Two seconds of dead silence.
"—It's…it's out!!!"
The classroom erupted in chaos.
Desks toppled, chairs clattered to the floor, and most of the young witches and wizards bolted for the door clutching their textbooks like shields.
Only a handful remained, frozen pale-faced in place, clinging desperately to their faith in Professor Lockhart.
Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff was one of them. He swallowed hard, staring at the skeletal monster whose hollow eye sockets glowed with an eerie blue fire as it scanned the room.
"P-Professor Lockhart," Justin stammered, "this…this is all part of your lesson plan, right?"
As he spoke, his voice grew steadier, even a touch fervent. His eyes lit up as he looked to Lockhart with desperate admiration.
"I—I'm not like those cowardly students! I believe in you! You'll handle it, won't you?"
Lockhart straightened, coughing into his hand.
"Of…of course!"
He puffed out his chest and turned a sharp glare on the ghastly bird. It might have looked terrifying, but surely it wasn't that strong.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi—!"
A weak white flash shot from Lockhart's wand and struck the creature.
Ethan raised a brow. Whether the spell did any damage was questionable—but the berserk effect was undeniable.
The bird shrieked. The blue flames in its skull flared violently as it thrashed its head. With a sharp crack, it snapped Lockhart's wand clean in half.
Lockhart: ?!
Justin and the others: (O-shaped mouths of horror)
Such strength in something barely the length of an arm! A single peck would leave a hole straight through a person.
Ethan's cobalt eyes lit with amusement as he studied the Death Bird.
Meanwhile, Lockhart stood dumbfounded, staring at the two splintered halves of his wand.
"...This—"
He let out a high, nervous laugh and edged backward.
"Ah, I suddenly remember—I promised Professor Snape I'd help brew a potion!"
He spun on his heel. "Farewell!"
And with that, Professor Lockhart bolted for the door—only to find it slam shut before he reached it.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The windows clapped closed one by one, and the main door sealed with a resounding thud. Even the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office slammed shut.
The room plunged into a dim, oppressive gloom.
Ethan remained seated, watching Lockhart with eyes that gleamed like midnight sapphires, a hint of cruel mirth glinting in them.
"Alright, Professor," he said softly.
"Show us how you plan to deal with this monster. It's even harder than my Association's assessment."
He let the words Association's assessment linger with deliberate malice.
How dare Lockhart compare himself to Ethan? That alone deserved punishment.
...
Lockhart's vision blurred. For an instant, Ethan's slender form overlapped with the terrifying shadow of Mr. Lamp, the butcher of Knockturn Alley.
No. Impossible. Mr. Lamp was a monster who had carved through Dark Wizards without mercy. This was just a second-year boy.
"Haha, Ethan, all a misunderstanding—" Lockhart began, retreating step by step.
And then something heavy landed on his shoulder.
Lockhart froze. A cold breath brushed his cheek, carrying the scent of death, like a northern gale howling through a graveyard.
His forced smile cracked. Slowly, painfully, he turned his head.
The Death Bird's hollow sockets, burning with ghostly blue fire, stared directly into his.
[You have left a deep impression on others with your artwork!]
[Soul fusion increased by 2%!]
[Soul fusion has reached its limit! Cannot increase further!]
[Accumulated fusion: 2%]
[Learned magic: Soul Shriek]
[Drawn from countless tormented souls: release a terrifying howl that instills dread and crushes courage.]
Good news: Ethan had gained a new spell.
Bad news: Soul fusion had capped again.
"Tch." Ethan curled his lips. It was like his mother barging in just as a plane was about to take off. Utterly infuriating.
"This outburst… will it make me a sensation? Inspire even greater art?" he murmured, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin at the thought.
On the other side of the room, Justin sat paralyzed in terror. Their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had nearly been slain before their eyes—and Ethan Vincent seemed entirely unfazed.
When the students returned with Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore, they nearly collided with a dazed Justin staggering out.
"Are you alright, child? What's happened?" Dumbledore asked kindly.
"..."
Justin hesitated, then whispered, "I think Ethan should be the one teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."
He was living proof.
Inside the classroom, only a tattered Lockhart remained sprawled on the floor, next to a jagged hole smashed through the window.
"Oh dear," Dumbledore sighed. "Poor Professor Lockhart. What did he do to provoke Ethan this time?"
Snape: "..."
(You've already assumed it was Ethan, haven't you?)
Lockhart groaned awake under Dumbledore's recovery spell. The moment his eyes opened, he clutched the Headmaster's robe.
"Headmaster, Ethan conjured a monster! It attacked me, then broke through the window and flew into the Forbidden Forest! I saw it clearly!"
Dumbledore blinked.
"Well, how splendid. That will add to the forest's biodiversity. I imagine Hagrid will be delighted."
Lockhart: "..."
Was Hogwarts always this blasé?!
"I—I must tell you a terrible secret I've uncovered!" Lockhart cried dramatically.
"Oh?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Do tell." Even Snape leaned closer.
"Ethan," Lockhart declared, "isn't human at all. He's a demon!"
Dumbledore, Snape: "..."
"I believe," Dumbledore said calmly, "that the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance would have caught that before Ethan was enrolled. He is human."
"And I thought I warned you not to provoke Mr. Vincent."
"What?!" Lockhart sputtered. "When I asked, you only told me not to go near Harry! You never said Ethan!"
Dumbledore shrugged.
"Well, don't they say: What's forbidden in principle is forbidden; what's permitted in rule is also forbidden? I assumed you were clever enough to grasp the implication."
Lockhart's jaw worked soundlessly before he roared, "Then I quit! First a monster, next time it'll be a three-headed dog! I refuse!"
He stormed towards his office, muttering: "Yes, stay away, far away! I should've done so long ago—huh?!"
On his desk lay an unsigned letter, the window open beside it.
Outside the office, Snape muttered, "That boy should have been expelled long ago. He's a devil in the guise of a student. And his Enlightenment Society—it reeks of Death Eaters."
"Severus," Dumbledore cut in sharply. "We mustn't rush to judgment. Driving Ethan out now would only push him straight onto the path of a new Dark Lord."
Besides, the Association assessment in the Ancient City of Saen had already been carefully modified for students' safety.
Snape sneered. "If you insist on indulging the brat, at least assign a professor to monitor him."
"A sensible suggestion," Dumbledore admitted. "But all our staff are busy, and now that Professor Lockhart has resigned—"
A sudden voice interrupted:
"If you'll allow it! I'll follow Ethan and supervise his Association work myself!"
Lockhart emerged, face pale, smile trembling as though unseen hands were pulling at his strings.
Dumbledore raised a brow. "Weren't you resigning, Professor Lockhart?"
"...I changed my mind," Lockhart said, voice quivering. "Upon reflection, Ethan is a rare talent. A little eccentric, perhaps, but worthy of cultivation. Let me oversee him. No one could do it better than me."
Dumbledore and Snape exchanged wary glances. Something felt off, but neither could pinpoint it.
At last, Dumbledore nodded. "Very well—if you insist."
Coincidentally, the Association recruitment was approaching. An idle Lockhart truly was the most practical choice.
No one noticed the letter he clutched in his trembling hand.
[Unconditionally assist Ethan in carrying out Association activities.]
Signed: [Mr. Lamp]
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