The Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office.
The curtains were drawn tight, obscuring the magical light sources floating in the main atrium. This made the office, already situated underground, even dimmer.
Minister Scrimgeour sat with his head propped up by his hands, his eyes fixed intently on a letter that had appeared on his desk at some unknown time.
He was sweating profusely.
On the parchment, written in beautiful, standard flowing script that looked as though it had been printed, were the words:
[Thank you for the entertainment you sent earlier, Minister Scrimgeour.]
[I am quite satisfied.]
[Enclosed is a small gift. I wish you good health.]
[Mr. Lamp]
Mister!!
The "gift" in question was a bloodstained wand.
Its user had seemingly been very proud of their identity. On the end of the wand, carved in gilded lettering, was the name:
Corban Yaxley.
It was the very official he had sent to investigate.
"This is a declaration of war... This is absolutely a naked declaration of war!"
Bang!
Scrimgeour slammed his fist heavily onto the desk, breathing like a bull.
"To dare openly despise the authority of the Ministry of Magic... he simply does not put me in his eyes at all—'Lamp'!!"
In Scrimgeour's mind, the faces of Ethan and Dumbledore floated to the surface.
...The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was undoubtedly [Mr. Lamp].
And Ethan and Dumbledore were definitely in on it.
Scrimgeour even had a faint premonition: from beginning to end, everything had been orchestrated by that black-haired boy with the unfathomable power, Ethan Vincent!
"What 'New Savior'... it's all lies! I haven't seen him save many people."
Werewolf potion? Those creatures were factors of social instability to begin with. Scrimgeour had long wanted to take mandatory measures to manage those hazards centrally. If Ethan hadn't stepped in and interfered...
"I fear that even the 'Resurrection of the Dark Lord' is a farce directed and performed by Ethan himself! His goal is simply to cover up his own dark intentions!"
Creak, creak.
Minister Scrimgeour clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. Veins bulged on his neck. He felt the scorching anger of being made a fool of burning his cheeks.
...He had been played completely.
He had thought his plan was foolproof, but in reality, his every move was under the other party's surveillance.
"'Lamp'... what a fitting title. We are like moths, throwing ourselves without hesitation toward that blinding light."
"Only to fall into the abyss and become fuel for his fire."
Scrimgeour's gaze turned cold as he made up his mind.
He had to take mandatory measures.
Cooperating with Ethan had indeed helped stabilize his position quickly during the transition of power. But, as they say, a politician's trust is like a house of cards; it falls with a breath of wind.
Once he realized he could not control the other party, he had to be swift—he had to strangle them in the cradle!
...Although, that cradle might well be a "Cradle of the Ancient Gods."
Scrimgeour thought with a paralyzed expression.
He burned the letter in one go and summoned his subordinate.
He spoke in a deep voice:
"Immediately draft a decree. On the grounds of the Dark Lord's resurrection, dispatch a large number of our people to Hogwarts! Strictly monitor every movement within the school!"
"And mandate the disbandment of all student groups within the school. Ban all group activities!"
Rumor had it that Ethan had an Enlightenment Society?
Hah, trying to recreate the Death Eaters and organize his own ranks?
Dream on!
Hearing this, the subordinate paused, stunned.
"This... isn't this too heavy-handed? Headmaster Dumbledore won't agree—"
"Won't agree? Hah."
Minister Scrimgeour let out a cold snort. He casually tossed the bloodstained wand to his subordinate and said, "Show this wand to Dumbledore. He will understand!"
"Y-Yes!"
Scrimgeour was ready to tear up all pleasantries with Dumbledore.
However, to his surprise, these mandatory measures passed smoothly without any obstruction.
Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.
"Ho ho ho."
Headmaster Dumbledore stood before a portrait of a girl, smiling gently. He seemed to have anticipated their arrival long ago. Even seeing the wand elicited no reaction from him.
