Professor McGonagall certainly didn't want such an event to be recorded in the Hogwarts history books.
Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout had no objections either. After all, if they hadn't arrived in time, the Halloween feast would have been ruined. Deducting a few house points was perfectly acceptable.
Having accepted their punishment, Ethan and the others returned to their respective House tables.
Despite being frightened, many students found the prank rather entertaining and were already looking forward to pulling off something even better next Halloween.
After all, the jokes at Hogwarts were usually quite intense. Ethan's was just a scare—not a big deal. (There are even candies that can burn a hole in your tongue, so that tells you how wild things can get.)
In Gryffindor, several students who hadn't been involved in the prank gathered around George and the others, treating them like heroes of the House.
Only Slytherin was upset.
Not only were they made fun of, but their House wasn't even included in the prank. It felt like they were being deliberately left out.
Are we even part of the same school?
"Ethan, you scared me!"
Natasha lightly punched Ethan on the shoulder at the Ravenclaw table, her expression showing mock annoyance. He hadn't even warned his senior.
"I thought of it on the spur of the moment and had to set it up quickly. There wasn't enough time."
Throughout the entire prank, Ethan had been the busiest—designing props and handling special effects.
"Senior, pass me the lamb chop!"
After swallowing a mouthful, Ethan turned to Penelope and added, "Senior, I asked you to pass it to me, not feed it to me!"
"I thought your hands were busy, and you looked like you were enjoying it," Penelope said, half-pouting, holding a half-eaten roasted lamb chop.
"I was wrong, okay?"
Since she had already fed him once, Ethan didn't care anymore. He just opened his mouth and waited for Penelope to feed him again.
"Eat it yourself!"
With a smirk, Penelope shoved the lamb chop into his mouth and let go.
Teasing was one thing, but continuing to feed him wouldn't be appropriate. She was a prefect, after all, and needed to set an example.
"Lamb chops, you say?"
"Ethan, eat!"
Natasha grinned and placed an entire plate of roasted lamb chops in front of Ethan.
Bang!
The Great Hall doors burst open. Professor Quirrell stumbled in, his purple turban askew, panic written all over his face.
The commotion immediately grabbed everyone's attention—and conveniently saved Ethan from further teasing.
"Troll... Troll in the dungeon... Thought you ought to know."
Quirrell's voice trembled as he shouted. He stumbled on the steps of the staff table and fell flat.
But the hall didn't descend into panic, as Quirrell had expected. Instead, the students continued eating, chatting, and laughing. No one took his words seriously.
Quirrell was being too dramatic. A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor fainting from fear of a troll? Really? He could at least try to act more convincingly.
Besides, Ethan and his friends had just finished staging an elaborate prank. Most people thought Quirrell was just trying to get in on the fun.
Frustrated, Quirrell summoned his last ounce of strength and cried out again:
"Troll… Troll in the dungeon, run… run! Dumbledore, there's a troll!"
"Heh heh!"
"Ha!"
The Gryffindors laughed openly. Compared to Ethan's prank, Quirrell's performance was laughable.
Who could he possibly fool like this?
Besides, a troll at Hogwarts? Even if one did get in, with Dumbledore present, he could probably destroy an entire troll tribe with a flick of his wand.
"No, there really is a troll…"
Quirrell mumbled from the floor, this time without stuttering. His voice was dry and serious.
Even he didn't understand what went wrong—he was sure his acting was good.
At that moment, Dumbledore stood up and addressed the students: "Prefects, lead your students back to your dormitories."
He was helping Quirrell exit the situation gracefully.
There was no other choice. Since Dumbledore wanted to play this game with Voldemort, he had to cooperate with Quirrell's performance.
As the Ravenclaws were being led back, Natasha turned to Ethan, frowning slightly. "Do you think there really is a troll in Hogwarts?"
Quirrell's performance had been too theatrical. Why would Dumbledore believe him and even interrupt the feast?
"It doesn't matter. Whether there is or isn't, Dumbledore and the others will handle it."
Because of the changes Ethan had introduced, Hermione never interacted with Ron in class. As a result, she wouldn't have gone to the girls' bathroom and encountered a troll.
Ethan didn't want to get involved unless necessary. Trolls stank, and fighting one would only lead to points being deducted—probably by some bat-like professor.
Chapter 54: Acromantula
Inside the Headmaster's office, Snape stood before Dumbledore with a dark expression. His leg was bleeding heavily—clearly from a bite.
"I'm sure you know what happened with Quirrell. It's fine if you won't tell me, but why let such a malicious person be our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!"
Snape was seething.
