Ethan, this is blatant murder!!!

The feast was halfway through.

Quirrell still hadn't appeared, presumably busy playing some game with the Troll.

On the tables, plump roast turkeys had been reduced to skeletons.

Young Wizards were slumped every which way, greasy and glossy, lounging back in their seats with satisfied bellies.

Headmaster Dumbledore, wearing a purple wizard's hat adorned with bat wings, rose and walked to the brass owl lectern.

He fired off two loud bangs with his wand, golden ribbons shooting from its tip to catch the students' attention.

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"Seeing everyone so joyful makes even me feel quite a bit younger," Headmaster Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Now, I'll make a few arrangements for the coming term."

"All clubs have begun recruiting. There will be an information session in the Great Hall next Monday. Interested students can check the notice board."

"Hogwarts has many fascinating clubs, such as the Gobstone Club, the Quidditch Research Club, the Painting Club, and so on."

When he mentioned the last one, Ethan was sure he saw Dumbledore wink at him.

Hmm... interesting.

He'd just set up his Art Exhibition today; he could let the Painting Club's head take a look later.

"Of course, if the many clubs at Hogwarts still can't satisfy you, you can also create your own—"

"However, I'm afraid I still can't approve the opening of the Exploding Toilet Club this year."

At the head table, the Weasley Twins burst into laughter.

Their Prefect brother, Percy, glared at them in annoyance.

"Besides interest-based clubs, there are also academic clubs run by the professors."

"For example, Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Research Club, Professor Flitwick's Spell Creation Workshop, and so on."

Ethan had even been invited by Professor Flitwick to join his club—or what might be called an "extracurricular tutoring group."

But Ethan had declined, citing a busy schedule.

Apparently.

The Spell Creation Workshop's predecessor was the famous Dueling Club.

But due to its poor reputation, it had been reformed into a gentler format, focusing on learning the underlying principles of spellcasting.

The goal was to master nonverbal spells and better outwit opponents.

"Did you know?" Michael suddenly leaned in, speaking mysteriously. "In our house, besides Professor Flitwick's academic group, there's a top-tier club!"

"They only recruit the best students, and they never advertise openly! They never take first-years either!"

"They only evaluate through internal member assessments. If you pass, they'll send you an owl."

"It's super secretive!"

Michael's eyes were full of longing.

If he could join that club, it would be absolutely awesome!

Too bad the only underclassman they'd ever admitted was second-year Cho Chang.

First-years had zero chance.

Ethan raised an eyebrow at that, noncommittal.

Internal member assessments—just a clique sticking together.

After all, every year, Ravenclaw produced the majority of talents sent to the Ministry of Magic.

Naturally, they'd want to pre-screen people they got along with and build connections early.

On the stage, Headmaster Dumbledore's speech was winding down.

He said something touching, his eyes behind the half-moon spectacles glistening with joyful tears.

"...I wish you all continued happy learning in the coming term. Remember, Hogwarts will always be your warm, welcoming home!"

Headmaster Dumbledore raised his arms, and thunderous applause erupted from the audience.

"Tonight's curfew is extended to half past ten."

"Woo-hoo—!"

Ethan clapped along too, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling.

Looking at the youthful, beaming faces, Dumbledore turned and exchanged a smile with his professors.

Oh—what lovely students they were.

Even if they were a bit mischievous now and then, making small mistakes, what did it matter?

Even the peskiest Weasley Twins only went as far as blowing up toilets.

And Ethan Vincent, who'd dueled Malfoy right at the start of term, was just acting on youthful impulse.

Professor Flitwick himself had been a dueling master back in the day!

Nothing worth worrying about.

After all, Hogwarts was the safest place in the world.

Just then.

A beam of light suddenly shot down from above!

As if space had opened its mouth wide, a rectangular rift like a door split open in the ceiling.

Inside, it was pitch black and lightless, like a gaping maw that devoured people, cold and eerie seeping down from it.

The Great Hall quickly fell silent as students looked up in confusion at the strange black rectangle.

"Is this Hogwarts's grand finale?"

Ron asked dumbly, gnawing on a chicken leg.

But when he saw Dumbledore's expression suddenly turn grave, his smile froze, and he glanced around in panic.

It is Hogwarts's grand finale, right?!

In the stillness, Dumbledore furrowed his brow, a hint of killing intent flickering in his eyes.

An enemy attack?

But Apparition wasn't possible inside Hogwarts. Who was so bold?

To dare teleport right to his face—uh, wait?

Dumbledore suddenly thought of something.

He whipped his head around, eyes narrowing.

Among a sea of tense, anxious little faces, he spotted one that stood out.

Ethan Vincent!

Good.

It was you, kid.

Headmaster Dumbledore immediately relaxed, watching the black hole with keen interest.

Trying to surprise everyone, were you?

Tsk tsk, what a lively child.

On the other side.

Ethan had no idea—or didn't care—that he'd been caught.

His cobalt blue eyes lit up with excitement, bright as shining stars, as he clenched his fists eagerly.

His gaze was fixed tightly on the portal.

Finally!!

Which lucky person would come out?

Was it Hermione?

She'd probably been moping in the girls' bathroom earlier and might run into the Art Exhibition.

Maybe it was Divination Professor Sybill Trelawney, who hadn't come to dinner tonight—perhaps fate demanded she view her own paintings.

Whoever it was, Ethan had the Levitation Charm ready.

After all, he was such a gentle and kind Young Wizard.

The portal began to ripple.

The next second, a figure tumbled out of it!

"Wingardium—Professor Quirrell?!"

Ethan's eyes went wide in shock.

In that moment of distraction, he couldn't cast the Levitation Charm in time.

With a heavy thud, Professor Quirrell slammed onto the floor between the tables.

Like a ragdoll, he twitched twice, then lay still.

Dumbledore: "..."

The easy smile on Dumbledore's face froze.

Weasley Twins: Holy crap, that was awesome!!

The Great Hall was dead silent.

At the Staff Table.

After two seconds of silence, Snape curled his lips and said in a barely audible voice:

"Fifty points to Ravenclaw... for Ethan Vincent's quick thinking."

"Pfft!!"

Professor Flitwick finally snapped back to reality, spitting out a mouthful of ale.

He coughed as if choking, staring at his prized student in disbelief.

Ethan, you?!

—A quick clarification here.

Ethan was a very enthusiastic kid who never held anything back.

Ever since his duel with Malfoy, students and professors alike had come asking how he did it.

He generously shoved his painting right in the faces of those who asked.

He even ran a few experiments with them.

The professors wanted to replicate it, but found they couldn't draw it at all—as if every stroke on that painting was stained with Ethan's soul.

It was one of a kind in the world.

Even if they asked a wizard painter to copy it, it would only be an ordinary painting without a soul.

Only Ethan could paint it.

Anyway.

At this moment, the professors all recognized it as Ethan's handiwork.

Several sharp gazes instantly shot toward Ethan!

Ethan: "..."

He slowly stood up, craning his neck to glance at Professor Quirrell, who seemed to still be alive.

Then, spreading his arms like a protagonist making a final appearance on stage, he grinned at the students and professors.

"Surprise~"

Happy Halloween.