Ethan Vincent wasn't about to let Sirius Black slip through his fingers again.
With a guttural chuckle, like a gremlin rummaging through a haunted attic, Ethan seized the edge of the broom closet's door as it began to close.
His eyes locked onto Sirius's stunned gaze. Bringing two fingers together, he whispered with theatrical menace:
"The Universe in the Wardrobe—Open!"
Swish!
A dark mahogany wardrobe materialized out of thin air, defying the cramped confines of the broom closet. It unfurled with an eerie grace, as if the laws of space had taken a holiday.
This was magic—wild, untamed, and utterly unhinged.
Sirius's pupils shrank to pinpricks, then widened in awe. Inside the wardrobe, a cosmic tapestry unfolded: a swirling sea of stars, vibrant planets drifting like lanterns in an endless night. It was as if a fairy tale's universe had been stuffed into a piece of furniture.
The planets—vivid, glowing orbs—bobbed gently in the cosmic tide, drawing Sirius's gaze and mind into their orbit. Only when those "planets" linked together, forming a spectral grappling hook that snared him and yanked him toward the wardrobe, did he snap out of his trance.
What kind of deranged spell was this?!
Sirius felt like he hadn't been locked up in Azkaban for twelve years but stranded in some eldritch void for centuries. This magic was beyond advanced—it was downright alien.
"Roar!"
His canine teeth flashed, his Animagus paws scrabbling against the floorboards. He fought the wardrobe's pull with every ounce of his strength, eyes blazing as he glared at Ethan.
He'd rather leap off the Hogwarts Express or face a Dementor's Kiss than let this wicked, cackling pretty boy have his way.
Ethan leaned in close, his voice a silky whisper laced with menace: "I know Pettigrew's the traitor."
One sentence.
Sirius's eyes bulged, his resistance faltering. "Wh—"
Before he could finish, the wardrobe's cosmic grip tightened, exploiting his moment of shock. With a violent tug, it pulled him inside.
Bang!
The wardrobe door slammed shut, plunging Sirius into darkness.
"Merlin's bloody beard!" Sirius howled, his voice muffled. "You little git, how do you know that?! I didn't even say we couldn't work together!"
He felt like he'd swallowed a Dungbomb, frustration boiling over as he clawed at the wardrobe's interior. After a moment, he transformed back into his human form, fumbling for the wand he'd nicked from Knockturn Alley. With a snarl, he unleashed a barrage of Blasting Curses.
Boom! Boom!
Useless.
"What in the name of Merlin's saggy socks does that kid want with me?" Sirius growled, raking a hand through his tangled hair.
He turned—and froze.
Looming in the wardrobe's starry void was a monstrous entity, its form a grotesque mosaic of those kaleidoscopic "planets." Its skull-like face and scorpion-like body spanned the cosmos, too vast for human comprehension. Its black-hole eyes fixed on Sirius, unblinking.
Sirius's heart sank like a stone.
Hogwarts was breeding Old Gods now, was it?
Back on the Hogwarts Express, Ethan exhaled deeply, a smug grin splitting his handsome face. "Sirius Black, capture complete!"
Having sent the Dementors packing and stuffed Sirius into his cosmic wardrobe, Ethan felt as light as if he'd finished his summer homework on the last day of holidays. His entire being thrummed with satisfaction.
"Alright," he murmured, licking his lips, his eyes glinting with a dark, eager spark. "Next step: get Sirius to take me to his ancestral home, where no tracking charm can follow…"
This little escapade had drained him, though. Painting magic was powerful, but it guzzled magical energy like a Niffler chasing gold. Ethan stowed his war hammer and protective veil, then fished a bottle of Invigoration Draught from his pocket and downed it in one go.
"Phew!"
The potion hit like a charm, revitalizing him. As the effects of his "Pure Land of Bliss" painting faded, the snow blanketing the train's corridor began to melt.
"Ethan!"
