Brilliant, ethereal blue ice crept over Nagini's pale face, freezing her expression in a permanent mask of shock.
Whoosh—
An extreme, soul-piercing chill radiated outward. This wasn't merely cold; it was a frigid void that could freeze time and life itself, drawn from the depths of the space behind the Veil of Death.
Nagini's body, her heart already carved out, was frozen just a moment before total collapse. Like a candle flickering in its final seconds, her life was being forcibly maintained by the ice.
"My apologies," Ethan murmured. He looked at the iceberg he'd created to banish death, his lips curling into a sharp, chilling smirk. "But I am destiny."
Tragic, helpless deaths were simply too unrefined for his taste.
Inside the ice, Nagini's eyes trembled slightly. Her mirror-like pupils reflected the handsome, tall silhouette of the black-haired youth. A flicker of sorrow and moved emotion appeared in her gaze, as if she were trying to tell him:
It's no use.
Her death was inevitable. No matter how powerful the magic, it couldn't last forever. Once the ice melted, her body—ravaged by decades of the blood curse—would dissolve into nothingness.
As if confirming her thoughts, a row of glowing blue subtitles appeared before Ethan's eyes:
[Ice Prison is now in effect!]
[Estimated Duration: 80 days]
"It can actually last for over two months?" Ethan raised an eyebrow, the result exceeding even his expectations. "I suppose I shouldn't expect less from magic extracted from behind the Veil. Even someone as thoroughly eroded as Nagini can be held for this long."
He paused, a dark glint in his eyes. "If this were an ordinary wizard, they'd likely be trapped inside for a lifetime."
Ethan couldn't help but feel a sense of self-congratulation. It was a good thing he had his own people placed within the Ministry of Magic. Otherwise, if he ever got stuck in a place like that, escaping would be a real headache.
"Once this raid is over, our dear Auror lady should be due for another promotion," Ethan mused. "After all, there's basically no one else left, is there?"
In his mind, the path to a bright future was simple: just eliminate the competition. He nodded in satisfaction, feeling he had truly mastered the essence of personnel management.
Three months seemed like a generous amount of time. However, Ethan was attempting something that no one had achieved in centuries.
He was going to develop a cure for the Maledictus.
"Nagini's death is partly due to the total eruption of her curse. If the curse can be cured, there might still be a turning point," Ethan whispered to himself.
It was worth a try. Not just for the sake of saving her, but because Nagini was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes and had absorbed the power of the Death God. If he could bend that power to his own will, he'd have another powerful general on his side.
"Besides... I have a feeling there's a deeper connection between her and the Death God..."
Ethan's eyes flickered. The predecessor of the current "Death God" was the former Obscurial, Credence Barebone. Ethan didn't believe for a second that Credence would simply ascend to godhood without any lingering attachment to Nagini.
"I can't let her die just yet," Ethan concluded. He snapped his fingers with a light, effortless motion.
A potion. His primary goal for the next two months was to invent a cure for the Maledictus. Fortunately, the new Potions Master this term, Mr. Slughorn, was already supposedly working on it.
"Come to think of it, I've been so busy since the term started. I haven't checked in on the old professor in quite a while. I wonder if he's adjusted to campus life?" Ethan sighed, shaking his head with mock concern. "Dear me, what a dereliction of duty as Headmaster."
His gaze hardened with sudden resolve. He took one last look at Nagini trapped within the ice, then thrust his silver-white rapier into the ground.
The pitch-black world of the soul shattered instantly.
Wait for me.
The benevolent Mr. Lamp would never abandon a devout believer.
"Old walrus... I hope you don't disappoint me."
Ethan closed his eyes, letting his consciousness and body plummet back into reality.
Hogwarts, Potions Classroom
"Excellent! Truly marvelous, Mr. Potter!"
Horace Slughorn boomed with praise, heartily patting Harry on the back. He looked at the famous "former Savior" as if he were a rare, limited-edition collector's item. Harry's face flushed red, and he gave a shy, awkward laugh.
Slughorn was thoroughly enjoying his current life. Since returning to Hogwarts, he had been as busy as a hardworking, plump honeybee, buzzing around to "collect cards"—specifically, talented students.
He had successfully restarted the Slug Club, pulling in new influences and sharing delicious crystallized pineapple alongside even more delicious social connections.
He was having such a grand time that he had completely pushed the matter of the Maledictus potion to the back of his mind. It wasn't like he could brew the thing in a day or two anyway, so why waste the effort?
Professor Snape had once reminded him: "The task Ethan gave you should take priority over everything else. You would do well to put your full effort into it."
But Slughorn still didn't think it was a big deal. Blood curses were extremely rare. It wasn't as if a Maledictus was going to pop out of nowhere right now, desperately needing a cure, was it?
Haha, what are the odds of such a coincidence!
Besides, their newly appointed Headmaster had been busy with God-knows-what lately. Slughorn was flourishing; he had even put on a noticeable amount of weight.
Time flew by, and soon it was Christmas.
Inside the Potions Master's office, Slughorn stood before the mirror, checking his appearance. He loosened his polka-dot tie slightly and pinched his protruding double chin, sighing.
"Alas, I'm getting old."
[You're getting fat,] the mirror replied mercilessly.
"Must you be so honest?" Slughorn grumbled, though his face soon broke into a look of irrepressible pride.
Tonight, he was hosting a grand Christmas dinner. He had only invited students who were "worthy." This generation of Hogwarts students was brimming with talent, comparable even to the era of James and Lily. It was a resurgence of his glory days.
"Lily…"
Thinking of that poor girl made Slughorn's mood dip for a moment, but he quickly adjusted. He smoothed his robes and, with a dignified, slightly pompous stride, left his office for the banquet hall.
Tonight was destined to be a night of brilliance.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of his soft-soled leather boots echoed through the empty, silent corridor. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a cold, silver light that reflected off the dark surfaces of the suits of armor.
"Hmph. Have they all gone to the hall already?" Slughorn rubbed his wrists, looking around in confusion. "Why is there no one here…?"
Ever since Ethan took over, strange things often happened in the castle (there was even a club dedicated to investigating urban legends now). Slughorn felt a bit hypersensitive, his nerves on edge.
Suddenly, the words of his colleague, Severus Snape, flashed through his mind:
You had better finish what Ethan assigned you first.
A tiny prickle of guilt and unease wormed its way into Slughorn's heart. He involuntarily picked up his pace. Eventually, he was almost at a trot, his buttery fat wobbling as he rushed toward the hall.
Thump!
Slughorn grabbed the handle of the banquet hall door, his eyes wide and his breath coming in ragged gasps like an exhausted ox. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.
He pulled out a handkerchief with trembling hands and wiped the sweat from his brow. Then, he let out a sheepish chuckle. "Scaring myself over nothing. Nothing happened at all."
"Right then. Can't appear before the students looking like a mess. Tonight is the night to showcase my connections and expand my influence. This is my moment!"
Slughorn clenched his fist, his eyes full of anticipation. After casting a few grooming charms on himself to look radiant, he plastered on a perfect smile.
He pressed the handle down and pushed the door open.
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