The sky above was free of clouds.
Bright moonlight bathed the world, with not the slightest sign that dawn was approaching.
Dense fog swallowed everything.
After rousing Dawn from his thoughts, the Brain beckoned with one of its tentacles, turned around, and floated toward the castle.
After a moment's consideration, Dawn followed.
"By the way, Mr. Flamel..."
He forced himself to use the name despite how awkward it felt.
After a brief pause, he voiced a question that had been bothering him. "How many versions of me exist inside the castle?"
"Only one."
"Only one?" Dawn raised an eyebrow.
That seemed to suggest that although his consciousness was scattered among many students, it remained unified on a deeper level.
But then another thought occurred to him.
Blaise was still in Jerusalem.
The students carrying fragments of his consciousness were not all gathered inside the castle.
Yet his consciousness had still manifested here.
Which meant...
Before he entered the castle through Fred's body, the portions of his consciousness residing in other students should have existed here as well.
What state had they been in?
"I don't know."
The Brain spread its tentacles helplessly.
"During my exploration of the castle, I never saw another version of you."
Then it continued:
"However, I do have a theory. Since your attention wasn't focused here, perhaps the fragments of your consciousness within those students existed in a dormant state."
One tentacle pointed toward the red-haired boy still lying unconscious behind them.
"Look at Fred. He hasn't awakened either. The reasons aren't exactly the same, but I suspect the phenomenon is similar.
And once the primary consciousness—the one receiving most of your attention—arrives here, the previous manifestation may simply disappear."
The Brain laid out its reasoning in full.
I see...
Dawn frowned.
If those fragments had been unconscious, that would explain why none of them had noticed the changes occurring within the castle.
After several more steps along the muddy path, he shook his head.
Forget it.
Trying to force logic onto the magical world was probably a foolish endeavor to begin with.
"Hurry up, child."
Standing before a set of tightly shut wooden doors, the Brain swayed its tentacles dramatically.
"You cannot possibly imagine how interesting the castle has become."
Listening to it, Dawn felt increasingly uncomfortable.
The more he interacted with this thing, the more convinced he became that the copied consciousness was not quite the same as the original.
Now he understood why the Department of Mysteries still had so many Brains in Jars.
This one was clearly very different from Nicolas Flamel.
Clicking his tongue, he walked up beside it and pushed open the familiar doors through which students entered at the start of every school year.
Creak.
The doors swung open.
The Great Hall came into view.
Dawn looked around.
At first glance, nothing seemed different from reality. The hall was quiet. Only floating candles illuminated the vast chamber.
The Brain offered no explanation.
It simply drifted toward one of the corridors and signaled for Dawn to follow.
The castle felt strangely empty.
Aside from Dawn and the Brain, there were no other figures.
No other minds.
Yet after turning the second corner, Dawn suddenly heard something.
Faint screams.
Muffled cries.
Like pigs being dragged unwillingly toward a slaughterhouse.
"Aghhh…"
"Aaagh…"
Curious, Dawn turned his head. The sounds were coming from behind a closed door.
He immediately recognized the room.
Filch's office.
Stopping in place, he listened for a moment before reaching for the handle.
Creak.
The door opened slightly.
Instantly, a strange odor billowed outward.
Dawn frowned and quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm over himself. Then he peered through the gap.
Hooks hanging from the ceiling. Bodies trembling as they were impaled.
Floors covered in blood and scraps of flesh.
Filch wielding a heavy whip.
Children screaming.
Bloody wounds exposing bone.
The room was packed with instruments of torture. The entire scene resembled a vision of hell itself.
"Disturbing, isn't it?"
Before Dawn could react, the Brain floated beside him.
Its tone was leisurely.
"As I said, this is the world of thought. Or if you prefer, the world of dreams."
In dreams, what manifests is a person's deepest desire.
Mr. Filch lacks magic. Combined with his resentment toward students who mock him and waste the gifts he never had, his dream takes this form."
The Brain settled onto Dawn's shoulder.
