Once "Professor Vincent" finished his speech, even the usually cheerful Professor Flitwick slammed his fist onto the table in indignation.
He looked as though he wanted to leap up and challenge Ethan to a duel then and there.
Needless to say, the temperaments of Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were even worse.
Be careful you don't wake up as a parrot.jpg / Watch every drop of liquid you drink.jpg
Harry pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a rhythmic throbbing in his brain. It wasn't the searing pain of his scar; it was a pure, unadulterated tension headache.
...He was a fool. Truly.
He had known that Ethan had secured special privileges from the Ministry of Magic, but he never expected him to exercise those privileges by taking the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!
It went without saying—even if Headmaster Dumbledore had agreed and managed to silence the other professors, there must have been heavy pressure from the Ministry behind the scenes.
"Not long ago, they were treating Ethan like the next Dark Lord they needed to take down. Now, they've become his most loyal supporters," Harry muttered, his fists clenched and his expression gloomy. "A world this mad might as well just be burned to the ground."
Ron, standing beside him, looked bewildered. "Uh, mate? Why the sudden villain arc? Is this your new persona?"
"Relax, Harry!"
Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor and resident "Explosion Prince," slung an arm around Harry's shoulder and grinned. "Dumbledore's at the top holding things down anyway. What's the worst that could happen? No matter how 'impressive' Professor Vincent is, it's not like he can become the Headmaster, right?"
Harry gave him a dark look, thought about it for a moment, and his expression slowly softened. "I suppose you're right..."
Ethan wasn't exactly Dumbledore's savior. No matter how eccentric Dumbledore could be, there was no way he would actually hand the Headmaster's seat over to a student who hadn't even graduated yet. That really would be making history for all the wrong reasons.
Harry's improved mood lasted until the end of the feast. When Professor McGonagall arrived to inform him that Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to see him, a realization dawned in Harry's mind.
Knock, knock.
Harry pushed the door open. He saw the most powerful wizard in the world, their silver-haired old Headmaster, standing before a peculiar stone basin, peering down into it.
...And standing right there with him was Professor Ethan Vincent.
"I think we should add some 'heavy seasoning' to it. Or, have you ever tried throwing a Dark Wizard in as a universal catalyst?" Ethan asked seriously. He stared at the shimmering surface of the Pensieve, waving his wand as if he were itching to try an experiment.
Dumbledore replied with equal gravity, "I personally feel that Lemon Sherbets and Cockroach Clusters would be more appropriate."
Harry: "..."
What is even happening?
He wished they wouldn't desecrate what clearly looked like a priceless magical artifact. The portraits of the former Headmasters looked like they were on the verge of tears. Harry felt that after five years of being around Ethan, his own ability to internally criticize the absurdity of life had skyrocketed.
"Oh, you've arrived, Mr. Potter."
Dumbledore turned around with a smile, as if he had only just noticed Harry. The feigned seriousness vanished, replaced by a playful wink. "Take a seat, Mr. Potter. Tea, juice, or coffee?"
"Tea, thank you," Harry murmured.
He had to admit, under Dumbledore's gentle demeanor, the tension and resentment in his heart dissipated slightly. That was until Harry turned his head and saw Ethan Vincent sitting—quite naturally—in the Headmaster's own chair.
Harry: "..." Dumbledore: "..."
Ethan looked up, his expression one of confused sincerity. "Hmm? Why are you both looking at me like that? Didn't you say 'take a seat'?"
Who 'takes a seat' by staging a coup for the throne?!
Since you're at it, why don't you just sit on Dumbledore's head?! Harry screamed internally, but he didn't dare say it out loud. He was genuinely afraid Ethan might actually do it.
"Ahem."
Dumbledore cleared his throat, steering the conversation back through the sheer awkwardness of the atmosphere. "Mr. Potter, I heard from Sirius that you experienced the Ministry of Magic attack through a sort of 'possession' perspective?"
At this, Harry withdrew his glare from Ethan and lowered his head, nodding silently. "I... I don't know what's wrong with me. Why am I seeing those things?"
Ethan piped up: "Because you're Voldemort's Hor—"
"COUGH, COUGH, COUGH!!!" Dumbledore erupted into a violent coughing fit.
