Since those fools couldn't grasp
subtlety, Ethan decided to give them some help.
"You lowly mudbloods, Petrificus Totalus..."
Barry's face turned crimson as he whipped out his wand and aimed it at Ethan. But before he could finish his spell, a streak of red light hit him squarely in the chest, sending him hurtling backward four or five meters—like he'd been hit by a speeding car.
It was the Knockback Jinx. A simple, basic spell—nothing flashy.
But Ethan had spent time with Professor Flitwick, refining his casting technique. And after weeks of practice and self-improvement, he could now cast simple spells silently, even if they weren't ones he'd used extensively before.
"One down," Ethan muttered, turning toward the four remaining Slytherins.
They had come as a unit, believing in the strength of numbers. Companions in mischief, in arrogance—but now they were frozen with fear.
"D-don't come closer!" Harvey, the loudest one earlier, trembled as he backed away. For the first time in his life, he understood what a true genius looked like.
That last spell—silent. Dead silent. They were fourth-years and still chanting like schoolkids. The gap between them and Ethan was beyond intimidating.
He had dropped Barry—their strongest—with a single blow. What hope did the rest of them have?
"What are you scared of?! There's only one of him! If we attack together, we'll overpower him!" one of the Slytherins shouted, trying to rally the others. But his trembling hands betrayed his fear.
Still, his words sparked a brief surge of courage. The remaining three quickly drew their wands and pointed them at Ethan.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Bombarda!"
"Diffindo!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Bang!
The abdomen of the loudest shouter exploded in a mess of blood and flesh. Shards of bone and fragments of organs sprayed onto his horrified companions.
Meanwhile, Ethan stood untouched, a magical shield glimmering faintly around him, absorbing all incoming spells. The shield shimmered with ripples but held strong.
Siphon Energy.
It was a technique Ethan had quietly developed—causing an opponent's spell to backfire while drawing their magic into himself, reinforcing his shield and amplifying his next spell.
He had held back just enough to prevent the boy from being blown to pieces. Injuring someone in Hogwarts was one thing. Killing them was something else entirely.
"H-he's dead!"
"Find a professor! Quickly!"
Chaos erupted. The students watching—those who had seen fights and bullying before—now stared in horror. No one had expected blood. No one thought it would end like this.
But Ethan ignored the panicked crowd. He turned to the remaining three Slytherins, calmly waving his wand.
Flip.
The three boys were lifted into the air, hung upside down by their ankles. A tongue-tying curse sealed their mouths, preventing them from pleading for mercy.
They dangled there, helpless, watching Ethan advance step by step.
Psychological pressure mounted with each second.
Ethan reached out with a flick of his wrist, and five wands flew from their owners into his grasp. With a whispered Sectumsempra, invisible blades sliced through each wand, severing them neatly in half, exposing cracked cores and torn bindings.
The wands were destroyed—useless now. And they were innocent, really. But in Ethan's eyes, they were better off without masters like these.
He kept half of one wand and discarded the rest.
Then, with another spell, he Transfigured the remaining half. It grew, warped, thickened—until it had become a baseball bat.
Pocketing his wand, Ethan now held the bat casually, walking toward the three upside-down boys with a calm, almost friendly smile.
Some of the younger students in the crowd looked like they wanted to intervene, but none dared to step forward.
Ethan had always been the "good student"—quiet, polite, seemingly harmless. That made him an easy target, or so they thought.
Today, he'd show them just how wrong they were.
"Don't be scared," he whispered as he patted one boy's face. "Take a deep breath. It'll be over soon."
Then, thoughtfully, Ethan removed the tongue-tying spell from the three of them. After all, it would be a shame not to hear their screams.
Crack!
The bat slammed into the first boy's left elbow. He screamed like a wounded animal. Blood drained from his face as he cradled the shattered joint.
Crack!
The bat struck again, this time breaking his right arm. Both limbs now hung limp and useless.
Next came the legs. As for the fifth limb... Ethan decided against it. He still had a reputation to maintain.
"Please! Please, we'll give you Galleons—be your servants—just let us go!" the other two cried, their voices hoarse with fear.
