"Felix Felicis?"
Professor Snape's eyebrows arched even higher.
The name stirred up some deeply unpleasant memories for him.
It was as if he were transported back to those grueling days, slaving away as Ethan's unpaid assistant, enveloped in billowing fumes day and night... Dozens of batches of Felix Felicis!
It had left him with no desire to ever brew another potion in his life.
"Professor Snape?"
Ethan's clear voice snapped Snape out of his reverie.
Gazing at Ethan's angelic, innocent smile, Snape couldn't help but grind his teeth.
Suddenly, an idea sparked in Snape's mind.
Across the entire wizarding world, the number of wizards who could successfully brew Felix Felicis could be counted on one hand.
Even seventh-year students struggled to master it.
Let alone Ethan, who had only just started his third year.
If Ethan failed... wouldn't that give him a perfect excuse to mock the boy?
With that thought, Snape's lips curled into a smirk, and he drawled slowly:
"Of course, since you're so eager to learn, as your professor, I naturally won't refuse... [Through practice and learning, you have gained an '[Erudition]' entry.]
[Congratulations! Your Erudition skill has improved!]
[Erudition Lv2 → Erudition Lv3]
[Description: 'My mind is filled with knowledge, about to burst my skull.']
[Effect: Your comprehension of any subject will reach the highest level; no knowledge can hinder your progress.]
[When you cast magic, brew Potions, or conduct any research,]
[You will receive invisible guidance.]"
"Clink."
Ethan delicately sprinkled one hundred and twenty days' worth of powdered Bicorn horn into the cauldron.
He stirred it slowly clockwise.
At the same time, he murmured intricate incantations.
When the mixture reached a critical point, Ethan sensed it instinctively.
With a flick of his hand, he doused the flame.
Under the influence of the spell, he watched as the liquid in the cauldron rapidly dulled and congealed,
Eventually hardening into something resembling cement.
It had failed—or so it seemed.
Ethan tapped the "cement" lightly with his wand.
With a sharp 'crack,'
The "cement" split open like an eggshell.
Revealing a thumb-sized droplet of golden liquid inside.
It gleamed with an otherworldly shine.
Like a gem forged from a fallen star.
Ethan caught a faint, sweet aroma of honey, mingled with the scents of fresh grass, moss, and damp soil.
It was the same natural fragrance he always noticed when he and Luna ventured out exploring at night.
At the thought,
The sun rune branded on his palm throbbed with pain once more.
It was time to seek Luna's healing touch.
With that in mind,
Ethan's lips curved into a sly smile.
He waved his wand, coaxing the golden liquid into a teardrop-shaped glass vial.
He pressed the cork into place.
The seal was complete.
A bottle of Felix Felicis was finished.
The liquid inside shimmered like molten gold, laced with a hazy starlight.
Ethan stared at it, entranced.
He turned to the stunned Professor Snape beside him and asked with a grin:
"Is it difficult?"
I mastered it in just a month.
Snape:
In a single month, he had grasped a skill that many wizards chased their whole lives without success.
If Snape hadn't witnessed Ethan learning it from the ground up, step by step,
He would have sworn the boy was mocking him on purpose!
Are you really Merlin in disguise?!
For the first time ever, Snape questioned his own talents.
If Ethan had been born in his time, perhaps Lord Voldemort would have been overshadowed entirely. Lily must have been this brilliant back then, too.
Snape's thoughts drifted for a moment.
He quickly regained his composure, unwilling to let this sharp-eyed brat, Ethan, catch on.
With a severe expression, he said curtly:
"Ravenclaw earns fifty points for your extraordinary aptitude. I have nothing left to teach you.
"Heh, if you sat for the N.E.W.T.s right now, I'd award you the top score outright."
"Hm-hm~ My ambitions lie elsewhere."
Ethan replied, stowing the Felix Felicis away, his eyes blazing with intensity.
His sights were set on the entire wizarding world.
"Striving, Starting from Hogwarts."
Snape:
Sometimes,
Snape truly wished Ethan's ambitions were limited to stellar grades...
The day after brewing the Felix Felicis,
It coincided with Hogwarts' first Quidditch match of the season.
Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
Outside the castle, a howling gale whipped through the air.
Dark clouds loomed low, and heavy raindrops hammered down, making it hard to draw breath.
Students battled forward against the wind, with upturned umbrellas occasionally spiraling into the sky.
"If my hand gets hurt, I could request a postponement."
Malfoy grumbled, gripping his broom tightly.
His hair, usually plastered back with far too much gel, now resembled a tangled bird's nest.
After the two captains exchanged handshakes that looked more like attempts to crush each other's bones,
A whistle pierced the air, sounding distant and muffled.
The match was underway.
In the stands,
Ethan and Luna sat sheltered within a barrier that warded off the wind and rain.
They squinted, trying to make out the players amid the storm.
Finally, they abandoned the effort.
Oh well, might as well just soak in the chaos.
He tilted his head, eyeing Luna's fluffy hair, and asked softly:
"What's on your mind?"
"Mm-hmm~"
Luna shook her head, quietly rubbing his palm.
Her cool fingers traced the sun's brand gently.
Gliding over the charred ring encircling it.
"It looks so painful."
After a long silence, Luna murmured softly.
Ethan replied bluntly: "Honestly, it's not that bad. When I remember that this holds immense power, it actually feels pretty amazing."
Luna lifted her gaze and shot him a cautionary look.
Then she raised her hand and flicked his forehead—not too hard, not too soft.
"Haha, don't worry."
Ethan's lips curved, his smile dazzling.
As long as he found a suitable vessel.
Ethan glanced sideways.
His eyes met Michael's contorted face, smooshed against the barrier... "Hmm, how hideous."
Ethan offered him a faint, mocking smile.
Which only made Michael's expression twist further, his features skewing wildly.
Ever since word got out,
That Ethan had truly guided students through history, taking part in the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion firsthand.
Everyone had lost it!
It was an incredible chance to time-travel and become a hero!
Countless people pounded their chests and stamped their feet in regret.
Even the history books chronicled the triumphant feats of the "mysterious force with two hearts and three lungs, obliterating the goblin fortress."
Michael: We're both Ravenclaws—why is the gap between us so massive?!
Dad! Carry me already!
Just then,
A sudden scream erupted from the stands!
Michael whipped his head around.
He saw countless dark shadows hovering over the pitch.
There had to be over a hundred dementors.
In an instant,
Michael shuddered, a wave of fear and chill creeping over him.
He heard someone yell:
"Harry! They're after Harry!"
Harry?
Michael jerked his head back, shouting in panic at Ethan:
"Ethan! Those dementors—someone has to save Harry—" Then, Michael froze.
He saw that Ethan showed no sign of alarm.
He remained seated, utterly composed.
Slowly, he said:
"I have faith that my Enlightenment Society member, Harry Potter—who survived the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion—won't be bested by mere dementors."
As he spoke,
Ethan's cobalt-blue eyes fixed on the pitch.
A surge of confidence and certainty gleamed in them.
It left Michael momentarily dazed.
He turned back to the pitch.
What exactly had Ethan done to their Savior—