After returning from Hogsmeade, Jon's expression remained dark. Even when Blaise Zabini excitedly reported that Marietta Edgecombe's Galleon had displayed the next Dumbledore's Army meeting time—Monday night, meaning tomorrow—Jon only gave him a cool, routine set of instructions.
Back in the dormitory, he flipped idly through Secrets of the Darkest Art until nine o'clock, when he finally left the room and slipped out of the Slytherin common room.
Moving through the dark dungeon corridor, he suddenly heard a sound ahead.
"Who's there?" Draco Malfoy's voice echoed.
"It's me, Draco," Jon replied calmly.
"Christopher…" Malfoy strode over, his Prefect badge gleaming on his chest.
"Blaise just saw the next Dumbledore's Army meeting time on Marietta Edgecombe's Galleon. I need to report to Professor Umbridge and discuss the plan with her," Jon said seriously.
"Mhm." Malfoy nodded, then added, "Just make sure no prefects from other houses catch you. t could get messy… curfew ended long ago."
"I understand."
After parting ways with Malfoy, Jon continued down the corridor. When he reached a secluded corner—no portraits, no statues, Malfoy's footsteps long faded—he pulled out a crystal vial and took a sip of the potion inside.
...
A minute later, Jon emerged from the dungeons looking precisely like Ron Weasley.
He removed the iron ring from his finger and climbed staircase after staircase until he reached the eighth floor. Fortunately, he hadn't encountered the real Ron along the way.
He approached the ugly stone gargoyle and tapped it lightly.
"Password…" the stone creature drawled.
"The password is 'Hart'!" Jon whispered.
"Impossible…" the gargoyle muttered, then abruptly changed its expression and crouched down, examining him closely.
"Let me in," Jon reminded it once more.
The gargoyle nodded, then jerked its head toward a portrait behind Jon. Inside it, a black cat sat watching him with sharp, unblinking eyes.
Meanwhile, the gargoyle had already stepped aside, allowing Ron—or rather, Ron Weasley—to slip past quickly.
...
Pushing open the brass lion-shaped handle, Jon stepped into the Headmaster's Office.
"Another red-haired Weasley… I remember that pair of twins scribbling all over my portrait at Grimmauld Place… How did you get in here? This isn't where you belong…" Headmaster Phineas Black's endless grumbling began the moment Jon entered.
"Huh?" Headmaster Black's tone shifted abruptly.
The boy before him was thinning out, and his bright red hair was slowly darkening into black-brown.
Headmaster Black immediately put on a lazy demeanor. "Albus isn't here… These days he's hardly ever in his office…"
"I'm not here to see Professor Dumbledore," Jon said quickly, now fully himself again. "I'm here to see Headmistress Derwent!"
"To see Dilys… Dil—" Phineas Black barely got halfway through the name before he was shoved clean out of the portrait.
"Jon, what's wrong? You needed me?" Headmistress Dilys Derwent, silver-haired and concerned, appeared in the frame in his place.
"Honestly, Dilys, can't you be gentler?" Poor Headmaster Black complained from the portrait beside hers, massaging his back.
"Any objections?"
"N-no…"
"Headmistress Derwent, I need your help with something," Jon said solemnly.
"If it's within my power," Dilys Derwent replied with equal seriousness.
"I heard you also have a portrait at St. Mungo's. Could you go there and check on someone for me?"
"Of course. Is she injured?"
"Sort of… She should've been brought in last night. A girl around my age—Astoria Greengrass. Golden curls, very noticeable dimples…" Jon described quickly.
"Alright, leave it to me." Headmistress Derwent gave Jon a reassuring smile before vanishing from the portrait.
"Ah, love really does make people blind," Phineas Black muttered sourly as soon as she left.
Jon ignored him and went over to the phoenix perch to play with Fawkes. Woken from sleep, Fawkes seemed delighted, brushing his face affectionately with her tail feathers… while her long beak expertly darted into his pocket.
...
After nearly fifteen minutes, Headmistress Dilys Derwent returned.
"I found the girl, Jon!" she said, slightly breathless. "Her bed is beside Mungo Bonham's portrait…"
"…I asked Mungo. He said her condition is quite stable. She's been at St. Mungo's for a full day now, unconscious the entire time—either in a coma or something more like a deep sleep… But even while she sleeps, her expression looks painfully strained," Headmistress Derwent explained.
"She hasn't… turned into something else, right?" Jon asked anxiously.
"Of course not…" Headmistress Derwent shook her head.
"That's good." Jon let out a breath of relief, though he looked like he wanted to say more.
"You want me to keep an eye on her?" Headmistress Derwent smiled. "No problem. I'll stay at St. Mungo's for now. If anything—anything at all—changes, I'll call for help immediately, then return to Hogwarts and have Fawkes notify you."
Fawkes, still buried in a pile of herbs, lifted her head and gave Jon a solemn nod.
"Thank you, Headmistress Derwent…" Jon said gratefully.
...
Once Dilys Derwent vanished again, Headmaster Phineas Black finally reclaimed his portrait. Humming a tune, he sounded in a notably good mood.
"Anything else, lad?"
"Yes… Headmaster Black, could you contact Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible? Tell him Harry Potter's secret society has been exposed. The Ministry may use it as an excuse to move against him tomorrow…"