Luck?
Were they really about to compare ancestral bloodlines?
Ethan clicked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. Headmaster Dumbledore, that's not very politically correct~"
Dumbledore blinked.
A what now?
Such… avant-garde phrasing.
Luck, Ethan mused, was like a girlfriend's dinner plans. She'd say "anything's fine," but the truth had already been arranged in her head long before.
Fortunately, in the wizarding world, money solved almost everything.
Even luck could be bought—if you had enough gold.
Felix Felicis.
Understanding exactly what was running through Ethan's mind, Dumbledore sighed.
"The idea of Felix Felicis won't work, Ethan."
"First, it wasn't even invented until 1612, and second—its effect would be nearly negligible under such circumstances. Even now, only a handful of wizards can brew it successfully."
Ethan's eyes glimmered.
Oh, how coincidental.
A certain Potion Master just so happened to live right here at Hogwarts.
And conveniently, Ethan could bring him back through the silver key.
His lips curved into a smile so pure and angelic that Dumbledore's brow twitched.
Experience told him that such a smile always preceded something catastrophic.
Which unlucky soul had provoked this boy this time?
"Thank you for your insight, Headmaster," Ethan said cheerfully. "You've given me plenty of inspiration."
"It's nothing," Dumbledore replied quickly. "Just… don't tell anyone I advised you."
He did not want to be considered an accomplice.
Ethan glanced at the clock. "It's getting late. I'll take my leave then—"
Dumbledore let out a relieved sigh.
Ethan paused. "One last thing."
Dumbledore's smile froze.
"…Go on."
Ethan's gaze softened into something deceptively gentle.
"About tomorrow night's Full Moon."
History recorded that humankind had paid a steep price to defeat the goblins and claim dominion.
From that war came the rise of wizard supremacy—
and the loss of much of the ancient magic that once illuminated the world.
But that no longer mattered.
Because Ethan Vincent had arrived.
From this point onward, history would be rewritten.
New names would be etched into its river of time.
And the power of Ancient Magic—true magic—would be reborn in righteous hands.
To ignite the fireworks of a new world.
A brilliant light flickered in Ethan's cobalt-blue eyes.
This chance would come only once. To claim the ancient power—and to give those greedy goblins a little surprise—he needed to prepare.
First step:
Find a selfless Potion Master capable of brewing Felix Felicis.
Professor Snape, perhaps?
That same night, Professor Snape woke with a violent start.
A cold sweat soaked his sheets.
Why in Merlin's name had he dreamed of Lily turning into a giant octopus and inviting him to "embrace evolution" together?
He rubbed his arms, shuddering.
Something foul was watching him.
"Hmph," he muttered. "What nonsense. There's nothing to be afraid of."
He sneered, though the sound of his own voice failed to reassure him.
"It's nearly the Full Moon… turning a werewolf back into a human? Preposterous."
Grinding his teeth, he growled to himself, "Let's see what tricks that detestable brat is planning this time."
The next night, the moon rose like a pale wound in the sky.
In the depths of the Forbidden Forest stood Ethan, Dumbledore, Lupin, and Snape—four figures beneath the silvery glow.
The air hung heavy with tension and damp moss.
Ethan inhaled deeply. The scent of earth, mist, and danger filled his lungs.
He looked around the shadowy forest and murmured, almost fondly, "It feels like coming home."
The other three exchanged glances.
Is your home in the underworld? their eyes silently asked.
Lupin could only sigh. He hadn't expected to become the centerpiece of a bet between Ethan and Snape.
Still… the thought of Snape's face when he lost made Lupin chuckle inwardly.
If only he could stay conscious long enough to see it.
Every Full Moon left him drained and weak, his body barely surviving the transformation.
Even if Ethan's "miracle" truly worked, the toll on his body would linger for days.
But to live without the curse of the moon…
It was a dream too foolish to hope for.
He laughed softly to himself.
Even his toes knew it was impossible.
Darkness swallowed the forest as the golden moon broke free of the clouds.
Lupin's body convulsed violently. A strangled cry tore from his throat.
"Ahhh—!"
His pupils dilated, skin crawling with coarse black hair.
Nails lengthened into claws. His face distorted, twisting with pain.
A beast's roar shattered the silence.
Snape frowned. No matter how many times he saw it, the sight of a man losing his humanity always made his skin crawl.
That brat wasn't scared stiff, was he?
He turned sharply to look at Ethan—
only to see the boy staring at the transforming Lupin with fascination and… admiration?
Snape's lip curled.
Hogwarts' admission standards have truly fallen.
The werewolf's roar split the night.
In a flash, the gentle, kind Professor Lupin was gone—replaced by a monstrous predator.
"Immobilize," Dumbledore murmured, flicking his wand.
Magical cords burst from thin air, wrapping around the beast, pinning it to the ground.
"Mr. Vincent," Dumbledore said calmly. "You may proceed."
Ethan nodded, stepped forward—and with a loud bang, dropped a painting before the werewolf.
