Friday night.
By rights, all young wizards should have been in bed.
Instead, a group crept down the corridor, candles in hand, their flickering light painting the stone walls with long, shifting shadows.
At the front walked Ethan Vincent, hood up, voice drawling with wicked amusement.
"Tell me—do we look like we're on our way to a funeral?"
Everyone behind him:
Shut. Up.
Question:
The newly appointed club president clearly wants to murder us. What do we do?
Ethan, of course, was oblivious to the tension simmering behind him. He turned, clapped Harry on the shoulder, and chuckled darkly.
"As the very first member of the Enlightenment Society, you'll have to set an example for the others tonight."
Harry staggered under the slap, his expression that of a man marching to the gallows rather than leading a glorious charge.
Ron leaned in and whispered reassuringly,
"Don't worry! I stole the map of the Ancient City of Sen from George and Fred! It'll be like an open-book exam—no problem at all."
Harry's smile was bleak. "Hah… wonderful."
Based on everything he knew of Ethan, he was certain their charming leader would find some way to make things worse.
And he wasn't wrong.
Because tonight, every one of them was out past curfew, skulking about the castle, for one reason only: the entrance assessment of the Enlightenment Society.
And why must such an assessment take place in the dead of night?
Why, to set the proper atmosphere, of course! Who needs sleep at their age anyway?
Representatives from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff were all present. Only Slytherin had fewer participants—Draco Malfoy had sent Ethan a carefully worded letter, declaring that, as heir of the Malfoy family, he would not be seen traipsing about in such ridiculous fashion. Still, he offered his silent support "from behind the scenes."
Including new recruits, the procession numbered in the dozens.
If I had to go to Red Stone alone, I'd never dare. But in a crowd like this? I'll give it a try.
So thought more than one of them. And the sight pleased Ethan immensely.
He smiled, lips curling like a cat that had just eaten cream.
All the long hours he had spent transforming the Ancient City of Sen had not been wasted.
If only I'd known, I could've charged five Sickles a head.
Ethan smacked his lips, truly mourning the lost profits.
But wait… maybe later, I actually could open Sen like an amusement park. Education and entertainment, hand in hand. The young wizards would laugh and duel and learn—and I would recline in luxury, raking in the entrance fees.
"Incredible. I'm a genius," he muttered, awed by his own brilliance.
"What genius?"
The Weasley twins popped up from the crowd, identical grins in place.
"Building Sen Amusement Park," Ethan declared proudly, "becoming the youngest landlord in history, and living a life of effortless wealth."
The twins exchanged a look.
!
"We think you'd do better opening a haunted house," they said seriously.
At that moment, a sharp voice rang out.
"Who's there?! Stop at once!"
A beam of white light sliced through the corridor.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, but didn't slow his stride. He advanced until the owner of the light—cornered—stumbled back in panic.
"Don't—don't come any closer!"
The frightened voice belonged to none other than Percy Weasley, Gryffindor Prefect.
Ethan tilted his head, leaned close, and whispered with devilish menace:
"I'll make sure you fail your Ministry background check."
Percy: !!!
What a monstrous threat!
Before Percy could even respond, another beam of white light cut across them.
It illuminated Percy, clutching his chest like a scandalized maiden, and Ethan, looming like a thug shaking down an innocent.
Slytherin Prefect Gemma Farley took in the tableau.
Her thoughts: Hell itself couldn't stage a worse scene.
Then Luna Lovegood drifted forward, her steps light as feathers. She slipped her hand through Ethan's, tugging him gently aside—yet never letting go.
Gemma's eyebrows rose. Her gaze slid from Percy, her utterly useless colleague, to the murmuring crowd huddled behind Ethan.
"Explain," she ordered, cold as frost.
Before Ethan could speak, another voice quavered from the shadows.
"I—it was I who brought them. This is Vincent's club assessment… fully approved."
The light shifted to reveal a gaunt, hollow-eyed man.
"Professor Lockhart?" Gemma gasped.
Gone was the glossy-haired, self-satisfied peacock of the past. His hair hung limp and yellow-brown, his back stooped, his face drained of all joy—as if a Dementor had hollowed him out.
He looked like a man who would never know happiness again.
Lockhart had always been unreliable, but for him to volunteer for such thankless duty? Unthinkable.
Gemma's eyes flicked once more to Ethan, suspicion sharpening. Yet she said nothing, only lowered her wand and stepped aside.
As Luna skipped happily beside Ethan, Gemma's expression cooled.
Those who can't keep up with his strength will only fall further and further behind. Not my concern.
Before they departed, George and Fred took the opportunity to mercilessly tease Percy, poking him in the chest until his face turned beet red.
Finally, the group pushed past the forbidden corridor of the third floor, slipped through a portal in a mural, and arrived at the threshold of the Ancient City of Sen.
For most, it was their first time laying eyes upon it.
Majestic stone towers rose before them, ancient and solemn, exuding a weight of centuries.
A chorus of gasps filled the air. Even Wallace, president of the Gobstones Club—who usually cared for nothing but his marbles—could only gape in awe.
Only then did they realize just how extraordinary Ethan Vincent truly was.
The Weasley twins, however, were unimpressed.
"Wait a minute," they muttered. "If we can just use the portal, why did we bother sneaking all the way to the fourth floor first?"
Ethan smiled slyly.
"I wanted everyone to retrace the path of those who came before."
Those who came before… Professor Quirrell, perhaps?
A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.
Then, Cedric Diggory stepped forward, radiating the confidence of a hero marching to slay a dragon.
"Ethan!" His eyes burned. "I trained all summer! One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats, and a ten-kilometer run every single day! I am not the same man as before—I can conquer anything you throw at me!"
Ethan blinked.
Did his training… go a bit sideways?
He eyed Cedric's hair. Thankfully, it was still there.
Then his gaze dropped to Cedric's arms, bulging like sculpted hills, gleaming with a suspiciously toothpaste-commercial sheen.
He looks like he could punch ten of me into the floorboards.
The prestige of the future Triwizard Champion was only growing.
Ethan gave him a big thumbs-up. "Excellent. Very spirited."
Then, with a flourish, he turned to face the crowd.
"Well then, without further ado, let's—cough—let's begin the Enlightenment Society entrance assessment!"
Everyone:
Did this lunatic just say exactly what he was thinking?
Ethan flicked his wand.
Two crimson banners unfurled above the gates of Sen, white characters blazing:
"If you're a man, last three minutes!"
"If you're a woman, brave the world!"
The crowd shivered.
Ethan spread his arms like a carnival barker.
"Step right up, groups of ten! Line up at the starting gate! Harry, you're first."
Harry: Kill me now.
The Weasley twins stroked their chins thoughtfully.
"Ten at a time? Can Sen handle that many without collapsing into chaos?"
The unease grew stronger.
But there was no time to argue. The groups formed, all eyes on Ethan.
He grinned, a card appearing in his hand, radiating murderous energy.
"Next," he drawled, "I will explain the—"
He paused for effect.
"New rules."
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