As everyone knew, if something looked like a Dementor, possessed the abilities of a Dementor, and genuinely believed itself to be a Dementor… then for all practical purposes, it was a Dementor.
Without hesitation, Ethan purchased the necklace from the system shop.
The item itself was practically useless in terms of actual combat value, but that wasn't the point.
It was cool.
That alone justified the price.
The moment the purchase completed, Ethan stuffed his unfinished homework into a bag and rushed toward the Room of Requirement to test it. His current mood was far too playful for studying, but if he ignored his assignments entirely, Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout would absolutely bury him in detention tomorrow.
The Count was currently asleep near the fireplace when the room suddenly darkened.
A massive black-robed figure silently appeared in the middle of the room.
The creature nearly touched the ceiling. Tattered robes dragged across the floor while skeletal hands emerged from the sleeves like pale claws. The air itself seemed to grow colder.
The Count's eyes snapped open.
Then the bird immediately screamed in terror and launched himself at the closed window with frantic determination, repeatedly slamming his body against the glass in an attempt to escape.
"It's me," Ethan said calmly.
The enormous Dementor shrank instantly back into the shape of a harmless-looking first-year boy.
The Count nearly collapsed from rage.
"Scaring birds is fun for you, isn't it?!" he screeched furiously. "My patience has limits!"
Ethan considered this.
Then he transformed into a Dementor again.
Even though the Count already knew it was Ethan, the sudden silent transformation still scared him badly enough that he nearly fell backward beneath the table.
A moment later, Ethan transformed back.
"Hi," he said cheerfully.
"What do you mean, 'hi'?!" the Count exploded.
At that point, the bird completely gave up on the warmth and comfort of the room. He decided the Owlery was preferable to sharing enclosed spaces with a child capable of becoming a Dementor without warning.
[Ding! Sin Value +1]
[Note: You truly have no respect for emotional well-being.]
Ethan happily opened the window for him and watched the furious bird disappear into the sky toward the Owlery.
Only after the Count vanished did Ethan settle comfortably beside the fireplace and spread his homework across the table.
Originally, he had planned to work in the common room, but George had insisted on dragging him along for another late-night expedition. According to Fred and George, Filch's confiscation office contained countless treasures worth stealing.
Their prized Marauder's Map had supposedly come from a drawer labeled Highly Dangerous Confiscated Items.
Honestly, Ethan would have loved to go.
Unfortunately, tomorrow was Monday.
"Fine," he muttered dramatically. "Transfiguration homework first."
He dipped his quill into the ink bottle and carefully wrote the title across the parchment.
The Influence of Magical Output on Transfiguration Stability
Then he stopped.
After staring at the paper for several seconds, another thought slowly appeared in his mind.
Rose had asked him to write home at least once a week.
Family was probably more important than homework.
Probably.
"Dear Rose… and Edward…" Ethan murmured while dragging over a fresh sheet of parchment. "I've been having a wonderful time at Hogwarts…"
His quill moved rapidly.
"The teachers and students are all very friendly. I've also made lots of animal friends recently, although most of them ignore me…"
Ten minutes later, Ethan had somehow produced an extremely detailed ten-inch-long letter home.
After folding it neatly and sealing it inside an envelope, his eyes drifted back toward the untouched homework assignment that still contained only the title.
"…I'll do it later."
Clearly the letter needed to be mailed first.
If he had known the Count would storm off earlier, Ethan would have waited to upset him until after the delivery. Now he had to climb halfway across the castle to reach the Owlery in the western tower.
By the time he finally reached the top, delivered the letter, and spent another ten minutes convincing the Count to stop pretending not to know him, nearly an hour had disappeared entirely.
Standing in the cold wind atop the castle towers, Ethan watched the Count fly off into the distance with the envelope secured to his leg.
Well.
Every possible excuse for avoiding homework had now officially been exhausted.
Dragging his feet dramatically, Ethan headed back toward the main castle.
"Y-yes, Mr. Norton…"
As he passed the third floor, Quirrell's familiar stuttering voice suddenly called from behind him.
Ethan froze.
Then his eyes widened.
"Oh right!"
He had completely forgotten about his private Dark Arts tutoring session.
"Thank Merlin!"
Before Quirrell could react, Ethan enthusiastically shoved him straight back into his own office.
A few moments later, Quirrell sat stiffly behind his desk while Ethan energetically cleaned the workspace using Quirrell's own supplies. Somehow the entire situation felt backwards, as though Ethan were the professor preparing for class.
"All right," Ethan announced eagerly. "Let's begin immediately."
He leaned forward expectantly.
"What are we learning first? The Imperius Curse? Cruciatus Curse? Forget the Killing Curse—I already know that one."
Quirrell fell silent.
Recently, he had begun adjusting the way he behaved around Ethan. There was no point maintaining the nervous stutter constantly anymore.
According to Voldemort, Ethan was worth cultivating carefully.
The child desired power.
He possessed a naturally twisted disposition.
Most importantly, his soul carried traces of numerous dark magical creatures.
Voldemort believed Ethan had the potential to become an exceptional Death Eater in the future.
As long as Quirrell guided him properly, introduced him gradually to violence and forbidden magic, and slowly immersed him deeper into darkness, the boy would eventually stand beside the Dark Lord willingly.
After all, the so-called "delayed death curse" Quirrell had threatened him with earlier was completely fake.
It was only a tracking charm.
"I recall that you were interested in necromancy," Quirrell said carefully.
He watched Ethan's reaction closely.
The Dark Lord's instructions had been simple: teach the boy what he could and gain his loyalty at any cost.
"Oh." Ethan looked visibly disappointed. "All right. Do you at least have a corpse available? Necromancy sounds difficult without one. Otherwise we could go find—"
"I have one here," Quirrell interrupted immediately.
Ethan leaned curiously toward the back of Quirrell's turban.
"Where's the noseless guy? I thought he'd teach me personally."
"The Dark Lord does not need to appear for basic spells," Quirrell replied smoothly. He carefully avoided mentioning how weak Voldemort currently was. "I can handle lessons of this level myself."
Unfortunately for him, Ethan already knew the truth.
Necromancy, despite its terrifying reputation, did not actually resurrect the dead. It merely used magic to force corpses into movement and obedience.
For most young wizards, controlling Inferi was nearly impossible.
For Ethan, however, the process felt disturbingly natural.
It was especially strange because he struggled constantly with the advanced spells inside the Encyclopedia of Positive Magic. Any defensive or protective magic became incredibly difficult for him.
Dark magic, on the other hand, came effortlessly.
"Am I genuinely born evil or something?" Ethan muttered thoughtfully.
The corpse lying on the floor twitched.
Then, under Ethan's control, it slowly began crawling upright.
Quirrell's eyes widened.
"A remarkable performance, Mr. Norton—"
"Avada Kedavra."
A burst of green light exploded across the office.
The newly animated corpse froze instantly.
Then the entire body shattered into grey dust.
Quirrell stared blankly at the drifting remains while Ethan frowned thoughtfully.
"Too weak," Ethan concluded. "I don't keep useless subordinates."
The reality of Inferi felt somewhat disappointing compared to his expectations.
The Ministry treated them as terrifying Dark creations, yet the undead bodies themselves were merely stronger than ordinary humans. They still feared fire. They still feared light.
Honestly, they sounded less useful than expected.
There was no room for useless things in Ethan's collection.
....
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