How was he supposed to take all of this with him?
Dawn walked into the basement. The number of books was neither too many nor too few, yet the sight still gave him a mild headache.
In his opinion, the most valuable things in the entire Harris residence were right here. Over the past few days, Dawn had flipped through several of the English books, and many truly contained obscure and unusual knowledge.
Even better were the Egyptian-language books he still couldn't read smoothly.
From the bits of vocabulary he had picked up and the translated titles, Dawn realized that quite a few of them actually discussed the methods of casting curses.
For Dawn, this was an area he had never touched before—an unknown field full of irresistible allure.
After pacing for a moment, he took out the only two wallets he owned that had been expanded with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
After fiddling with them for a bit, he began stuffing the books inside as best as he could.
To his surprise, the wallet he had taken from Amir was much larger on the inside than he had imagined. With its help, Dawn really managed to fit all the books inside.
He had originally planned to make several trips carrying books back and forth.
Glancing once more at the now-empty basement, its bookshelves bare, Dawn stepped up the stairs and returned to the first floor.
In the living room, the swirling snow had finally stopped.
A layer of snow about a finger joint thick had gathered on the floor. The bell outside chimed faintly in the wind.
Most of the food on the dining table was still untouched. Amir stood there holding a skewer of roasted meat, waving it nonstop in front of William's face.
"Amir."
Dawn called out. When Amir looked up, Dawn grabbed two large handfuls—nearly a hundred gold galleons—and piled them on the table.
"Go buy a few things from the shops nearby. Besides winter clothing, get whatever uncommon or Egypt-exclusive potions and herbs you can find."
He paused a moment, then added:
"And also, go check the bookstores. Aren't you a theory-leaning wizard from Wagadu? See if there are any rare or powerful books. Buy those too."
Dawn gave him a long list.
But Amir barely heard a word.
His eyes were glued to the little mountain of gold, the reflected light turning his pupils golden as he gulped greedily.
"All this is for me?" he asked, voice trembling with excitement.
"It's for you to buy things."
"That's fine, that's fine! Even if I'm just pretending to spend like a rich man, it's still worth it!"
Amir grinned, scooping the coins into his pockets and patting them several times for reassurance.
"Don't worry, boss! I'll get everything done perfectly!"
Still grinning, he stood and prepared to rush out immediately, eager to enjoy the feeling of being a wealthy man.
But just as he reached the door, Dawn suddenly reminded him from behind:
"Right, food! Remember to buy a lot of food."
Only then did Dawn recall something he had once read in a magazine complaining about British cuisine—specifically, a section describing Icelandic food.
If British food was considered bad by normal human standards, then Icelandic food had already stepped outside that category entirely, nearing the realm of eating disorders.
The most notorious British dish was probably the classic mushy pie.
But Iceland? Rotten shark meat, sour sheep liver sausage, and a whole array of dishes based chiefly on fermentation.
Take the infamous rotten shark meat, for instance. Apparently it was a standard product sold in regular Icelandic supermarkets.
Its main ingredient was Greenland shark—caught after great effort from nearly 600 meters beneath Arctic sea ice—left to rot under the sun to break down the toxins, then air-dried.
According to British diners who had already grown accustomed to their own homeland's food, eating it was like chewing on a sealed, heavily used toilet—the mouth filled with nothing but the stench of urea.
Dawn rubbed his chin, recalling those descriptions. Suddenly, he very much wanted to choose a different destination.
But for now, he couldn't think of another country that was both sparsely populated and lightly regulated by its Ministry of Magic. Eventually, he gave up.
Forget it. It is what it is…
Sending the thought aside, Dawn watched Amir happily leave with the money.
He decided that once they reached Iceland, he would simply shut himself inside and remain in seclusion until his experiments were complete.
Reigning his drifting thoughts back in, he turned toward the dining table.
William's plate was piled with food, yet the boy didn't even glance at it, still just playing with his fingers.
"Hey, you going to eat?"
Dawn asked casually. When William stayed silent, Dawn shrugged and walked into the kitchen, where he found a canned porridge.
Seeing this, William seemed startled. Shrinking his neck, he hopped off the stool to run, but Dawn had already grabbed him by the back of his collar.
"No, not that—" the chubby boy struggled, hands raised defensively. "It feels awful."
"Too late."
