Speaking of which—The magic power of wizards increases rapidly during their growth period.
But after graduating from Hogwarts, that is, upon reaching adulthood, the magic within them stabilizes and can only be slowly increased over time.
If one wanted to quickly boost their magic again, it would have to be through fortuitous encounters or through certain magical experiments.
Dawn had always speculated.
Voldemort's transformation from a dashing young man into the noseless monstrosity he was now might very well have been the result of some kind of dark magical experimentation.
After all, creating Horcruxes and splitting one's soul shouldn't cause such a drastic change in physical appearance alone.
Mulling over these thoughts, Dawn then found himself thinking about the headmaster of Hogwarts.
The source of Dumbledore's immense magic, apart from his extraordinary talent, probably also had something to do with his family lineage.
A family that could summon phoenixes for assistance... though not counted among the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families, seemed even more exceptional in a way.
Throughout history, every wizard who left behind a name had some unique trait.
Dawn thought that he, too, should plan ahead.
He figured he might be able to use the ability he had acquired during his magic outburst to find a way to rapidly strengthen his magic. However, the key to all of this still lay in deciphering the meaning of those patterns.
Sighing, Dawn once again cast several rounds of restorative magic on The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
Seeing that the effects were still insignificant, he reluctantly tucked the book back into his leather wallet, deciding to deal with it later when he had more time.
He exited the Room of Requirement.
The doorknob on the wall disappeared instantly as the door closed.
Standing before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, Dawn once again focused and muttered silently in his heart, "I need a room to experiment with potions, I need a room to experiment with potions..."
Soon enough, a new doorknob emerged on the wall.
Dawn pushed the door open and found a wide, bright, and well-ventilated room. In the center stood a long table, and a large fireplace was built into one corner, lined with all the utensils needed for potion-making.
Dawn stepped inside, placed the toad cage on the table, opened his wallet, and began taking out the potions he had brewed one by one.
Because he only had ten days, and because potions could quickly evaporate into gas if not properly finished, he ended up with only thirteen usable bottles.
First, he opened the cage and splashed a potion that induced boils onto the toad, causing it to break out in large, pus-filled lumps.
Then he picked up a bottle of pale blue potion, recorded the magic pattern on the bottle, and poured it into the toad's mouth.
"Guh! Guh! Guh-guh!"
As the potion slid down its throat, the toad's plump body began to twitch, the air sacs on either side of its cheeks swelling furiously.
Dawn pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, sitting by the table to quietly observe. Gradually a layer of milky white mucus began to seep from the toad's skin, and the boils started spreading even more.
"Hmm... Non-toxic, but it doesn't cure the boils. It actually makes the condition worse?"
Dawn wrote down the effects of the pale blue potion and sketched the differences in its magic pattern compared to a normal boil-cure potion on the back of the parchment.
Next—He healed the toad, then splashed it again with the same boil-inducing potion.
This time, he picked up a bottle of dark blue potion and poured it into the toad's mouth.
"Grrrrk—!"
The reaction this time was even more intense!
The toad jumped around madly inside the cage, thumping loudly against the wooden bars. A foul, sour stench began to fill the air as deep purple mucus seeped out.
Dawn took two steps back and cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself to isolate the smell.
He waited until the foul odor had been expelled from the room and the toad had collapsed weakly before approaching it again.
"Deep purple mucus... highly toxic," Dawn noted down, then, wearing dragon-hide gloves, checked over the toad's body. "However, it's actually quite effective at curing the boils... Interesting."
After recording his observations, Dawn pulled a bezoar out of his wallet, broke off a small piece, and tried to feed it to the toad.
But it seemed that the chubby creature had developed a strong fear of its abusive master and clamped its mouth shut, refusing to open it.
"Come on now, it's good for you," Dawn said cheerfully as he forcibly shoved the bezoar into the toad's mouth.
"Guh! Guh!"
The toad spasmed and croaked miserably.
Morning passed by quickly.
By noon, Dawn stopped his experiments.
Although he had only tested five potions, he had managed to roughly figure out the meaning of several symbols.
In boil-cure potions the symbol representing toxins resembled a fuzzy irregular sphere, and the more "hairs" it had, the more toxic the potion was.
This symbol would appear during the potion-making process, grow larger, and eventually fade away.
Meanwhile, the symbol representing healing was a cluster of flat, leaf-like abstract shapes—the more of these there were, the better the healing effect.
However whether these interpretations held true for other potions remained to be seen.
More experiments would be needed for confirmation.
Scratching his hair, Dawn decided to pause the experiments for now, head down to the Great Hall for a meal, and give his poor toad a break.
Also, waiting for the bezoar's detoxifying effects was taking quite a while, and it felt wasteful just standing around. Dawn decided to use the time to do something else.
Leaving the Room of Requirement—
The castle, which had been fairly quiet in the early morning, was now bustling with people.
Young witches and wizards, enjoying their last day of holiday freedom, were running wildly through the corridors. Behind them, Filch was chasing and yelling furiously, accompanied by his scrawny cat, Mrs. Norris.
Returning to the Great Hall, Dawn casually ate some steak to fill his stomach, then got up and made his way to the Gryffindor table.
"Hello, Neville Longbottom, right?"
He spoke directly to a round-faced boy who was busy eating.
Neville froze, startled that someone had called his name. He looked up at the stranger in confusion, clearly at a loss, "Uh, I-I am... May I ask who you are...?"
"I'm Dawn Richter, a first-year from Ravenclaw," Dawn said calmly.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, carefully observing Neville's magic aura, and confirmed what he had seen during the Sorting Ceremony.
This chubby boy, Neville, had a significant part of his magic patterns that were completely different from everyone else's!
Raising an eyebrow, Dawn decided to get straight to the point.
"It's a bit sudden, but would you mind coming with me for a moment?"
"Ah? M-me?" Neville looked around nervously, flustered.
But he seemed completely incapable of refusing others. Panicking, he stood up, forgetting to even put down his knife and fork. "W-where to?"
Dawn smiled at him and was just about to answer—
When suddenly—
"Wait a second!"
Hermione, sitting nearby, abruptly stood up and blocked Neville, glaring at Dawn with suspicion.
"Where exactly are you taking Neville?"
"Huh?"
Dawn blinked in surprise and turned his gaze to her. "Granger, you're here too?"
"You—you jerk!"
Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, finding Dawn more and more infuriating.
She opened her mouth to argue. But Dawn cut her off briskly. "Alright, step aside. I'm not here for you."
He sidestepped Hermione, grabbed Neville's wrist, and said, "Come with me, Neville."
As he spoke, he pulled firmly, dragging Neville along.
"Wa-wait... ow... ow..."
Neville whimpered quietly but didn't resist. Hermione watched their retreating backs, hesitating for a moment, but ultimately couldn't let it go.
"Fine... wait for me!"
She shouted, grabbed a book she had borrowed from the library, and hurriedly chased after them.
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