Sirius fell silent.
In the next instant, his face flushed with embarrassment!
He swore that if there was a crack in the ground right then, he'd burrow straight down to the Earth's core!
Damn it! The humiliation!
It was only after meeting this bizarre young man that Sirius truly understood what "torment" meant.
Compared to this, Azkaban was a walk in the park.
Sirius roared, "What have you done to Harry?! I'm warning you—if you lay a finger on him, I'll come back as a ghost and end you!"
Ethan: "Come on, give me your hand."
Those simple words seemed to carry an enchanting power.
Before Sirius could even process it, he'd already extended his hand into Ethan's open palm.
Sirius: "Just kill me already."
Ethan's lips curved into a smile.
To the dumbfounded Sirius, he murmured softly, "Don't be so tense."
"I brought you here specifically to help you."
To help this wandering stray find his way back home.
Upon hearing that, Sirius reacted as if he'd just heard the most absurd joke in the world.
He let out a bitter laugh. "Help me? Ha!"
He swatted Ethan's hand away.
On his gaunt, grimy face, an expression of utter scorn emerged: "There's only one thing I want... and that's to kill!"
As he spoke, a frenzied gleam erupted from Sirius's bloodshot eyes!
It brimmed with profound hatred.
"How about it? You pampered little princeling, do you dare to help me with that?"
Sirius looked down at Ethan with contempt.
He seemed like a young master who'd never gotten his hands dirty.
Just an underage kid.
What could he possibly know about killing?
Ethan regarded Sirius in silence.
Then, suddenly, he spoke. "In 1991, during the Treasure Hunt Challenge, I crippled a student who tried to attack me."
"In 1992, at the end of my first year, I killed my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—and the Lord Voldemort attached to the back of his head."
At the mention of that name, Sirius's eyes widened in shock!
He seemed to grasp something, yet he couldn't form a single word.
He could only stare rigidly as tendrils of bloodlust seeped out with each of Ethan's utterances.
"In the summer of 1992, I wiped out a gang of Dark Wizards in Knockturn Alley who were kidnapping people for twisted rituals. There were probably twenty or thirty of them—I didn't bother counting precisely."
"Before Christmas that same year, I exterminated the Acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest and fed their leader's corpse to the fish."
"In 1993, at the end of my second year, I destroyed Lord Voldemort's lingering soul from his school days and trapped him in a painting of eternal torment..."
Ethan tilted his head.
On his angelic, innocent face, a soft smile bloomed: "That's my tally."
"What's yours?"
Around him, a scarlet aura of bloodlust swirled and twisted!
Within it, shadowy forms of bizarre colossal creatures flickered: the silhouette of a three-headed dog, a bird, and a serpent.
The anguished cries of tormented souls echoed faintly.
"Ah... ah."
Sirius's eyes bulged.
His mouth gaped, speechless.
Gazing up at the looming malevolent presence, he couldn't help but stagger back two steps!
His earlier bravado had vanished without a trace.
There was no doubt—everything this young man said was true!
He had genuinely slaughtered all manner of beings!
Even the members of the Order of the Phoenix had never managed to single-handedly take down dozens of Dark Wizards!
And to top it off, he'd crushed the mighty Lord Voldemort like a mere bug!
In that moment, Ethan, enveloped in the crimson mist, appeared to Sirius as a demon cloaked in human form!
Even that innocent smile now seemed utterly malevolent and horrifying, like a monster clumsily mimicking humanity, radiating an eerie dissonance!
Ethan: "So... can we sit down and talk calmly now?"
Sirius slumped onto the sofa that Ethan had conjured.
His legs were pressed together, hands resting on his knees.
He bowed his head, sweat pouring down his face.
"Slurp~"
Ethan sat across from him, casually sipping hot tea.
With a soft clink, he set the cup on the coffee table.
Sirius jolted violently.
So terrifying... QAQ
Then Ethan's gentle voice broke the silence: "So, your target is Peter Pettigrew, right?"
At the sound of that name, Sirius's fists clenched tightly.
He nodded slowly. "That's right. He was the real traitor back then..."
Ethan listened to his account, nodding from time to time.
It matched exactly what he recalled.
The world believed Sirius had betrayed the location of Harry's parents to Lord Voldemort, causing the tragedy.
Peter Pettigrew was seen as the hero who'd bravely confronted evil, leaving behind only a single finger.
But the truth was the complete opposite.
Pettigrew had leaked the secret, blown up an entire street, indirectly caused the deaths of Harry's parents, killed over a dozen Muggles, and condemned an innocent man to the horrors of Azkaban.
He was utterly despicable.
Sirius: "He's an Animagus too! A gray rat! He's that red-haired kid's pet!"
"He's not dead at all! I'm going to kill him—rip him apart!"
His furious bellows reverberated through the empty Chamber of Secrets.
