"Alright, let me see!"
Lockhart eagerly snatched it up.
He didn't notice that even the surrounding upperclassmen were backing away from him in horror.
If you're going to blow up, don't take us down with you!
But contrary to the anticipated disaster, Ethan's poster turned out to be a completely ordinary, double-sided, pitch-black sheet of "paper."
The material was incredibly soft, and touching it sent a greasy, chilling sensation through the skin, raising goosebumps all over.
It lay limp in Lockhart's hand.
He nearly flung it away instinctively, ready to hurl the bizarre thing aside.
But he restrained the urge under everyone's watchful eyes.
What is this?
The other upperclassmen and club presidents cautiously cracked their eyes open, peering over with curiosity.
No matter how they examined it, it was just a plain, soft piece of paper, utterly black on both sides.
Hiss—strange.
This doesn't seem like Ethan's usual style...
Lockhart was momentarily stunned, then burst into delight!
He held up the black paper and gave it a couple of shakes, glancing around the room.
Feigning a look of regret, he shook his head dramatically and declared in a booming voice:
"Oh dear, Ethan, this is all my fault!"
"Over the summer, I put you on the front page and gave you a taste of fame."
"That's why you've ended up like this—desperately scrambling for attention."
Lockhart himself failed to notice that the students around him were edging farther and farther away.
Someone even whispered to a companion:
Hurry to the Hospital Wing and fetch Madam Pomfrey!
Ethan's expression didn't change.
There was no anger on his face, no urge to argue back.
He simply watched the blabbering Lockhart with an amused gaze, like a cat playing with a doomed mouse.
Prefect Penelope tugged gently at his sleeve, her voice laced with despair:
"Ethan, take it easy."
It was only the first day of school!
She had just become a Ravenclaw prefect—was Ravenclaw about to make headlines again?!
Ethan shot her a reassuring glance; he had no intention of causing a scene.
He was merely granting Professor Lockhart's wish, allowing him to personally demonstrate the poster's effect.
"Listen to me, Ethan!"
Lockhart tapped the pure black paper.
"If you really want to promote your club, you should make it clearer, not like this—hmm?"
His voice cut off abruptly.
His eyes locked onto the black promotional poster in his hand.
A thin crack had appeared on it at some point, unnoticed until now.
At the same time.
"Ah!"
Lockhart shuddered, his head throbbing as if pricked by a needle, forcing a cry of pain from his lips.
Right after that.
"Crack, crack, crackle."
The crack on the black paper widened, and Lockhart's headache intensified.
From a mere pinprick to the swing of an axe!
It felt like something was bursting out of its shell!
"Ahhh!"
Lockhart finally couldn't hold it in, unleashing a agonized scream.
He even clutched at his perfectly styled golden hair, trying to combat the pain with more pain!
It's coming!
Everyone shivered, their gazes fixed on Lockhart as he began to writhe.
Prefect Penelope covered her mouth, biting her finger to stifle her anxiety and fear.
It was as if the spectacle of last year's dueling challenge had materialized before her eyes once more.
The black paper slipped from Lockhart's grasp.
It drifted to the floor.
Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.
Then, it peeled away in fragments, revealing a pristine white interior.
[Artwork: Breaking Out of the Shell]
[Type: Conceptual Art]
[Grade: Second Tier · Blue Precious]
[Description: I added a little hallucinogen... Oh dear! I accidentally poured too much!]
[Effect: Like an egg breaking out of its shell, the light of life breaks out of a dark exterior. It can deeply mesmerize people, implant words into their minds, and make them unconsciously begin to repeat them.]
[Evaluation: A legal Imperio—until the Ministry of Magic issues relevant laws.]
Lockhart's cries of pain ceased suddenly.
In everyone's view, he lifted his tousled head, eyes wide and unblinking, staring at the soft paper with its white core before him.
He opened his mouth and chanted stiffly:
"Welcome to the Enlightenment Society... Here, you can find like-minded companions to practice magic together, explore the truth of knowledge, and the boundaries of the world..."
"Welcome to the Enlightenment Society... Here..."