Sunlight spilled onto Dumbledore's face, illuminating every strand of silver hair and every wrinkle.
Minister Scrimgeour frowned. He just realized that this white wizard, regarded as the "Guardian of the Wizarding World," had become so old.
"I am old, and I am tired, Rufus," Dumbledore said. "There is nothing left for me to do. You young people... do as you wish."
Hearing this, Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow and sneered, "Is this the confidence that comes from throwing your lot in with the Demon King?"
"Ho ho ho~"
Dumbledore laughed almost heartily.
He did not answer. He simply turned his head to gaze deeply at the portrait of the girl. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his eyes twinkled.
Minister Scrimgeour pursed his lips, feeling snubbed. It was like unleashing his proudest Shoryuken uppercut, only for the opponent to not care at all.
He felt faintly sullen inside.
"Since you are being so cooperative, the official documents will be issued shortly. I will take my leave."
Minister Scrimgeour tipped the brim of his hat formally.
Before leaving, he looked at the painting and couldn't help but offer a dry compliment.
"That painting is quite nice. Lifelike. Just like a real person."
"Yes, just like a real person..." Dumbledore replied.
He lifted a withered hand and slowly caressed the delicate skin on the oil painting.
He murmured, "She is my most precious treasure."
Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows and turned to leave.
The old man really has gone mad, he thought. Pouring emotion into a painting. Hah, no wonder he associates with evil.
Bang, bang, bang!
The sound of a hammer striking nails echoed through the entire corridor.
The students looked up, watching as the caretaker, Mr. Filch, stood atop a tall ladder, continuously swinging a hammer to nail the Ministry's newly issued prohibitions onto the wall.
"I've always been curious," Michael Corner frowned. "Why do they make a Squib do things that magic could easily accomplish?"
"Does this count as Muggle abuse?"
Anthony Goldstein pushed up his glasses. "I dare you to say that to Filch's face."
Everyone hated Filch, and everyone feared him. If anyone stepped even a fingertip out of line, the next second, a hook-nosed, bitterly mean face would emerge from the darkness. It was enough to make anyone jump.
Harry read aloud, "'From this day forth, to ensure student safety, all group activities are disbanded. Gatherings of five or more students are prohibited'... What kind of rubbish rule is this?!"
What do group activities have to do with student safety?
The Ministry really treated them like politicians to be bamboozled!
The students voiced their complaints, loudly accusing the Ministry of tyranny without reservation.
Just then.
"Children, what are you looking at?"
A voice as elegant as vintage red wine rang out.
The students instinctively shivered and parted to make a path.
Among the faculty, the only one wearing a suit and cape—the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—walked forward like a king making a grand entrance.
He looked at the conspicuous decree, rubbed his chin, and mused, "Hmm... so that's it."
Then he shook his head and sighed. "This won't do, Mr. Filch. You've made a grave mistake."
"What?"
Filch glared viciously at Professor Vortex.
He hated this new professor with every fiber of his being! The man had absolutely no regard for the castle's rules! Assisting the Weasley twins in manufacturing pranks alone was a crime worthy of death!
Filch sneered, "Hah, your classes have been heavily restricted, haven't they? The Ministry has issued many regulations targeting you!! If you ask me, the Ministry has finally done a great thing—"
"You misunderstand me, Mr. Filch. I didn't come to talk to you about that."
Professor Vortex—Ethan—shook his head.
He raised his eyes and smiled. "I meant to say, your arrangement lacks any aesthetic sense."
Filch: "Huh?"
As soon as the words fell, the wall seemed to surge, and countless terrifying tentacles wriggled out from within!
Like a tidal wave, they lunged madly at the decrees!
"Aaaah!!"
Filch let out a miserable scream, terrified, and fell backward! Losing his balance, he tumbled right off the ladder!
Whoosh—
A gentle magical force wrapped around him, placing him lightly on the ground.
"Oh my, look at you, so careless."
