Jiggs felt as though he had fallen into the longest dream of his life.
In this dream, on a dim, moonless night, he walked alone down a deserted road, humming happily while clutching the money he had worked so hard to earn.
But—
As he passed a fork in the road, a massive shadow leapt out, spreading batlike wings and pinning him beneath its weight.
In his screams and struggling, the creature opened a bloody mouth, revealing vampire-like fangs that sank mercilessly into his tender neck.
I'm done for!
Jiggs stared at the moon as dark clouds swallowed it, hopelessness filling his gaze.
Then—
Across the pitch-black sky, glowing letters suddenly flickered into view.
[Gold -1]
[Gold -1]
[Gold -1]
"Are you joking?! Bite my neck if you want—why are you biting into my savings?!"
Jiggs awoke in a violent rage.
In the dim shop, he saw the counter drawer pulled open… completely empty.
Ah…
So it wasn't a dream after all.
He sat on the floor, dazed for a long time.
He finally remembered being ambushed at closing time by a despicable intruder—forced into swearing an Unbreakable Vow.
A pitiful whimper escaped him.
Tears in his eyes, he looked at the middle-aged man now picking through the potions on his shelves, and screamed inwardly: No! Stop!
The man seemed to hear movement.
He looked over, then casually plucked a bottle of Living Hell Tonic from the shelf and slipped it into his pocket as though it belonged to him.
"Jiggs, you're truly disappointing."
The man scoffed, criticizing without mercy. "Look at this shop. Blood-Replenishing Potion, Hair-Restoration Tonic, Revealing Solution…
What's the difference between your shop and a rubbish depot?"
Jiggs glared, wishing insults could be fired from his eyes like curses.
Bastard! Put my Skelegro back right now!
No, not that one! That's Beauty Brew! The only bottle I have! It's how I attract the female customers!
Watching the man loot his shelves, Jiggs collapsed to his knees in despair.
At that moment, he swore to the heavens that he would never again deal in Felix Felicis. Those interested in that potion were nothing but calamities in human form.
Once he finished selecting everything he wanted, Dawn dragged a chair over and sat beside the counter.
"Jiggs, did you remember everything I told you to do?"
"Remember… yes, I remember."
"Good."
Dawn nodded.
Seeing the man's empty, defeated stare, he added calmly, "We have no personal grudge. Do as instructed. In three days, we'll never have to see each other again."
Jiggs' expression twisted painfully.
Dawn ignored him and picked up the black invitation letter, running a finger along its rough surface.
The banquet two days from now worried him.
Jiggs had given him only fragments of information, but even that was enough to show this was an Avery family event held with the highest level of formality.
The invitation listed prominent names from across wizarding Britain.
Dawn had to consider the possibility that Dumbledore might be among them.
In his current unstable condition, if he had to go through another chase with the old headmaster, the natural magic inside him would eventually tear his body apart.
He couldn't let that happen.
And because of this uncertainty, he had spared Jiggs's life. He needed the man to help set things in motion before the banquet.
"Do I really have to do this?" Jiggs interrupted, voice trembling. His face was paper-white. "If I'm caught—I'll spend the rest of my life in Azkaban!"
"Then don't get caught."
Dawn frowned at him, utterly unsympathetic. "Relax. As long as you run fast enough, no one will trace anything back to you. You can still use Apparition, can't you?"
Jiggs opened his mouth again, but Dawn's irritation flared. His vision tinted red under the Anger Potion's effects.
"Enough! I don't want to hear another excuse. If you can't manage even this, then the only useful thing about you is your body!"
Rage burst forth.
Dawn rose abruptly, grabbed a dried herb bundle from the shelf, and smashed it across Jiggs's face.
The branches struck skin with a sharp snap.
"I hear rue grows better when fed with fresh blood," Dawn hissed through clenched teeth. "With your body, I'm sure I could cultivate an entire greenhouse."
Pain stung Jiggs's cheek. He swallowed hard and bowed his head.
Dawn breathed raggedly, forcing himself to calm down.
His own behavior alarmed him. He was beginning to resemble Voldemort—volatile, unstable, consumed by waves of fury.
But this wasn't simply a bad mood.
The emotional volatility meant the natural magic inside him was distorting his psyche—and that terrified him. If it continued unchecked, his personality itself might warp permanently.
Yet he couldn't take a Calming Draught to recover. He needed this heightened emotion to suppress the invasive natural magic.
"If you're truly afraid, use the Imperius Curse on someone else to do your part."
Dawn's voice steadied. The red faded from his eyes.
"As long as what I need happens at the agreed time, I don't care who carries it out."
He revealed the glowing rune circling his wrist.
"Think carefully, Jiggs. You and I are bound by an Unbreakable Vow."
Dawn tried to sound level.
And he really was beginning to appreciate just how absurdly useful this spell was. Far better than the Imperius Curse—no risk of rebellion, no gaps, no betrayal.
