Ethan stared eagerly at the stack of yellowed notes before him.
The handwriting was unmistakable—exactly the same as that in the Necronomicon.
Both belonged to the same mysterious man: Mr. Black.
He had written:
[I succeeded! After countless experiments and costly sacrifices, I have finally deciphered another rune of Ancient Magic!]
["Jera" Rune: Symbolizes the cycle and reincarnation of life and nature—burial and rebirth!]
[It can absorb external energy to sustain itself.]
[Could the spells and rituals built upon this rune absorb the tainted Werewolf bloodline from my daughter?]
Below that were pages of research—dense with runic theory, elaborate diagrams, and ritual formulas.
Ethan's eyes flicked over them, feeling as though he were standing on the shoulders of history itself. His thoughts expanded, his understanding deepened.
[After studying the ancient texts, you have gained a new entry: [Erudition]]
[Your comprehension has increased.]
With [Erudition] activated, even the kind of spellwork that would make seventh-years curse their examiners' mothers suddenly made perfect sense.
Knowledge poured into Ethan's mind like a tide—an elegant, organized chaos that his sharp intellect deconstructed, understood, and absorbed with frightening speed.
"What are you looking at?"
Sirius leaned over curiously—and froze.
The page was covered in so many complex symbols that his eyes felt like they'd been struck by a Confundus Charm. His brain followed shortly after.
Sirius: "…"
He saw Ethan completely absorbed, nodding occasionally in quiet satisfaction.
Then Sirius backed away silently.
No need to embarrass himself.
He'd just… stay a happy dog.
Woof.
[You have finished reading the notes and learned the spell: Wolfspeak]
[Description: A powerful spell created through the fusion of Ancient Magic runes. More a form of plunder than protection—it belongs to the domain of the Dark Arts.]
[Effect: Cast on a Werewolf, it forcibly extracts the creature's bloodline power. The target will suffer grievous harm, and the caster will bear the curse of that very bloodline.]
[Evaluation: Listen to the wails of the divided.]
[Its previous caster paid the price. Will you?]
At the end of the notes, Mr. Black—the man obsessed with purifying his daughter's "filthy bloodline"—appeared to have succeeded.
His daughter regained her human form, and on the next full moon, she no longer transformed.
But then came the haunting lines:
[How could this be?! She is as ignorant as a newborn child… The ritual stripped away her Werewolf bloodline—but also her soul.]
[I too have suffered the backlash.]
[I underestimated the Dark Arts. My time grows short.]
[I must find a way to undo this…]
The next line was violently erased, then rewritten:
[I need immense magical power to completely reverse the Werewolf transformation!]
[Although Goblins are a short-sighted race… one named "Ragnok" actually possesses some wit.]
"Ragnok?" Ethan murmured, raising a brow.
He remembered that name—the leader of the Goblin Rebellion.
[Through Goblin alchemy, we built an unparalleled furnace—one that extracts and refines the magic power condensed in ancient ore veins over millennia.]
[Once smelted, it will form the most powerful rune yet.]
[Heh… Whoever masters this power…]
[Might even be able to kill a god.]
Ethan smiled faintly. "Oh? What a coincidence."
He didn't know if the creature blocking his advancement could truly be called a god—
but its power was certainly beyond the reach of this world.
Even a Norwegian Ridgeback would pale in comparison.
"This rune… this is exactly the power I need."
The notes ended abruptly—with one final line:
[My daughter will be reborn in a new body.]
Ethan closed the notes and murmured, "So in the end, I'll have to go back in time… to the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion."
His grin deepened. "And fight their leader."
He gazed down at the worn parchment and chuckled softly.
"Tell me, old man… was I part of your plan too?
Did you leave these notes so your descendants would follow your path—step by step?"
He licked his lips, amusement gleaming in his eyes.
Things were getting interesting.
The Goblin stronghold would be his next destination.
The birthplace of the ultimate Ancient Magic.
A trap?
He'd just crush it.
"First, let's use this [Wolfspeak] spell to create a new painting… Luckily, I still have that lovely material—[Dementor Essence]."
He twirled the vial in his fingers, smirking.
"Using it raw would be… unpleasant. But my righteous and bright painting will surely purify the curse."
"Hehehe~ I'm really looking forward to it."
Ethan flashed a dazzling, sunshine-bright smile.
Sirius—currently a trembling "Dalmatian"—immediately curled into a ball.
The little devil was about to start again.
Ethan claimed the spacious living room and set up an easel.
And thus, House Black's ancestral home became a cursed site.
By day and night, a visible stream of black magic coiled through the room like a rotting river—corrosive and alive.
Bone-white stains crawled across the sofa and walls.
The Boggart family fled in terror that very night.
But the Ghoul from upstairs?
It stayed.
It perched on the doorframe, eyes gleaming with devotion, watching Ethan paint—
as though witnessing the coming glory of its entire species.
By evening, especially under the full moon, low, hoarse howls echoed through the air.
Sometimes, unseen voices answered from afar.
Even the Muggle newspapers caught wind of it, dubbing the place "The Haunt of Evil Spirits."
Sirius could only imagine Dumbledore's face when he'd someday rediscover this place—
the noble Black residence turned into a tourist trap for ghost hunters.
Thankfully, Ethan still had to return to school.
That Sunday night, he stood reluctantly at the front steps of Grimmauld Place.
In his pocket rested a golden locket once belonging to Sirius's brother—
its gleaming surface etched with a dark green, serpent-shaped S.
He also carried a handful of "souvenirs" from the house:
a biting silver snuffbox, a hypnotic music box, a blood-stained moonstone, and a broken candlestick charred at the edge.
House Black, Ethan thought, was quite the generous host.
He'd have to visit again.
Kreacher stood by the door, glaring daggers, as though he wanted to tear Ethan apart.
Ethan smirked. "Be good, and maybe I'll return your former master's locket someday."
He had found Kreacher's weakness—and squeezed it mercilessly.
The elf could only wail in rage, "Despicable human!!"
For the next few weeks, Ethan returned to a calm routine at Hogwarts.
He attended classes—listening to the Ancient Magic professor dissect the etymology of runes.
He played with Hippogriffs in Care of Magical Creatures, discussing the next Death Bird Project with Hagrid.
Ron had stared at him, horrified.
"Is that… a plan to kill us all?!"
In Potions class, Professor Snape was as merciless as ever—his dark eyes gleaming with anticipation of Ethan's humiliation on the next full moon.
That smug expression stayed plastered on his face all day…
until Ethan asked casually,
"You seem awfully interested in me, Professor. Don't tell me you've fallen for me?"
The classroom went silent.
Snape's face froze.
He looked as though he'd just licked a troll's foot.
Time flew.
In the blink of an eye, September was ending—the eve of the full moon approaching.
Deep beneath Hogwarts, in the Chamber of Secrets—
"It's done."
Ethan's soft murmur echoed against the ancient stone walls.
He wiped sweat from his forehead, eyes alight with feverish excitement.
Before him stood a massive, pitch-black canvas.
The painting was wild, primal—a vision of two wolves, their manes entwined, tearing away from one another.
A crimson gap split their forms, thick blood spilling across the canvas and dripping to the floor with a metallic scent.
The air felt heavy, charged—like the calm before a thunderstorm.
[Name: Please Do Not Feed the Sleeping Wolf]
[Type: Living Painting (Unawakened)]
[Grade: First-Tier · Blue Precious]
[Description: They are waiting to split.]
[Effect: Can devour any external energy; even curses become nourishment. Before awakening, they hold no offensive power—but once awakened, nothing can stop them.]
[Evaluation: The world condemns you. They should remain asleep forever!!]
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