Filch opened his eyes only to find a "Vortex" face inches from his own. The distance was so close he could see the ravines on the rubber-like skin. It stared at him like a black hole.
Filch: "..."
Don't come over here!!
He angrily pushed Professor Vortex away, scrambled up, and roared in exasperation, "The Ministry will arrest you sooner or later! Just you wait and see!"
Ethan: "I'm actually quite looking forward to that~"
Filch: "..."
Grrrraah, so angry!!!
After sending away the caretaker, who was puffed up with rage like a pufferfish, Ethan turned his gaze back to the decrees.
He murmured, "In the final analysis, they are nothing more than black ink on white paper."
"But with 'Power' attached, they can influence and deprive others of their 'Rights'."
"The Ministry of Magic, domineering as always."
"They still haven't undergone the baptism of art..."
Ethan knew the reason behind the Ministry's drastic actions was the letter he had sent.
"A pity. Minister Scrimgeour took action, but he made the wrong choice."
"Sigh. People really need a bit of discernment."
How could a bright and righteous person like him possibly be a Dark Lord?
Those who couldn't tell the difference would be punished by watching Great Art a hundred times.
At this moment, Ethan heard Hermione speaking worriedly nearby.
"The Ministry wants to disband all clubs? What about our Enlightenment Society?"
"Merlin! Is Hogwarts' secret talent development plan going to be interrupted just like this?!"
Hermione's cheeks were flushed, and she was as anxious as if the world were ending tomorrow.
Indeed, the Enlightenment Society was a problem. But not a big one.
Ethan glanced sideways at the Aurors monitoring them nearby and thought: The Ministry wants to suppress me with authority? Then let them see what it means to 'hit rock bottom and rebound'.
Anyway, he had never followed the rules to begin with.
Ethan raised the corners of his mouth and walked away slowly.
That night.
All members of the Enlightenment Society heard a message whisper in their ears as darkness fell:
[This weekend, go to Hogsmeade. Gather at the Hog's Head Inn at 2 PM.]
[It is time to sound the horn of counterattack.]
Weekend, Hogsmeade Village.
1:30 PM, Hog's Head Inn.
Looking at the dilapidated old building before them, Ron asked curiously, "I've never been to the Hog's Head. I heard it's dirty and messy, and the owner has a terrible temper!"
"Mmhmm," Harry replied absentmindedly. His brows were furrowed tight, looking like a replica of The Thinker.
Hermione: "Alright, let's just go in quickly!"
She looked around vigilantly and pushed them forward. "The Aurors have already noticed this place!"
On the other side, the Aurors exchanged glances as they saw the three hurry into the pub.
They quickly followed.
Although monitoring students felt wrong, the Minister had given specific orders to report every move of the key students. Besides, secret gatherings were not allowed. Students should just honestly stay in school.
Creak—
The rusty hinges turned.
What greeted their eyes, however, was an impossible scene!
—The Universe. A Galaxy.
Stars flowed around them, and dreamlike colors formed ethereal ribbons, encircling them. It was as if they had stepped from reality straight into a fantasy dream.
It was a world of fungi.
The Aurors stood frozen in place.
No.
It should be said they were drifting and spinning along with the universe.
Massive amounts of arcane information flooded into their brains like a deluge, scrambling their thoughts and easily dissolving their reason.
Their eyes began to turn glassy.
—The Aurors gradually understood everything.
Creak—
The rusty hinges turned.
Harry and the others stumbled through the door.
What greeted their eyes was shabbiness and gloom. A shrunken head hanging behind the bar shouted upon seeing them, "More brats!"
The tabletops looked like they hadn't been wiped in ten years, gleaming with a layer of grease that made Hermione recoil in disgust.
But right in the center of the pub, in a spot visible at a glance, their Enlightenment Society President, Ethan Vincent, was waiting for them, smiling with his hands clasped under his chin.
