Return to School Day.
Hogwarts Express
On the crowded platform, the deep crimson locomotive rumbled with mechanical authority, belching clouds of white steam that carried the scent of coal and magic. The rhythmic chug-chug-chug of its mighty engine vibrated through the wooden planks beneath hundreds of shuffling feet.
Since Mr Lovegood had been mistaken for a suspicious character due to his eccentric attire and detained for what felt like hours of bureaucratic questioning, Ethan and Luna barely made it onto the train before its departure whistle shrieked across King's Cross Station.
They dragged their luggage through the crowded, narrow corridors that reeked of pumpkin pasties and nervous sweat. The familiar sounds of excited chatter and compartment doors slamming filled the air, but something felt distinctly off about the atmosphere.
Ethan found it somewhat puzzling. Previously, other students would enthusiastically and respectfully make way for him upon sight, parting like the Red Sea before Moses. Today, however, it felt like they were actually pressing closer, seeking his proximity like moths drawn to protective flame.
When a wide-eyed Hufflepuff boy accidentally crashed into his arms, the terror on the child's face immediately melted into profound relief upon recognising him. Ethan realised this wasn't his imagination playing tricks.
"Make way! Make way! Make way for the Heir of Slytherin! The most evil wizard approaches!" The Weasley twins' voices rang out with theatrical drama from somewhere ahead.
Ethan's eyes narrowed as he turned toward the commotion, his cobalt-blue gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade. There he saw the great Saviour Harry Potter being flanked by his ginger-haired protectors, walking through the corridor with an expression of such misery it could have curdled milk.
The students around them scattered like startled pigeons, pressing themselves against compartment doors and windows as if Harry might suddenly sprout venomous fangs and begin spitting deadly poison. Their whispered fears created a susurrus of dread that followed in Harry's wake.
Upon spotting Ethan, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. His green eyes lit up with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, showing the "shy" expression of someone desperately wanting to approach but lacking the courage to take that first step.
How did he transform from Harry to "Scary" in just one holiday? Ethan mused with genuine fascination.
Ethan pushed away the clinging Hufflepuff boy with a gentle finger to his forehead and strode forward, his voice carrying warm admiration that cut through the tension like sunshine through storm clouds.
"Harry, after three days apart, one should view you with fresh eyes." His tone held the appreciation of a connoisseur admiring fine art. "Just over Christmas break and you've already upgraded to 'Heir of Slytherin'. Impressive achievement!"
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again like a fish gasping for air. Seeing that Ethan's appreciative gaze didn't seem the least bit feigned, he felt caught between tears of frustration and laughter at the absurdity of it all.
Truly Ethan, Harry thought with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. His perspective is always so uniquely twisted.
The crushing depression that had weighed on his heart like a stone began to dissolve, replaced by the familiar warmth of Ethan's unconventional friendship.
After Harry's indignant explanation, punctuated by wild gestures and voice cracks of emotion, Ethan understood the situation with crystal clarity.
During Christmas break, Harry had spoken to a snake that Malfoy had summoned during a club training competition. The display of Parseltongue had been interpreted as Harry controlling the serpent to attack his fellow students, instantly transforming him from hero to villain in the public eye.
Does Malfoy only know that one spell? Ethan wondered with mild exasperation. I really need to find time to expand his magical repertoire.
But becoming public enemy number one over such a simple misunderstanding... they really haven't seen much of the world.
"They even say Voldemort wanted to eliminate me because he didn't want another Dark Lord to appear!" Harry's voice cracked with a mixture of anger and hurt bewilderment.
Facing Ethan felt like confessing to a kindly grandfather figure, and Harry found himself spilling every grievance like beans from a torn sack, his words tumbling over each other in their haste to escape.
Ethan raised an eyebrow with the air of a disappointed critic. "That's a bit excessive on their part."
"'Dark Lord' is still premature for you," he continued with the tone of a professional consultant. "They're clearly trying to build you up just to tear you down later! Classic manipulation tactics."
Ethan's eyes widened as if facing a great strategic enemy, his expression shifting to one of tactical concern.
