I Kept a Part of the Netherworld, Only to Realize It Was Halloween (Seeking Follow-up Reads!)

The hall fell into dead silence.

Everyone stared at Ethan in shock, their minds reeling as if a thousand trolls were stampeding through their brains!

Surprise? Surprise?

This was clearly a fright, okay!!

Merlin's red long johns, what, what the hell just happened?!

The Weasley Twins stood straight up on their chairs, craning their necks to look at Professor Quirrell, who lay sprawled motionless on the floor.

Their eyes sparkled, as if they were gradually understanding everything.

Elegant, simply elegant!

If Ethan gave the order, they would crown him the "King of Pranks at Hogwarts"!

If not for the tense atmosphere and Dumbledore's twitching beard, they would have knelt before Ethan and shouted, "Long live Ethan Vincent!"

"M-Mr. Vincent, what have you done?!"

Professor McGonagall staggered to her feet, not even noticing she had knocked over her goblet.

She was shocked and bewildered.

She couldn't fathom why Ethan, who had always been well-behaved, would do such a thing.

Ethan blinked and said innocently:

"I just wanted to give everyone a surprise... I set up a fun Art Exhibition in the corridor, and the last painting has a teleportation effect."

"Hmm—though, I kept a bit of a scare in it, so everyone knows it's Halloween."

With that, Ethan flashed a bright smile.

If it had been anyone else who fell down with a thud like that, Ethan would have honestly admitted his mistake—that he hadn't cast the Levitation Charm properly and had truly hurt someone.

But it was Quirrell who fell?

Then no problem.

In fact, it even proved the power of his fusion painting.

Even a Dark Wizard like Quirrell, who had an external brain, couldn't resist it.

Code
[Fusion Painting · A Dream of Spring]
[Tier: Tier 1 · Golden Legendary]
[Description: A dream of spring must end; life is but a dream, all empty.]
[Effect: Creates illusions, making viewers forget their memories, indulge in wealth and glory, and obtain their deepest desires. But just as they are about to achieve everything, they will fall through a door and return to reality.]
[Evaluation: An extremely vicious card. Only someone from the Netherworld would merge these two paintings into one.]

How could it be called vicious?

Ethan felt the system's evaluation of him was biased.

He had clearly set up a anti-addiction measure to prevent people from wallowing in illusions.

It should be called thoughtful instead.

On the other side, Professor McGonagall, upon hearing Ethan's answer, was about to faint.

In her decades of teaching, she had encountered mischievous students, like the Weasley Twins.

But she had never seen a "prank" of such high skill!

Professor McGonagall had no idea how Ethan Vincent had managed to reduce a professor, an adult wizard, to such a state!

It's not that she feared students causing trouble.

It's that she feared students who were both troublemakers and clever!!

Code
[Your painting has greatly shocked the crowd, leaving a deep impression on them!]
[Soul Fusion Degree increased by 4%]
[32% → 36%]

A translucent blue subtitle appeared, and Ethan felt a surge of power welling up inside him!

Like molten lava crawling through his veins.

At that moment, Ethan was like tempered steel, the power of blood and soul breaking through its shackles in wave after wave of impact, bursting forth!

Hiss—that felt good!

Ethan's lips curled into a shiver.

Suddenly, the wand in Ethan's hand began to tremble violently.

The sensation of resonating with the magic within him surged once more!

But this time, Ethan had a clear realization—he could do it!

His wand could transform into a brush perfectly suited to him!

A thick drop of red dripped from the wand's tip to the floor.

Like blood or tears, it gave off a metallic, rusty smell.

It corroded a small pit into the ground.

On the podium.

Headmaster Dumbledore finally reacted.

His expression grave, he strode down the steps in three quick bounds, crouched beside Professor Quirrell, and waved his wand to cast a spell.

On the ceiling, that pitch-black door silently closed, as if it had never existed.

But like glimpsing a corner of the world's truth, even if nothing around had changed, it was hard to return to a normal state of mind.

"I can never eat chicken legs in this hall with peace of mind again!"

Ron looked like he was about to cry.

Then, as if in commemoration, he shoved another chicken leg fiercely into his mouth.

Under Dumbledore's magic, Quirrell regained some clarity.

He lifted his head in confusion, a streak of blood beneath his nose.

He looked left and right, then, as if realizing something, his eyes slowly widened, revealing utter terror.

"No... this can't be real... how could that be fake, no, no...!"

