Snape gripped his wand tightly, his entire body trembling with rage.
He demanded hoarsely:
"Where did this coffee table come from? And where is my massive cauldron? Furthermore, just because you are a Ravenclaw student, do not presume you can change the Head of Slytherin's sofa to blue!!"
"Also, take that mask off!! The most unsettling thing in this entire room is you, you abomination!"
Snape swayed slightly on his feet.
With a feeble wave of his wand, he conjured another armchair—in order to encourage "guests" to leave quickly, his office had always contained only a single seat.
He collapsed into it, drained.
In the blink of an eye.
Ethan, quick on the draw, snapped his fingers!
He instantly transfigured the armchair beneath Snape into a matching shade of blue.
Snape: "..."
Snape: "Cease staring at my wallpaper with that idiotic look. You are forbidden from making any further alterations! None! You ill-mannered little troll!"
"Tsk. Stingy."
Ethan withdrew his gaze with a look of regret.
He lowered his wand, which had been twitching with anticipation.
Then.
With good-natured compliance to the meddlesome old bat's strident demands, he removed that beautiful mask.
Riiip... squelch.
The sound of skin adhering and tearing made Snape's scalp tingle with revulsion.
When he saw beads of blood slowly seeping from Ethan's face, Snape froze.
He glanced hesitantly toward the desk drawer where he kept his healing potions.
Only to see Ethan clutching the mask as if mourning a deceased relative.
He spoke with tragic solemnity: "The Demon's Chosen never removes his mask."
Snape: .
"Episkey."
Ethan: "Ah!"
Amidst Ethan's dramatic gasp, his face became smooth once more.
Snape gave a nasal snort, thinking:
...Ethan, that boy. He truly never lets anyone relax.
"Ahem."
Snape sheathed his wand and cleared his throat awkwardly, steering the conversation back on track:
"So, to what do I owe the honor of your visit at this late hour?"
Ethan asked, "Do you know that Death Eater, the one called 'Bella-something-something'?"
Snape's eyebrow shot up. "Bellatrix Lestrange?"
"Bingo."
Ethan snapped his fingers with a crisp pop.
"Why are you looking for her? Is she not currently incarcerated in Azkaban?"
Snape's brow furrowed deeper.
Even he tried to avoid any association with that madwoman and her fanatical obsession with the Dark Lord.
A sense of foreboding slowly crept up Snape's spine.
...Then again.
From the moment Ethan had stepped into his office tonight, catastrophe was inevitable.
Snape braced himself.
No matter what shocking proclamation Ethan was about to make—even if it was a plan to invade Azkaban—he would remain calm.
"Oh, just a minor detail," Ethan said airily. "Voldemort turned Hufflepuff's Cup into one of his Horcruxes. And that Cup is currently sitting inside Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts."
Snape: ???
Snape's composure shattered.
His expression twisted violently, his eyes bulging as he cried out: "Horcruxes?! How do you know of such vile Dark Magic?! Wait—the Dark Lord actually created a Horcrux?! No wonder he cannot be killed... No, wait, there is one in Bellatrix's vault? Who exactly are you—"
Snape cut himself off.
Facing Ethan's beaming, mischievous face, he pressed his fingers against his temples in agony.
...Don't just dump so much explosive information all at once!
He didn't even know where to begin his interrogation!
Ethan crossed his legs and leisurely sipped his tea.
It was tea conjured by magic, consumed by a wizard—a perfect closed loop of magical consumption.
Seeing that leisurely—and punchable—expression, Snape took a deep breath.
He snatched up his own teacup and downed a massive gulp to suppress the fire in his chest.
Only then did he look at Ethan and rasped:
"...How much more do you know? I must report this to Dumbledore."
He had given up trying to figure out how Ethan knew all this.
The boy was practically Merlin reborn.
There was no point in asking.
Ethan's brows shot up in alarm. "The Horcrux is mine."