Harry managed a weak smile that barely touched his eyes. "Um, I don't think that's exactly what they meant..."
"Besides..." Ethan turned to survey the various terrified gazes desperately trying to avoid making eye contact with him. A card materialised in his palm with practised ease.
Door in the Pupil, combined with "Engorgio", activate!
"Whoosh!" The cheerful sunlight streaming through the train windows vanished as if swallowed by some cosmic beast. The entire car plunged into an unnatural twilight that made everyone's skin crawl with primal dread.
Outside the window, a massive eye opened with the wet sound of tearing flesh. The pitch-black pupil, large as a cathedral door, pressed against the glass like a portal to the abyss itself. Passengers felt their very souls being drawn toward that terrible void, their minds recoiling from what lay beyond.
"Gurgle gurgle." The monstrous eyeball rotated with liquid sounds that seemed to come from the depths of nightmares, its gaze sweeping over faces frozen in absolute terror.
Half a second of silence stretched like eternity.
Then... "AHHHHH!" Shrill screams exploded throughout the car like breaking glass! The sound crashed over them in waves, a symphony of pure human terror that rattled the windows and made the train car itself seem to shudder in sympathy.
Harry and the Weasley twins stood frozen in slack-jawed amazement, watching their familiar world transform into a scene from their darkest nightmares. Students trampled over each other in their desperation to escape, their panicked cries echoing off the walls.
In the midst of this orchestrated chaos, Ethan turned around with the serene composure of a conductor completing a musical performance. His smile was pure and harmless as morning sunshine, his voice carrying the warm clarity of wind chimes in a gentle breeze.
"To be called a Dark Lord, you need to achieve at least this level of theatrical impact." He gestured casually at the pandemonium surrounding them. "What's all the fuss over mere Parseltongue? Child's play, really."
Harry felt his understanding of the world shift and expand, like puzzle pieces rearranging themselves into a larger, more complex picture. There was still so much to learn from Ethan.
Ethan's expression grew unexpectedly serious, his voice taking on the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "Harry, what kind of person you become isn't determined by your birth or the abilities you possess."
Harry was startled by the sudden shift to genuine counsel. Why the philosophical turn now?
Though undeniably, he had been trapped in a spiral of distress and confusion for weeks. The Sorting Hat's ancient suggestion that he belonged in Slytherin had been haunting his dreams...
As if reading his very thoughts, Ethan continued with perfect timing. "The Sorting Hat told me I should go to Azkaban. Did I listen to that senile piece of fabric?"
He paused meaningfully. "Well, that's still a future consideration."
Harry's eyes widened in alarm. Please don't make it a future plan either!
"The key lies in your actions," Ethan said, looking directly into Harry's confused green eyes with the intensity of a teacher imparting life's most crucial lesson. "How you choose to conduct yourself defines who you are."
His voice carried absolute conviction. "I believe you didn't open the Chamber of Secrets."
Because the one who opened it is standing right here, Ethan added silently, his internal monologue carrying dark amusement.
Ethan patted Harry's shoulder with the gentle authority of an experienced mentor, then walked away with the satisfied air of someone who'd completed an important task. He naturally claimed the empty compartment that had been vacated by those terrified by his eyeball demonstration.
Harry stood stunned in the corridor, his mind processing what had just occurred. Ignoring the absolutely terrifying method of delivery, wasn't Ethan also comforting him in his own unique way? And so firmly believing in his innocence...
A warm feeling spread through Harry's chest, melting away weeks of accumulated hurt and isolation. He couldn't help but sigh with genuine emotion. "Ethan really is such a kind and caring person..."
The Weasley twins exchanged glances that could have powered the train's engine with their sheer disbelief.
"Brother," Fred said slowly, "you should seriously consider getting your brain examined by a professional."
Harry was too immersed in newfound emotional relief to pay attention to their concerns, his thoughts already turning to deeper contemplation. No wonder so many people are willing to follow Ethan. It must be like myself... drawn to his genuine sense of justice and hidden kindness.
