The pristine brushstroke swept through the air.
As though it had cut a gash in space, countless colors spilled out.
They drifted through the air like countless iridescent stars.
Hermione was stunned, her mouth hanging open as she stared, entranced, at the scene.
Her understanding of magic was still at the stage of "waving a wand," "shooting out a beam of light," and "hitting the other person."
She had no idea magic could be so beautiful, so wondrous.
Before the three of them,
Ethan's lips curled slightly. He didn't have to exert himself to control it; magic flowed naturally from the paintbrush.
Painting was, after all, an expression of the soul.
And it led to the same destination as casting spells.
"Whoosh—"
The paint gathered in midair and transformed.
At last, it formed a flock of golden birds, each about the size of a palm.
Their golden bodies shimmered with flowing light as they chirped and flitted about. They looked beautiful and adorable.
One even circled around them.
The Three Little Ones smiled without realizing it.
The birds' reflections danced across Harry's round glasses, reminding him of the flying motorcycle from his dreams.
Magical and wondrous.
It was the only comfort he had in his bleak reality.
But soon,
the Troll's heavy roar jolted Harry back to his senses.
The hulking creature, over three meters tall, was less than ten steps away!
It was so close that Harry could make out the warts growing on its head and the tiny, bean-sized eyes filled with rage and greed.
"Roar—!"
The Troll raised its club excitedly, ready to smash the four little beans into mincemeat.
In its eyes, these four creatures holding little sticks didn't stand a chance.
One bite apiece, and they'd go down with a satisfying crunch.
And those chirping little birds flying through the air weren't even enough to pick its teeth with.
The Troll's meager brain simply ignored them.
"Ethan!"
Faced with the threat, Harry gripped Ethan's robes tightly, wand in hand, his mind utterly blank.
They should have run.
But Ethan—how could they leave him behind?
Ethan must have realized they were missing and come looking for them!
Ron had already squeezed his eyes shut.
He cowered behind Ethan, muttering, "We're mad. We've all gone mad."
It was hard to tell whether he trusted Ethan or not.
The moment the club rose high,
Harry moved faster than he could think.
He darted in front of Ethan and spread his arms wide, facing the club as it came crashing down.
...What am I doing?
Time seemed to slow.
Harry stared blankly at the club, thick as a barrel, and couldn't help imagining himself being turned into "Harry paste."
He should have grabbed Ethan and run.
Even if he stepped in front of him, there was no way he could stop it.
In the end, he still hadn't managed to protect anyone.
He could see the Troll, but a blinding flash of green appeared before his eyes.
The next second,
"Go."
A soft command rang out behind Harry.
Cool and clear as a spring.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a white paintbrush stained with color.
Its pointed tip was aimed straight at the Troll!
Elsewhere.
"What? You're saying Mr. Vincent is missing?!"
Professor McGonagall came to an abrupt halt and glared at the girl before her.
Penelope Clearwater, the expected next Prefect of Ravenclaw, nodded anxiously.
"I'm sorry, Professor. By the time I noticed, Ethan was already gone."
"..."
Professor McGonagall pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling her head throb.
That Ethan was far too undisciplined...
Come to think of it, she hadn't taken points from Ravenclaw before.
Professor Snape said sarcastically from beside her,
"Perhaps our great Mr. Ethan Vincent thinks he can take on a Troll by himself, so he's run off to deal with it alone."
"After all, he even took down the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, didn't he?"
For some reason, Professor Snape was the most relaxed of them all at that moment.
He didn't look worried at all.
Professor McGonagall shot her colleague an unhappy glance.
She couldn't agree with Snape's irresponsible speculation.
The students' safety came first.
However,
everyone knew that, according to Professor Quirrell, the Troll should be in the Dungeon Classroom.
Ethan had definitely gone somewhere else for a reason other than picking a fight with a Troll—
"ROAR!!!"
A nonhuman roar came from the other end of the corridor.
Everyone froze.
Even Snape's leisurely smile stiffened.
They exchanged glances, all of them looking alarmed.
Penelope, Robert, and Sean stared at one another in surprise.
—That was unmistakably the sound of a Troll!
It wasn't in the Dungeon Classroom. It had come upstairs!
And the missing Ethan might really have run into it!
"Heh. Idiot," Sean murmured, picturing the arrogant kid spending ten days or half a month in the Infirmary.
"Quick, let's get over there!" Professor McGonagall shouted, breaking into a run as fast as she could.
Professor Snape, who had been so relaxed just moments earlier, was now wearing a dark expression.
They headed toward the source of the sound.
The professor and several older Ravenclaw students immediately raced toward where the sound had come from.
When they rounded the corner, panting,
an unbelievable sight appeared before them.
—Golden shooting stars.
Several golden shooting stars streaked across most of the corridor!
Like golden arrows, their fiery trails carried an air of sacred inviolability as they slammed into their target, pinning it to the wall at the far end!
"Bam!"
The deep thud boomed like a war drum. The shock wave made everyone's hearts tremble.
Stones shattered, and dust billowed!
The blast of air tossed their hair about, forcing them to squeeze their eyes shut.
"Th-this is—"
Prefect Robert struggled to open his eyes.
He peered through the dust, and a look of delighted astonishment slowly lit his face.
A figure both unexpected and, somehow, entirely unsurprising appeared before them.
His black hair fluttered, and his eyes were cobalt blue.
A few brilliant streaks of paint swirled around him, adding a splash of color to the pale moonlit night.
The boy stood tall, his right hand pointing straight ahead, his feet set naturally, one in front of the other.
Like a knight pointing his sword at an enemy, he wore a cold, solemn expression that revealed an unshakable will.
Someone was standing in front of him.
But there was no doubt—
at that moment, he was the guardian of the three children!
"Well, Miss Granger? Did you see that clearly?"
A warm voice rang out.
Ethan Vincent lowered the paintbrush, which had once again taken the shape of a wand in his hand.
He turned to the little girl, who was still gaping in stunned silence, and smiled.
"Do you understand now how much magic can affect a spell?"
Before Ethan stood the Troll, pinned firmly to the wall, its granite-like skin pierced clean through!
Hermione's eyes widened.
Her usually quick mind had seized up, unable to process anything.
She stared at the hole, thick as a wrist, with just one thought in her head:
That was "Avis"?
It looked more like a spear or a cannonball!!
Coach, you can't fool me!!!
Elsewhere, around the corner,
watching the scene—and the Troll that was barely hanging on to life—Sean's face darkened completely.
He'd actually beaten the Troll...
And with a single, fatal blow.
Who was the monster here, anyway?!
Sean didn't dare turn around to look at his colleagues' faces.
Even without looking, he could feel Robert and Penelope's undisguised mocking stares!
His face grew hotter and hotter.
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