Inside the chapel, rows of long tables and benches were neatly arranged.
On the walls, a mural depicted God creating Adam, while a statue stood at the front.
The few people Dawn had seen outside had already gathered inside.
Heads lowered, they prayed silently before the statue and mural. A priest stood near the front.
Through Blaise's vision, Dawn observed everything.
Churches in England often held evening prayers, including recitations and hymns.
But this was just a small-town chapel. There was no full ceremony.
And with weather like this, it was hardly suitable for prayer. The people inside looked more like they had come in to escape the rain and decided to pray along the way.
Hm...
So this time, the mind-link didn't seem dangerous. As long as no one tried to steal anything, there might not even be trouble.
That was what Dawn thought—until, as if to mock him, a creaking sound echoed.
The chapel door rattled violently under the storm.
Then—
A terrified scream shattered the calm.
"A dog! A dog! It's huge!"
A dog?
Dawn froze.
Without needing instruction, Blaise instinctively turned toward the door.
Through the rain and wind, a massive black dog stood there, nearly two meters tall.
Its sleek, dark body blocked the entrance entirely, and its blood-red eyes locked onto the people inside.
Then—
Without warning—
Before the screams could fully erupt, it moved.
Its body blurred, stretching like a shadow as it lunged forward. In an instant, it tore through the throat of the nearest man.
Fast!
Dawn's heart jolted.
Screams mixed with thunder and rain. Blood splashed across the chapel, staining the murals, defiling the face of God.
Black dog. Church. Storm.
Dawn's expression darkened instantly.
Damn it.
This was the Black Dog curse of English folklore.
The scene was so obvious it might as well have been spelled out.
He immediately recalled what he had once learned—back when he had been dealing with Anubis in Egypt. The comparison had been drawn using this exact legend.
The 1577 Black Dog incident at Bungay Church in Suffolk.
And now—He had walked straight into something on that level.
Worse—He was experiencing it as a Muggle.
No time to curse his luck.
He forced himself to recall everything he knew. The earliest Black Dog account dated back to 1552.
A cardinal in London had seen a massive black dog with fiery eyes beneath his desk. It vanished without a trace.
Soon after, he fell ill and died, constantly screaming for the dog to be driven away.
Others followed.
A milkman struck mute.
A soldier dead within three days.
Dawn's eyes sharpened.
"Run!" he barked. "Get out of the chapel!"
Because he had seen it.
And in every story— Those who saw the black dog were already marked.
Dawn felt his heart sink.
But—
Blaise didn't move. He stood frozen, staring blankly as the dog slaughtered people around him.
"Idiot! What are you doing?!" Dawn snapped.
"I—I can't move! My legs won't listen!" Blaise cried, voice trembling.
A severed head rolled toward him.
His mind went blank.
"Useless fool!" Voldemort snarled. "Pathetic even for a pureblood!"
Dawn didn't even bother correcting him.
Because at that moment—
A black shadow lunged straight at them.
Wind howled. Claws gleamed like ghostly blades in the flash of lightning.
Blood sprayed.
The claws tore through Blaise's throat. The impact crushed his windpipe completely.
Dawn felt it.
The pain.
Sharp. Real.
Blaise's body collapsed to the ground, neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
Dead.
And then— Something changed.
Dawn felt a strange sensation, as if stepping out of a cockpit into reality itself.
Blaise's corpse twitched.
Then split.
Two forms emerged.
In the reflection of blood pooling on the floor, Dawn saw his own face—young, but with crimson eyes.
Strange.
In previous mind-links, he had taken the host's appearance. Was this another effect of the shattered Resurrection Stone?
No time to think.
He looked up.
Tom Riddle had already started running toward the door.
'That bastard adapted fast.' Dawn sneered. 'So much for the Dark Lord.'
He turned and ran too.
There was no choice.
As a Muggle, fighting that creature was nearly impossible. Even if it had a physical form, it was still a curse.
Survival was the only option.
Mind-links didn't last long—just a few hours at most.
He had to stay alive.
If he died here while Tom survived—He might lose control over Fred's body entirely.
Dawn's thoughts raced.
He did not follow Tom. That would just make him bait. Instead, he sprinted toward a side window.
But—
His heart suddenly clenched. A suffocating sense of danger surged through him.
Instinct took over.
He grabbed a nearby table and shoved it forward just as he spun around—
Crunch!
Wood splintered.
The massive jaws of the black dog bit down, tearing a chunk out of the table.
Its enormous, blood-red eyes locked onto him.
So it chose him first.
Damn it.
The dog lunged again.
Dawn shoved the table deeper into its jaws, limiting its bite—Then struck.
His fist slammed directly into its eye.
Splat!
The eyeball collapsed. Blood and fluid burst out, splashing across his hand.
Hiss—
Smoke rose instantly.
"FUCK!" Dawn growled through gritted teeth.
The liquid was corrosive. It ate into his flesh, carving pits deep enough to expose bone.
But the dog didn't care.
Ignoring the blow entirely, it raised a claw.
Dawn clenched his jaw.
Ignoring the agony, he kicked hard against its face—
Using the slick, blood-covered floor, he slid forward just enough to avoid the descending claw.
Boom!
The stone floor shattered where the claw struck.
___________
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