiously.
No odor.
Which made sense.
There was no corpse inside.
Half the coffin contained thick books stacked into neat piles.
The other half overflowed with gemstones and assorted alchemical artifacts.
Among them were familiar items such as Two-Way Mirrors and Sneakoscopes.
There were also objects that appeared impossible to mass-produce and whose purposes were entirely unclear.
A bizarre oil lamp wrapped in bronze serpents.
A tiny humanoid figure assembled from blocks.
A mysterious wooden door.
Dawn's eyes lit up.
Flamel always claimed he wasn't particularly skilled at crafting magical objects.
Yet he had left behind enough artifacts to fill a coffin.
Still, despite his curiosity, Dawn knew this wasn't the time to investigate them.
Instead, he picked up one of the books.
Truthfully, the books were the primary reason he had demanded Flamel's inheritance.
He was fascinated by the alchemist's centuries-long life.
More specifically, by the countless experiments Flamel must have conducted.
Perhaps these books contained clues.
Unfortunately—
Most of them weren't written in modern English.
After flipping through several pages, Dawn couldn't understand a thing.
"Hmph."
Returning the book to its place, he stared thoughtfully at the coffin.
His first instinct was to relocate everything immediately and hide it alongside his other treasures.
Then he remembered that he currently couldn't access his secret Vatican room.
Nor did he possess anything capable of transporting all this conveniently.
Even so, leaving everything here didn't sit well with him. After all, Flamel also knew this location.
The concern was probably irrational.
Still, Dawn preferred peace of mind.
°Apparate°
Closing the lid, he placed a hand on the coffin and vanished.
Before departing, however, another thought occurred to him.
Why had Flamel hidden a secret chamber beneath the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents?
Could it be...
Had the old alchemist once lived here while secretly acquiring corpses for alchemical research?
Given everything Dawn knew about Flamel, the idea didn't seem entirely impossible.
Crack!
His figure reappeared.
But he was no longer in Paris.
Instead, he stood in a remote region of Iceland.
After finding a concealed location, he buried the coffin. Only then did he retrieve the parchment listing the students' addresses.
Time to do the dirty work.
"Let's see..." His eyes fell upon the first name. "Levi Roberts. Charles Cross Street."
"You'll do."
Muttering to himself, he vanished once more.
....
Rain battered the windows.
Relentless.
As if the entire world might drown beneath the endless white noise.
Inside a Muggle house somewhere in London, a sleeping boy stirred uneasily on the second floor.
His brows knitted together.
Perhaps he was having a nightmare.
Boom!
Thunder exploded outside.
The boy groaned, yawned, and slowly opened his eyes. After confirming his surroundings, he prepared to drift back to sleep.
Then a flash of lightning illuminated the room.
And through the window he saw it.
A masked figure. Dressed in black. Standing outside.
Watching him.
"...Ah..."
"AAAAAHHHHH!"
The boy instantly shot upright.
His half-awake mind overloaded. Scrambling into a corner, he stared in horror.
"W-Who are you?!"
"What are you doing outside my house?!"
His trembling finger pointed toward the window. He even pinched his own thigh, wondering if he was still dreaming.
Dawn frowned.
The boy had chosen a very inconvenient moment to wake up.
To avoid attracting attention from the rest of the household, he accelerated the process.
A quick Unlocking Charm opened the window.
He stepped inside.
The boy's terrified screams grew louder.
Dawn responded with a single Stunning Spell.
The red flash struck.
The boy collapsed instantly.
"Number four."
Dawn muttered.
Walking over, he prepared to Apparate away with his captive. Then he pulled back the blanket.
His gaze landed on a suspicious wet stain.
Dawn froze.
A look of disgust crossed his face.
After considerable mental preparation, he reluctantly grabbed the boy's shoulder, transported him outside Hogwarts, dumped him into freezing mud, and immediately left again.
Without phoenix traits, he couldn't Apparate directly into the school grounds.
That would waste too much time.
Fortunately, Flamel had arranged for Fawkes to handle transportation from the perimeter.
Dawn only needed to deliver the students nearby.
And so the night continued.
He moved through darkness and rain. Entering one household after another. Dragging students from warm beds.
Kidnapping them one by one.
Gradually, his movements became smoother.
More efficient.