He still needed to utilize the 'Little Voldy' brand energy inside it!
Snape: "..."
Who would want to fight you for it?!
This conversation was impossible.
Exasperated, Snape felt that Ethan's inhuman nature permeated him from the inside out.
He gulped down three more mouthfuls of tea to quell his irritation.
Suddenly.
He smacked his lips and frowned. "What did you put in this tea? Why does it taste so peculiar?"
Ethan smiled but said nothing.
Snape: ?
The hand holding the teacup grew increasingly stiff.
"Alright, ignore those trivialities," Ethan waved his hand dismissively. "The issue at hand is the Horcrux with Bellatrix."
This was Ethan's logic.
There weren't many of Voldemort's Horcruxes left anyway.
Rather than letting Dumbledore fumble around and potentially get himself killed in the process, it was better for Ethan to handle it all himself.
Ahem, and it was definitely not because he coveted the dark power contained within them.
Definitely not.
Ethan continued, "I need to know where Bellatrix hides her wand."
"We need it to access her vault at Gringotts."
Hearing this.
Snape grew serious. He set down his teacup and mused:
"When Bellatrix was captured, her residence was searched top to bottom. Her wand was not found... It is highly probable she hid it elsewhere.
"I do not know the location of the wand. However, one could visit Azkaban and use certain... methods... to 'extract' the truth."
"But, it would be inconvenient for me to go personally..."
Ethan's lips curled up.
His cobalt blue eyes fixed on Snape as he slowly said:
"Is there not a more suitable candidate?"
"The man who just left your office moments ago—Mr. Yaxley, the Death Eater."
Silence fell.
Snape's fingers twitched, and his eyes widened slightly.
Then he let out a short, dry chuckle.
"Truly, nothing escapes you... If this were not my private residence, I would suspect you had bugged my office."
Ethan: Heh heh.
Snape: ?
Hmm??
Under Snape's shocked gaze, Ethan continued: "Yaxley is not only a Death Eater but also a high-ranking official in the Ministry. If he were the one to acquire this intelligence, it would be far more convenient than you doing it."
"..." Snape struggled to suppress the turmoil in his mind.
He glanced around warily before replying:
"...Yaxley would indeed be more effective."
"But what pretext could we use? He is not a man easily deceived."
Ethan laughed heartily. "Haha, Professor Snape, are you going senile?"
With a wave of his hand, that terrifying swirling mask was back on his face.
He interlaced his fingers and rested them casually on his raised knee.
With an air of absolute command, he said indifferently:
"Just tell him: This is 'Professor Ann Norn's plan for the next phase'."
"I imagine Mr. Yaxley would be more than happy to prepare the stage himself."
Since this Death Eater wanted to move against him.
Well, let him try!
—Wait, you can do that?!
Snape's mouth parted slightly in astonishment.
Looking at that mask—which seemed to radiate a psychic assault of its own—he felt that beneath the alien exterior lay a soul far more insane.
...Yaxley believed Snape was a Death Eater trusted by the Dark Lord; he would not question the order.
He would think he was preparing everything in secrecy.
Little did he know, his every move was under Ethan's surveillance!
Like a spider watching its prey struggle in the web.
Yaxley was spinning his own trap.
"It is just as I said... go directly to Ethan, and you get exactly the answer you need."
Snape grinned, nodding.
"Very well. I can handle this. With myself and Headmaster Dumbledore monitoring from the shadows, we can ensure the intelligence obtained is authentic."
The mere thought of that pompous Yaxley suffering a defeat made Snape want to laugh.
He raised his teacup, speaking with genuine pleasure and respect:
"I wish you success, 'Professor Norn'."
"To success."
Ethan raised his cup as well, clinking it against Snape's with a sharp clink.
Within the dancing light of the vermilion hearth.
Their elongated shadows swayed restlessly against the wall.
Exuding an atmosphere of sinister malice.
—One really had to wonder which side was actually the righteous one.
--
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