Ethan watched calmly as Sirius's eyes reddened and his breaths came in heavy gasps.
He said, "Oh, and then what?"
"And then?"
Sirius blinked, caught off guard.
Clearly, as a hot-blooded Gryffindor, the concept of "and then" had never factored into his plans.
Ethan continued slowly, "Have you considered that even if you kill Pettigrew, to the world, you'll still be the escaped convict?"
"Countless people will lay flowers at Pettigrew's grave, praising him as a great hero."
"And you'll just get the Dementor's Kiss."
At those words, Sirius's expression darkened.
The Dementor's Kiss drained a person's soul entirely.
You'd still breathe, but your mind would be gone.
It was the most horrifying punishment imaginable.
"If it were me..." Ethan shifted his posture, crossing his other leg over the first.
He rested his chin on his hand, gazing up at Sirius, and enunciated each word deliberately: "I'd expose Pettigrew's true face to the entire world."
"Let everyone see who the real war hero is."
"Let everyone witness just how incompetent and corrupt the Ministry of Magic was with their rushed judgment back then!"
!!!
Sirius went rigid.
He stared into Ethan's sapphire-blue eyes, the radiant intensity in them making his back straighten!
If things unfolded as this kid described, it wouldn't just be a trial for Pettigrew—it would be a reckoning for the Ministry of Magic itself!
The audience: the whole wizarding world!
Sirius swallowed hard.
His rage subsided, and he rasped, "That's impossible... Do you think I haven't considered it?"
"When their reputation is on the line, the Ministry won't give a damn about the truth of something from over a decade ago."
"No matter how strong you are, you're just a third-year student at best."
"Your voice won't carry to the masses."
At that, Ethan arched his eyebrows.
He knew Sirius was right.
In the original timeline, even with the esteemed Dumbledore and the Boy Who Lived proclaiming Lord Voldemort's return—and with Cedric dead—the Ministry had twisted public opinion, even insinuating that Harry had killed him.
But Ethan thrived on turning the impossible into reality.
That was how one showcased the "miracle" of magic.
If his voice couldn't reach the public, then he'd wield his overwhelming power to force them to listen—to make them see!
Ethan grinned.
Locking eyes with Sirius's widened gaze, he declared in a low, resonant tone, "If you're going to work with me, remember one thing... I once told another friend of yours the same."
"There's nothing I can't do."
"I am the miracle."
Sirius's jaw dropped.
He couldn't utter a word, utterly dumbfounded.
Merlin... This kid's unhinged! His brain's got to be wired wrong!
Yet what escaped his lips was: "What... what do you need my help with?"
The corner of Ethan's mouth lifted slightly.
He leaned back, and the tension in the air eased abruptly: "It's straightforward. You need to help me boost my strength. Just take me to your ancestral home."
"Um... I recall it's the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, right?"
Sirius: ?!!
His pupils dilated in astonishment!
He gaped at the composed young man before him, his body going stiff.
How did Ethan know about the secret organization, the Order of the Phoenix? And how did he know his ancestral home served as its headquarters?
Sweat beaded on Sirius's cheek.
He swallowed, croaking, "No, I can't agree to that."
"The Order of the Phoenix is a safe haven for all its members. I can't bring in an outsider—"
Sirius's words cut off abruptly.
In his line of sight, a tarnished badge materialized.
It looked weathered by centuries, its surface dulled, edges flecked with rust.
Yet that shield-shaped crest, flanked by two gray hounds, was unmistakably the emblem of the House of Black!
Sirius hadn't laid eyes on this insignia in ages.
But some blood-deep genetic memory still sent his heart racing.
Only esteemed family members were entitled to bear the family crest.
And only an outsider who'd rendered immense service to the House of Black would receive such a badge.
But... how could this be? If the badge was genuine, wouldn't Ethan's standing surpass even his own?
Sirius paused for two seconds.
Then he lunged forward, scrutinizing the badge intently.
On the reverse, ornate English script shimmered with a faint green glow when he channeled magic into it.
A moment later, Sirius went quiet.
He lifted his gaze to the smiling Ethan.
Hesitantly, he ventured, "Father?"
Ethan: "Is there some Hogwarts tradition of claiming fathers? Do I just graduate and wind up with hundreds of dutiful sons?"
"Ancestor?"
"To be precise, the benefactor of your ancestor."
Ethan smiled.
In his mind's eye, the bold and vibrant image of that Black family woman from long ago surfaced.
The favor from back then could now be repaid.
After a brief moment of reflection, Ethan refocused.
He looked up, catching Sirius's baffled expression, and his lips curved.
Like dangling a treat before a dog, he waggled the badge in his hand: "Per our agreement, you should comply with my request without question."
"Right, Sirius Black?"
"Good dog—now take me to that trove of Ancient Magic."
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