That tarnished emblem still carrying the Black family's ancient pride, combined with Ethan's demon-like whisper, felt like an invisible giant hand gripping Sirius's very soul.
He was clearly just a teenage youth barely into adolescence, yet standing before Sirius, this unruly, battle-hardened man felt genuine sovereign majesty emanating from him!
After a long, weighted silence, Sirius lowered his head, clenching his fists until his knuckles cracked. Speaking hoarsely, he said, "I severed ties with the crazy, incompetent Black family long ago... Don't try to pressure me with that thing. But—"
Sirius raised his head, staring directly into Ethan's unnervingly calm eyes. "If you swear you won't harm Harry and won't join Voldemort, I'll take you to the ancestral home."
Now, what Sirius cared about most in this entire world was his godson Harry. It was because he'd foolishly changed Secret-Keepers that Harry had indirectly lost his parents. Pain flashed through Sirius's haunted eyes.
As for Dumbledore... if this terrifying brat really has the ability to attack Dumbledore, the third Dark Lord title is his for the taking anyway.
Ethan immediately replied without hesitation, "Of course. I can swear it." I'm not some prophesied Dark Lord. As a good and righteous person, how could I harm the Chosen One? Much less ally with Voldemort—that would be utterly degrading! I am the great [Mr Lamp].
Ethan raised his hand formally. "I swear: I will never ally with Voldemort. As 'Ethan Vincent', I will never harm Harry Potter."
As "Ethan Vincent"? Sirius frowned, instinctively sensing something peculiar about that specific phrasing. But then he laughed self-deprecatingly. Could Ethan possibly have a second identity? Years in Azkaban have made me paranoid about everything.
Watching faint magical radiance wrap around Ethan's arm in a binding contract before vanishing into his skin, Sirius completely relaxed. "Good. Just find a chance to leave Hogwarts, and I'll take you to the ancestral home."
"No problem." Ethan made an "OK" gesture with thumb and forefinger. Exits have Dementors guarding them, and Hogwarts has anti-Apparition wards protecting it, but I have portals! What do Apparition restrictions have to do with my dimensional doorways?!
Ethan sighed with theatrical leisure. "How kind and merciful I am—not even considering killing my way out through the guards."
Sirius stared flatly: "..." This lunatic has absolutely zero self-awareness.
Having perfectly resolved the issue of getting to Black Manor, Ethan smiled with genuine happiness. He was already planning to find a free holiday to thoroughly explore the place. Ancient magic, here I come!
Looking at the filthy, emaciated Sirius with his matted hair and prison-worn face, Ethan said cheerfully, "My subordinate, your vagrant aesthetic is certainly avant-garde, but you'd better clean yourself up."
Sirius glared: "..." What painfully condescending words. He laughed coldly. "Ha! What 'subordinate'! We're just temporary partners at most—"
His words suddenly stopped mid-protest. Mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused, he stared in disbelief at a table full of food that suddenly materialised from nothing—roasted chicken legs still steaming, fresh fruit glistening with moisture, fragrant bread warm from imaginary ovens... even a full bucket of cold juice!
Gulp! Sirius swallowed loudly, his stomach—which had eaten nothing better than raw rat meat for years—growling traitorously.
Looking up, Ethan waved his wand with casual mastery. The ground shook as a luxurious bathing pool large enough for ten people appeared beneath the serpent statue. Hot water poured from the snake's gaping mouth, quickly filling the pool with steaming, inviting water.
Ethan smiled pleasantly. "Conditions are limited—make do with what I can provide."
Sirius gaped in wonder: "(◉口◉)" Is this actually heaven?
No—he wouldn't be so easily bought by mere material comforts!
"Oh right, I'll make a small magical modification later," Ethan added casually. "Let you see Harry tomorrow during classes."
Perfect—Sirius can help Hagrid with his teaching. Multi-purpose planning.
Hearing the name "Harry", Sirius's eyes widened sharply with desperate longing. His form rapidly transformed—a large black dog appeared, rolling over belly-up submissively, panting at Ethan with sparkling, adoring eyes.
Can see Harry?! Who said this master was bad? This master is wonderful and benevolent!
"Awoo~ Woof woof!"
The next day, first official day of school.
At breakfast, Ethan leisurely checked his class schedule over toast. He'd chosen Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures as his electives. Ravenclaw had no morning classes today, starting at 10:15 with this semester's first Potions lesson with Snape.
For most young wizards, having Snape's Potions as the very first class made them genuinely want to die.
Michael collapsed dramatically on the table in theatrical despair. "It's over. This semester Professor Snape ate something horribly wrong—he's been even more gloomy than usual since school started. Last night he even viciously berated a Slytherin first-year for entering the common room left foot first! Nearly made the poor kid request a house transfer on the spot."
"Hmm, wonder who could have possibly provoked him again," Ethan mused innocently, calmly spreading jam on his bread with perfect composure.
Michael narrowed his eyes with deep suspicion—he knew full well that Ethan and Harry had been summoned to the Headmaster's office last night.
Just then— "Ethan!" Hermione ran over with obvious excitement. Bang!—she slammed a thick stack of textbooks on the table with such force the dishes rattled dangerously.
Michael stared: "!!" Truly the year's top student! Driven away by this overwhelming academic aura like a physical force, the self-proclaimed underachiever tactfully rolled away to safer territory.
Hermione sat down with barely contained enthusiasm. "Can I see your schedule? Our Ancient Runes class should be together!"
Ethan laughed warmly. "Haha, I'm definitely looking forward to it." He was genuinely amused watching this bushy-haired overachiever carefully hold his schedule like some priceless treasure.
A flash of inspiration struck— "When's your Divination class?"
"Today at nine, first period—oh!" Hermione's face lit up with realisation. "You're free then! Want to come with me to sit in?"
Her eyes sparkled with such eager hopefulness that Ethan was reminded of a begging squirrel. Smiling indulgently, he nodded. "Sure, why not?"
Hermione cheered triumphantly, jumping up and grabbing Ethan's sleeve with possessive excitement. "Let's go quickly, or we won't get front row seats!"
Finally taking classes with Ethan again after two long months! Hermione was beyond excited.
Ethan was also genuinely curious—with his various interventions, would Professor Trelawney's prophecies differ from the original timeline? But it's just auditing one ordinary Divination class. Nothing dramatic could possibly happen.
"AHHHH! You—you are the 'omen'! Through and through the darkest 'omen' imaginable!"
Crash! The sound of a delicate teacup shattering echoed through the suddenly silent classroom.
In swirling incense smoke, Ethan's eyebrows rose dramatically high, watching Divination Professor Trelawney collapse on the floor in genuine terror. As if witnessing the Dark Lord himself rising from this very classroom, she was frightened beyond all reason, her eyes bulging grotesquely like a house-elf's, skeletal fingers trembling violently as she pointed at him with dawning horror.
Ethan lowered his head with false shyness. "You're too kind, Professor. Not that ominous at all."
Omen? It seems your vaunted Inner Eye isn't quite open wide enough.
While Harry, Ron, and the other students stared in complete shock, and Hermione watched with strangely admiring eyes, Ethan stood up with casual grace. With a practised flick, he transformed his wand into an elegant paintbrush, then smiled warmly and walked slowly, deliberately, toward his dear Professor Trelawney.
Inner Eye unclear? No worries—kind, helpful me is here to assist with your vision.