Azkaban.
"Achoo!"
Ethan, having just teleported back, sneezed violently. He rubbed his nose and muttered to himself:
"Professor Snape must be singing my praises. He's probably telling everyone how much progress the students have made under my excellent teaching."
"I'm sure Professor Snape is absolutely delighted."
Ethan nodded with certainty.
As for the rumors circulating through Hogwarts—that students were falling asleep in other classes (especially the boring Potions class) because they were exhausted from his lessons—that was none of his business.
What?
You're looking for "Professor Norn"? What does that have to do with me, the bright and upright Savior?
"I heard that because my class is second period, some students have tried to drown themselves in their cauldrons..."
Ethan smacked his lips and suddenly grinned with an angelic smile.
He looked theatrically troubled. "That's a bit too enthusiastic~ The topic of the afterlife isn't the focus for this semester."
"They really love to study ahead."
"Who can claim my class isn't good?"
"This Defense Against the Dark Arts class is just wonderful~"
"Alright."
Ethan stood up and waved his wand.
He meticulously cast a Scourgify on himself—earlier at the long table, he had been splattered with some unidentified red liquid.
He glanced at the dark, cloud-covered sky outside.
He nodded.
"It's about time. I can go down and prepare."
—Treasure of the Dark Wizard Ekrizdis, here I come!
Creak.
The cell door opened in response to his approach.
It was as if the protective magic placed upon it was merely a decoration, completely fragile before Ethan.
"My hands grew webbing, my neck grew gills... my brothers and sisters sit under the dining table, picking up my bones... exchanging them with the denizens of the deep..."
"Hum hum hum~"
Ethan hummed a little tune, stepping briskly out of the cell.
He walked into the salty sea breeze.
Behind him.
A prisoner stared blankly at Ethan's retreating figure and rubbed his eyes.
He pointed a trembling finger.
"J-just now, for a split second, were there two devils?!"
"One devil was sitting in the corner the whole time, and then, whoosh, a strange door appeared... and another identical devil walked out!"
He was talking about the puppet Ethan and the real Ethan.
This Dark Wizard stared with wide eyes, wanting to cry but finding no tears.
—Before coming to Azkaban, no one said they'd be neighbors with a devil from hell!
Give them back their cute, merciful Dementors!
"Don't overthink it, pal."
Another prisoner reached through the bars and patted this "colleague."
With the weary tone of someone who had seen it all, he said:
"Don't look, don't ask."
"Only fools live longer. Remember Dolohov, who's already turned into fertilizer? That troublemaker is the best example."
"Oh, oh..."
Prisoner One nodded blankly.
He hugged his knees and curled up in the corner.
Small, pitiful, and helpless.
There was no trace of the arrogance or bullying nature he had possessed before entering prison.
The prisoners in other cells were all in the same wretched state.
...Dammit, that weird brat, single-handedly, turned a perfectly good prison sentence into a rules-based Battle Royale!
Is there any justice left in the world?!
This wasn't "imprisonment"; it was simply throwing wolves into a sheep pen to farm XP like crazy!
"—Stupid Ministry of Magic, I curse you! You're doomed sooner or later!!"
Prisoner Two gripped the bars and roared with grief and indignation.
He uttered the most effective curse of all.
The Lower Levels of Azkaban.
Without Auror Connie's supervision, Ethan went all the way down the spiral staircase, unimpeded.
Occasionally, he would bump into a patrolling Auror.
The Auror would stiffen abruptly, then their gaze would slide smoothly over Ethan.
With Lumos lit, they would walk past Ethan, moving their arms and legs in stiff coordination.
"Maybe it's because it's dark and their eyesight isn't good..."
Ethan pondered, feeling a bit disappointed.
And here he had prepared a few comic strips, wanting the Aurors to appreciate them.
"Since they didn't see me, then never mind."
Saying this, Ethan stepped onto the wet stone stairs.
With a bright golden orb of light floating around him, he moved as freely as if he were in his own backyard, arriving at the lowest level of Azkaban.
The bottom level was a wide, silent space.
A few desks were scattered about, equipped with call bells; it looked like an office area for Aurors.
