The birthday party ended up being unusually quiet.
Dudley never came, and Ethan already knew why. The shouting match echoing from the Dursleys' house next door made it obvious enough. Dudley and Ethan had never really been friends in the first place, and the moment Dudley learned Harry had been invited, he immediately decided this was some sort of freak gathering. In his mind, attending would damage his reputation among his gang.
Vernon Dursley, on the other hand, clearly hadn't wanted to miss the opportunity to leave a good impression on Rose Norton. Public image mattered greatly for businessmen, especially when newspapers were involved.
Unfortunately for him, Vernon seemed convinced that the only way to stop Harry from accidentally destroying the Nortons' house was to send Dudley to supervise him. Apparently, he had never noticed that almost every magical accident involving Harry started because Dudley had bullied him first.
Still, even this small and awkward gathering was probably the happiest moment Harry had experienced all July.
As for Ethan, his real excitement would begin tomorrow.
Tomorrow meant Diagon Alley.
Tomorrow meant a wand.
More importantly, tomorrow meant access to more adult wizards whose soul strength he could observe and compare. Ethan desperately needed proper samples to determine what counted as normal in the magical world.
A wand alone was already enough to make him impatient. Every attempt he'd made at magic so far had felt horribly awkward, like trying to write with his off hand. Wizards clearly weren't designed to cast spells barehanded.
After walking Harry home, Ethan returned to his room early and climbed straight into bed.
As he lay beneath the blankets, his thoughts spiralled uncontrollably.
What kind of wand would choose him? And more importantly… could wands contain souls? Wands chose wizards, after all. Did that mean they possessed some kind of spiritual consciousness? If they did, could he absorb it? Would wand souls taste different from human souls? If he emptied every wand in Ollivanders dry, would Ollivander hunt him down personally?
These bizarre thoughts continued all the way until he finally drifted off to sleep.
Soon, soft snoring filled the room. Ethan slept so deeply that he didn't react at all when Rose quietly opened the bedroom door later that night.
She carefully placed a beautifully wrapped birthday present beside his bed before leaning down to kiss his forehead gently. Then she slipped back out of the room without making a sound.
Outside the window, however, a shadow suddenly darted away from the sill.
Under the dim streetlights, the shadow briefly revealed itself as a tabby cat with unusual markings around its eyes resembling spectacles. The cat moved silently down Privet Drive before stopping beside a white-haired old man standing beneath the lamps.
"Fwoom—"
The streetlights abruptly went dark one by one. Their light seemed to peel away from reality itself before flying into the strange silver instrument in the old man's hand.
"Albus," the tabby cat said calmly, "I must admit that placing Ethan with the Norton family was a good decision."
The cat's body stretched and twisted before transforming into a stern-looking witch within seconds.
"Minerva," Albus Dumbledore replied with a warm smile, "that decision was Edward and Rose's, not mine. Still, it's always wonderful to see a child thriving beneath the love of his parents."
Professor McGonagall frowned slightly.
"If Harry deserves that kind of happiness, then his current situation seems especially unfair by comparison. I still don't understand why you discouraged the Nortons from becoming too involved with him. Surely letting the poor boy enjoy tea at a neighbour's house once a week wouldn't hurt."
"Different flowers require different methods of care," Dumbledore said lightly, his eyes twinkling beneath the moonlight. "But eventually, they all bloom beautifully."
McGonagall hesitated before speaking again.
"There's something else you should know about Ethan."
"Oh?" Dumbledore sounded amused. "He's always seemed like a good child to me. Last time I visited, I saw him helping an old man cross the street. Despite the unusual circumstances surrounding his birth, he's grown into a healthy and energetic boy."
"He also stole another child's lollipop today," McGonagall replied flatly.
Dumbledore blinked.
"He gave the lollipop away first," she continued, "and then used magic to secretly take it back after turning around. The other child cried for nearly fifteen minutes."
Silence followed.
"And regarding the elderly man you mentioned," McGonagall added with visible exhaustion, "Ethan did help him cross the street. He also deliberately directed him along a route nearly a mile longer than necessary while Ethan himself took the shortcut through two shops."
Dumbledore's smile looked slightly strained now.
"I'm genuinely concerned about what will happen once he meets Fred and George Weasley."
"Young people often enjoy unusual jokes," Dumbledore said carefully, though it sounded as though he were trying to reassure himself more than McGonagall. "Pranks alone do not indicate evil."
McGonagall folded her arms.
"Even adult wizards lose themselves when tempted by power. Yet Ethan restrained his darker instincts during the weakest stage of his life. That alone makes him different from Voldemort."
At the name, McGonagall visibly shivered.
"Do you remember the day we found him?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"The laboratory…" McGonagall's expression darkened immediately. "There were over three hundred corpses. Every single one had empty eyes, as though their souls had been torn out. I still can't believe a child less than a year old survived that place. Honestly, I would've found it easier to believe Voldemort himself caused it."
"A rose grows thorns to protect itself, Minerva," Dumbledore said softly. "We should not reject its beauty simply because it can wound."
"Ethan!"
"Ethan!"
The next morning, Ethan was dragged awake by frantic shouting outside his bedroom door.
"I want to sleep…" he groaned miserably without opening his eyes. "Children who wake up too early turn into workhorses."
His dreams still lingered vividly in his mind.
He had dreamed of Rose placing a birthday present beside his bed and kissing his forehead. He had dreamed of Dumbledore and McGonagall talking beneath the streetlights outside Privet Drive.