But Ethan didn't even slow down.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Four more strikes. Eight more bones shattered.
"Don't worry," Ethan said calmly. "You're all in this together."
He turned to the boy whose stomach had been blown open. The wound was horrific, blood still seeping. Ethan didn't use the bat here—he simply stomped down, hard, on the wound.
Then, with a flick of his wand, he performed a Transfiguration spell—not to heal, but just enough to stop the bleeding.
What happened next wasn't his concern. As long as the boy didn't die, it wasn't Ethan's problem.
If this weren't Hogwarts, Ethan would've summoned grimwings to eat their brains—and maybe Voldemorts for their corpses.
Suddenly, from behind him—
"Mr. Adrien—I was wrong! Please forgive me! Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle told us to do it—it was Draco Malfoy behind this!"
Barry, who had pretended to be unconscious, suddenly sat up, pale and trembling, hoping to shift the blame.
"Oh, really?"
Ethan gave him a cruel smile—and then struck him across the mouth with the bat.
Blood splattered. Teeth clattered to the ground.
"Swallow it."
Barry obeyed.
Even so, Ethan didn't skip protocol. Barry's turn came, just like the rest.
Only after everyone had received their punishment did Ethan discard the bloodied bat and calmly await the professors.
He knew he'd be punished. But he had also made sure his actions couldn't be seen as outright murder.
It was self-defense. And Ethan was prepared.
Chapter 50: Malfoy's Lingering Fear
"Ethan—you… you're okay!"
Penelope arrived, flanked by over a dozen Ravenclaw students. The moment she took in the scene, she froze, momentarily speechless.
She had panicked after hearing about the situation, forgetting Ethan's strength. Now, seeing the aftermath, she realized she'd worried about the wrong person.
Ethan hadn't been bullied—he was the one others should fear.
The commotion started just after their last class. A frantic third-year Ravenclaw boy had rushed into the hallway. As a prefect, Penelope had stopped to ask what was wrong.
He told her that Ethan was being attacked by five older Slytherins. Without hesitation, Penelope had gathered any fifth-year Ravenclaws nearby and raced to the scene.
Unfortunately, the boy had missed most of the fight. He still thought Ethan was in trouble.
But what they found here wasn't a rescue mission. It was a warzone.
"You do realize what this might cost you?" Penelope whispered to Ethan as the others checked on the injured.
She thought he'd gone too far. A harsh lesson was one thing—but shattered limbs and broken wands? That could bring serious consequences.
Breaking a wand in wizarding culture wasn't just damage—it was deeply personal. Practically a death sentence for that wand's life.
Even if the victims were too scared to retaliate, the gesture itself left scars.
And what about Hogwarts? Would Ethan be expelled?
"What consequences?" Ethan replied coolly. "At worst, I get detention."
"They're not dead. Just a few potion vials and they'll be back to normal. Isn't their Head of House a Potions Master?"
Penelope frowned. "Are you sure you won't be expelled?"
"Positive," Ethan said confidently.
They had attacked first. He had simply defended himself.
And Professor Flitwick would never abandon his own student.
Even Dumbledore wouldn't expel Ethan—not when he possessed such obvious and dangerous potential. Expelling him would be risky. Very risky.
If Ethan left school, bitter, wronged, with his kind of power… he could become anything. A threat. A future Voldemort.
Better to keep him inside the school, under watch. That's what Dumbledore would decide. Ethan was sure of it.
More students arrived—some from the library, drawn by the screams.
"Ethan, what happened?" Cassandra and Hermione hurried up to him.
"Those guys tried to steal my Baruffio's Brain Elixir recipe," Ethan said simply. "I said no. They attacked. I won."
Cassandra gave him a knowing nod.
"If Dumbledore tries anything, I'll talk to my father."
Her father was high up in the Ministry's Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. His voice carried weight—even with Dumbledore.
Hermione, meanwhile, was near tears. A rule-abiding Gryffindor to her core, she feared the worst. Expulsion.
But Ethan stood tall, calm and certain.
He wasn't going anywhere.