"Excuse me, can I bring a friend along?"
Ethan asked, immediately thinking of Luna.
Amelia replied, "Of course. Each Portkey can transport up to three people, so feel free to go with your close friend."
"Thank you."
At her words, Ethan finally broke into a smile.
His pure, innocent grin made Amelia pause for a moment.
Bathed in the light streaming from the courtroom's dome, Ethan looked radiant and upright.
It was as if he were the chief justice presiding over this very trial.
No one could possibly link him to the demon who had just stirred up the crowd moments ago.
Nearby, Dumbledore observed the unusually gentle smile on Ethan's face, let out a quiet "Oh my" in his mind, and instantly perked up.
A friend Ethan would take the initiative to invite... who could it be?
Harry? Ron? Or perhaps the equally diligent Hermione?
Though Ethan wasn't exactly a loner at school—most students kept a respectful distance—he was incredibly popular in Ravenclaw.
After all, Ethan had single-handedly skyrocketed the House points.
But because of Ethan's unique way of thinking, which no one could quite follow, he didn't have any truly close friends.
Dumbledore had seen it all and kept it in his thoughts.
He was deeply concerned about the mental well-being of young wizards.
He hadn't expected that, without fanfare, Ethan had already formed a close bond with someone he could invite to an art exhibition...
Ah, youth! How wonderful.
Dumbledore chuckled softly, earning a disdainful side-glance from Professor McGonagall.
On the other side, Ethan didn't notice his headmaster's subtle concern (or gossip).
He reached out, took the Portkey—a ticket to the Goblin art exhibition—and examined it with curiosity.
This Portkey was a exquisite work of art in its own right.
It was oval-shaped, about the size of a palm, resembling a badge.
Inside, a tall tower was intricately carved, and through an open window, a tiny blonde girl could be seen.
She wore a beautiful dress, humming a tune as she combed her smooth, silky long hair.
When Ethan stared at her for too long, the blonde girl shyly turned away and scampered off with light footsteps.
What an intricate carving...
This ticket alone was worth collecting.
Christmas was less than a week away.
Just the thought of seeing Luna soon, sharing a warm Christmas dinner at home, and attending the art exhibition together filled Ethan with excitement.
Occasionally living a normal life wouldn't hurt his health one bit.
After bidding farewell to Madam Amelia, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ethan, Professor McGonagall, and Headmaster Dumbledore were escorted out of the Ministry of Magic by Minister Fudge.
It wasn't until they stepped out of the emerald-green flames and onto the sunlit street bustling with Muggles that Professor McGonagall felt a sense of reality return.
Ethan had actually emerged completely unscathed.
Not just unscathed—he had turned the tables and profited handsomely.
Not only had he received a full compensation of one thousand three hundred Galleons, dealing a heavy blow to the Ministry's budget.
He had also gotten the judge who originally intended to try him dismissed, ruining her career and reputation.
She might even end up in prison.
Lose the case and get life imprisonment, win the case and get the death penalty? What kind of twisted logic was that!
She had heard of this official named Dolores Umbridge.
Before today, she had been the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office, bullying her subordinates while flattering her superiors.
By cozying up to pure-blood families and fawning over Minister Fudge, she had flourished within the Ministry.
Yet, in an instant, she was utterly destroyed.
Killing the chicken to scare the monkeys.
After today, officials tied to pure-blood families would likely have to lie low.
Ethan... he was truly extraordinary.
He had even earned praise from the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Madam Amelia was infinitely more respected than that former official in her garish pink attire.
She could already envision the brilliant path ahead for Ethan.
Well, as long as Ethan didn't stray from the right path...
Professor McGonagall glanced sideways at him.
She noticed that Ethan, fresh from his major battle, was no longer in high spirits.
Instead, he was looking down, lost in deep thought.
Professor McGonagall asked, "What's wrong, Mr. Vincent? Is something bothering you?"
"I was wondering—if Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't shown up at the end, would I still have achieved this outcome?"
Ethan spoke slowly.
He looked up at the stunned Professor McGonagall, his eyes blazing with intensity.
"I think, probably not."
"My strength isn't sufficient yet. My art isn't refined enough to whip up a storm across the wizarding world, to make my name echo everywhere, and to make them regret not listening closely back then."
Ethan wasn't in a rush.
Wasn't Hogwarts vast enough?
He was only a first-year, after all, with plenty of time to keep honing his abilities.
A turbulent era forges legends.
And that era would arrive in the not-too-distant future.
Lord Voldemort, just you wait.
Professor McGonagall thought: Child, please don't be so ambitious—my heart can't handle it.
In her decades of teaching, she had never seen such forward-thinking ambition in any first-year wizard!
No.
Perhaps the Dark Lord in his youth...
Professor McGonagall shuddered violently, pushing the thought away.
How could she compare Ethan to the Dark Lord...
Though Ethan was mature beyond his years and exceptionally gifted, at his core, he was still a kind child—wasn't he?
"Tell me about your experience in the Challenge, won't you? I haven't congratulated you on winning first place yet, Mr. Vincent." Professor McGonagall tried to shift the topic.
As expected, when it came to his accomplishments, Ethan's eyes lit up instantly.
He responded eagerly: "Alright!"
Indeed, he was still a child at heart.
Professor McGonagall couldn't help but smile faintly.
Ethan continued: "First, I used my newly created artwork, Cerberus, to hunt down the Ilvermorny team, and then I kicked off a battle royale in Herpo the Foul's Abandoned Mansion—"
Professor McGonagall: ???
Perhaps you should just go back to talking about your grand ambitions.
At Hogwarts, the contestants who had participated in the Challenge had returned, but Ethan was nowhere to be found.
It seemed like something very serious had happened.
The returning contestants stayed tight-lipped, their expressions gravely serious.
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione's eyes glistened with tears as she cried: "Maybe, while we're safely enjoying our meal here, Ethan is out there facing massive beasts in the forest, desperately fleeing to a mansion, only to encounter a terrifying killer, get blown to pieces, and be unable to recover!"
Harry thought: No, why does that sound so familiar?
"Maybe Ethan was delayed by something else..."
He tried to comfort her.
But everyone knew that the contestants who hadn't returned were either injured and at St. Mungo's.
Otherwise, could they have been sent to the Ministry of Magic for some offense during the competition?
How could that be? Just then.
"Hoo-hoo-hoo—!"
A chorus of calls echoed through the hall.
Students looked up in surprise as a massive flock of owls swooped in, hooting loudly!
Like a blizzard, they dropped newspapers everywhere!
"The Daily Prophet?" A student picked one up and glanced at it. "Doesn't the Daily Prophet usually come out during the day?"
The headline read: "The Vanished One? The Untold Secret Behind the First-Year Champion of the Treasure Hunt Challenge..."
"First place is... Ethan Vincent?!"
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