Right in front of everyone, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, former top student Quirrell, actually burst into tears.

He sobbed in despair, his whole body trembling like a leaf in the wind, his nails clawing at the floor in agony and regret.

Like a patient going through withdrawal.

A chilling, cold aura emanated from him.

Just from his terrifying appearance, everyone couldn't help but imagine what kind of torment he had suffered at Ethan's hands!

Too horrifying, too dreadful!!

Dumbledore's expression turned serious.

Though he had been keeping an eye on Ethan, he truly hadn't expected Ethan to pull off such a huge stunt right under his nose!

Dumbledore continuously cast calming spells, and it took a full few minutes before Quirrell slowly settled down.

Yet the deep fear in his eyes never faded.

Master, Master will definitely kill him...!!

Quirrell bit down hard, a bloody taste spreading in his mouth.

...Ethan Vincent!!!

He had actually fallen into that brat's trap, and gone straight to Dumbledore!

For a moment.

Quirrell thought Ethan had seen through his true identity and teamed up with Dumbledore to set him up.

But meeting Dumbledore's concerned yet scrutinizing eyes, Quirrell quickly realized his identity hadn't been exposed.

He breathed a slight sigh of relief.

He wouldn't be killed by Master.

...Still, even the Headmaster and professors hadn't seen through his disguise.

How could a mere first-year possibly notice?

So.

He was just unlucky?

Thinking that, Quirrell's face darkened even more.

He had never hated anyone this much, almost losing his reason, wanting to cast the Cruciatus Curse on that damned brat right in front of Dumbledore!

What kind of bizarre, evil magic was that...!

Giving someone an incredibly real beautiful dream, then suddenly yanking them back into cold reality.

The easily attainable slipping through his fingers—he had nearly gone mad.

Compared to himself, Quirrell thought Ethan was more suited to be a Dark Wizard.

Too pure.

...No, no.

He had to make up for his mistake and steer things back on track!

"Are you alright, Professor Quirrell? What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"Outside, outside... Vincent's painting... right, right! The troll!"

Quirrell's eyes lit up, and with his last shred of strength, he rasped:

"Th-the troll is in the Dungeon Classroom! I, I thought you should know..."

His words fell.

They stirred no ripple in the Great Hall.

The students looked at each other, bewildered.

Still reeling from "Professor Quirrell fell down," "Ethan tried to murder a professor," and "Is this also a Halloween surprise?"

Under the sheer shock of what just happened.

A troll or whatever... didn't really matter anymore?

Quirrell: "..."

Ethan, you absolute bastard!!!

The plan had completely failed—a total rout.

And he'd made a massive fool of himself in public.

Overwhelmed by rage and the cruel punishment from Voldemort, Quirrell couldn't hold it in any longer. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his face pale as paper, suffering immense damage.

His head lolled to the side, and he passed out cold.

Regardless.

A dangerous troll was still a dangerous troll, and it deserved some respect.

Dumbledore first asked a few professors to take Quirrell to the Infirmary.

Then he called out to the bewildered Young Wizards:

"Prefects, please lead your house students back to their common rooms."

A rustle of movement.

The students stood up in silence.

But once the daze from that shock wore off, tonight would probably become the most thrilling Halloween they'd ever had.

"First-years, follow me."

Robert Hilliard, the Ravenclaw Prefect, spoke.

Then he cast a complicated look at Ethan in the crowd.

He exchanged a glance with Penelope Clearwater, the next year's Prefect-in-waiting beside him.

"Well? Still think he's not good enough, Sean?" Penelope said with a grin. "I think Ethan is more than qualified to join our club."

Sean Max, the young man who had always opposed Ethan joining Ravenclaw's internal club, pushed up his glasses gloomily and sneered:

"I don't see any difference from before."

"He hasn't improved one bit. Still playing his nasty little tricks."

"This time, he even fooled a professor—even if it was Professor Quirrell! I think he'll be expelled before he ever joins the club."

Penelope's eyes widened: "You're just jealous, Sean! Jealous that Ethan achieved something like this in his first year!"

"His painting magic is one of a kind! A whole new system!"

Stung by the truth, Sean flushed with anger and stubbornly shot back: "That's not even magic!"

"In any case, unless he shows real strength, I won't acknowledge him—"

Just then.

A sudden idea struck Sean, a brilliant scheme popping into his head.

He grinned maliciously and said:

"If he can beat that troll, I'll agree to let him join the club. How about that?"