Two days later.Defense Against the Dark Arts Office.
"Alright."
Ethan crossed his arms and slowly swiveled in his chair, his gaze fixed on Harry, who stood frozen at the door.
"Our craniotomy—ahem, I mean, our Occlumency lesson will now begin."
Harry: "..."
He slipped! He definitely just said what he was actually thinking!
Gazing at that terrifying, swirling vortex of a face, Harry felt that simply standing in the room was a form of corporal punishment.
"Even though his identity has been exposed, he's still using Professor Norn's appearance..." Harry muttered under his breath. "Hmph, Ravenclaws and their damned sense of ceremony."
It wasn't like Gryffindor at all—they were much more down-to-earth.
"Please, have a seat."
Ethan rose slowly, gesturing toward the sofa in front of his desk. He caught Harry hesitating, lingering near the door like a shy debutante afraid to step forward.
To provide some "gentle" comfort, Ethan added, "Or perhaps you'd prefer we start with the Imperius Curse?"
Harry: "..."
There were so many things wrong with that sentence that Harry didn't even know where to start. Before the Occlumency lesson could devolve into a Dark Arts practical, Harry forced his legs to move toward the sofa.
The moment he sat down, several restraints suddenly shot out from the sides of the couch! They cinched tight, pinning Harry firmly to the seat. He couldn't move an inch.
Harry: "???"
"Don't worry, dear Mr. Potter."
Ethan looked down at the struggling boy, a flicker of amusement dancing behind his mask.
"This is just a minor safety precaution. I wouldn't want you running off mid-surgery—I mean, mid-lesson. Precision is key."
Under Harry's gaze, which was now a cocktail of indignation and pure terror, Ethan began pulling various items from his robes.
There was glowing lava encased in dragon scales, overripe berries oozing a putrid juice that looked suspiciously like a string of rotting eyeballs, and an assortment of glinting medical instruments...
Harry even spotted a pair of rusty pliers.
"...Can I just have Professor Snape teach me instead?" Harry asked, his voice cracking with desperation.
He looked up into the featureless, swirling face and, somehow, could sense a palpable wave of excitement and joy coming from Ethan. It was the look of a researcher finally getting their hands on a choice lab rat.
Ethan: "Haha, you really are a comedian, Harry."
Harry: "..."
"Trust me, we can solve your little problem in a single night. Come forth, Plague Doctor!"
With a flourish of Ethan's hand, a plume of black mist erupted, coalescing into a tall, gaunt figure on the floor. It was the same Plague Doctor who had "treated" the heavily injured Mr. Weasley during the trial, leaving him in a state that could only be described as "worse than death."
The office lights glinted off the scalpel in the doctor's hand. Harry felt a cold bead of sweat roll down his forehead.
Headmaster Dumbledore... you have this all under control, right?
"A little pain is normal," Ethan said, raising his hand slowly. "But soon, you'll fall into a sleep as peaceful as a babe's."
"When you wake up, you'll have mastered Occlumency."
Before the "Boy Who Lived" could scream "Wait!", Ethan's hand snapped down.
"Arrgh—Aaaaaargh!!!"
A jagged, hoarse scream tore through the room as a cold, sharp light plunged mercilessly into Harry's forehead. The last thing Harry saw was Ethan's mask melting like wax, revealing a pair of cobalt-blue eyes shimmering with a heterogenic light.
It reminded Harry of the white mask he had seen in the Chamber of Secrets during his second year. The eyes behind it had glowed with that same frenzied light.
Ethan... just how long have you been planning all of this...
Filled with a mix of grief, indignation, and awe, Harry's consciousness plummeted into the abyss.
[Congratulations! Using the high-level spell "Song of the Merpeople" as a base, you have successfully completed your first Living Painting!]
[You have created another extraordinary masterpiece!]
Faint blue text flickered in Ethan's vision.
After hours of meticulous "painting," what sat before Ethan was a flame that resembled the sun, yet felt deeper and more searing than any natural star. Its core was pitch black, shaped like a roaring sunflower. It radiated a seductive, hypnotic magic, drawing the viewer's gaze in only to consume it entirely.