Its voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Don't worry. None of it is real. The students hanging from those hooks are merely imagined figures."
Though briefly shocked, Dawn recovered quickly. His tolerance for disturbing sights was far above average.
He glanced into the room again.
One of the students being whipped had red hair.
Beneath the blood, the face looked suspiciously like one of the Weasley twins.
So he hates them that much?
Looking at the strips of flesh hanging from the victim's body, Dawn thought about the twins' long history of tormenting Filch.
Actually, it made perfect sense.
History had truly protected those two.
If Hogwarts had still been run by one of its old headmasters who favored corporal punishment, this dream might have become reality.
Shaking his head, Dawn returned to the previous topic.
"If this represents his deepest desire, shouldn't Filch dream of becoming a wizard?"
"Ah... that."
The Brain spread its tentacles.
"Perhaps because he knows he can never become one. Maybe he doesn't even dare fantasize about it while dreaming."
"...That's both hateful and pitiful."
Dawn closed the door.
Bang.
The Brain immediately erupted into delighted laughter. "Oh ho ho! Child, don't you think this is fascinating?"
Its tentacles rubbed frantically against its folds, producing unpleasant slime.
It floated circles around him.
"Open a door and you discover someone's true inner self! What a wonderful way to explore hidden secrets!"
The Brain seemed genuinely excited.
Dawn's expression became increasingly strange.
Even allowing for differences in a copied consciousness, this personality was bizarre.
He was having trouble reconciling this behavior with Nicolas Flamel's voice.
Still...
He had to admit the Brain had a point.
There was something undeniably fascinating about peering into the deepest secrets of another person's mind.
One human and one Brain continued onward.
Along the way, Dawn asked another question.
"Mr. Flamel.
When I used Resurrection Stone powder to enter a thought-world before, I only experienced fragments of history.
Why does this place contain imagined scenarios instead?"
"Oh."
The Brain's answer carried a philosophical tone.
"The thoughts of the dead contain only history. The thoughts of the living still contain dreams and futures yet to be created."
Dawn narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
Then he asked, "Then why am I not dreaming like Filch?"
"Hm... perhaps because you're unusual?" The Brain sounded uncertain. "After all, your consciousness is an intruder."
"Look at me. I'm not dreaming either."
That actually made sense. Dawn glanced at the Brain and decided not to pursue the matter further.
Soon, they reached the end of the corridor and found a moving staircase.
The Brain floated upward.
Dawn stepped onto the stairs and was carried to the second floor.
Like the Great Hall, it appeared nearly identical to reality. Candles still illuminated the corridors.
Although the Brain had been eager moments ago to hunt down Voldemort, it now wandered aimlessly.
Oddly enough, Dawn didn't mind.
As they walked across the stone floor, another unusual sound drifted from a nearby classroom.
Curiosity piqued once more, he reached for the handle.
Creak.
The door swung open.
The dim corridor was instantly split apart. Sunlight flooded through the doorway.
A moist sea breeze accompanied it. So did the sound of crashing waves.
Dawn squinted.
For a moment, he was speechless.
Beyond the door was an ocean liner sailing across the sea. The door itself was embedded into one of the ship's cabin walls.
"This is ridiculously disconnected."
He pinched the bridge of his nose while adjusting to the sunlight.
"These dreams don't merge together?"
"No." The Brain floated beside him, clearly fascinated. "They are not a shared dream."
"Each dream remains separate. They've simply all been placed inside the castle."
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
"All right, Mr. Flamel. You were right...The castle really has become interesting."
The entire experience felt absurdly magical.
Looking outward, he saw a familiar-looking student.
Not someone he knew well.
Just a face he vaguely recognized.
The student, clearly the dream's protagonist, wore Muggle clothing and crouched among a group of people with a pipe hanging from his mouth.
Before him lay a mannequin with a knife protruding from its chest.
It was obviously standing in for a corpse.
"A detective mystery."
"...How very British."
Dawn rubbed his face.
The sight reminded him of his own detective adventures.
His eyes drifted back to the fake corpse. The mannequin ruined the atmosphere completely.
