Halloween, I'm Here!

The Master himself has spoken!

Quirrell's pupils contracted sharply, his body tensing involuntarily as he narrowed his eyes to scrutinize Ethan carefully.

Striking in appearance, upright in stature—even while threatening a professor, his demeanor remained kind and polite.

As if he were earnestly consulting with someone.

How could the Master have taken a liking to this brat, who clearly had nothing to do with their dark and evil lot?

His earlier quarrel with Malfoy was just childish squabbling.

At best, it was a case of a fearless newborn calf.

If he ever ran into a real Dark Wizard, who knew how he'd be crying then.

Besides, anyone with a bit of research could paint a Fusion-enhanced picture, and do it better than this little brat.

The Living Paintings in Hogwarts Castle were a prime example.

Nothing impressive.

Quirrell grumbled inwardly.

Though he didn't understand, he dared not disobey Voldemort's words.

He quickly said, "W-well, since you insist, I'll tell you then..."

In Quirrell's long-winded and tedious account, Ethan learned what kind of person Hellebore was.

To sum it up in one sentence—the progenitor of Dark Wizards.

He lived in ancient Greece, one of the earliest and most influential Dark Wizards in magical history, known as "Hellebore the Vile."

His main achievements were two:

First, he invented and bred the Basilisk.

By hatching a rooster's egg under a toad, any creature that met its gaze would be petrified and die.

Yes, that was the very thing lurking beneath their feet right now.

Summoned by a young Voldemort, it caused the death of one person at Hogwarts.

Second, he invented the Horcrux.

By splitting the soul through evil murder, even if the body died, the soul would linger on.

That was also Voldemort's specialty.

Well, so he was basically Voldemort's mentor!

Presumably, what was stored in his manor rivaled the Philosopher's Stone.

Either extremely precious.

Or extremely dangerous.

Or both.

Ethan grew even more intrigued.

Creations of Dark Magic, forbidden existences, things not allowed...

This was truly fascinating.

"Heh, hehehe..."

Ethan couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

A chill, eerie aura swept across the entire classroom.

"I-I feel a bit cold..."

Ron rubbed his arms and muttered quietly, "It's like a Dementor's here—my dad said wherever Dementors are, it gets really cold."

"But there's only Ethan here, hahaha."

Harry forced a couple of dry laughs in response, silently complaining in his mind.

Aside from species, Ethan probably wasn't much different from a Dementor.

Both were equally Netherworldly.

During the wait for class to end.

Ethan kept pondering how to get to Hellebore's manor.

That moss-covered bark had not only taught him the complete Erised Spell but also revealed the exact location of Hellebore's manor.

In the Lake District of northern England, near Lake Voster in Cumbria.

Deep within the "Rotting Marsh," which devoured all things and nurtured countless fungi.

Surrounded by dense forest and poisonous mist, extremely dangerous.

The location perfectly suited a Dark Wizard's aesthetic.

"It'll be tough to get through alone..."

Ethan muttered.

Not just because of the difficulty, but also because it was a good hundred kilometers from Hogwarts.

Even Apparition would struggle to reach it.

Like a man with ED receiving premium adult content—all that energy, no way to act on it.

All he could do was scratch his head in frustration.

"I'll take another look later," Ethan finally sighed, shelving the treasure hunt for now. "I need to plan this out long-term. Maybe over summer break? Something might come up."

"For now, let's focus on the upcoming Halloween Art Exhibition."

"My debut has to be a surprise~"

As he mused, the bell rang.

Ethan, like the other students, immediately prepared to leave, unable to stand another second in that garlic-reeking classroom.

Just then, a wave of garlic scent surged toward him, thick as a wall, growing stronger.

The smell preceded the man.

Even Ethan, usually even-tempered and friendly, couldn't help but frown in disgust.

"V-Vincent, wait a moment..."

Professor Quirrell shuffled over, lips twisted, his large purple turban thrust into Ethan's face.

The mix of garlic and a faint, rotting stench was more overwhelming than inhaling a sweaty gym sock in midsummer.

Ethan stepped back two paces. "Sorry, I'm allergic to garlic. I'm leaving."

With that, he turned and walked away without looking back.

Want to approach him?

Get rid of that garlic stench first!

"..."

Quirrell's smile froze again.

He watched Ethan's merciless retreating figure, his pupils widening slightly, a flicker of fear surfacing.

Trembling, he waited until the classroom emptied before crouching down, as if unable to bear it, muttering pleadingly:

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Master... I apologize. I will definitely help you seize Ethan Vincent's skill..."

["Help me"? Do you think I need your help?!]

"Y-yes, 'for you,' 'for you'! Master! I am willing to give you everything I have..."

[I never thought I'd be forced to parasitize a cowardly waste like you. Enough. No rush to approach that boy.]

[What matters now is getting me the Philosopher's Stone as soon as possible!]

"Y-yes, Master!" Quirrell whispered. "I'm ready. On Halloween eve, I'll create a disturbance, and I'll take the chance to get through the Trapdoor and retrieve the Stone for you..."

[I hope you won't disappoint me. Otherwise, you know the consequences.]

"Y-yes..."

Quirrell hunched his back, listening as the voice in his head faded, finally breathing a sigh of relief.

...Ethan Vincent, enjoy your smugness for a few more days.

Quirrell's gaze darkened.

Once he successfully stole the Philosopher's Stone for his master, you and your ridiculous paintings would belong to him.

Quirrell took a deep breath, steadied himself, and hurried out of the classroom.

He had to ensure this operation was flawless.

Ha, but who would expect the stuttering, pathetic Professor Quirrell to act on the eve of the holiday?

Maybe that despicable Snape would catch on...

But even Snape would never guess that he, Voldemort's loyal servant, would release a Troll into the school!

Just imagining those foolish students and professors panicking made Quirrell's lips curl into a grin.

Then, he would savor the sight of that arrogant face of Ethan Vincent's, twisted in fear and ugliness.

While Quirrell was miserably catching trolls and preparing for his Dark Great Enterprise, Ethan was also busy preparing for his art exhibition.

One painting after another, one after the next.

Danqing Buyu, Bigeng Buchuo.

Since Ethan had genuinely forgotten how to enter the Room of Requirement, his painting locations were quite flexible.

Mostly in the dormitory.

Though Ethan thoughtfully stored the finished paintings in an Oxhide Bag enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, and cheerfully told his roommates Michael and Mandy that these were Muggle-Repelling Charms he'd need later, they still, regrettably, kept their distance from him.

Eventually, they ended up sleeping in the Common Room.

They must not want to disturb his painting.

Ethan thought, touched.

He decided that once the exhibition was set up, he'd invite them to see it first.

During this time, Ethan also visited Hagrid a few times with the Two Little Ones—Harry and Ron.

And successfully scrounged up materials from Magical Creatures.

Like Unicorn Hair, Colorful Beautiful Feathers, and a few genuine Dragon Scales from who knows where.

They shimmered with a dark green light, as if Starlight had brushed across them.

Ethan used them all in his paintings and Exhibition Setup.

Fusing them with the Erised Spell, he painted another "Golden Legendary."

Time flew by.

Finally, October 31st arrived.

Halloween Eve, awaited by countless people, seething with undercurrents.