Hogwarts Welcome Feast
Headmaster Dumbledore delivered his customary important speech from the elevated platform, his voice carrying the weight of both authority and genuine concern. The Great Hall's floating candles cast dancing shadows across his weathered features as he emphasised the grave nature of recent events while assuring the assembled students that he would move heaven and earth to protect them.
During his carefully measured words, Dumbledore's eyes briefly found Ethan among the sea of young faces. Meeting that twinkling gaze, Ethan responded with a "don't worry about a thing" smile so sunny and reassuring it could have melted glaciers.
Satisfied by this wordless exchange, Dumbledore turned back to his speech with renewed confidence in his voice.
"Please be absolutely certain to travel in groups at all times, and don't easily believe unfounded rumours that might lead you astray..."
Just then... "BANG!" The Great Hall's massive doors burst open with enough force to rattle the ancient hinges, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling like thunder.
Every head in the hall whipped around to see a tall, powerfully built figure silhouetted against the entrance. He was wrapped in a thick dark brown fur coat that spoke of foreign lands and harsh winters, wearing a felt hat whose style was decidedly un-British. His entire presence seemed to carry an arctic chill that lowered the temperature of the surrounding air and made nearby students unconsciously shiver.
At the Ravenclaw table, someone called out with joyful recognition, "Mr Arthur!"
The newcomer paid no attention to the hundreds of curious gazes fixed upon him, striding into the hall with the confident bearing of a conqueror surveying newly claimed territory. Under the warm candlelight, his face revealed itself as cold and hard as a marble sculpture, naturally commanding respect without the need for anger or a raised voice.
But his eyes bore dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights and drained vitality, showing a hint of weakness that seemed at odds with his otherwise imposing presence.
Ethan frowned slightly, his acute senses picking up something others missed. A soft "hmm" escaped his lips as he studied the newcomer with growing interest.
Strange magical fluctuation... In his vision, this young man appeared shrouded in corrupt, dark magic that writhed around him like living shadows. The signature was hauntingly familiar, matching exactly the tainted energy that emanated from Tom Riddle's diary.
The youth approached the podium with measured steps, offering Headmaster Dumbledore a respectful nod that somehow managed to convey both deference and equality. Then he turned to face the assembled student body, his piercing gaze lingering on the Ravenclaw table for a meaningful second.
When he spoke, his voice carried the resonant authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.
"I am Arthur, current president of the Round Table Council." The words rang clearly through the suddenly silent hall. "Upon hearing that Hogwarts has fallen into grave crisis, I ended my exchange programme early and returned from Durmstrang with all possible speed."
His chest swelled with righteous purpose, his gaze sweeping across the tables with predatory focus. "I hereby represent the Round Table Council in swearing a solemn oath: we will absolutely root out the true culprit behind this Chamber incident!"
His final words struck the hall like a declaration of war. "I will prove to every soul present that within Ravenclaw House, only our Round Table Council is truly worthy of your membership and trust."
At these provocative words, the Great Hall erupted in confused uproar! Voices rose in excitement, alarm, and speculation, creating a cacophony that threatened to shake the very foundations.
Harry's brow furrowed deeply with indignation. He remembered with crystal clarity that it was precisely this Round Table Council that had aggressively manhandled him during the holidays, loudly proclaiming him the "culprit" behind the attacks. Now they dared publicly imply that the Morning Star Club was somehow inadequate for the task?
Such audacity!
Harry instinctively turned toward Ethan, expecting to see anger or at least concern on his friend's face.
Instead, he was shocked to discover Ethan wearing an expression of profound relief, like someone watching intellectually deficient creatures stumble directly into an obvious trap.
"Villains' careful schemes can't match fools' sudden bursts of inspiration," Ethan murmured with the philosophical tone of someone observing the fundamental comedy of existence.
His voice carried dark amusement. "I locked the diary safely in my wardrobe, but there's still an eager idiot desperately trying to jump into the fire pit of their own accord."
Excluding the possibility of natural weakness, Ethan's analytical mind continued, the other's appearance clearly shows he's been systematically drained by diary magic. Probably used some blood ritual to remotely offer his life force to Tom in exchange for power that could have been gained through patience and proper study.