The dreams had felt absurdly real.
"Ethan!" Edward shouted again. "We're going to Diagon Alley today! Hurry up or I'll miss my Dungeons & Dragons session this afternoon!"
Ethan nearly rolled off the bed in disbelief.
How was a middle-aged wizard this obsessed with role-playing games played by Muggle teenagers? If Edward wanted authentic fantasy adventures so badly, he could visit a dragon reserve and fight a real dragon.
"Fine, fine…" Ethan muttered while sleepily changing clothes.
Then he suddenly froze.
There was a large wrapped box sitting beside the bed.
Exactly like the one from his dream.
His mind instantly snapped awake. Ethan rushed towards the mirror and stared at his reflection.
A faint lipstick mark still lingered on his forehead.
"So that was real…"
If the dream itself had truly happened, then Dumbledore and McGonagall had genuinely stood outside his house last night discussing him.
Did this world seriously offer no privacy at all?
More importantly, however, Ethan couldn't stop thinking about the other part of the conversation.
Three hundred empty corpses inside a dark wizard laboratory.
Apparently, the original Ethan had devoured every soul in the building as an infant.
That was horrifying.
Ethan had originally assumed his predecessor resembled one of those weak protagonists who started powerless before gradually rising. Instead, it sounded like the original owner of this body had once been monstrously dangerous.
Fortunately, Dumbledore still trusted him.
The old man clearly continued monitoring him secretly, but Ethan's current behaviour apparently aligned with Dumbledore's expectations. At the very least, it meant the so-called righteous side probably wouldn't attempt to eliminate him before he even reached Hogwarts.
That alone was reassuring.
Still, another detail bothered him deeply.
Edward had said only yesterday that he and Rose once believed Ethan was simply a Muggle child. Yet Dumbledore's words implied they knowingly chose to adopt him despite understanding the risks involved.
Which meant they had willingly taken in what was essentially a dangerous magical experiment.
For the first time, Ethan genuinely felt touched.
Whatever secrets surrounded his existence, Edward and Rose's love for him was real.
After setting those thoughts aside, Ethan focused on something even more important.
How exactly had he watched and overheard events outside the house while sleeping?
And more incredibly, Dumbledore hadn't noticed him at all.
Many magical methods could spy on people, but avoiding detection from the greatest wizard alive was another matter entirely. Ethan had no interest in discovering whether Dumbledore secretly kept photos of Grindelwald hidden somewhere, but an invisible surveillance ability was unbelievably useful.
A permanent god's-eye view in real life?
That was completely overpowered.
The only problem was figuring out how to trigger it again.
"Do I seriously have to sleep for this to work?"
That sounded painfully inconvenient.
Ethan sat back down on the bed and closed his eyes again. Although he was fully awake now, he soon felt something strange.
It felt like… tearing.
Or perhaps splitting.
His soul seemed to separate apart while remaining connected by a thin strand. Ethan could even manipulate both halves freely, stretching and reshaping them while observing the room from an entirely different perspective.
Including his own body lying motionless on the bed.
However, once his entire soul left his body, his physical form entered a state resembling death itself. No heartbeat. No breathing. No signs of life whatsoever until the soul returned.
Ethan experimentally reshaped the floating spirit into different forms. He flattened it, stretched it, and eventually rolled it out like cloth.
Then he stopped.
"…Isn't this literally a Dementor?"
The floating soul looked exactly like one. Black ragged robes, skeletal hands, drifting movements—he might as well apply for employment at Azkaban immediately.
After further experimentation, Ethan quickly discovered a useful trick.
He could leave half his soul inside his body while sending the other half elsewhere. That allowed him to continue moving physically while simultaneously observing distant locations through the detached soul.
Unfortunately, the two halves remained connected by an invisible limit. Even after stretching the connection as far as possible, the maximum distance only reached around fifteen metres.
Exactly enough to cover Privet Drive from his bedroom window.
"So that's why I overheard them…"
[Ding! Special Ability Unlocked: Spirit Shaping (1/10)]
Ethan stared blankly at the system notification.
So this was how abilities were unlocked?
He had originally assumed the system was incomplete because it lacked beginner rewards, but apparently every special ability required personal experimentation and discovery.
"That's ridiculous," Ethan muttered bitterly. "Compared to other transmigrators, I'm already losing at the starting line."
Still, after mastering his new ability, it was finally time to focus on more practical matters.
Wash up.
Eat breakfast.
Go to Diagon Alley.
Before heading downstairs, Ethan opened Rose's birthday present.
Inside was a large snow globe requiring both hands to hold properly. A tiny family of three lived within the miniature snowy village inside, happily walking together through the streets before entering a warmly lit house.
Ethan could even hear their faint laughter.
"This thing sleeps at night, right?" he muttered suspiciously. "Otherwise bringing it into a dormitory would be terrifying."
Even so, he genuinely loved the gift.
Warmth like this was something he had rarely experienced in his previous life. Ethan didn't particularly enjoy admitting it, but he really had been an orphan back then.
Unfortunately, the animated clay figures possessed no souls.
Meaning the snow globe couldn't be stored as emergency food.
"How are we getting to Diagon Alley?" Ethan asked during breakfast after swallowing the final bite of buttered toast.
Edward sat nearby counting Galleons and Sickles repeatedly while estimating their remaining savings.
"Driving," Edward answered casually. "How else would we get there? Magic carpet?"