The strange professor led Ethan out of the Great Hall.
The strange professor led Ethan up two flights of stairs.
The strange professor led Ethan into an office on the third floor.
The strange professor abandoned Ethan beside a chair and hurried nervously toward a bookshelf.
Then—
The strange professor started taking books out one by one.
"…Hm?"
Ethan blinked several times.
"No? Y-You don't like them, Mr Norton?"
Quirrell clasped his trembling hands beneath his chin nervously while waiting for Ethan's response.
Honestly, if the person standing here had been some tiny silver-haired anime girl with glowing red eyes, Ethan would have felt less uncomfortable.
"That's all?"
Ethan stared blankly at the pile of books and journals Quirrell had placed carefully on the desk.
Theory of Transformation.
Transfiguration Today.
Advanced Morphological Studies.
That was it.
Where was the evil conspiracy?
Where was the "help me overthrow Hogwarts" speech?
Where was the "assist me in murdering Harry Potter" mission?
At minimum, where was the forbidden Dark Magic initiation ritual?
This felt exactly like finally bringing your girlfriend to a hotel room only to hand her a Kevin Durant poster instead of condoms.
What next?
Discuss basketball statistics romantically?
"Oh. Right. I love them."
Ethan answered dryly.
"Haha… g-good… good…"
Quirrell laughed awkwardly several times while rubbing his hands together anxiously.
Then, less than five minutes later, he forcibly escorted Ethan out of the office because "it was getting late," despite the fact curfew remained nowhere close.
"Mr Norton…" Quirrell stammered quietly before shutting the door. "I-It would be best… if you didn't show those books to your friends."
"I'm afraid they might become jealous."
Apparently Voldemort's fragmented soul had not yet developed enough confidence to begin recruiting openly.
The books probably contained nothing too serious.
"Don't worry," Ethan replied sincerely. "I'll keep it secret."
Then—
Ethan immediately opened Theory of Transformation openly beside the Gryffindor fireplace the moment he returned to the common room.
Nobody in Gryffindor besides Hermione or Percy would willingly approach a book anyway.
Even if the title had been:
The Forbidden Romance Between the Pink Swamp Witch and the Minister for Magic.
Hermione was probably studying herself unconscious somewhere, while Percy remained busy patrolling corridors like an unpaid security guard.
The only familiar faces nearby belonged to Harry and Ron.
Ethan curled comfortably into an armchair beside the warm fireplace while opening the book carefully.
If it exploded, he could simply throw it into the flames.
"Ethan, what did Professor Quirrell give you?"
Ron leaned over curiously from the chessboard before recoiling instantly after seeing the densely packed text.
To Ron Weasley, books clearly qualified as dark creatures.
"Theory of Transformation and Morphological Deformation," Ethan answered while flipping pages calmly. "He seems to have misunderstood me somewhat."
Quirrell apparently had not enchanted the book maliciously.
Unfortunately—
He had done something far more interesting.
Behind the innocent Transfiguration cover sat a complete introductory volume on the Dark Arts.
Necromancy.
Fiendfyre.
Blood curses.
Soul manipulation.
Several horrifying spells Ethan had never even seen mentioned inside the Goodwill Shop.
And after reading several chapters, Ethan finally understood why the wizarding world feared Dark Magic so deeply.
Its entry barrier was practically nonexistent.
Even someone as mentally vacant as Gregory Goyle could cast certain curses successfully.
The power depended almost entirely on magical output and negative emotion.
Hatred.
Fear.
Rage.
Malice.
Dark Magic transformed emotion itself into ammunition.
In other words—
Every wizard carried a loaded weapon inside their own heart.
Powerful Dark Magic also affected the caster gradually, twisting their mind until they stopped recognising themselves entirely.
Unfortunately, none of this discouraged Ethan whatsoever.
What exactly did corruption matter to a half-Dementor?
He wasn't even human in the first place.
So naturally—
He began studying enthusiastically.
Thank you, Professor Quirrell.
You just saved me an enormous amount of Sin Points.
Sadly, the book abruptly cut off midway through a curse called the Exsanguination Hex.
The following pages had clearly been removed deliberately.
"…You people really know how to torture readers."
Ethan closed the book with visible irritation.
The meaning behind Quirrell's actions was painfully obvious.
Classic bait.
Quirrell intentionally gave Ethan an incomplete Dark Arts text.
Once Ethan became obsessed with learning forbidden magic, curiosity would eventually force him back to Quirrell seeking the missing sections.
Then Quirrell could evaluate whether Ethan possessed the temperament required for Voldemort's future army.
Unfortunately—
Neither Quirrell nor Voldemort understood something extremely important.
The soul inside Ethan's body did not belong to a naïve eleven-year-old child.
He would not suddenly scream "Long live Voldemort!" simply because someone handed him a beginner's guide to evil magic.
By the time the common room clock neared ten, most students had already begun yawning heavily.
Hermione climbed through the portrait hole carrying an absurd mountain of library books.
Harry and Ron finally completed their last chess match.
Eventually everyone returned upstairs toward the dormitories.
Tonight, Ethan skipped his usual soul-form wandering entirely.
His mind remained occupied by one issue.
Soul Integrity.
Ever since reaching fifteen percent, absorbing weak souls no longer improved him effectively.
That made sense logically.
Tiny magical creatures could not endlessly patch together a broken soul.
Sooner or later, Ethan would need stronger prey.
Either stronger creatures…
Or larger trouble.
Pranks around Hogwarts remained a stable source of Sin Points, especially if he copied the Weasley twins while avoiding Dumbledore's true bottom line.
Still—
The Forbidden Forest remained far more efficient.
Eventually, while drifting toward sleep, Ethan dreamed.
He dreamed he floated inside a smooth round bottle.
Countless screaming souls swirled around him in thick darkness.
Ethan devoured them endlessly until eventually—
The screams vanished.
The bottle shattered.
And he woke suddenly.
Like all dreams, the memory faded rapidly upon waking.
Only several fragments remained clearly inside his mind.
Bottle.
Souls.
Laboratory.
Perhaps…
One day…
He should investigate the dark laboratory where "Ethan Norton" had originally been created.
"Ethan! Hurry up!"
Harry's voice interrupted his thoughts the following morning.
"I want breakfast before class today!"
Harry and Ron had both awakened unusually early, probably traumatised after nearly missing McGonagall's lesson yesterday.
Fortunately, this morning did not include Transfiguration.
Instead—
Their first Tuesday class was Defence Against the Dark Arts.
With Professor Quirrell.
....
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