Jiggs stared at the identical rune on his own wrist and fell silent again.
Time passed quickly in that silence.
Night melted away.
The sun rose.
Diagon Alley bustled with its usual cheer. No one paid attention to the single potion shop that failed to open.
Regulars merely chuckled to themselves—clearly the fat shopkeeper was taking the Avery invitation very seriously if he closed early to prepare.
Inside the shop, Jiggs continued describing his acquaintances.
"Zawill Burke, forty-six. Attended Hogwarts the same year I did. Member of the Burke family. He's how I first connected with higher-end potion contacts."
"He's easy to recognize—there's a scar on his left cheek from a backfired Dark spell. Never healed."
"He knows me well, but don't worry. He's arrogant to the bone. He despises anyone not of pure-blood noble standing. As long as you don't speak to him, he won't pay you any attention."
Dawn nodded, jotting notes. His short-term memory had suffered under the Anger Potion's influence, so he had to write everything down.
"Anyone else?"
"Armiar Earhart. Another classmate. I once borrowed money from him… haven't repaid it yet." Jiggs winced. "But he probably won't confront me at a formal event. Hopefully."
He described Earhart's appearance, then continued rambling. Dawn wrote name after name.
Ten minutes later—
The parchment was covered in dense notes. Dawn's irritation mounted, but Jiggs still wasn't done.
"So many acquaintances," Dawn muttered, writing down the name of a woman—Alice Marie—apparently an ex-lover of Jiggs's. "Anyone else?"
"No… no more."
Jiggs hugged himself, trembling, watching Dawn down another gulp of Anger Potion as his eyes glowed crimson.
Dawn slammed the quill down, seized the parchment, and began committing it all to memory.
Another day passed.
Finally, the banquet's evening arrived.
Following the enchantments linked to the invitation, Dawn located a vast, hidden manor near Muggled-on-the-Wold.
Iron fencing surrounded the grounds, gilded patterns decorating the metal like flowing runes.
Far from subtle, the estate radiated ostentatious wealth.
Dawn surveyed it.
Like the Malfoys—once ennobled by Muggle royalty—the Averys must also have had deep ties to the Muggle world. The Baroque architecture of their manor clearly came from a Muggle master craftsman.
Every wall, every brick bore religious-style carvings that felt alien within the wizarding world.
Crunch.
Footsteps in the snow.
Dawn turned.
A woman with bizarrely frizzy white curls, bright green robes, and jeweled glasses approached.
Rita Skeeter.
Dawn narrowed his eyes.
He hadn't expected to see her. Most of the scathing articles in the Daily Prophet about him had been written by her hand.
"Hmph."
She looked at the overweight man Dawn appeared to be, mentally checked that he wasn't anyone important, and swept past with an arrogant sniff.
Dawn's concealed eyes flashed redder.
He wanted to curse her on the spot—just a quick Killing Curse to teach her manners.
But he forced the urge down. He still needed to deal with Slughorn, and his unstable condition made any confrontation dangerous.
More guests arrived by the minute—many recognizably influential.
Dawn quickened his pace and entered the manor's castle-like main building.
The doors stood open. A crimson carpet stretched inward, flanked by polished marble floors that gleamed like mirrors.
Dawn glanced down and grimaced at the reflection.
Damn Jiggs and his lack of taste. This hideous purple robe made him look ridiculous.
He snorted, adjusted the collar, and strode inside.
The banquet hadn't officially begun, but the hall was already lively.
Dawn grabbed a glass of wine from a side table and walked along the perimeter, scanning for Horace Slughorn.
But—
He froze mid-step.
He had just passed a cheerful young man, then instinctively turned his head for another look.
A wizard around twenty, with hair as red as wildfire and a charming smile, chatting easily with a girl beside him—who giggled behind her hand.
Dawn swore silently.
Not good.
He hurried onward, avoiding eye contact.
Because what he had seen surrounding the young man…
A tide of silver mist. Deep, vast, ocean-like magic.
Magic no ordinary wizard could possess.
He had only seen that once before—and he was certain.
That handsome young man was Dumbledore.
Dumbledore had come. And he was disguised.
Dawn frowned. He doubted the old man was here for fun.
Was he expecting Dawn to target the Avery family? Laying a trap for him?
Dawn's lips twitched into a cold smile.
Fortunately, Dumbledore did not know his true intentions—and had not pierced his disguise.
Without betraying any reaction, Dawn continued circling the hall.
Finally—
At the far end, he spotted Slughorn mingling expertly among the guests.
Dawn inhaled slowly, fingers tightening on his wand… then relaxing.
No rush.
He reminded himself.
He could stun Slughorn from behind and Apparate away in under five seconds.
All he needed was for Dumbledore to leave the hall.
He checked the time, then—wearing Jiggs's overweight, flushed smile—lifted his drink and began greeting guests in Jiggs's boisterous style.
___________
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