After Professor McGonagall left, the room fell silent once again.
Under the warm yellow light, all Dawn could hear was the soft tapping of raindrops against the windowpane.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap.
Endlessly, without pause.
Dawn pushed open the window.
Even though no one was around anymore, the faint smile on his face remained unchanged.
It was as if an iron mask had been fused into his skin and flesh, making it so that no matter what he felt inside, others could only see his gentle exterior.
Dawn thought to himself that he probably hadn't left a terrible impression on Professor McGonagall.
Although she seemed to suspect he might have read books on dark magic, without solid proof, she likely wouldn't take it seriously.
Aside from that, whether it was his strong thirst for knowledge or the bold move of venturing to Diagon Alley alone, these were merely traits — not flaws.
In fact, thinking about it more carefully:
If he were truly aiming for safety, he should have acted like an ordinary child, hiding all knowledge about the wizarding world, pretending he knew nothing about it.
But then again...
Dawn couldn't quite figure out what good that would do.
In his view, no matter the school, good students were always given more opportunities. Hogwarts would be no exception.
For example, clubs founded by professors within the school — places where deeper, more advanced knowledge was taught — only extended invitations to students who showed enough talent.
So, Dawn concluded:
As long as he concealed the truth — that he had studied dark magic and done certain reckless things that might alert Dumbledore — it was absolutely necessary to let his uniqueness shine through.
Suddenly,
A damp, chilly breeze brushed against his face, carrying with it the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil, pulling Dawn's drifting thoughts back into focus.
He shook his head, deciding not to dwell on the past anymore. Standing by the window, he concentrated fully, gazing out at the dark, heavy sky in the distance.
This rain had been falling for quite some time.
The earth was greedily stripping moisture from the clouds, and so the rain had softened, its once heavy drops now falling as fine misty threads, spiraling weakly in the wind.
Within the clouds, the magic that had gathered was also beginning to dissipate, thinning out until it was barely perceptible.
Dawn sighed, feeling a little disappointed.
He stared at the sky for a while longer, then sat back down at his desk. He picked up the closed leather notebook and gently flipped it open.
Immediately, a wildly twisted image leapt into view.
Across the clean white pages, countless black lines crossed and tangled, scribbled in a chaotic mess. Through the layers of complicated markings, one could faintly make out abstract patterns jumbled together.
There was no order, no sense of beauty — it was like the frantic scrawling of a restless mind, enough to stir a feeling of unease just by looking at it.
Dawn ran his finger lightly over the pages, revealing one distorted drawing after another.
He kept flipping until he found a fresh blank page, then picked up his fountain pen, sketching as he recalled the way the magic had flowed during the rain.
Yes.
Dawn possessed a special ability.
He could clearly see the existence of magic, and observe deeper structures hidden within its movements.
These were the endlessly shifting line patterns that flowed with the magic.
Of course, he could only see them when the magic was dense enough, and when he was fully focused.
So far, Dawn still wasn't entirely certain where this ability came from.
But he believed that even if it was connected to his innate talents and the strange dreams he sometimes had, it couldn't be solely attributed to them.
Because this ability hadn't been with him from birth — it had emerged just a week ago, through a magic surge. Still, in a way, it could also be said that it was the result of his own efforts.
Everything traced back to when he was six years old.
At the time, after confirming that magic truly existed and discovering the Leaky Cauldron, Dawn had realized a crucial point —
Unlike the mages in games who emphasized strict logic and precision, the magic of this world was unique. It leaned heavily on emotions and was inherently more subjective.
In other words, the magic wielded by wizards was a power fueled by their heart's desires.
And among all aspects of this heart-driven magic, the most extraordinary — and perhaps closest to its essence — was the magic surge every young witch or wizard experienced.
That was when, under strong emotions and intense longing, magic acted on its own to fulfill the child's wishes.
Just like how Harry, without even knowing wizards existed or studying magic, had made the glass vanish and reappear at the zoo.
This phenomenon was similar to wandless magic. Yet Dawn felt it was wrong to treat the two as identical.
In his eyes, wandless magic was a technique — a skill that, after long training, allowed one to consciously cast a known spell without a wand.
Magic surges, however, were different.
They didn't require prior knowledge of spells. Sometimes, the effects produced had no equivalent spells even in the known magical world.
Take flying, for example.
In the original story, Neville had once been thrown from a window as a child, only to bounce safely and float across the garden.
Technically, there was a spell that allowed flight — the one created by Voldemort — but it left behind a trail of dark mist, very different from what Neville experienced.
Sure, one could argue that others might also have had the ability to fly and it just wasn't described, or that ancient flight spells were lost over time.
But Dawn was willing to bet on the uniqueness of magic surges.
Moreover, phenomena like Obscurials — children who, by repressing their magic too much, eventually lost control and became immensely destructive — further supported this view.
Therefore,
Dawn made a decision:
He would immerse himself in an intense thirst for knowledge, hoping to guide the effects of a magic surge.
It sounded ridiculous, but achieving it wasn't impossible.
With his self-control far beyond his years, his unwavering passion for magic, and a seemingly endless stream of books to fuel his curiosity, he could sustain the necessary emotional pressure.
And so, as strange as it seemed, and yet inevitable in hindsight…
Just a few days ago, after finishing the book [The Origins of Magic: A Study of Fantastic Beasts] and recalling [Exploring the Birthplace of Magic: Egypt], he had grown deeply curious about the source of magic itself.
At long last, the constant yearning sparked a response.
After a magic surge that wreaked havoc across his room, Dawn found himself enveloped in a silver-white mist, within which floated countless colored lines and patterns.
After some investigation, he realized he had gained the ability to see magic directly.
However, although this ability had been with him for a week now, he still couldn't figure out what the abstract patterns represented.
At first, he suspected they might be connected to runes.
But when he recorded the magical patterns inside his body and compared them to rune books, he couldn't find a single matching symbol.
Up to this point, the only practical use of his ability had been the realization that magic existed naturally in the world around him. Normally, it was so thinly spread that it was unnoticeable.
But during major weather events, it would spontaneously gather. Just like during today's beautiful rain.
"Looks like, in the days before school starts, I need to shift my focus to studying these patterns..."
Muttering to himself, Dawn stared at the new abstract drawing he had just created and ruffled his hair in frustration.