But after the Dementors joined the guard, obviously, no one could escape, and no one wanted to stay here.
The desks had gradually fallen into disuse.
They were pitted and covered in holes eroded by moisture.
The call bells were covered in a layer of dust.
A scene of utter neglect.
And the light from his spell pierced through the cold stone floor, pointing to something beneath the lowest level of Azkaban!
"How strange..."
Ethan walked slowly, his finger trailing across a desktop, leaving a clear mark.
"Even without the guidance of the lamp, shouldn't wizards have turned this fortress upside down over the years?"
"Yet the Dark Wizard's secret treasure remains... It's very likely that the underground is incredibly dangerous."
"No wizard could handle it during the excavation, so it was sealed away."
"Eventually forgotten in memory, left to guard this empty tomb alone."
"Sigh—how lacking in the spirit of exploration."
Ethan sighed lightly.
He withdrew his hand and flicked the dust from his fingers.
Suddenly, he grinned with a smile that almost reached his ears!
It was like ice cracking to reveal the turbulent sea beneath!
A heterogenous light suddenly burst from his cobalt-blue eyes!
"Since no one 'cherishes' it, I'll gladly accept it... Dark magic is just a branch of advanced magic. How it's used depends on the person."
Ethan spoke slowly, toying with his wand.
Then.
He pointed lightly, the tip of his wand aimed at the ground, and whispered:
"Diffindo."
Crack!
The hard, thick rock suddenly split open!
Rumble—
Dust billowed up as a massive hole burst open in the ground.
From below, a thick, salty, fishy smell surged out.
It was as if someone was raising fish down there.
In Ethan's vision, a mass of extremely ominous, inky-black magic was surging.
"That's a good omen."
Ethan nodded, maintaining the ball of light.
Following the guidance of the lamp, he jumped into the hole without hesitation or delay!
His figure was quickly swallowed by the writhing darkness.
Splash, splash.
Waves beat against the fortress, and from the depths of that sea...
Faintly, a rasping, intermittent song could be heard:
[Come, my dear child...]
[Join us, enter this cold and lonely cage... taste eternal darkness and despair...]
[Come quickly... come quickly...]
Meanwhile.
"What was that noise?!"
The eldest son of the Weasley family, Percy, shrank his neck back and looked down in terror.
As an outstanding graduate of Hogwarts, Percy had followed his life plan and joined the glorious Ministry of Magic immediately after graduation.
He swore he would never wallow in the mire with his troublemaking younger brothers.
But unfortunately.
Percy's career path didn't seem to be going smoothly.
Mr. Crouch, whom he initially followed, had retired and disappeared.
Later, because of the Ethan incident, he underwent several rounds of interrogation.
"Luckily, they finally cleared me. I have absolutely nothing to do with that crazy kid," Percy thought, his eyes shining.
"What an upright and visionary man Minister Scrimgeour is! After learning the reason, not only did he not give me the cold shoulder, but he promoted me to be his scribe!"
"I must serve the Minister well!"
And this loyalty had developed to the point where he not only drew a clear line with his brothers...
He had also almost cut off ties with his family members who supported Ethan.
Although the fallout was unpleasant... Percy firmly believed that they didn't understand the big picture!
They didn't know who was truly worth following!
However.
Loyalty wasn't just about lip service.
It required action.
For example.
Right now, on Minister Scrimgeour's orders, Percy had come to Azkaban to personally inspect Ethan's current status.
"What on earth happened? Where is Ethan?!"
Percy felt the vibration and stared wide-eyed at the other Aurors.
The other Aurors looked indifferent, gazing coldly at this wet-behind-the-ears young man.
...Every Minister has their "dog."
The previous generation had Auror Dawlish; this generation had this Gryffindor who was too eager to advance.
Being ignored, Percy gritted his teeth.
His cheeks grew hot, and he felt a sense of humiliation rising in his chest. He turned and walked away indignantly.
Following the direction of the vibration, he walked down the stairs, muttering incessantly:
"Hmph, just wait until I personally catch Ethan. Let's see how you look down on me then..."
Just then.
Percy suddenly froze, looking around in astonishment:
"...Huh? Where did all the Dementors go?"
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