Hogwarts had no secrets.
By the time Ethan headed to the Great Hall for lunch, every student already knew about his remarkable performances in Divination and Potions classes.
They all gazed at him with admiration.
The Weasley twins said enviously, "As expected of Ethan! He pulled off effortlessly what we struggled with and still couldn't manage!"
Ron drifted off into another fantasy, picturing himself boldly and fearlessly standing up to Professor Snape.
As for the thirty points deducted? Nobody cared.
For one thing, it was the unreasonable Professor Snape who had taken them.
For another—come on! This was Ethan Vincent!
Beneath that terrifying exterior, he had an extraordinary mind.
He could rack up those points again in no time flat.
Enduring the intense stares, Michael sighed. "You're bound to leave a lasting legacy at Hogwarts, Ethan."
"But—how exactly are you going to pull off that bet?"
Michael asked, clearly baffled.
After all, everyone knew that once someone transformed into a werewolf, there was no turning back to human form until the full moon had passed!
This was what everyone else was dying to know, too.
Ron chimed in, "Ethan's only way to win is by cheating, right? Like using those paintings or something."
"Right, Harry?"
He turned to seek his best friend's agreement.
But instead, he saw Harry looking utterly convinced.
Harry's eyes sparkled with recollection.
He thought back to that night over the summer when he'd run away from home, and Ethan's astonishing display.
"I believe Ethan will find a way," he said firmly.
"This time, he'll take down Snape once and for all!"
Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Seeing his friend's expression of absolute trust, he thought: Ethan, I seriously suspect you've been slipping love potions into the food.
Otherwise, why does everyone seem completely brainwashed?!
That afternoon, Ethan attended his first Ancient Runes class of the term.
He shared a desk with Hermione.
Michael let out a disapproving grunt and frowned. "Hermione, shouldn't you be in Care of Magical Creatures? What are you doing here—"
Hermione replied, "A top student has her own clever ways."
Michael: "..."
He shut his mouth without another word.
As he watched Ethan and Hermione chatting and laughing together, he shed silent, goblin-like tears.
The first Ancient Runes lesson outlined the semester's curriculum.
Just as Hermione had described, it focused on memorizing vocabulary and translating sentences and texts.
Professor Babbling announced, "Midway through the term, we'll have a short quiz to assess your progress."
At that, Hermione—who adored exams—was so thrilled she practically levitated with excitement.
Ethan, on the other hand, showed no reaction at all.
He propped his chin on his hand, looking bored as he twirled his quill.
As he'd expected, there wasn't much hands-on content—
Still, hearing the professor explain it all over again reinforced his understanding, which would help when casting ancient magic.
Meanwhile, outside the castle at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was leading his very first Care of Magical Creatures class.
Things weren't going smoothly.
First off, none of the students could even open their cute, fluffy textbooks.
Then, when they laid eyes on the majestic hippogriff, not a single one cheered with excitement.
—It seemed like saving Little Bone the death bird for later had been the right call.
"It's alright," Hagrid muttered to himself for encouragement.
Because that morning, the kind and eager Ethan had come to visit him.
To ensure the class went off without a hitch, Ethan had lent him a formidable assistant!
"You don't have to worry," Hagrid told the class. "We've got another helper today to keep you all safe!"
With that, he bellowed into the woods: "Little Black!"
"Whoosh!"
A enormous creature exploded out from the bushes!
The instant Harry saw it, he thought he'd encountered the "omen" again.
His blood turned to ice.
But on closer look, he realized it wasn't that at all.
What burst forth was a short-haired dog with black and white spots.
"Woof woof woof!"
It bounded toward him excitedly, as if reuniting with a long-lost relative, sticking out its long tongue to lick Harry's face.
Oddly enough, Harry felt a comforting warmth, like coming home... even though the dog's fur was a bit patchy and it didn't quite look like a standard Dalmatian. It must be a mixed breed, right?
"Hahaha!" Harry couldn't help but laugh, which only made the big dog more enthusiastic.
In an instant, its appearance lightened the mood on the scene.