What should I do about this delightful development...?
The answer crystallized in his mind with perfect clarity. Since Tom planned to use this unfortunate fool against me, I'll unceremoniously capture them all in one perfectly orchestrated net.
Ethan's lips curved in a smile that would have made predatory cats envious. In his cobalt-blue eyes appeared the cruel, playful amusement of a master chess player watching opponents stumble into checkmate.
Want to catch the real culprit? Then I'll graciously provide that opportunity. After all, I'm such a considerate, helpful person...
In the weeks that followed, Ethan prepared meticulously for the grand performance he'd been envisioning all semester. Though the Round Table Council president strutted around the castle daily like a peacock displaying its plumage, no additional attacks occurred to mar the gradually improving atmosphere.
The oppressive tension that had gripped the school began to fade like morning fog before sunshine. Even Harry was no longer regarded as quite so "terrifying" by his fellow students, though his expression had grown noticeably colder and more guarded than before.
By Easter break, second-year students found themselves caught up in the exciting ritual of selecting courses for their third year. In the rush of academic planning and teenage anxiety, the Chamber incident's dark shadow seemed almost completely forgotten, relegated to whispered rumors and half-remembered nightmares.
In the Library...
The ancient space hummed with the quiet energy of concentrated study, its towering shelves creating intimate alcoves where students clustered around tables laden with course catalogs and career pamphlets.
Michael collapsed dramatically across their shared table, his voice muffled by crossed arms. "Why isn't there a class on resisting temptation? I desperately need it for every life decision I make."
Ron threw his hands up in theatrical despair. "Why do I still have to study Potions? What practical use could it possibly serve in the real world?"
Hermione's quill scratched aggressively across her parchment as she shot him a withering glare. "Why do you always have so many useless complaints? Can you please stop whining for five consecutive minutes?"
Harry laughed at their familiar dynamic, then turned to Ethan with genuine curiosity sparkling in his green eyes. "What courses did you choose, Ethan?"
At this question, Hermione immediately perked up like a cat hearing the rustle of treat packaging, her competitive academic instincts fully engaged.
Ethan's response was characteristically thoughtful. "Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. I'm also considering adding Divination to the mix."
Divination remains frustratingly mystical, his internal voice admitted. The decision requires more contemplation.
Ron looked at him with something approaching religious awe. "I heard Ancient Runes is extremely difficult, practically impossible for normal human minds..."
Michael nodded sagely from his position of academic defeat. "And future employment opportunities are severely limited. Most graduates end up in continued research or obscure academic positions."
Ethan shrugged with casual confidence. "It's purely a matter of personal interest."
He paused, then added with a completely natural smile, "Besides, I'm exceptionally intelligent."
Michael and Ron immediately released wounded wails that echoed off the library's vaulted ceiling, earning sharp glares from Madam Pince.
Ron turned to Hermione with desperate hope. "How can you possibly choose everything on the list? Don't you realize some classes have completely overlapping time schedules?"
Hermione's response dripped with academic superiority. "You wouldn't understand the complex matters that concern true achievers."
Ethan glanced at Hermione with knowing amusement but said nothing about her impossible course load. Instead, he carefully extracted a blood-red stone from his robes, along with a precision engraving knife that gleamed like captured starlight.
Harry leaned closer with renewed curiosity, watching Ethan's skilled hands work the raw material. "What's that going to become?"
Ethan's smile carried mysterious depths. "This is a wonderful tool I'll need very soon for a special project."
Under his expert knife work, the rough stone gradually transformed, taking the unmistakable shape of a spider. Each carved detail seemed to pulse with hidden purpose, the craftsmanship so precise it appeared almost alive.
Finally, as final exams loomed on the horizon like storm clouds, Ethan completed his semester-long preparations. Every piece was in position, every contingency planned for.
He was ready to descend into the Chamber of Secrets and begin the grand performance he'd been orchestrating since the very first day of term.
The actors are in position, he thought with dark satisfaction. Let the final act commence.