If you're afraid of corpses, maybe don't dream about being a detective.
Shaking his head, he turned away and eagerly anticipated the next door. "Come on, Mr. Flamel. Voldemort isn't here."
"What are you talking about, child?"
The Brain stopped him.
A tentacle grabbed his shoulder and physically turned his head back toward the scene.
"Look carefully...Voldemort is right there."
"Huh?"
Dawn blinked.
He looked again.
There was a fake corpse. One student. Three adult suspects.
No sign whatsoever of Voldemort.
"Oh, child."
The Brain rubbed one of its frontal folds dramatically.
"Surely you don't think Voldemort exists as a separate individual here, the way you and I do?"
"Doesn't he?"
Dawn frowned.
He had always assumed Voldemort's consciousness existed somewhere within the castle as an independent entity waiting to be found and destroyed.
"Of course not!"
The Brain made an exaggerated attempt to smack Dawn with a tentacle.
"Your consciousness and mine occupy students as separate entities. We coexist alongside their minds.
But Voldemort is different. Because of that spell, his consciousness is fused with theirs.
The Horcruxes merely allow him to maintain his own awareness."
The Brain pointed toward the student investigating the crime scene. "In this world of thought, Voldemort and that student are one."
One.
Dawn immediately recalled his previous Thought-Link experiences.
Indeed.
Voldemort's consciousness only emerged after a student died.
Their minds had never appeared separately within one another.
That also explained why Dawn needed complete control whenever he occupied a body, whereas Voldemort could choose whether or not to surface.
"So what do we do?" Dawn looked toward the student. "Should we kill him? Maybe that would force Voldemort out."
"Absolutely not!"
The Brain crossed two tentacles like a giant X.
"I have no idea what would happen if we killed a student in this place. We cannot act recklessly."
Dawn shrugged. "Then what's your plan?"
"Give me a moment." The Brain began rubbing its folds again.
After a while, it suddenly brightened.
"I've got it!"
One tentacle slapped Dawn's shoulder. Its tone became deadly serious.
"Child."
"Go destroy his dream."
Dawn tilted his head.
Recently, every conversation with Nicolas Flamel seemed destined to leave him speechless.
The suggestion felt remarkably similar to being told to kidnap children.
"And why exactly this time?"
He struggled to suppress a tidal wave of sarcasm.
The Brain snapped its tentacles dramatically.
"If his dream is shattered, he may refuse to face reality. And then Voldemort's consciousness might emerge."
"Mr. Flamel." Dawn's face twitched. "Is there even the slightest magical basis for that theory?"
"You have to try things!"
The Brain pushed him forward enthusiastically.
"He wants to be a detective, right? Then go solve the case before he can!
Crush him with your superior deductions! Tell him he lacks any talent whatsoever!"
The more it talked, the more excited it became.
Meanwhile, Dawn found himself questioning reality once again.
Was this truly a copy of Nicolas Flamel's mind?
Or was this the real personality hidden beneath centuries of wisdom and respectability?
Rubbing his temples, Dawn sighed. Yet despite his complaints, he found he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea.
After all—Detective work did sound fun.
Rather than stepping into the dream immediately, he remained hidden behind the doorway and listened.
Soon enough, he pieced together the scenario.
A murder had occurred aboard a luxury liner. Earlier that morning, a body had been discovered on deck.
Fortunately, a detective happened to be among the passengers.
After interviewing everyone aboard, the detective narrowed the suspects down to three individuals.
Suspect A was the victim's business rival.
If the victim disappeared, his commercial empire would expand considerably.
A clear motive.
Suspect B was the victim's son.
He was addicted to gambling and constantly demanded money.
Witnesses claimed they had heard the two arguing loudly the previous night.
Another strong motive.
Suspect C was the son of a former employee.
The employee had been fired by the victim and died shortly afterward from depression.
Yet another motive.
Hmm...
For a dream, the setup was surprisingly logical.
Aside from the fact that the corpse was obviously a mannequin.
___________
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