With that, Ethan elegantly tipped his top hat.
Tapping his gold-tipped cane against the floor, he walked with a rhythmic clack-clack toward the staff table and took the seat beside Snape.
The moment he sat down, a drawling, sarcastic voice sounded from his side.
"Professor Ann Norn certainly talks a big game."
"To claim you can teach wandless magic to a pack of little trolls who can't even distinguish between Monkshood and Wolfsbane..." Snape sneered. "You are truly setting a precedent at Hogwarts."
Ethan raised his chin triumphantly. "You flatter me."
Snape choked.
He whipped his head around, glaring gloomily at Ethan—
And then painfully averted his eyes.
That swirling vortex of a face was practically a mental attack in itself.
Snape knew that this bizarre "Vortex Man" was none other than Ethan. Such a grandiose, attention-seeking entrance could only be the work of that brat.
Humph, Snape thought, if that old fool Dumbledore hadn't suddenly decided to let you take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post... this position should have been mine!
Just like a certain Dark Lord who had been broken by the job before him, Snape had coveted this position for a long time.
If he had been the one teaching... he had planned to teach them non-verbal spells.
He never expected a student to beat him to the punch!
Is this even reasonable?!
Ethan glanced at the indignant Professor Snape. He thought for a moment, then nodded. "You should be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts post next year."
"At that time, Mr. Slughorn will replace you as the Potions Master."
After all, that was how the original story went.
Hearing this, Snape froze.
He stared at Ethan, who looked perfectly natural, and furrowed his brows deeply. Then, he let out a heavy scoff.
"You really know how to spout nonsense, making it sound like the truth. Anyone who didn't know better would think you were the Great Seer, a descendant of Cassandra Trelawney herself!"
"You had better focus on fulfilling your own 'grand ambitions' first!"
Snape turned his head away, looking like he was waiting to watch a good show. He said darkly, "I look forward to seeing how you intend to make these ignorant, foolish little trolls learn wandless magic."
Ethan blinked, his tone sincere. "Severus, a jealous man is quite ugly, you know."
Snape exploded with rage. "I. AM. NOT. JEALOUS!!!"
The shout was deafening.
It echoed through the Great Hall, drawing the attention of everyone present.
Snape: "..."
His nose seemed to have suddenly turned red and round.
He looked at that vortex face—god knows which alien aesthetic it was drawn from—and weirdly enough, he saw a hint of a smile on it.
It stabbed ruthlessly right into Snape's sensitive heart.
Damn you, Ethan Vincent! I'm going to kill you!!!
Snape roared and raged frantically in his mind, nearly grinding his back molars to dust.
"Hoo..."
Snape took a deep breath. He tried his best to recall the beautiful image of Lily in his mind to quell his anger.
Humph, anyway, when he fails to reach his goal, the one losing face won't be me, Snape thought.
He grinned with smug mockery, feeling the resentment and jealousy in his heart subside slightly.
He glanced at the Ministry of Magic officials, who were equally dumbfounded. A dark glint flashed in his eyes.
He huffed, "Daring to run wild on our turf... the Ministry is really courting death!"
The next afternoon, before the first Defense Against the Dark Arts public lecture.
Inside the castle stairwells, the students were bustling.
Like converging floods, they streamed from all directions toward the Great Hall.
Hermione was carrying a mountain of textbooks, wobbling as she stepped down the stairs. It looked like she might tumble down in a chaotic crash at any second.
Harry and Ron looked at her speechlessly. Watching her huff and puff, they couldn't help but speak up.
"What books are you even carrying? Wandless Magic, A History of Dark Arts Defence... Make Your Friend Grow Two Heads: A Compendium of Hexes???"
"Why did you bring that? Didn't that weird professor say we didn't need textbooks for this public lesson?"
Harry and Ron took two loud steps back, glaring warily at Hermione.
They were terrified that if they accidentally angered this lioness, they would be turned into "Two-Headed Harry" or "Three-Headed Ron."
Hermione panted heavily. She rolled her eyes at them unceremoniously, scoffing at their evasive behavior. She frowned, her voice filled with worry and anxiety.
"Professor Norn indeed said no textbooks... but what if he wants a pop quiz to test our knowledge? What then?"
"Good heavens, we haven't had many proper Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons before!"
"I might even mix up Protego with Protego Totalum or Protego Horribilis!"
Ron asked foolishly, "Wait, isn't there only one Shield Charm?"
Hermione pursed her lips tightly. She whipped her head around and stomped quickly down the stairs, no longer wishing to speak to these sub-humans.
"If you ask me, she's just overreacting," Ron shrugged, grinning at his best mate Harry. "Although that professor doesn't look human, think about it—when have we ever had a normal Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
"At least he doesn't have another face growing out of the back of his head!"
Harry laughed. "True enough."
Ron yawned widely. "I reckon gathering this many people together is probably just to test our abilities."
"Let us cast a few spells, answer a few questions, that sort of thing—"
"Exactly! As long as it's not like Lockhart, where the questions are all about himself!"
The two looked at each other and let out laughter that sounded like old hens clucking, causing the wise Ravenclaws around them to move a few steps away in disgust.
"Sometimes, I actually think Slytherins are easier to get along with," Michael Corner smacked his lips.
Now in his fifth year, he had grown into a tall, sturdy young man. Perhaps due to being Ethan's roommate, he had been influenced by constant exposure and had picked up a bit of a cocky personality.
It was truly a case of "he who touches pitch shall be defiled."
His other roommate, Anthony Goldstein, pushed up his glasses. He was also holding a pile of textbooks, analyzing the situation rationally.
"I think that Professor Ann Norn is clearly not a normal human being."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Tell us something we don't know."
"My point is," Anthony continued, "Professor Norn might teach us some different kinds of magic. I've heard that African wizards prefer hand gestures over wands."
Michael: "So—?"
Anthony's eyes lit up with certainty. "So, I believe that in this public lesson, Professor Norn will definitely introduce and demonstrate his unique magic!"
"To better understand it, I stayed up all night reading the Encyclopedia of World Magic Systems and carved it into my brain!"
"Now, no matter what system of magic Professor Norn uses, I'll be able to recognize it immediately!"
"The second-best student in the year this time will definitely be me!!"
Michael: "...Good luck with that."
He scratched his head; he didn't share Anthony's lofty ambitions.
He looked around, trying to spot Ethan.
"Usually, Ethan would pull some huge stunt for the first lesson of the term. Haha, looks like he's tired this year and just wants to be a quiet, handsome boy," Michael joked.
He didn't find it strange at all.
Come on. It's Ethan Vincent.
He goes where he wants, does what he wants.
Michael even felt that, given Headmaster Dumbledore's level of tolerance, if Ethan proposed to be the Headmaster himself and rule the school like an Ancient God, Dumbledore would probably smile and offer him the seat.
"Eugh~ what a cursed thought."
Michael shuddered. He shook his head violently to throw off that terrifying notion.
He didn't want his remaining two and a half years of school life to turn into the most unforgettable five years of suffering.
As they spoke, they arrived in front of the Great Hall.
But they were blocked outside. The crowd was packed tight, heads bobbing, unable to move forward a single inch.
"What's going on? Class starts in five minutes."
Michael stood on his tiptoes and looked ahead.
Then, he let out a surprised "Huh?" and his eyes widened in shock.
Standing before them was not the tall, heavy doors of the Great Hall.
But rather...
A swirling mass of golden fog?
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