A shout broke his reverie. Professor Remus Lupin came sprinting down the corridor, breathless, his face a mix of concern and suspicion.
"Were you just talking to someone?" Lupin asked, eyes narrowing.
Ethan blinked, his expression the picture of innocence. "Nope."
I was talking to a dog.
"Oh, I see." Lupin's shoulders sagged, a flicker of relief—or was it disappointment?—crossing his face. For a moment, he'd wondered if Ethan was conspiring with Sirius.
No, impossible. Ethan was on the side of justice. How could he be in league with a fugitive like Black?
Lupin shook his head, chastising himself. "Sorry for the odd question, Ethan. You're not hurt, are you?"
He pulled out a slab of chocolate and handed it to Ethan, then waved his wand to check him for injuries. Lupin's face, pale and haggard, looked worse than Ethan's ever could.
"I'm fine, Professor," Ethan said, his tone dripping with mock paternalism. He produced another bottle of Invigoration Draught and held it out. "Here, have a drink. For your bravery facing those Dementors."
Lupin froze, thrown by Ethan's cheeky tone. He stared at the emerald-green potion—a rare, expensive brew he could rarely afford. Swallowing hard, he waved it off politely. "Thank you, Ethan, but I'm not quite that desperate yet."
"Suit yourself." Ethan shrugged, uncorking the bottle and drinking it himself with a flourish.
The casual display left Lupin speechless. He wanted to say something—anything—but words failed him. Ethan's antics were… not entirely human.
After a long pause, Lupin found his voice. "I owe you my deepest thanks, Ethan," he said, crouching to meet Ethan's gaze. "If it weren't for you, those Dementors might have…"
He trailed off, his face darkening. "They were going to give Harry the Dementor's Kiss. The Ministry will answer for this."
But then his tone shifted, eyes gleaming with awe. "How did you do it, Ethan? I've never heard of magic that can destroy Dementors. Even Dumbledore can only repel them with a Patronus!"
Recalling the surreal "snowy chase" from moments ago, Lupin felt the world was too small to contain Ethan Vincent.
"Killing Dementors," he murmured, almost to himself. "When this gets out, it'll shake the Wizarding World to its core."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, then flashed a grin that was equal parts charming and unhinged. "Famous? Professor, I've been famous for ages."
This time, he'd just give the Wizarding World a little extra shock.
Lupin raised his own eyebrow, then let out a wry chuckle. The Wizarding World was doomed, wasn't it?
As the tension eased, students began poking their heads out of their compartments, staring at Ethan like he was some mythical creature.
The Weasley twins, Fred and George, were practically vibrating with excitement. They leaned against the doorframe, bowing theatrically as if worshipping a deity.
"So cool!" Fred gasped.
"Like Merlin's rainbow-spinning dentures!" George added.
"Or Percy's ridiculous prefect badge—oh wait, it's not ridiculous anymore. It says 'Cringe Boy' now!" Fred cackled.
"WHAT?!" Percy's outraged shout echoed from down the corridor.
Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff heartthrob, was in tears, gazing at Ethan like he'd slain a dragon. "I want to follow Ethan forever," he mumbled. "Wonder how much counterweight he lifts…"
A few bold girls from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor stared at Ethan with starry eyes, whispering, "Third-year Ethan, already this dashing at the start of term~?"
Inside one compartment, Ron Weasley gaped, dumbfounded. "Bloody hell, is this actually happening? Why's everyone acting like Ethan's Merlin reborn? Am I the only one who thinks he's terrifying?!"
He turned to Harry for support, but Harry was already on his feet, rushing toward Ethan with a bottle of orange soda. "You must be thirsty after all that," Harry said, concern lacing his voice. "Here, have a drink."
Ethan accepted it with a dazzling smile. "Thanks, Harry. You're too kind."
Harry scratched his head, blushing. "N-no big deal, heh."
Ron's jaw dropped. "Mate, what?! You're one of them now? A Chaos Cultist of Ethan Vincent?! Save yourself, Harry!"
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