Name: "The Light of Frenzied Flame"
Grade: Tier 3 · Golden Legend
Type: Spell / Seal
Effect: A forbidden art etched into a living body with precision. It transforms the mind into a fiery hellscape for any invader. Those who enter will be trapped and driven mad by the burning Frenzied Flame. It possesses a powerful seductive force capable of eroding the very soul.
Evaluation: If you can't learn to close your mind, just kill everyone who tries to enter. Perfectly reasonable.
"Whew—finally done."
Ethan let out a long breath, wiping the fine beads of sweat from his brow. His fingers were trembling from exhaustion. Hours of hyper-focused "painting" felt like performing a marathon surgery. His brain was throbbed with a dull ache.
...Or maybe it was just the side effect of staring at the Frenzied Flame for too long.
Ethan rubbed his aching eyes. Even behind closed lids, that piercing light seemed to bleed through. It felt as though a massive, flaming eyeball was staring at him constantly, scorched into his retinas.
"Now, even if Harry hasn't technically 'learned' Occlumency, he'll be protected from Death's influence to a certain extent."
"In fact, Death is in for a wonderful surprise."
Thinking about the entity—the fusion of Voldemort and Death—attempting to invade Harry's mind and seeing this, Ethan couldn't help but flash a harmless, innocent smile.
The Light of Frenzied Flame was so intense that a faint glow began to leak from Harry's tightly shut eyes, looking as if he were about to fire heat-vision lasers.
Er, maybe I overdid it a little during the creative process... Ethan scratched his head.
Surely it won't have any permanent side effects on Harry... right?
"Alright, Doctor. Pack our Savior up."
[Hiss...]
The Plague Doctor gave a raspy response. His gloved hands moved with blinding speed, his scalpel a blur of silver. In moments, the searing flame within Harry's skull was hidden beneath the surface. Using magic, the scalp was sewn shut and the hair reattached perfectly.
It was as if nothing had happened.
Only the slight shimmer of orange light beneath Harry's eyelids betrayed the transformation within.
Late Night. Knockturn Alley.
In a foul, stinking mud pit where even the most depraved Dark Wizards refused to tread, a massive figure lurked in the shadows. It was heaving, feasting on the rot and decay of the swamp.
[How delicious... the condensation of corpses and resentment... the perfect nourishment... only filth can sustain this body...]
[Gurgle... squelch...]
As it moved, the pink suit stretched over its frame was stained a muddy brown, torn into tattered rags. Beneath the fabric, toad-like pustules and boils oozed.
After a while, "it" stopped eating and let out a long, satisfied sigh. In the dim moonlight, a small, bulging eyeball rolled around as if sensing something. The creature grinned wide.
[I see, I see... that poor, bullied little house-elf has made contact... exactly as the omens of fate predicted... everything is within my grasp.]
[The time has come to follow the guidance of destiny and begin the Great One's plan!]
[First, I shall push that darling little Savior to his absolute limit!]
A wave of malicious pleasure washed over "it." The once-revered Savior was now nothing more than a bug to be toyed with! This was the power fate had bestowed upon "it"!
[Once I successfully rewrite the prophecy... Ethan Vincent, you are a dead man!]
With a snarl of hatred, the creature closed its eyes, utilizing the soul-bound connection to traverse space and invade that supposedly defenseless mind.
[Hah, you haven't improved at all, you stupid, weak mortal—wait?]
The creature froze.
Suddenly, a wall of searing, roaring flame erupted all around it! Like living serpents, the fire lunged, tearing and biting at its soul. An unbearable agony surged through its entire being—a pain that bypassed the physical, feeling as though a thousand dull blades were grinding against its nerves.
Its eyes bulged as it let out a blood-curdling shriek!
[ARGH—AAAAAAAH!!!]
Hot! It's too hot!
It clutched its head, feeling as though its skull were a watermelon about to explode from the inside. Searing flames burst from its eyes like molten tears. The image of a dark "sun" surrounded by crimson embers burned into its vision, mocking it.
[What... what kind of twisted magic is this?! Curse you! Retreat—Heh... hehe... HAHAHA!!]
BOOM!
Along with an uncontrollable, frenzied laughter, the creature felt its mind shatter. Its consciousness was violently yanked back to reality.
