Chapter 256: The Potion Is Complete! Hey, Little Snape, Don't These White Flowers Look Familiar?
An official leaned over to Minister Scrimgeour and joked quietly, "It's something, isn't it? Kids these days are getting bolder—bringing out a half-finished potion for public display."
Minister Scrimgeour didn't reply, but his attitude made his agreement unmistakable. He looked down at the black-haired youth with cobalt blue eyes and thought, He's still too young. He thinks that chasing attention will win support, but in truth, he's just showing off to the crowd. Nothing to fear.
Scrimgeour allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smirk.
On the other side of the grounds, Professor Snape watched the cauldron still bubbling away with a quiet, sarcastic laugh. "Exactly as I expected. Ethan's going to fail. Too bad—if he'd come to me for help, the result might have been better. Instead, he's brought this half-baked attempt to show off." But Snape knew one thing for certain—without a moonflower, it was absolutely impossible to cure lycanthropy. "A complete farce," he scoffed, exhaling sharply.
Under the pressure of countless eyes and a tidal wave of gossip, only Ethan and Luna stood unfazed. For the rest of the Morning Star Club, it was hard to even breathe. Even the usually irreverent and authority-defying Weasley twins looked grim. They exchanged a glance and muttered out of the corners of their mouths, "If this fails—" "Blow them all to bits with fireworks." "Not wasted—nothing wasted."
Hearing their exchange, Neville looked positively faint—if Ethan hadn't grinned at him and asked whether he wanted another ride on the Kelpie, he would have ducked through the floor by now.
Hermione's nerves were completely shot, muttering to herself about "reactions with werewolf blood" and "the final spell." Her eyes were ringed with exhaustion, and she looked half-mad.
The whole crew's sanity was questionable at best.
An Auror remarked, "If they hadn't walked right out of Hogwarts, I'd think we were at Azkaban. Still… kind of nostalgic."
Now, Ethan stepped to the centre of the field, raised his wand, and conjured a thick, sturdy wooden table out of thin air. The cauldron floated over and settled gently atop the table, not even spilling a drop.
"A flawless Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall," someone complimented. She lifted her chin in pride.
Ethan spread his arms, and his clear voice carried across the entire grounds. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hogwarts. Today, we're here to witness the birth of a miracle—a revolution in magical history!"
Drawn in by his words, hearts across the crowd stirred, a ripple of anticipation passing through even the most skeptical onlookers.
Ethan continued, "If anyone wishes to leave, now's your chance."
Professor McGonagall gave a knowing smile. The journalists and ministry officials looked at each other in puzzlement, not catching the real meaning.
But the Hogwarts students understood immediately—this was Ethan's signature "disclaimer." No one moved.
Ethan's lips curled. "Excellent. In that case, allow me to present my assistant—or rather, the volunteer who aided in this potion's creation!"
He clapped twice. A pitch-black door appeared beside him, and out stepped a figure that made every student's eyes widen with shock: the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin!
The crowd exploded.
"What?! Why is Professor Lupin there?"
"Wait, does that mean—Professor Lupin's a werewolf?! No way!"
"Did Ethan make him into a werewolf?!"
While chaos erupted, Professor Snape arched an eyebrow. To expose himself like that, just to play along with Ethan's antics—he really had been broken in. Snape felt contempt, but only on the surface. Deep down, he was certain he'd never truly give in to Ethan.
Out in the open, facing a wave of surprise, fear, and even disgust, Lupin gave a wry smile.
Then, as the moonlight struck him, his features twisted in agony.
A guttural snarl tore from his throat. His body wrenched and convulsed, bones reshaping, fangs and claws sprouting, coarse grey-black hair bursting from his skin.
Within moments, a terrifying werewolf stood before them.
The silence was absolute—only to be shattered by a tidal wave of screaming.
"It's a werewolf! A real werewolf!!"
"Get me out of here—I don't want to be bitten!"
Panic sent people scattering. Suddenly, a blood-red shield shot up, doming the clearing and trapping everyone inside.
"What's going on?!" came a chorus of shocked voices.
At the centre, Ethan's wand pulsed with the same power as the shield. He smiled sweetly. "Just raising a barrier so the experiment isn't interrupted. No objections? You all had your chance to leave, after all."
The crowd could only stare in speechless indignation. You didn't say you were going to unleash an actual werewolf!
An Auror hurried to shield the new Minister. "Don't let him die on his first day!" he muttered, half delirious. "So much for 'nothing to fear'…"
Scrimgeour, whose own words rang in his ears, began to understand why Fudge had looked so utterly broken whenever Ethan was mentioned. And why there'd been that nasty glint of pleasure when he'd been offered the job.
Turns out, there was a landmine buried at Hogwarts.
Thankfully, Ethan wasn't planning to start a werewolf army right there. He raised his wand and incanted, "Incarcerous."
Ropes lashed from tip to ground, binding the transformed Lupin tight. The werewolf roared his frustration, but couldn't move.
The whole crowd recoiled.
Then Ethan drew a silver knife, stooped, and sliced the werewolf's arm. Drops of fresh blood fell into the bubbling cauldron.
He reached for another ingredient—Snape's eyes bugged as he recognised it. Was that moonflower? Pure white petals, an unmistakable aura of protection and power. Of all the potion ingredients in the world, Snape had never seen its match. Truly, that was the legendary moonflower—thought to be extinct.
Ethan, with his impossible miracles, had somehow brought it back from the dead.
Snape's knees nearly buckled as a wave of longing surged through him. For a single moonflower, he would do anything. Absolutely anything.
Comprehension dawned—this was why Ethan had asked Neville for help, not come to him. More than just ability, it was about the utter faith that Neville and all of Ethan's friends had in his vision to cure werewolves.
…Lost to Ethan again. Totally bested.
Ethan raised his wand over the cauldron, pouring in his luminous, unique magic—guiding the reactions with precision and care. The crowd had long since fallen silent, all fear forgotten, every ounce of attention locked on him.
Despite knowing it was impossible, hope flickered. Maybe a miracle was within reach after all.
Finally, as sweat beaded on Ethan's forehead, the potion in the cauldron thickened, concentrating into a swirling, iridescent silver.
He felt it—this was it. He killed the fire, poured out the potion, and with a quick flick of his magic, forced open the werewolf Lupin's jaws and poured the shimmering brew inside.
For a moment, Lupin coughed and shuddered—and the crowd remembered to breathe.
They stared in shock as Ethan's actions flowed from one to the next, sure and unhesitating.
Around the cauldron, Morning Star Club and all the students craned their necks and clenched their fists, hearts pounding.
Even Rita Skeeter, pen scratching feverishly mere moments before, was frozen in place, attention riveted.
Thump. Thum!.
Ethan stared down at Lupin, feeling his own heart hammering in his chest. All his magical skill, every Morning Star Club experiment, the months of relentless effort—everything had gone into this potion. All his luminous, sharpened power, every lesson learned, every risk taken.
It was worth it, for this… this miracle that would shatter fate.
A raw, wild howl tore through the air—
The werewolf began to change!