Ethan eagerly examined the thick stack of yellowed parchment notes. The handwriting was identical to that in the Necronomicon—both unmistakably from that mysterious Mr. Black.
He had written in bold, confident strokes:
[I succeeded! After countless studies and precious sacrifices, I finally deciphered another powerful ancient rune!]
[The "Jera" rune: representing life and nature's cycle and reincarnation, burial and rebirth!]
[Can absorb external energy to nourish oneself]
[Can spells and rituals constructed with it absorb the filthy werewolf bloodline from my daughter?]
Below were extensive practical research notes on utilizing this ancient rune. Ethan pored over the complex formulas and theoretical models, feeling like he stood at history's heights with dramatically expanded thinking.
[By reading ancient texts, you obtained the "Well-Read" trait.]
[Your comprehension strengthened.]
Under the "Well-Read" trait's remarkable enhancement, these spells—which would earn desperate curses toward examiners even as seventh-year final exam questions—became crystal clear to Ethan. They flowed smoothly into his rapidly working brain, being systematically disassembled, understood, and absorbed.
"What are you reading?" Sirius asked curiously, leaning over his shoulder. Seeing densely packed arcane symbols covering the pages, his eyes and brain felt like they'd been violently pummeled—critical hit received.
Sirius stared in pained incomprehension: "... " Watching Ethan's intensely focused expression with occasional thoughtful nods, he silently retreated several steps back. Better not humiliate myself further. I'll just be a happy dog. Woof.
[You finished reading the notes and learned the spell: Wolf's Speech.]
[Description: Powerful spell created combining ancient runes. More like plunder than protection—belongs to evil dark magic.
[Effect: Using this spell on werewolves forcibly extracts bloodline power, but the subject will be severely damaged, and the caster will be cursed by that bloodline power.]
[Rating: Hear the wails of the divided one.]
[Its willful former caster suffered its terrible harm. What about you?]
At the notes' final entries, Mr. Black—obsessed with stripping his daughter's "filthy bloodline"—seemed to have successfully performed the dangerous ritual, restoring his daughter to complete human form. She didn't transform again during subsequent full moons.
However—[How could this happen?! She became as ignorant as a newborn infant... the ritual stripped the werewolf bloodline but catastrophically damaged her soul.
[Even I suffered severe magical backlash.]
[I underestimated dark magic's terrible power. My time is running out.]
[Must find a way to remedy this disaster...]
The next part was violently erased, then rewritten with shaking hand:
[I need enormous magical power to completely reverse lycanthropy without destroying the soul!]
[Though goblins are all short-sighted, greedy idiots... one goblin named "Ranrok" has some actual brains.]
Ranrok? Ethan raised his eyebrows with recognition. The goblin rebellion leader, right?
[Through goblin alchemy, we jointly built an unparalleled furnace to extract magic condensed for millennia from ancient mineral veins.]
[After proper smelting, it will become the most powerful magical rune ever created!]
[Ha, whoever masters this power... might even be able to kill gods themselves.]
Ethan's eyes gleamed. Well, what a convenient coincidence. He didn't know if the creature blocking his advancement gate was some literal "god," but its overwhelming strength definitely far exceeded anything in the current world. Even massive Norwegian Ridgebacks couldn't match it.
"This powerful rune is exactly the power I need!" Ethan muttered aloud, his eyes blazing with anticipation. Here the notes ended abruptly, leaving only one final cryptic line:
[My daughter will be reborn in a new body!]
Ethan closed the precious notes carefully, murmuring thoughtfully, "Indeed, I must return to the past and personally participate in the goblin rebellion's final battle. Fight the goblin leader Ranrok directly."
Looking down at the yellowed parchment in his hands, he suddenly chuckled with dark amusement. "Am I part of your grand plan too...? Guiding successors to delve deeper step by step following your carefully placed notes."
Things are getting more interesting by the minute. Ethan licked his lips with anticipation. The goblin stronghold was an absolute must-visit—there lay the ultimate ancient magic he sought. A trap? I'll just smash through it.