Oddly enough, after enough repetitions, the annoyance began fading. And in its place emerged fascination.
There was something strangely artistic about it.
Arriving with the storm.
Stealing away the most precious thing a family possessed.
Leaving before anyone noticed.
Sometimes accompanied by the terrified expressions of victims moments before unconsciousness claimed them.
If possible, Dawn thought, he would have loved to leave behind a calling card like a gentleman thief from some old story.
Then hide nearby and watch the reactions.
Admittedly...
That was a little twisted.
At the moment, he resembled a particularly unethical kidnapper.
Still—This was Flamel's idea. Any criticism or moral outrage should be directed toward the alchemist.
Dawn felt entirely innocent.
The rain showed no signs of stopping.
In some remote areas, floodwater already reached ankle height.
Despite the miserable weather, however, the operation proceeded remarkably smoothly.
He began with students from Muggle families.
Their homes lacked magical protections. During the dead of night, capturing them proved effortless.
Along the way, Dawn also gathered information about their families.
Particularly younger siblings.
Whenever he found one, he quietly cast detection charms to determine whether they possessed magical potential.
There was no scientific basis for the theory.
Yet younger siblings of magical children genuinely seemed more likely to become wizards.
At least, he had already discovered several promising cases.
Carefully recording the information, he planned to revisit it later.
Perhaps he could influence their development before accidental magic appeared.
Time passed.
Dawn traveled across Britain.
The number of recovered students steadily increased.
Of course, not everything went perfectly. Several homes lacked the students who should have been there.
After using Legilimency on their parents, he discovered the truth.
The children had returned briefly before leaving again.
They had even cast Confundus Charms on their families, convincing them that they remained safely at Hogwarts.
Without question—
Voldemort's handiwork.
Still, perhaps because the students under Voldemort's direct control had already departed, the remaining children posed no resistance.
Dawn encountered neither battles nor significant complications.
Thus, shortly before dawn finally arrived, he reached the final address listed on the parchment.
Wiltshire, England.
Rain poured across the countryside.
Before him stood an enormous estate.
Beyond the gates stretched lavish gardens, fountains, and several white peacocks.
Malfoy Manor.
His final stop.
Folding the parchment and slipping it into his sleeve, Dawn walked straight inside.
It was worth mentioning that Flamel's white mask worked extraordinarily well.
Several detection devices similar to Sneakoscopes remained silent throughout his approach.
Without encountering a single obstacle, he explored the manor.
Eventually he located a platinum-haired boy sleeping peacefully in silk pajamas.
"Hmph."
Dawn's mood immediately worsened.
Everyone was a Hogwarts student. Why was he running through storms all night while others slept comfortably?
°Stupefy°
A familiar red flash streaked through the darkness.
But just before the spell struck Draco Malfoy—
Bang!
A barrier suddenly appeared. The Stunning Spell rebounded harmlessly aside.
A Shield Charm?
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
The boy opened his eyes. The gaze was both familiar and unfamiliar.
Pressing fingers against his forehead, Dawn sighed.
"Tom...This is the last house. Why do you insist on making trouble for me now?"
He tightened his grip on his wand.
Preparing for combat.
Unexpectedly, Voldemort made no move to attack. Instead, he sat up in bed and stared at Dawn for a long moment.
Then, in a hoarse voice, asked:
"Richter...Tell me. How many of my Horcruxes have you found?"
A Horcrux?
Dawn's eyebrow rose.
Seeing the unusually dark expression on Voldemort's face, understanding dawned immediately.
A grin spread across his lips.
"Oh."
"How tragic."
"You've spent all this time struggling outside, only to come home and discover you've been robbed blind."
A soft laugh escaped him.
Voldemort's expression darkened further.
Indeed.
After leaving Hogwarts, Tom had sent controlled students to inspect his hidden Horcrux locations.
The results had been disastrous.
The ring hidden in the Gaunt shack was gone. The diary entrusted to the Malfoys was gone.
The locket hidden within the cave had been replaced by a fake.
And the diadem— Destroyed before his eyes by Dawn himself.
Of his five Horcruxes, only one remained unaccounted for: Hufflepuff's Cup.
No one knew exactly what Voldemort was feeling at that moment.
But judging from his constricted pupils and twisted expression... It certainly wasn't happiness.
___________
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