The morning after the chaos in Diagon Alley, the air in the Minister for Magic's office was thick with tension. Cornelius Fudge gripped the latest edition of The Daily Prophet, his voice quivering with fury as he read aloud:
"'Give him a chance to browse the shops, and he'll end up facing a fugitive the Aurors have hunted for over a month... Ethan Vincent, a rising star, steps forward to confront Sirius Black and shield the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter...'"
"'Public outrage has reached a boiling point! It's no secret now: the Minister for Magic is less useful than a garden gnome!'"
"'This is Mike McArthur, reporting for The Daily Prophet...'"
BAM!
Fudge slammed the newspaper onto his desk, his face flushed crimson. Gasping, he bellowed, "Look at this! The Daily Prophet has the gall to openly mock the Ministry of Magic!"
"Ethan Vincent... a third-year student outshining my Aurors! What use are any of you?!"
The Aurors in the room bowed their heads, silent under his wrath. Fudge paced like a caged beast, muttering, "Outrageous! If Ethan catches Sirius Black before us—no! My position must remain unshaken!" His voice cracked with desperation, as if he were unraveling.
His subordinates exchanged wary glances. One, summoning courage, spoke cautiously. "Minister, there's no need to worry."
Fudge whipped around, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he growled, his voice hoarse.
The subordinate straightened. "Ethan Vincent may be powerful, but he'll never outmatch our greatest asset—the Dementors."
At the mention of those creatures, a chill swept through the room. Even Fudge flinched, a flicker of fear crossing his face. The subordinate pressed on. "Aside from Expecto Patronum, which only repels them, no spell in existence can truly destroy a Dementor. No matter how strong Ethan's magic is, he can't possibly defeat a lost soul."
Fudge's eyes gleamed with sudden hope. "Yes... yes, you're right!" he murmured, a smile creeping across his face. "Dumbledore has already agreed to station Dementors at Hogwarts. The moment Sirius Black sets foot there, he's done for. Ethan won't steal our victory!"
His mood lifted, Fudge snorted at the crumpled newspaper and tossed it into the wastebasket. As long as the Ministry captured Sirius, the public would see who truly held power. Though, he thought grimly, Sirius should never have escaped Azkaban in the first place.
"Contact the Hogwarts Express," Fudge ordered. "We'll board it for an inspection while it's en route. Sirius will have nowhere to hide." A smirk curled his lips. "And it'll be a fine chance to show that arrogant boy, Ethan Vincent, what real fear looks like."
In the shadowed corner of the office, unnoticed, Professor Remus Lupin stood quietly, his eyes flickering with unspoken thoughts.
The remaining summer days slipped away, and September 1st arrived. With warm farewells from the villagers, Ethan Vincent and Luna Lovegood left the wizarding village behind, heading for King's Cross Station in London to begin the new term at Hogwarts.
They passed through the enchanted brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10, emerging onto Platform 9¾, a bustling hub of the wizarding world. The scarlet Hogwarts Express stood proudly, puffing white steam into the air. Owls soared overhead, their hoots mingling with the chatter of students.
"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Luna murmured, gazing at the circling owls. "I love going back to school. Especially with you." Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she turned to Ethan, a soft smile on her lips.
Ethan's lips curved in return. "Same here," he said, his voice warm. For a moment, the world around them seemed to hush, the air charged with a quiet intimacy.
Mr. Lovegood, standing nearby, glanced between his daughter and Ethan, feeling distinctly out of place. Luna blinked, noticing him. "Father, you're still here?" she asked, surprised.
Mr. Lovegood stared, speechless, as Luna and Ethan walked hand-in-hand toward the train. In the morning breeze, the old man's silhouette looked forlorn, like a forgotten figure in a painting.
"Ethan!" a hoarse voice called out.
Ethan, Luna, and her father turned to see Professor Lupin striding toward them, his cloak billowing. Ethan raised an eyebrow. In the original story, he recalled, Lupin had been fast asleep on the train until the Dementors attacked. Must be the ripple effect of my Ancient Magic, he mused.
Lupin's face softened with gratitude. "Ethan, thanks to your Ancient Magic, Headmaster Dumbledore cast an advanced Expecto Patronum on me during the last full moon. For the first time in years, I didn't suffer through the transformation."
His eyes glistened with emotion. To remain human under a full moon, even with the aid of a complex spell, was a gift beyond measure. "I'm not one to forget a debt," Lupin continued. "I have something for you—a rare item. It hasn't arrived yet, but it's coming."
Ethan raised his brows dramatically. A rare item? He waved a hand dismissively. "No rush," he said, though his mind was already scheming. He hadn't planned to fleece poor Lupin, but if he wanted something valuable, he could always call in a favor from "Old Lamp"—Professor Dumbledore—who still owed him for that magic loan.
"There's one more thing," Lupin said, his tone growing grave. He glanced around, then gestured toward the train. "Let's talk in a compartment."
The train was still quiet, as they'd arrived early. Lupin shut the compartment door carefully, glancing at Luna. Seeing Ethan's nod of approval, he lowered his voice. "The Ministry is planning something big."
Ethan leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief. "What, like a mass memory charm? A plague to end the world? Or maybe they're resurrecting an ancient dragon?"
Lupin blinked, momentarily thrown. "Er... not quite that big." He cleared his throat, trying to regain the serious tone Ethan had gleefully shattered. "It's the Dementors. The Ministry is sending them to guard Hogwarts—and they'll be inspecting the train soon."
Silence fell. Lupin waited for a reaction, but Ethan just stared, his expression a mix of amusement and boredom. Luna, unfazed, held out a magazine. "Would you like a copy of The Quibbler, Professor Lupin?"
"No, thank you, Miss Lovegood," Lupin said, his voice strained. He looked back at Ethan, whose face practically screamed, Is that all? Lupin's heart screamed back: React, please! You're making this so awkward!
Then it hit him—Ethan likely didn't grasp the true horror of Dementors. A young wizard, bold and untested, might not fear the soul-sucking creatures. "I don't know if the Dementors will target you," Lupin said, "but with me here, you'll be safe."
Ethan's lips curled into a sweet, almost unsettling smile. "That's reassuring, Professor. With you around, I can really let loose." He was already plotting. Lupin would protect the other students, no doubt, leaving Ethan free to stir up chaos.
As for the Dementors—Fudge's so-called "great threat"—Ethan had other plans. Why don't you ask where all those lost souls went, plucked by the Pure White Gate? he thought, smirking. His "Touch of Benevolence" spell, tested on thousands with glowing reviews, was ready. In his hand, a new card flickered—a spell born from [A Corner of Territory], woven with the essence of lost souls, crafted for this very hunt.
"Using Dementors to stop me? Oh, Fudge, you're too naive," Ethan murmured, licking his lips. A spark of wicked delight flashed in his cobalt-blue eyes. "They'll only fuel my magic, transforming into something far greater."
This Hogwarts Express journey, Ethan promised himself, was going to be unforgettable.