"First, based on this [Wolf's Speech] spell, I'll paint a new artwork... Perfect, I have the extraordinary material [Dementor Essence] on hand. Direct use has dangerous side effects, but my righteous, bright paintings will surely purify this curse. Hehehe~ so looking forward to it."
Ethan grinned, showing a pure, sunny smile—accidentally scaring the nearby "spotted dog," Sirius, into curling up trembling in the corner. The evil brat's about to unleash chaos again.
Ethan promptly occupied the spacious living room, methodically setting up his easel to paint with intense focus. Thus, the living room became cursed ground, wrapped day and night in visible dark magic flowing like a rotting black river, even corroding sofas and walls into exposed bone. The Doxy family fled overnight in terror, though it attracted the upstairs ghoul, who spent entire days worshiping at the doorframe, watching Ethan paint with religious devotion—as if witnessing the ghoul race's glorious prophesied future.
At night—especially during bright moonlit nights—hoarse wolf howls constantly emerged from the cursed room, followed by answering howls from outside in the London streets. This got the place prominently featured on Muggle news broadcasts, crowned "Most Haunted Evil Spirit Grounds"!
Sirius couldn't even begin to imagine Dumbledore's expression when the Order of the Phoenix eventually reactivated and discovered this location had become a wildly popular paranormal adventure check-in spot.
Fortunately for everyone's sanity, Ethan eventually had to return to school.
Sunday evening, Ethan stood somewhat reluctantly at Black Manor's gloomy door. In his pocket lay the heavy golden locket left by Sirius's tragic brother—a yellow surface centered with an emerald "S"-shaped serpent inlay. Plus a substantial pile of Black Manor "souvenirs"—bitten silver snuffboxes, hypnotic music boxes, bloodstained moonstones, and blackened severed-hand candelabras.
The Blacks are remarkably hospitable. I'll definitely visit again.
House-elf Kreacher stood rigidly at the door, looking like he desperately wanted to tear Ethan apart limb from limb. But Ethan had said with casual cruelty, "If you're good and obedient, I might return your former master's precious locket," cruelly gripping his greatest weakness, forcing complete submission. Wah, despicable manipulative human!
Over the following peaceful period, Ethan attended Hogwarts classes normally—listening to Ancient Runes professors explain complex word meanings and etymology, translating progressively difficult sentences, and playing with the magnificent Hippogriffs in Care of Magical Creatures while discussing with Hagrid when to proceed with the controversial "Death Bird" introduction plan (Ron's terrified assessment: "A plan designed to kill us all???").
In Potions, Professor Snape remained in full-power firing mode, seemingly already savoring next full moon's anticipated humiliation, constantly smugly mocking Ethan's supposed arrogance—until Ethan casually asked, "You're so intensely focused on me, is this a crush?" After which, like sucking a troll's stinking foot, Snape immediately shut up completely.
Time flew by remarkably fast—a month passed in what felt like a flash. Soon came late September, the tense eve of the full moon night.
Hogwarts underground, in the Chamber of Secrets:
"Complete." With a soft, satisfied murmur, Ethan finally stopped his paintbrush, wiping accumulated sweat from his forehead, eyes bright with triumph as he examined the finished painting.
It was pitch-black artwork—using ink-like wild, lightless colors depicting two curled wolves in disturbing detail. More precisely, "two wolves" separating painfully from one unified body. Their coarse black manes remained connected by sinew, but a jagged crack split violently between them. Threads of crimson paint continuously seeped from this terrible wound, flowing across the canvas in rivulets, dripping to the stone ground with a distinctly rusty metallic scent—like a brewing storm carrying silent, scalp-tingling oppression!
[Name: Please Do Not Feed the Sleeping Wolf]
[Type: Living Painting (Unawakened)]
[Tier: First Order - Blue Rare]
[Description: They await division.]
[Effect: Can devour any external energy—even curses become their nourishment. No attack power before awakening, but once awakened, none can stop them.]
[Rating: The world condemns you. They should sleep forever!]