Harry watched the old wizard in alarm, a ridiculous thought surfacing: Dumbledore is getting on in years; he wouldn't actually choke to death on his own spit, would he?
Just as Harry was debating whether to step forward and pat his Headmaster on the back, Dumbledore looked up and let out a long, weary sigh.
"...That is a trick of Voldemort's, Harry."
Dumbledore steadied his breathing, casting a sideways glance at the shrugging Ethan. He turned back to Harry. "He often invades the minds of others to drive them to madness."
The old Headmaster sighed again, his voice filled with deep sentiment. "I must admit, I previously considered distancing myself from you. I wanted to prevent Voldemort from peering into your thoughts to gain intelligence on the Order of the Phoenix. At the same time, I wanted to ensure your safety."
"Distancing yourself from me...?" Harry's eyebrows shot up.
He couldn't imagine how painful it would have been if, while he was already lost and confused, his trusted Headmaster had deliberately ignored him.
"Headmaster..." Harry frowned, his voice raspy. "I'm glad you didn't do that."
"Yes, I am quite glad as well," Dumbledore smiled, gesturing toward Ethan. "And the one who changed my mind was Professor Ethan Vincent."
Harry was curious. "Did Professor Vincent talk you out of it?"
Was Ethan actually... that thoughtful?
"No," Dumbledore said profoundly. "Professor Vincent helped me realize that with him around, there is absolutely no need to worry about Voldemort."
After all, Professor Vincent—Ethan—was far more terrifying.
Gringotts.Azkaban. In just half a year, he had accomplished feats Voldemort hadn't managed in a lifetime. Compared to Voldemort, it was Ethan they should be "worrying" about.
In the corner, Ethan puffed out his chest with pride. Harry's brow twitched uncontrollably at the sight.
"However," Dumbledore's tone shifted, becoming stern. "We cannot allow Voldemort to continue invading your mind and interfering with your sanity. Mr. Potter, I recall Professor Vincent taught you Occlumency before. It seems you require much more practice."
Harry's face flushed. Since Ethan had been "imprisoned" in Azkaban, their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons had ceased. Furthermore, since no one in the Enlightenment Society knew how to use Legilimency, they couldn't train each other. He had naturally pushed Occlumency to the back of his mind, spending his remaining time on endless Quidditch practice.
Is this what Ethan meant by giving me 'private lessons'...?
As Harry's sense of dread intensified, Dumbledore continued, "Originally, I intended to have Professor Snape act as your tutor. However, since Professor Vincent has stepped forward to take on this arduous task..."
"Then, Mr. Potter, from now on, your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will provide you with private tutoring. He will teach you Occlumency to ensure you are no longer influenced by Voldemort."
As the words fell, Harry's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He watched blankly as the man sitting in the Headmaster's chair slowly stood up. The light faded, casting long shadows across the floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ethan walked forward slowly and leaned down, his face—hidden behind that terrifying, swirling mask—staring straight into Harry's eyes.
"I'll be in your care from now on, dear Savior, Mr. Potter," Ethan said, enunciating every word with twisted delight. "I have a 'fast-acting' method. I guarantee it will turn any nasty things trying to invade your brain into literal ash~"
Harry's mouth hung open. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Ethan by the collar and began shaking him violently, letting out a scream from the depths of his soul:
"Are you planning to plant a bomb in my head?! Vincent—no, Ethan Vincent!!!"
The invader might die, but I'd be dead too, wouldn't I?!
"Hahaha!"
Being shaken back and forth, Ethan threw his head back and laughed joyfully. Amidst the chaos, Headmaster Dumbledore simply shook his head with a smile, watching the scene with a look of fatherly gratification.
As expected, messing with the Savior is truly refreshing for the soul, Ethan thought merrily.
Of course, he was serious.
As a "good professor" who believed in tailoring education to the individual, if Harry resisted learning Occlumency—or even thought that having a link to Voldemort's mind was beneficial (like how it accidentally saved Mr. Weasley)—then Ethan would just perform a craniotomy.
Couldn't he just "plant" the Occlumency spell directly into Harry's brain?
As an artist with an innovative spirit, Ethan believed he could pull it off.
"For the materials... I'll use that newly acquired Mermaid's Song," Ethan's lips curled into a smirk.
Suddenly, he found himself looking forward to the next time Voldemort tried to intrude.
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