"Welcome to the Enlightenment Society..."
In the dead silence, only Lockhart's voice echoed repetitively, like a broken record player.
It was incredibly catchy.
"Ta-da!"
Ethan broke the quiet with a sudden flourish.
Everyone jolted in surprise.
Ethan spread his arms wide, like a director who'd finally let the film roll to its end before spilling the secrets.
His face beamed with unadulterated joy.
"How about that? Anyone who sees my club's poster will automatically start reciting the slogan and spread the word for me!"
"Isn't this idea brilliant?"
Ethan turned to Prefect Penelope, his eyes twinkling.
She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace on the verge of tears.
Maybe she should march straight to Headmaster Dumbledore and resign right now.
Let someone else handle the prefect duties.
Ethan: "Don't worry about the copies—I printed a whole stack more."
With that, he casually pulled a thick bundle of black papers from his robes.
"They're not as potent as the original artwork, but they'll do the trick!"
Hearing this, the others realized the real concern wasn't the supply of posters—it was whether Hogwarts had enough young wizards to withstand Ethan's "pranks."
The Gobstones Club president, Wallace Radu, fidgeted with anxiety.
Legality aside, Ethan's poster was undeniably effective!
It had already (involuntarily) drawn in a crowd of students!
He wouldn't just barge in and claim their spots, would he...?
Wallace shot a glance at the bulletin board, discreetly casting a Permanent Sticking Charm on his own poster in the center, and steeled himself.
If Ethan tried to muscle in, he'd put up a fight—for at least a second.
But as it turned out, Wallace had misjudged a true gentleman by his own small-minded standards.
Ethan snapped his fingers, and the now-pure-white poster flew back into his hand.
He strolled toward the bulletin board.
As he passed the glitching Professor Lockhart—seemingly frozen from low intelligence—Ethan even gave his head a pat, like rebooting an old machine, smoothing out the recitation once more.
Then, he casually tacked the poster up on the side.
At this, the presidents and members of the other clubs exchanged glances and collectively sighed in relief.
It seemed Ethan still respected the code of conduct.
The Gobstones Club president even felt a pang of guilt, convinced he'd underestimated the generous Ethan.
Only Penelope, who knew Ethan's true colors all too well, squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch.
Naïve.
Far too naïve.
After posting it, Ethan turned back with a smile for everyone:
"Oh, by the way, this poster has another function besides spreading ideas efficiently."
Everyone: ?
There's more?
"It makes sure students can see it clearly, even if it's tucked in a corner."
Breakfast time.
Students wandered into the Great Hall in pairs and groups, yawning sleepily.
The instant they stepped inside, they couldn't help but squint and gasp:
"So, so bright!"
"It's like an eternal sun in the sky, a beacon in the night! This is way too bright!"
"Is this—the Enlightenment Society? The club started by Ethan Vincent?!"
"Whoa! It's blinding, so dazzling it hurts to look!"
The other club presidents stood by, their faces blank.
No one had noticed yet, but Ethan's poster had another trick: it emitted a staggering 50,000 watts of eye-searing light!
Their own posters were completely drowned out by the glare!
What kind of underhanded tactic was this?!
Only now did they grasp why Ethan hadn't bothered fighting for prime spots.
He'd simply wiped out the competition and claimed the top by default!
Code of conduct? What code?
Hmm? This approach felt oddly familiar.
Enveloped in a blinding, all-consuming radiance, Ethan stood bathed in golden light, his features blurred, his clear voice drifting down as if from the heavens.
Like a figure with flowing hair and a white robe, he extended a gentle, benevolent hand to the world's lost sheep:
"Enlightenment Society—care to join?"
Ethan pondered for a second, then tacked on a endorsement with a wink:
"Professor Gilderoy Lockhart highly recommends it~"
Watching the young wizards stumble dizzily toward his posters, Ethan felt a wave of sentiment:
He truly looked forward to these promising talents passing the Saen Ancient City trials.
He owed it to their dedication to deliver even bigger surprises, beyond just the thrilling challenges.
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