Hogwarts Should Vet Students' Citizenship

Though instinct screamed at Quirrell to turn and run, the urgent, relentless urging in his mind drove him forward.

He forced down his unease and crept ahead on tiptoe.

The walls were stripped of their usual noisy Living Paintings.

All that remained were empty, hollow backdrops.

As if someone had been deranged enough to cast the Killing Curse on the portraits themselves.

The moonlight shifted silently, twisting his shadow.

Quirrell glanced sideways.

And saw a snarling monster baring its bloody maw at him!

Its bulging eyes blasted thunderous fury straight at him!

Quirrell!!!

His heart skipped a beat. He stumbled back two steps and instinctively raised his wand—

"Avada Kedavra!"

"BANG!"

A blinding green flash shot out, striking the monster square in the head.

But its expression didn't change. It only left a scorched black hole in its skull.

Only then

did Quirrell realize that this seemed, perhaps, maybe... to be a painting?

"..."

Damn it.

He thought he knew who was twisted enough to do this.

[You fool!]

A thunderous roar exploded in his mind, accompanied by a searing, knife-like pain.

[Do you want to bring every professor in the school running?!]

"S-sorry, Master!"

Quirrell hunched over, trembling in panic and agony.

[Just get to the Great Hall. These are nothing but a few paintings!]

"Y-yes!"

Quirrell clenched his wand, a flash of murderous rage flickering in his eyes.

Ethan Vincent... once he'd squeezed every last drop of value out of that brat, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Knowing they were just paintings

did little to calm Quirrell's nerves—not at all.

Even after taking the Killing Curse, that savage, gate-guarding wildman still seemed to glare at him from behind.

Ready to tear him in half the moment he let his guard down.

Tap. Tap.

Footsteps echoed through the dead-silent corridor.

Quirrell couldn't stop glancing left and right.

In the shadows cast by pillars and walls, it felt like countless eyes were fixed on him, unblinking.

What kind of twisted mind could paint something so terrifying?!

On the walls, monsters with skin like gray, rubbery flesh.

So vivid it seemed Ethan had once been one of them.

The eyes, the meticulous details—

even Quirrell, who had faced them before, shuddered.

...Hogwarts really ought to check whether Ethan was even human!

Blood pooled into rivers, the crimson pigments clumping together.

Forming a great net of flesh that trapped Quirrell tight.

His breathing grew heavier, sweat slicking his back in sticky patches, his feet as heavy as lead.

The more he tried to ignore those grotesque paintings, the more his gaze was helplessly drawn to them.

In his mind, a phantom buzzing began to ring.

Crack, clatter, crunch...

Damn it!

Ethan, aren't you being a bit too extreme?!

Quirrell couldn't imagine if it had been any other student instead of him seeing those eerie paintings in the corridor—would they have been scared out of their wits?

This brat should just go straight to Azkaban!

Stop wreaking havoc on Hogwarts!

The Dark Wizard Quirrell screamed inwardly.

He looked at the corner ahead, faintly hearing the commotion from the Great Hall. His eyes lit up as he quickened his pace.

—Almost there, almost there!!

Just then.

The moonlight shifted, illuminating the wall that had been hidden in shadow.

In an instant.

Quirrell's steps faltered.

His originally fierce eyes lost focus, staring blankly ahead.

Then, slowly, slowly, the corners of his mouth curled up into a look of ecstasy.

[You fool! What are you doing?!]

Voldemort roared from the back of his head, lashing Quirrell with punishing magical force.

He trembled, yet felt no pain.

"The Philosopher's Stone, it's the Philosopher's Stone, Master!"

Quirrell cried out in astonishment.

Even as he collapsed to the ground from the punishment, he crawled forward on all fours.

His dazed eyes were filled with nothing but greed and hunger.

He saw the Philosopher's Stone.

That crimson gem, brimming with powerful magic, lay quietly on the windowsill ahead, reflecting the gorgeous moonlight.

All he had to do was walk over and pick it up.

...No, wait, this is fake... how could it be...

But, still.

Could a first-year student's painting really affect the procedures of him, the great Dark Lord?

As Quirrell's left and right brains battled it out.

A roar suddenly rang out:

"Stop!"

The Chosen One, Harry Potter, was charging at him.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A green light flashed.

The great Chosen One flew back like a kite with a broken string, tumbling heavily to the ground, motionless.

"Huff, huff..."

Quirrell breathed heavily, his pupils dilated.

Feeling the power surging within him, the lingering doubt quickly faded from his mind.

"No, please spare me..."

Another voice came.

Quirrell rolled his eyes and saw "Ethan" kneeling at his feet, begging for mercy.

The once proud and cold Cobalt Blue eyes were now filled with terror.

Quirrell twisted his lips into a vicious grin and raised his wand:

"Cruciatus Curse! Cruciatus Curse!"

Powerful Dark Magic shot effortlessly from his wand tip.

"Ethan's" shrill screams echoed in his ears as he writhed in agony on the ground.

...This was exactly what Quirrell wanted.

Power.

The power to conquer everything!

No one would ever look down on him again—he was the Master's most favored servant!

Look at that Malfoy, and that Snape... neither of them is as clever as me, none as loyal as me!

"Ha, hahahaha!!!"

Quirrell couldn't hold back his manic laughter.

He didn't hear Voldemort's furious shouts from the back of his head.

Now, all that was left was to offer this easily obtained Philosopher's Stone to his Master.

Quirrell scrambled and crawled toward the magnificent gem.

Its crimson glow, like a veil of moonlight, enveloped Quirrell entirely.

Like a moth drawn to a flame.

Closer, closer!

Quirrell's eyes widened with excitement, he held his breath, and stretched out his hand desperately to touch the stone.

To touch the wealth and glory of the rest of his life, second only to one above all.

Just a second before Quirrell's fingers brushed the stone.

"Whoosh!"

He suddenly plunged into a boundless abyss.

In the warm and bright Great Hall.

Ethan was enjoying his third pumpkin pasty.

The pasty wasn't too sweet, with a full pumpkin flavor.

Thin crust, generous filling—one bite and the soft, sweet pumpkin filling overflowed.

The hall was decorated magnificently.

A thousand magical little bats flew through the air, showering piles of candy down below.

Pumpkins with carved faces were everywhere, and even the ghosts had dressed up nicely, chatting enthusiastically with the students.

Ah~ this was happiness.

This was how Halloween should be celebrated.

Ethan squinted his eyes, savoring the hot food in his mouth.

Propping his chin on one hand, he idly watched The Chosen One, Harry, across from him.

The latter had just sprayed buttered peas everywhere because of a joke from the Weasley twins.

Since Ethan didn't know when Quirrell would burst in to announce a Troll in the castle, he ate quickly.

By now, he was stuffed to the brim.

Slacking off, huh.

Why hadn't that Quirrell shown up yet?

The feast was almost half over.

The thought flickered through Ethan's mind, but he didn't dwell on it.

He was more concerned with the Portal trap he'd set—ah, no, the fun little game.

Ethan looked up at the ceiling in the center of the hall, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

He'd set the Portal's exit up there.

—Who would be lucky enough to experience long-distance teleportation?

Making a grand entrance in front of everyone would definitely be interesting.

So exciting~