A ray of sunlight pierced through the heavy window lattice, falling perfectly across his raised hood. It left half of Ethan's face in the sun and half in the shadow.
His exposed, sparkling cobalt-blue eye stared unblinkingly at them. That sharp, piercing gaze seemed capable of flaying skin and flesh to stab directly into the soul.
His lips curved up as he laughed, "I knew someone would arrive half an hour early."
While Harry and Ron were stunned, Hermione had already let out a cry and dashed forward. She opened her arms, but upon seeing Luna hiding in the shadows beside Ethan, she reined in her excitement slightly.
"Ethan! I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!"
Hermione clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling as she stared at Ethan.
This behavior made Ron turn his head away, unable to bear it, and stick out his tongue.
—Look at her acting like a little fangirl! Why is she never this gentle with us?
Hermione was speaking from the heart. She even felt a little aggrieved.
Ethan had been elusive this term, always disappearing. Even the club activities had decreased. It was just that under the devastation of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, everyone was dying at light speed every day and didn't have the energy to care about anything else.
"I have always been with you," Ethan said mysteriously.
Because the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is me, Ethan-da!
Hermione paused. She thought Ethan was referring to his "Golden Spirit"—the kind of "Gold" that would poison you if swallowed. Her expression turned strange.
...Please leave us some room to breathe. Otherwise, we really will be tortured into madness QAQ.
Soon, the invited Enlightenment Society members arrived one after another.
No one was late.
It seemed everyone was quite afraid of Ethan.
Ethan nodded with satisfaction. "Very good. Then let us begin today's gathering."
Saying this, he snapped his fingers. Amidst the horrified gazes of the crowd, he said, "Sir, bring the wine."
The burly, tall, and strong owner, Aberforth: "..."
"Sir" your grandmother's leg!
Do you really think this is a five-star hotel?!
Aberforth glared at the students huddled like quails, snorted heavily through his nose, and then turned away, cursing under his breath, to pour the drinks.
The crowd: "Whoaaa—"
As expected of Ethan, he can even tame a vicious member of society!
Aberforth (Dumbledore's own brother): ...I'm only doing this for the sake of that painting.
Under Ethan's direction, kegs of Butterbeer overflowing with golden foam lined up and floated into the students' hands.
Under their nervous and expectant gazes, Ethan spoke slowly:
"Do you know that the most blazing light is always squeezed out and erupted from the most extreme darkness?"
"The more the Ministry guards against us, the more they try to suppress us... the more we will explode with a furious radiance!"
"That's right!" Justin shouted excitedly, leaping up with his tankard raised.
Then, realizing his outburst a moment too late, he blushed and stiffly sat back down.
To the side, Aberforth sipped his Butterbeer, watching the scene coldly. He thought to himself: ...With just a few words, he pulls at people's heartstrings. Like adding oil to a fire, that boy's words naturally contain the most sincere and passionate magic.
"Hmph, truly not to be underestimated." Aberforth clicked his tongue and took another large swig.
Ethan continued, "Everyone, the time is ripe."
"After so many years of effort, it is time to let our Flower of Light bloom upon the world!"
"Did you know that deep within Gringotts, pitiful dragons guard wealth plundered by sinners?"
"Even after the criminals have been judged and sent to Azkaban, that wealth has not been distributed as reparations or pensions to the war heroes."
"And the Ministry turns a blind eye to this. Why is that?"
Bang!
Ethan slammed his tankard heavily onto the table, making the hearts of everyone listening intently jump!
"It is because the Ministry utilizes these ill-gotten gains."
Ethan enunciated each word, his gaze burning like a torch.
"The first shot we fire in this wizarding world will be to expose the rotting roots of Gringotts."
"We will tear away the black cloth the Ministry tries so desperately to cover things with."
"Let the world formally know the name of our Enlightenment Society!"
And incidentally...
We'll grab Hufflepuff's Cup while we're at it.
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