The Patronus Charm was still fundamentally too incompatible with a Dementor.
Even though Ethan tried desperately to focus on happy memories, the silver-white smoke refused to condense into any stable shape.
Instead, it spread slowly across the classroom floor like thick mist.
Honestly—
It looked less like a Patronus and more like the unnatural fog surrounding attacking Dementors.
The only difference was emotional.
Ethan could clearly sense happiness drifting through the silver mist instead of despair.
Interesting.
That meant his spell itself had not actually failed.
Ethan immediately blamed biology.
His emotions were correct.
His spellcasting was correct.
Therefore, the problem had to be physical compatibility.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan noticed Dumbledore shifting position nearby.
The old man had originally been sitting casually atop one of the classroom tables. After seeing Ethan cast the spell, he stood up slightly—
Then slowly sat back down again.
Apparently Ethan producing silver Patronus mist did not particularly surprise him.
Still, even partial success proved something important.
Dark wizards consumed entirely by Dark Magic usually could not produce even the weakest Patronus smoke.
The fact Ethan generated silver mist at all implied he had not fully fallen into darkness.
"Ack—!"
Harry suddenly coughed violently beside the mirror.
"Where did all this smoke come from?"
"I was testing a spell," Ethan explained casually. "The Patronus Charm."
Harry blinked.
"The what?"
"It uses happy memories to create a guardian spirit."
Ethan gestured toward the mirror.
"I saw that warm family scene earlier and thought maybe I could use the emotional connection to cast it properly."
Normally, Patronus mist was harmless.
Harry, however, lacked enough magical knowledge to realise this smoke felt wrong.
The silver fog drifting across the floor looked eerily similar to the mist surrounding the Forbidden Forest at night.
"Those clouds…" Harry muttered nervously.
"Oh—sorry."
Ethan scratched his head sheepishly.
"I made a mess. Why don't you keep looking at the mirror while I clear it away?"
Something about Ethan's tone felt strangely unsettling to Harry.
Before he could think too deeply about it, however, Ethan pointed his wand downward.
The silver fog immediately retreated back into the wand tip.
Then—
"Ahem."
An old man coughed softly somewhere nearby.
Dumbledore was not choking on magical fog.
Which meant the old man had probably decided he was too tired to continue secretly observing children all night and wanted them gone.
"What was that?!" Harry whispered sharply.
His first instinct was grabbing the discarded Invisibility Cloak from the floor.
If Filch caught them again, Gryffindor's points would genuinely become negative.
"Maybe Filch?" Ethan frowned convincingly while secretly watching Dumbledore quietly retreat toward the classroom door.
The old wizard moved exactly like people leaving explosions behind dramatically without looking back.
"Quick!"
Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak open desperately.
"If Filch catches us, we're dead!"
The two boys hurried back through the castle hidden beneath the cloak.
Along the way, Ethan noticed Harry whispering directions repeatedly under his breath.
Clearly, he intended to return tomorrow night.
For Harry, simply seeing his parents again—even as reflections trapped inside a magical mirror—was already priceless.
Halfway back to Gryffindor Tower, they encountered Filch prowling the corridors with Mrs Norris.
Fortunately, neither possessed the ability to see through Deathly Hallows.
Mrs Norris merely sniffed suspiciously while following faint scents through the hallway.
Eventually the two boys crawled safely back into bed beside Ron's earth-shaking snoring.
Harry remained awake for a long time afterward.
His thoughts still revolved entirely around the mirror.
Ethan also stayed awake.
Because he had lied.
The mirror had not shown him a warm family dinner at all.
Not really.
What Ethan actually saw were countless rapidly changing scenes flashing through the mirror like accelerated film clips.
He saw Voldemort's soul fragments being devoured one after another.
He saw the Ministry of Magic buried beneath corpses while Dark creatures feasted openly through the halls.
He saw vast swarms of Dementors spreading across Britain beneath his command.
At one point he even saw an entire Dementor Empire.
Honestly, if someone watched those visions without context, they would assume they were seeing the trailer for a horror film.
"…Am I secretly evil?"
Ethan stared quietly at the dormitory ceiling.
Because most days, he genuinely did not feel especially evil.
Still—
Among the terrifying visions, Ethan also saw Rose and Edward standing beside him.
That mattered.
And when he thought carefully about the darker scenes, many of them were not entirely wrong either.
Voldemort absolutely needed to die.
That was objectively good.
Many Ministry officials who abused power also deserved death.
Also good.
The only truly questionable vision involved the giant Dementor Empire.
And honestly?
Ethan still did not consider that especially unreasonable.
Once everything was organised logically, his desires suddenly seemed perfectly justified.
Comforted by this conclusion, Ethan rolled over happily beneath the blankets.
What evil?
Harry Potter was still lying awake next bed over desperately longing for his parents like a lost tadpole.
Meanwhile Ethan was already planning the glorious future of wizarding Britain.
Clearly one of them possessed significantly more ambition.
The next morning, Ethan woke late and immediately noticed Harry missing from the dormitory.
Considering the dark circles under the boy's eyes recently, Ethan strongly suspected Harry barely slept at all anymore.
At this rate, the Saviour might genuinely collapse before Voldemort returned.
Still, Ethan had no time to accompany Harry today.
He needed to continue researching the Patronus Charm and sorting through the books stolen from Burke Manor.
Despite last night's failure, Ethan had sensed something important while casting the spell.
The magic itself worked correctly.
The problem lay elsewhere.
It felt strangely similar to trying to cast spells using the wrong character class in a game.
Like attempting to use a Warrior build to cast advanced Fireball magic.
The system recognised the command.
But the user fundamentally lacked compatibility.
The Gryffindor common room remained empty except for the Count perched outside one of the frosted windows.
After Ethan opened it, the owl flew inside dramatically while scattering snow across the carpet.
Fortunately, house-elves cleaned Gryffindor Tower.
If Filch saw this, he would probably scream about murdering the owl before assigning Ethan another month of detention.
"That idiot made me deliver another letter," the Count complained angrily while throwing an envelope at Ethan. "He literally lives inside the castle. Does he not have legs?"
Then the owl lowered his voice darkly.
"If he didn't have a noseless psychopath attached to the back of his head, I'd pluck him bald myself."
Ethan opened the letter.
Professor Quirrell requested he visit the office before lunch.
No details included.
Obviously Quirrell feared Dumbledore intercepting the message.
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly.
Ah.
So the Philosopher's Stone operation was finally beginning.
And honestly—
He had been waiting eagerly for this part.
....
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