It was over.
The old pages were flipped to the very last.
Dawn ran his fingers over the textured, matte leather cover, then propped his chin in his hand.
He felt as though he had grasped some fleeting inspiration—something of great importance—but when he tried to pin it down, it vanished like mist.
Of the three manuscripts, only the first felt remotely grounded. The other two grew increasingly bizarre.
One spoke of a man last seen with dragon scales growing over his body, eventually vanishing without a trace.
The other claimed to have transformed into a Thestral, but had only dragged out a donkey's head and was dismissed by all as a lunatic.
Was it true?
Or just fantasy?
Dawn extinguished the light of the °Lumos° charm, sinking himself into complete darkness.
In truth...
He hadn't come to the Restricted Section tonight because he was struggling with the problem of transforming into magical creatures.
His curiosity had simply been piqued by the redacted section in [Flesh and Flesh].
In Dawn's view, that transformation was the easiest part of the whole process.
Even if he couldn't complete the transformation in one go, as long as he solved the time limit issue of pattern transfiguration, he could do it piece by piece, stabilizing one part before moving to the next, eventually completing the full transformation.
But after reading [Mad Magic: Blood and Taboo], although it contained nothing about solving the time constraint of transfiguration...
It did cast a faint shadow over his self-confidence.
Was it really that easy to acquire the phoenix's immortality through pattern transformation?
In the darkness, Dawn tapped the desk with his fingers, one tap after another.
After a long while...
He shook his head, refusing to let himself be bogged down by hypothetical questions with no answers.
Dawn had an almost arrogant level of self-confidence. He believed that even if there were hidden obstacles, he could overcome them when they appeared.
He glanced at the time.
It was still far from sunrise.
Dawn stood up, stepped back over the rope into the Restricted Section, returned the book, and decided to find another volume on transfiguration.
After all, since he'd gone through the trouble of sneaking in, he might as well make the most of it.
....
"Child, take a break."
Suddenly.
As Dawn was browsing through the shelves, a warm voice echoed from the dark corner.
His fingers froze mid-motion. He turned his head and looked toward the figure standing not far away—an elderly man with a long beard dressed in purple robes.
There was no real surprise in his expression.
He lowered his hand and nodded slightly. "Headmaster, when did you get here?"
"Oh, not too long ago. Just after you crossed the rope," Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eye, as if sharing a joke.
With a casual wave of his hand, several orbs of light burst forth, illuminating the dark library in a soft glow.
Dawn sighed inwardly. He glanced regretfully at the book in front of him, his red pupils growing distant once more as he stepped back over the rope.
"Headmaster, to be honest, I'm a bit surprised. I thought you'd have stopped me much earlier."
"Oh? Why would you think that?" Dumbledore seated himself opposite the spot where Dawn had just been reading, patting the tabletop as an invitation for him to sit.
Dawn considered for a moment, then flicked his wand, summoning the book he'd just been reading back into his hand before taking his seat again.
"Because the other night, you said my desires were too strong. I thought you'd worry I might stray down a dark path and try to keep me away from dangerous magical knowledge."
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment. "Alright, Dawn. I won't lie to you."
He let out a sigh. "In truth, before I came to the library tonight, I did intend to stop you."
Dawn raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask why he had changed his mind.
The old headmaster chuckled, a touch of self-deprecation in his voice.
"Child, perhaps you don't realize just how deeply your words that night affected an old man."
"These past few days, I've barely slept. My mind keeps drifting back to things from my youth."
He gave a wistful sigh.
"It really has been a long time. Those intense, unforgettable memories have dulled with time, covered in dust. I've nearly forgotten what it feels like to be young."
Dawn watched the sincerity in the old man's face and rubbed his temple with some fatigue.
"Headmaster, if you have something to say, please get to the point. There's no need to speak in circles like last time."
"Oh? Didn't you notice, Dawn? I'm admitting I was wrong." Dumbledore pointed to him, then to himself.
Then said softly, "Young people can't fully understand the thoughts and emotions of the old. But if the old forget what it feels like to be young—that is a sin."
He looked at Dawn seriously.
"If it were someone like Neville, an ordinary first-year, I definitely wouldn't allow them access to this kind of dangerous knowledge."
"But for gifted students with self-discipline, perhaps letting them follow their own path isn't such a bad idea."
The headmaster stroked his beard and winked at Dawn, a hint of pride showing on his face.
"Take me, for example! When I was young, I too was fascinated by the Dark Arts and was a frequent visitor of the Restricted Section."
"That's why, when I saw you here tonight, I suddenly realized I'd been putting too much faith in so-called experience, and forgot that you are just as young as I once was."
Dumbledore sighed deeply. "The advice of elders from their lofty perch can also be a form of arrogance."
Dawn said nothing.
Every interaction with Dumbledore left him feeling uneasy. The old man always tried to use sincerity to make him open his heart.
Dawn didn't like that feeling at all.
After a moment of silence... He pushed the book across the table.
Faced with Dumbledore's puzzled gaze Dawn said bluntly, "I imagine you're quite curious about what I've been reading, aren't you, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore was momentarily stunned.
He looked at Dawn's distant expression, sighed, and shook his head with a bitter smile. But he didn't offer any excuses. Instead, he accepted the book and began flipping through it.
Dawn stood up. "Then I'll take my leave."
"Wait a moment, child!" Dumbledore suddenly called after him.
The old headmaster pointed at the open book and said:
"I was wondering if you'd be interested in a bit of magical discussion. You know, before I became headmaster, I was also the professor of Transfiguration."
Dawn paused mid-step.
He looked back at Dumbledore's smiling face…
Hesitated for a moment…
Then shook his head. "No need, Headmaster. It's already quite late. Besides, I'm feeling a bit tired."
"Is that so?" Dumbledore's face showed a trace of regret. "I had thought you might be very curious to hear my views on magical creature transformation."
Dawn's lips tightened for a moment.
He hesitated again.
And then finally returned to his seat.
Dumbledore chuckled as he stroked his white beard.
He didn't speak right away. Instead, he quickly flipped through the pages, seemingly intent on reading the entire book first.
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