In the middle of the mud pit, a pillar of orange flame erupted!
[My eyes! MY EYES!!]
It thrashed in the mud, screaming and trying to extinguish the fire. It clawed at its face, but where its eyes should have been, there were only empty, charred sockets. Its eyeballs had been melted away.
Its world was pitch black. Only the brand of the black sun remained on its soul, staring down at it, making it tremble with a primal, spiritual terror.
It never expected to find a defenseless mind, nor a mind protected by Occlumency.
Instead, it had found a god-damned bomb!
How is this even fair?!
[...Damn you! Damn you! DAMN YOU!!]
It threw its head back, the empty sockets aimed at the night sky. With a voice full of bottomless rage, it roared a single name:
[ETHAN VINCENT—!!!]
The roar echoed through Knockturn Alley, sending rats scurrying into the deepest shadows, frozen in silence.
[Huff... huff...]
The creature panted, the pain still splitting its head. But more shocking than the blindness was the realization that its body had been altered by that violent, erratic flame.
It now felt a profound, instinctive fear of fire.
[Ethan Vincent... you think these little tricks will save you? Heh... hehehe...]
[Let's see how you feel when you are betrayed by those you trust...]
[When you watch the people you saved die in agony, I wonder if you'll still be in the mood for jokes!]
It clenched its fists, cold killing intent rippling across its hideous face. The flesh around its empty sockets pulsed and shifted, morphing into oversized, sensitive ears.
[Move the plan forward. If I cannot break through the fire barrier... I will have that disgusting house-elf trick Harry Potter directly!]
[Hehehe, my kind, reckless Savior... when your closest friends are taken, even your trust in your mentor will vanish, won't it?]
[I can't wait to see you all tear each other apart...]
Amidst the eerie laughter, a secret command was sent silently to the ancestral home of the Black family, landing directly in the mind of a house-elf huddled in the dust: Kreacher.
[The Occlumency you taught Harry successfully blocked an invasion by the Avatar of Fate!]
[Permanent damage has been dealt to the Avatar!]
Visibility significantly reduced.
All individuals associated with the "Avatar of Fate" have been granted the "Fire Vulnerability" trait!
The first light of dawn broke. Ethan opened his eyes in his plush professor's bed, reading the text floating before him.
A slow, bright smile spread across his face.
"An unexpected bonus! As expected of art based on high-level magic," he murmured. "To think it could change a creature's traits on a conceptual level."
Fire Vulnerability.
What a coincidence. His Founding Titan painting happened to be very, very good at fire magic.
"Thinking he controls fate, when in reality, he's just a puppet being jerked around by it," Ethan sneered. He paused, looking thoughtful. "Speaking of which... I should start preparing some conceptual-type paintings of my own."
By utilizing the Hogwarts Anti-Apparition wards, he could create an Absolute Forbidden Zone.
"This time, I won't let a single enemy escape," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a low, husky rasp.
Just then—
Tap! Tap! Tap!
An owl flapped its wings against the window, hooting incessantly with a letter in its beak.
"Writing to me this early? Is it Luna?"
Ethan flicked his wrist, and the window clicked open. A gust of cold air rushed in, followed by the owl, which zoomed in like a feathered cannonball and dropped the letter right onto Ethan's head. The letter hovered in mid-air, held by his magic, and drifted into his hand.
It wasn't so much a letter as it was a scrap of parchment. The handwriting was crooked, and the phrasing was... unique.
Respected Perfesser Norn,
I was wonderin' if yeh might like ter come by me Care o' Magical Creatures class this afternoon? I've got summat really excitin' and innerestin' planned! I reckon yeh'll love it!
Yours truly,Hagrid
"Hagrid's inviting me to his class? Is he planning to cross-breed Fire Crabs and Ashwinders this time?"
Ethan chuckled, feeling a spark of genuine interest.
"Well... while I'm enjoying Hagrid's 'Wonderful Forbidden Forest Adventure,' maybe I can see if I can scavenge some adult dragon molts."
As fuel for his Founding Titan and a necessary ingredient for brewing the Golden Cup's Dew, this trip to the forest was a must!
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