Malfoy snorted arrogantly. "I'll stick by this stupid, clumsy mutt. I don't want to get clawed by that monster over there."
After that, under Hagrid's guidance and with Harry leading by example, everyone approached the winged beasts cautiously.
Whenever danger seemed imminent, the "spotted dog" would leap in, intimidating the hippogriffs with sheer force and driving them back.
Hagrid's first lesson wrapped up with a few hiccups, but everyone made it through unscathed.
As class ended, Hagrid was flushed with excitement.
He kept stammering, "Thank you, Ethan," and "Good boy! You're so clever! Extra chicken for you tonight!"
Finally, Ron remarked, "It might not be easy on the nerves—but I have to admit, dealing with massive creatures is thrilling."
Hermione agreed, "Indeed."
Ron shuddered and stared at her in shock. "When did you get here?!"
Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically and ignored him.
Harry, meanwhile, replied absentmindedly, his gaze drifting back to Hagrid waving goodbye—and the big dog at his side.
A powerful wave of reluctance surged in his chest.
"Maybe we can visit Hagrid more often from now on—" Harry suggested.
Hermione shot him a glare. "Don't forget Sirius is still on the run, Harry!"
Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, mate."
"Remember that prophecy—we've got to be careful!"
The fulfilling week flew by in a flash.
Saturday morning.
[Ah…]
Dementors hovered at the school gates.
The nearby plants were coated in a thin layer of white frost.
With them standing guard, no one could possibly slip out unnoticed.
Dementor A: [? Brother, there seems to be something dark over there—]
Dementor B: [Ah—no prisoners to eat—hungry hungry——. —]
Dementor A: [—·]
So unmotivated!
It'll get phased out eventually!
It peered closer.
But the dark shape had vanished.
—That was eerie.
The dementor drifted away in a ghostly manner.
On the other side, in London at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
"Bang!"
A loud explosion echoed through the dim alley, jolting a drunken homeless man awake.
He cracked his eyes open groggily and spotted two figures—one tall, one short—cloaked in black, strolling past him.
—Playing wizards?
Heh, how funny.
As if magic existed in the world.
The homeless man chuckled, took a swig of his rancid beer, tilted his head back, and drifted off again.
Ethan stood on the street, eyeing the row of terraced houses opposite him.
To the left was Number 11.
To the right was Number 13.
There was no Number 12 at all.
This oddity had never registered with the Muggles who lived there.
Sirius was still reeling. "How did you slip past those dementors back there?"
"What kind of creature are you, anyway—"
Sirius eyed Ethan suspiciously, convinced that whatever Ethan had used wasn't human magic.
Ethan turned his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.
Sirius shivered, hastily averted his gaze, and grabbed Ethan's wrist. "Alright, follow my lead from here."
The Secret-Keeper for the Order of the Phoenix was Dumbledore, but others could still be guided inside.
Ethan let Sirius pull him along, stepping between Numbers 11 and 13.
Just as he seemed about to collide with the wall, he stumbled forward.
"Tap."
His knee landed on a step that had materialized from nowhere.
He looked up.
Before him stood a dark, blackened door.
The silver doorknob was fashioned like a coiled serpent.
Sirius climbed the steps, glancing at Ethan with a mischievous grin, and drawled, "Watch your step~"
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
Before he could "swat the dog," Sirius swiftly changed the topic, turning away.
After some rest and recuperation, his gray eyes—now far sharper—fixed on the ancient, unyielding door.
He said slowly, "Welcome to the ancestral home of the noble House of Black—a breeding ground for madmen and lunatics."
Sirius let out a self-mocking laugh.
Ethan remarked, "Cozy."
Sirius: ".—"
In an instant, all his sentiment evaporated.
He raised his wand expressionlessly and unlocked the door with a spell.
At once, a fog of dust slithered out like tentacles from within.
A long, narrow hallway stretched out before Ethan's eyes.
Ethan suddenly realized: Professor Trelawney's first prophecy—
[When the dust-sealed manor is opened]
Had come to pass.
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