Ethan mulled over his plans, deciding to ask about it tomorrow.
As it happened, the first class tomorrow was Charms, taught by their Ravenclaw Head, Professor Flitwick.
With his plan set, Ethan let out a massive yawn, rubbing his eyelids, which felt like they were sticking together.
He was utterly exhausted.
He had originally intended to write to Luna as soon as he arrived at Hogwarts.
But he was defeated by Ravenclaw's endless staircases and the riddle at the common room door.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't overcome them.
He'd have to write the letter tomorrow morning.
Dragging his weary body, Ethan didn't even have the energy to admire the solemn elegance of the common room's decor.
He stumbled into his dormitory, barely managing to wash up before collapsing into bed while the other students were still out struggling.
He fell asleep instantly, dreamless through the night.
The next morning.
[To my best friend, Luna:]
[I'm sorry I didn't write to you last night as planned—I was just too tired. Hogwarts is quite the challenge for a clueless little wizard like me.]
[I got the manuscript for the latest issue of The Quibbler, and as always, it's incredibly fascinating.]
[My mind's already buzzing with all sorts of ideas, and I hope they'll blow everyone away.]
[By the way, I've been sorted into Ravenclaw.]
[It was a bit unexpected, but I quickly realized it suits me perfectly. Everyone here speaks so eloquently, and they're all such talented people—I absolutely love it.]
[I'm sure a brilliant witch like you would be sorted into Ravenclaw too. I can't wait for us to be classmates.]
[When that happens, we can do so many things together and bring all sorts of genius ideas to life!]
[Fair warning: I might write to you a lot, so don't get annoyed. Hogwarts is full of new and exciting things every day.]
[Looking forward to your reply, Ethan Vincent]
[P.S. I'm so disappointed I can't attend your family's roasted Wrackspurt fish feast. Just hearing you describe it makes me imagine how delicious it must be.]
After reviewing the letter and ensuring it was flawless, Ethan nodded, carefully folding the parchment with an unconscious smile tugging at his lips.
On the windowsill, Luna's owl, Carrot, tilted its head and watched him, its bright yellow eyes like two gleaming buttons, clear and curious.
Ethan reached out, and Carrot affectionately nuzzled his hand, lifting a tiny claw with practiced ease.
It had delivered so many letters that it practically treated Ethan as its second master.
"What're you smiling about?" a resentful voice called out.
Ethan turned to see Michael, looking like a disheveled ghost, sitting on the edge of his bed.
His haggard face and heavy dark circles made it seem like he'd been out drinking all night.
"You really should sleep earlier," Ethan said awkwardly. "Otherwise, you won't grow tall."
Michael's eyes widened in disbelief, and he shouted, "Sleep earlier? You think I don't want to sleep earlier?!"
As if a dam had burst, Michael launched into a tirade.
"Do you know what time we got into the common room last night? Almost one in the morning!"
"After you left, no one could focus. The door knocker changed its riddle, and we didn't get the answer right until midnight!"
Even though Ethan had already gone inside, his presence lingered like a nightmare in everyone's minds.
He was practically toxic.
On another bed, Mandy Brocklehurst nodded slowly, sluggishly putting on his thick glasses, looking like an eighty-year-old man.
Since Ravenclaw had the fewest students, their dormitories were set up for three people.
The space was generous, with each student having their own small area and a private desk.
Ethan already had plans.
Once he earned some money, he'd buy stacks of art books, intricate models, and trinkets to fill his currently barren desk to the brim.
Ruthlessly abandoning his still-sleeping roommates, Ethan headed to the Great Hall alone for a hearty breakfast, ignoring their envious glares.
He enjoyed a perfectly cooked sunny-side-up egg with a slightly set yolk, crispy bacon, little sausages, grilled tomatoes, savory pudding stuffed with meat, and an assortment of breads.
There were also countless types of jam.
Ethan even spotted a jar of "Biting Berry Jam."
It tasted like popping candy, with a faint tingle on the tongue.
Oddly enough, despite Ravenclaw being the most studious of the four houses, there were hardly any students at the long table this morning.
The few present were yawning nonstop while eating.
Sigh. A regular schedule is the way to go, Ethan thought, shaking his head sagely.
After breakfast, Ethan grabbed his textbooks and strolled leisurely toward the Charms classroom.
The Charms classroom was on one of the higher floors of the castle's towers.
Arriving early had its perks, especially for a new student still unfamiliar with Hogwarts' winding paths.
Ethan patiently waited for the staircases to shift, glancing at a few Gryffindors sprinting past.
"Where are you off to, little wizard?" a voice called from a nearby portrait.
The painting depicted a plump woman, her face caked with heavy makeup, fanning herself as she smiled at him.
"To the Charms classroom, my lady," Ethan replied politely, curiously studying the portrait.
"Ohohoho! Such a charmer," the woman said, blushing and giggling, her fan fluttering as she pointed out the path to the classroom.
"Thank you," Ethan said. "I'm curious—how are you painted into a portrait like this? I mean, able to move and talk?"
Wizarding photographs could move, but they were more like looping GIFs, lacking true consciousness.
Living portraits were different.
They genuinely captured a fragment of a person's soul and consciousness, bringing the painting to life in a real sense.
Ethan desperately wanted to create such a portrait himself.
"What a curious child," the woman said. "From what I recall, before I passed, I had someone imprint a piece of my memory onto this portrait."
"Hmm, I suppose the choice of canvas and pigments matters too. You haven't studied Ancient Runes yet, have you? The canvas is likely pre-enchanted with charms."
"I see," Ethan said thoughtfully, nodding before suddenly asking, "Do you think you have a soul? Or are you merely a 'copy' acting based on simulated memories?"
"Wha—?"
The woman froze.
The question hit her knowledge blind spot, and she mumbled in confusion, "Do I… have a soul? Who am I? What am I…?"
"Thank you for the answers," Ethan said, nodding with satisfaction.
Leaving the thoroughly baffled portrait behind, he sauntered onto the now-aligned staircase.
He didn't just want to recreate a living portrait.
He wanted to surpass what had already been achieved.
If he could use a "summoning" spell to bring a painted figure into reality…
That would be incredibly interesting.
Ethan licked his lips, a strange glint in his eyes.
Lost in thought, he chuckled to himself.
His peculiar demeanor made other young wizards steer clear.
Ron, heading downstairs for breakfast, gaped at him, muttering, "I never want to end up like him! Ethan's gone study-crazy!"
"Haha," Harry laughed dryly, thinking to himself, Mate, you're overthinking it. We've got neither the talent nor the drive to end up like Ethan. No need to worry about that.
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