Dumbledore blinked. "???"
A painting?
Since when did a Patronus charm require art supplies?
Bright red paint bled from the canvas, the imagery grotesque and shifting.
A premonition crawled down Dumbledore's spine.
Ethan rested one hand on the frame, eyes alight with mad resolve.
He pointed at the struggling werewolf and commanded:
"Devour it! Strip away every trace of the werewolf's bloodline!"
The twin-headed wolf in the painting opened its jaws wide—
and sucked in the darkness.
A sharp wind howled through the clearing.
Black vapors streamed from Lupin's body, drawn screaming into the canvas.
Snape's eyes widened.
What—what kind of magic is this?
Even without understanding, he could feel it—
this was unmistakably Dark Arts.
And Ethan was performing it right before the Headmaster himself!
"Are you flaunting your rule-breaking in front of us?!" Snape bellowed, brandishing his wand.
"If this is some joke—!"
"Shh," Dumbledore interrupted softly. His gaze was fixed on the scene before them.
"Look, Severus. Something's happening."
Snape froze, turning back just in time to see the impossible.
The fur on Lupin's body was shedding like snow. Beneath it—human skin.
His claws and fangs fell away, replaced by normal hands and teeth.
Black blood oozed from every pore, drawn into the painting like a sacrifice.
The werewolf's growls faded to whimpers… then silence.
With a wet thud, a naked, blood-slicked man collapsed to the ground.
A human man.
In the painting, the two-headed wolf licked its lips, purring faintly before vanishing.
Darkness swept through the forest like a gust—then dissipated.
Dumbledore and Snape stood frozen, hearts pounding.
Dumbledore looked down. The binding spell he'd cast—gone, erased as if by unseen fingers.
Even his magic had been… overwritten.
He turned to Ethan, who was watching serenely, hands clasped behind his back.
Dumbledore's mind raced. What was that?
What was he?
He swallowed hard, then crouched to heal Lupin. Within moments, the blood was gone, wounds sealed.
A clean, sleeping man lay before them.
Breathing. Human.
Dumbledore's voice came out hoarse. "Lupin's magical reaction is… normal. Entirely human. Although…" He frowned. "There are still faint remnants of the curse."
He turned toward Snape.
"In other words—Remus Lupin will not transform during the Full Moon for several months."
Not only had Ethan restored him to a man—
he had nearly cured lycanthropy itself.
Snape stood there, jaw slack.
His sallow face twisted into something almost comical, as if painted by a clown.
Slowly, he turned toward Ethan, whose sapphire eyes gleamed with icy amusement.
That look sent a shiver crawling up Snape's spine.
"Professor Snape," Ethan said softly, lips curved. "Why such a grand gesture?"
It was too much. Snape's knees buckled, and he fell—hard—kneeling before Ethan.
He had lost. Completely.
The humiliation stung more than any hex. For a moment, he wondered if this was all an illusion—if Ethan had trapped him in a nightmare.
But the boy's voice was clear, cruelly gentle.
"Please, Professor Snape, get up. I can't accept such devotion."
Snape's lips trembled.
His expression was hollow—like a man mourning the death of something precious.
Even Dumbledore felt pity. Not since Lily's death had he seen Severus so broken.
Ethan Vincent truly possessed the power to ruin a person.
Snape's eyes refocused. He raised his head, voice raw.
"Tomorrow morning… at breakfast… in front of everyone in the Great Hall…"
"I will admit my mistakes and ignorance. I will offer everything I own—"
"Even myself—if only you tell me how this was done!"
"Severus," Dumbledore interjected sharply, frowning. "You know there are realms we are not meant to enter."
But Snape wasn't listening.
He was staring at Ethan, desperate, the faintest spark rekindling in his eyes.
If Ethan could purge a werewolf's curse—
could he perhaps… bring Lily back?
"Anything," Snape whispered, voice cracking. "You can make me do anything."
Ethan's smile sharpened. "Aha. You said it."
Snape's face twitched.
This boy… truly had no mercy.
He already regretted his words.
The forest wind sighed through the trees.
Dumbledore, old and weary, could only watch in silence as one of his professors bowed before a student.
It was too much.
Too absurd.
So absurd his joints ached.
Ethan studied the kneeling man before him.
The sharp lines of his face, the hooked nose, the eyes—once dead, now flickering faintly with life.
He thought, amused,
I was planning to take you back to the past anyway. Why kneel before I even ask?
Well, perhaps Snape valued ceremony.
It would be rude not to indulge him.
With a flick of his wrist, Ethan's wand turned into a silver blade, gleaming in the moonlight. He rested it lightly on Snape's shoulder.
Dumbledore's eyes went wide. "Ethan! That's unnecessary—"
But Ethan ignored him. His voice rang through the clearing, deep and solemn.
"Severus Snape, are you willing—"
"To fight for me?"
To join his cause.
To build a new world.
The world Lily had once dreamed of.