Dawn immobilized him again with Petrificus Totalus, laid the boy flat on the floor, pried open his mouth, and poured the porridge straight down his throat.
Pain flickered in William's eyes. When the porridge was finally gone and the spell wore off, he clutched his throat and dropped to his knees coughing violently.
Dawn glanced at the empty can in his hand and tossed it aside, ignoring William as he headed upstairs.
The wooden floor creaked under his steps.
Dawn recalled the phoenix pattern he had seen in New Zealand and pushed open the magically sealed door.
The man serving as his experimental subject had not yet awakened. Under the effects of the Living Inferno Draught, he still lay unconscious beneath the sheet.
Dawn lifted the white curtain, preparing to attempt another magical creature transformation before leaving Egypt.
His eyes narrowed.
The specialized pattern within the man's body had already begun to blur.
But unlike the black lines of a blood-curse carrier, which naturally broke over time, these artificially broken lines caused only mild distortion—enough that Dawn could still make out the original structure.
He drew his wand and used a shattering charm to sever another small segment of the lines.
This natural magic really was strange.
If it suppressed a person's own magic, it would remain within the body and maintain the transformation. But if the natural magic was expelled, only breaking the lines again could draw it back in.
And the moment Dawn's spell took effect, the silvery mist in the room grew denser.
This time, Dawn did not allow the mist to freely turn the man into a sparrow. Instead, recalling the phoenix's fiery, vivid markings, he interfered manually using Transfiguration.
One complex pattern after another shifted under his wand, but each time, the man's own magic resisted and restored it almost instantly.
Dawn wasn't bothered.
Unlike the first time with Amir, he didn't sever huge chunks of lines to force a flood of natural magic.
He simply watched as the silvery mist seeped into the man's body like strands of dew.
Dawn's method for solving magical creature transformation was simple.
If fully transforming into a magical creature triggered the world's correction, then he would force the process to stop halfway—right in between.
The thought had struck him the day they left the tomb, when Amir's blood curse activated.
Before and after transforming, a blood-curse carrier remained human-shaped, but the pattern in their body entered a special shimmering state.
That moment gave Dawn inspiration:
If he could make the magical creature's pattern interlock with his own in the same shimmering form, then maybe he could maintain human shape while still gaining the creature's abilities.
Dawn believed it was possible.
But to keep the pattern shimmering, natural magic and one's own magic had to remain nearly equal—balanced.
Achieving that required numerous experiments.
And ideally, he needed a wizard close to his age and magical level. Only then would the results be relevant to himself.
Additionally, there was another issue—this man was still unconscious. If he were awake, his emotional fluctuations and their impact on his magic would also have to be considered.
There were still many problems.
But it didn't matter. None were real obstacles anymore. All he needed was repeated testing and observation.
Watching the pattern within the man's body begin to shimmer as natural magic entered, Dawn suddenly felt a strange sense of nostalgia.
It had been less than half a year, yet he felt as though he had walked through a very long journey.
Another thought slipped in:
What should he do after perfecting magical creature transformation?
The first thing that came to mind was the vast library of Hogwarts.
Yes…
Dawn sighed inwardly. He truly needed time to sit down and accumulate more knowledge.
Even if he succeeded this time, he couldn't deny that much of the process had relied on luck at just the right moments.
Like meeting William—the blood-curse carrier—by chance in Egypt.
Luck like that wouldn't always be around.
Dawn needed to learn more spells, broaden his horizons, and study the strange and brilliant experiments of other wizards.
Sometimes, as with the flesh-splitting curse, a simple spell could produce incredible results.
While he concentrated, the shimmering pattern slowed, gradually shifting toward the fiery phoenix-like shape.
Dawn's eyes sharpened.
He wasn't sure if it was an illusion, but he seemed to feel a strange pulse in the air—a vague premonition of danger.
°Avada Kedavra°
He didn't hesitate. The cold incantation burst from his lips.
A green flash shot from his wand, striking the unconscious man on the bed and ending his life instantly.
The shifting pattern froze.
Dawn looked around. Everything was familiar. Nothing had changed—no abrupt relocation like the time with Amir.
Relieved, Dawn felt little disappointment. It was normal not to succeed in one try.
He used Transfiguration to change the lifeless mass of flesh into a stone, lifted it, and prepared to dispose of it.
___________
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