He had known Quirrell for years. Although they weren't friends, Snape had always known him to be timid and harmless. But this year, he was like a completely different person—and had even applied for the Defense post.
Snape had long coveted that position. He had applied many times, but Dumbledore never approved him. So why Quirrell?
In fact, Snape wasn't even sure this was the real Quirrell.
Yet Dumbledore let him stay at Hogwarts. Was he suffering from dementia?
Dumbledore's strange behavior today only deepened Snape's suspicions. Was this intentional, or an oversight?
Quirrell had come to Hogwarts with dark intentions. This year, two special things were at play: Harry, the boy from the prophecy, and the Philosopher's Stone, capable of producing the Elixir of Life.
Quirrell's goal had to be one or both of them.
That's what truly fueled Snape's anger.
"I have my own reasons for these arrangements," Dumbledore replied calmly, as if discussing something mundane.
"What reasons?"
Snape could barely contain his irritation. If not for his duty to protect Harry, he would have smashed Dumbledore's crooked nose even more crooked.
"I can't say… not yet."
Dumbledore knew his plan would not gain approval, especially from Snape.
If Snape learned that Quirrell was carrying Voldemort's remnant soul, he might act impulsively and ruin everything.
"Hmph! I checked the room on the fourth floor—someone's been in there!"
Snape turned to leave after his cold comment.
"Phoenix tears."
Dumbledore handed him a small vial of translucent liquid.
Cerberus bites were venomous and similar to curses—difficult to heal. But phoenix tears worked wonders.
Snape snatched the vial and left without another word, still angry at Dumbledore for keeping him in the dark.
[Prank Expert]
Behind the curtain of laughter lies the conspiracy of pranks: a carefully designed trap waiting for its prey. A subtly swapped chair, a sudden eerie sound—what seems like a peaceful day is full of surprises.
Achievement Goal: Successfully prank others (100/100)
Achievement Reward: One Random Dark Magic
On the way to Hagrid's hut, Ethan finally had time to review the achievement reward.
Though it was Halloween Eve, their punishment for the prank still stood.
The spell he received was called Shadow Wolf. It was more useful than many other charms. Ethan didn't prefer curses—but if a curse could protect you, it proved useful. Using one didn't necessarily mean weakness.
Shadow Wolf was an unusual form of magic. It summoned a pack of wolves formed from shadow to attack, and had two special abilities.
First, like the Kneazles used by the French Ministry of Magic, it could split. It absorbed magical energy from attacks and divided into multiple smaller entities.
Second, like Peeves, it could switch between physical and illusory states. In its ghost-like form, it could pass through walls and float.
The number of wolves depended on Ethan's magic power. As long as his power lasted, they could be summoned endlessly.
Even better, when materialized, these wolves could block the Killing Curse.
That curse, unlike most, ignored physical barriers unless those barriers had true substance—like transfigured objects or living things.
In that way, Shadow Wolf offered an essential edge.
At Hagrid's hut, Fang barked excitedly and ran up to greet Ethan.
"I wish I had your gift," Hagrid said with admiration, watching the magical creature's response.
They'd patrolled the Forbidden Forest for nearly two weeks. No matter how dangerous the magical beasts were, they always behaved calmly in Ethan's presence.
What had once shocked Hagrid had become routine—now replaced by open envy.
It was the ability he most desired.
"Ethan, be careful tonight. The centaurs told me something dangerous entered the forest."
As they geared up to patrol, Hagrid gave Ethan a serious look.
The centaurs hadn't given details, but if it were just a lost student, they'd have called them a foal. This time was different. It was likely a poacher—or something worse.
"Yeah, I know."
Ethan suspected the visitor was none other than Voldemort. Possessing Quirrell couldn't last much longer; he would now crave unicorn blood to survive.
This visit was probably to scout the area.
Unlike previous nights of random patrol, tonight's task was targeted: checking known habitats of magical beasts like unicorns, thestrals, chimeras, and Erumpents.
"Why are there no signs?"
After searching, Hagrid grew anxious.
"That's it! I'll ask Aragog!"
Suddenly inspired, Hagrid hurriedly led Ethan deeper into the forest.
"Aragog's a spider I raised. Don't be scared—they won't harm you. Or maybe I'm overthinking it. You'll be fine."
Hagrid had never revealed the existence of his Acromantulas before. He'd always avoided their territory.
But now, desperate, he needed Aragog's help.
With his many offspring spread across the forest, they could detect anything—or anyone—suspicious.
As they ventured deeper, more and more spiders appeared. Finally, before a large, root-covered cave, Ethan saw it:
The kingdom of spiders.