"Is it time to rescue the princess…?"
Ethan mumbled groggily, still lost in the depths of sleep.
The already faint female voice faltered, then called out with greater urgency.
Yet its volume only grew softer and weaker.
Finally, it unleashed a shriek laced with fury and terror before falling utterly silent.
As if it had been dragged into the abyss.
Warm moonlight poured through the window, spilling into the room, but it was halted by the thick, impenetrable curtains (Ethan enjoyed the sensation of lying in a coffin).
Ethan lay rigidly on the bed, his hands crossed over his chest.
His small face was as pale as porcelain, his eyes softly closed.
If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he might have resembled a mannequin in a shop window—
Or a beautiful corpse.
Beside his pillow, a cowhide bag—enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm and used by Ethan to store his paintings—suddenly trembled.
It was as though something inside was writhing in agony.
What a shame.
No one noticed.
...
The news that Ethan planned to challenge all the other contestants single-handedly swept through Hogwarts once more.
Even the Daily Prophet, pinned to the bulletin board, blared it in bold black letters on the front page for all to see:
"SHOCKING! ETHAN DECLARES 'YOU'RE ALL TRASH' AND CHALLENGES EVERY CONTESTANT! SPARKS PUBLIC FURY! RECKLESS GAMBLE OR BOLD STRATEGY?"
Anyone who laid eyes on it would surely mutter, "That's got Rita Skeeter written all over it."
Copies of the newspaper were passed around, landing in the hands of every young witch and wizard.
They whispered and buzzed with excitement.
Whenever a figure that might be Ethan passed by, every eye would dart toward him, brimming with curiosity and speculation.
Adding fuel to the fire was the betting pool the Weasley twins had seized the chance to launch.
"Come one, come all! Think Ethan will win or lose? Place your bets! Ten Sickles on Ethan to win! Not bad, little brother! You tossed in all your pocket money, didn't you?"
"Oh—shut up!"
Ron shouted, his face flushing red, making his freckles stand out even more.
"I'll bet ten Sickles on Ethan to win too,"
Harry said, discreetly slipping a Galleon back into his pocket.
"Merlin's beard, don't you think this sort of entertainment is incredibly disrespectful?"
Hermione huffed, shooting them a glare.
Then she pulled out a Galleon, lifted her chin, and dropped it into the Weasley twins' hat, declaring,
"I support Ethan to win, thank you."
"..."
Ron's mouth gaped in shock, his eyes following the Galleon as it vanished into the hat.
"Thank you for your support, Miss Granger! We'll let Ethan know!"
The Weasley twins grinned broadly.
They leaned in toward their little brother, winking as they whispered,
"If Ethan really pulls it off, we'll treat you to ice cream~"
—They continued down the long corridor until they reached the library.
Ron was still grumbling, "If Ethan wins, they'll rake in a fortune! And they're only treating their brother to ice cream!"
"That also means hardly anyone believes Ethan can actually win."
Hermione bit her lower lip anxiously as she pushed open the library door.
"The odds of him dying in the competition might even be higher!"
"Shh—keep it down, Madam Pince is staring."
Harry whispered nervously in warning.
They weren't in the library to study—though Harry and Ron still hadn't finished their homework (Hermione: "I can't believe you two!").
They had come to help Ethan.
"Look! There he is!"
Ron raised his hand excitedly, pointing to the long table by the window.
The only boy at the desk was quietly and intently turning the pages of a book.
He was surrounded by massive tomes that nearly engulfed him.
Sunlight filtered through the glass window, casting a glow upon him.
It made his face look even paler, and even his usually impassive cobalt-blue eyes seemed touched with warmth.
Ron noticed that while Ethan's table was empty of company,
The surrounding tables were packed with young girls.
All of them were blushing, stealing glances at Ethan.
Every so often, one would let out a soft "Oh!" and shyly bury her face in her companion's arm.
"How nice…"
Ron couldn't help murmuring enviously.
Hermione, however, rolled her eyes and marched forward.
She greeted Ethan casually and took a seat beside him.
Utterly ignoring the heated, envious stares directed her way.
"Good morning, Ethan," Harry said as he approached, peering curiously at the book in Ethan's hands. "What are you reading? Is it the 'Compendium of Botany'?"
It seemed to have plenty of illustrations.
Ethan's eyes crinkled in amusement, showing no sign of annoyance at the interruption.
He flipped to the cover and held it up for Harry to see.
"Human Transmutation… Soul Fusion?"
Harry read the title aloud and fell quiet.
Is this a normal book?
It didn't look like something you'd just pluck from the shelves!
Sure enough, Ethan went on:
"I got this from the Restricted Section. It's about soul magic. I asked Professor Quirrell to sign a note for me."
Hermione's eyes lit up: "That's incredible! Ethan, you're already delving into books from the Restricted Section! I need to work harder too!"
Harry & Ron: "..."
No, this wasn't something worth emulating.
It felt like Ethan had already dipped into the Dark Arts—no, had Ethan ever truly stepped away from them?
Regaining their composure.
Harry and Ron wisely bypassed the topic and nervously explained why they were there.
"Uh, we heard you were in the library, so we thought we'd come help you look up some information… Aren't you preparing for the challenge? Or we could help check your homework."
"Snape piled on a ton of extra homework for you again, didn't he? He's just picking on you! Because you chose Professor Quirrell as your mentor instead of him!"
Harry whispered indignantly.
"Haha," Ethan chuckled lightly, "How could that be? Though Snape seems cold on the outside, he's actually a warm-hearted good person deep down."
The homework he'd assigned appeared to relate to the corrupted swamp at the competition site.
"..."
Harry and Ron went silent.
They couldn't fathom how Snape connected to "warm-hearted" or "good person."
They skipped over that topic too.
Watching the three young wizards fidget nervously in their seats, Ethan couldn't help but curve his lips into a smile:
"Then I'll trouble you to help me check my homework."
"—Okay!"
Harry and the others' eyes brightened instantly, and they let out sighs of relief.
Hermione even accepted Ethan's homework with both hands.
As if cradling a treasure, she murmured repeatedly, "This is Ethan's homework, this is Ethan's homework."
"By the way," Ron looked up from the dense script, frowning, "Do you really have to study with Professor Quirrell?"
"He can't even handle his own classes properly; he has no real skill! What could he possibly teach you?!"
"You'd be better off asking Professor Flitwick for guidance!"
What Ron left unsaid was that some students were mocking Ethan's choice of professor, calling him "arrogant show-off."
Especially certain Slytherins.
Ron had fumed upon hearing it, nearly getting into fights several times.
He felt outraged on behalf of his good friend, frustrated and puzzled as to why Ethan would pick Professor Quirrell.
"Hmm…"
Ethan hummed noncommittally through his nose, offering no reply.
He traced his fingers over the uneven, supple cover beneath his hand—it felt like it was made from the skin of a two-legged sheep—and thought:
Professor Quirrell is quite capable indeed…
After all, he has two heads.
Could Professor Flitwick let him borrow Dark Arts books from the Restricted Section?
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