Before opening the door and delivering a bit of warmth to Cerberus, Ethan still needed to practice this Chain Spell.
"Practice makes perfect, but unfortunately, it's the civilized year of 1991, and there are no poaching gangs lurking in the Forbidden Forest just waiting to be used as targets," Ethan murmured, feeling a genuine pang of regret.
He'd read in history textbooks about those glorious days a century ago, back when Phineas Nigellus Black was Headmaster of Hogwarts. During the Goblin Rebellion, students would squeeze in time between classes to hunt down spiders and Ashwinders; school life was downright vibrant.
That was when the Chain Spell still had its moment in the spotlight, taught as a highly effective countermeasure. It was just too effective, though—it piled even more misery onto the wizarding world's already dwindling population. As a result, it got quietly banned by some unseen force, gradually slipping from public memory.
It was an ancient art, after all. Who could argue that Ethan wasn't an inheritor of intangible cultural heritage? Enduring all these hardships, purely to pass on the traditional virtues of wizards. How noble!
It was another day where he found himself deeply moved by his own dedication.
...
That night, in the tutoring classroom, the remnants of practice dummies were strewn everywhere. Severed arms and legs littered the floor, while chests and heads bore scorched craters.
Professor Quirrell stood amid the wreckage, his breathing shallow, as if he'd been utterly devastated. The mental anguish far outweighed any physical toll.
In just over a week, Ethan had fully mastered the soul magic that Quirrell had originally figured would take a whole year to learn. Now, he was moving on to spells that might come in handy for the challenge.
What kind of monstrous learning speed was this?! Was there not a single drop of blood in his veins, but pure Felix Felicis instead?!
If this wasn't cheating, then what was?
Quirrell had progressed from initial shock, envy, and resentment to "I'm nothing but trash!" And eventually, it evolved into his current state: "Hehe, I'm nothing but trash."
He'd completely surrendered. Might as well let Ethan and Lord Voldemort pull up seats at the same table. He'd just be the chair.
Quirrell thought this with a sense of enlightened resignation. He figured that if Ethan's noble rear could rest upon his spine, some of that concentrated wisdom might seep into him.
"M-Mr. Vincent, a very great wizard wishes to meet you. Would you be willing to head to the Hog's Head this weekend?"
"Believe me, that lord will surely grant you even greater power!"
Lord Voldemort's prodding had grown more insistent. With every step of progress Ethan made, his value skyrocketed. At the same time, so did the threat he posed.
Lord Voldemort had shifted from his initial "This child is just like me" to the current "Those not of my kind must have different hearts—and must be eliminated."
If Ethan couldn't be brought into the fold for the glorious evolution... then he'd become the most terrifying threat down the line. It even made his master temporarily set aside Harry Potter. After all, the boy had merely bounced back an Avada Kedavra, while this one could potentially wield the Killing Curse like a basic attack in the future.
That was far more alarming.
Upon hearing Quirrell's invitation, Ethan didn't respond right away. He held a light brown wand in his hand, his cobalt-blue eyes coolly observing the swirling strands of memory at its tip.
After a long pause, he spoke slowly: "Professor Quirrell, I'm curious—are there any wizards in the wizarding world who cast spells based on faith?"
Quirrell hesitated. Though he had no idea why Ethan was asking this, it was still a fairly normal question.
Quirrell nodded. "There are. In Celtic culture, wizards believe in nature spirits, and before each spell, they pray to those spirits for power. Various benevolent gods like Merlin, and malevolent ones like the Gorgon, all have their followers."
Ethan continued: "What if, using memory magic, their memories were altered? And their object of faith was swapped out for another deity?"
As Quirrell's expression gradually turned vacant, Ethan looked up with a smile. "In that case, how would the magic they cast based on faith change?"
Quirrell: "..."
—Quirrell was struck dumb and bolted without a backward glance.
Watching his retreating figure, Ethan snorted, then waved his hand to return the memory strands to the toads.
How could a bright, upstanding young wizard like him ever join such a horrifying dark organization? Poor Quirrell thought he was on the verge of reaching the peak of his life. In truth, he wasn't far from an abrupt end.
"Reparo."
Ethan twirled his wand, and like a pair of enormous invisible hands, the debris in the classroom reassembled itself back into place.
Over the past few days, after Quirrell's tutoring sessions wrapped up, Ethan would linger behind alone to keep practicing the Chain Spell. The perk of evening lessons was that he could flagrantly disregard the curfew and stay as late as he pleased.
That said, sometimes—for the sake of practicing the Disillusionment Charm—Ethan would prowl the corridors invisibly, smirking as he trailed the patrolling prefects from behind.
He just couldn't figure out why, lately, the prefects had started patrolling in groups of two or three, all of them nervously brandishing their wands, as if some unseen monster was lurking in Hogwarts.
Hogwarts was the safest place in the world, after all.
Or so Ethan thought.
As he brushed past the prefects, he'd lightly drag his cold fingernails across their wrists, drawing out a symphony of screams.
At that moment, Ethan aimed his wand at the three dummies before him, his gaze sharpening as he snarled: "Diffindo!"
"Bang!"
Three crimson spells erupted simultaneously from the tip of Ethan's wand—like a forked urethra, he couldn't help but think.
The middle one struck the dummy dead-on, but the other two skimmed past and slammed into the tables and chairs behind it. Wood splinters exploded, and dust billowed up.
If not for the Muffliato Charm on the classroom, anyone might have thought a troll was tearing Hogwarts apart.
"Still needs more practice," Ethan muttered.
Controlling three spells at once was insanely tough, like playing the piano with your right hand, practicing calligraphy with your left, and doing squats with a grand piano strapped to your back all at the same time.
If not for his "Achieved Mastery" skill, Ethan wouldn't have had the mental bandwidth to manage it.
His soul extraction magic was perfected; all that was left was to subdue—or rather, "tame"—Cerberus.
Ethan was well aware of the music method to lull it to sleep, but taking that shortcut would yield incomplete soul fragments, ruining the quality of the final painting.
If he was going to paint, it had to be the absolute best. This challenge was a major international event—a prime chance to make a name for himself. Ethan was determined to give the other competitors an experience they'd never forget.
"Back to practicing."
Ethan repaired the dummies and unleashed the Chain Spell once more. His focus was intense and unwavering, without the slightest hint of frustration.
...
Cerberus had been enjoying a remarkably peaceful life lately. Sure, they'd been relocated from Daddy's cozy little nest to this dim, chilly square chamber, but in exchange, they got several times more food.
Their pint-sized Daddy would frequently lug in buckets brimming with fresh raw meat, free-range chickens, and that spicy, thirst-quenching water—Daddy called it "brandy." He'd stroke their heads, wiping away tears as he murmured, "You've suffered so much, my babies."
It had plumped them up by two whole sizes recently. After all, aside from three scrawny little toothpicks and one stinky human who'd barged in once, no one else had bothered them since.
Purrrr They really hoped these blissful days could go on forever
Late that night, Cerberus rested its heads on its massive paws, snoring contentedly while mentally tallying when Daddy might show up to feed them next.
"Bang!!"
Suddenly, the door was flung open with brutal force! The panel rebounded off the wall with a resounding thud!
Jolted awake, they leaped to their feet, blinking groggily at the figure framed in the doorway.
Ethan: "What a coincidence—you're not asleep either."
Ethan flashed an excited grin and raised his wand at the snarling Cerberus.
Since you're wide awake, let's have a friendly little butt-off!
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