One was meant for pranks, the other for skipping class—but it seemed Ethan didn't need either.
Of course, his Christmas gifts for George and Fred weren't any more serious. He'd given them popular little gadgets from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, hoping to spark some new ideas.
Then Ethan opened a small package. It felt like it contained a book.
Tearing off the wrapping, he found an old but well-preserved notebook with Minerva McGonagall written on the cover.
Inside were Professor McGonagall's notes from her early years teaching Transfiguration—detailed reflections on various problems she had faced and her thoughts after solving them. Ethan was stunned.
As one of the most renowned Transfiguration masters of the modern era, McGonagall's private notebook was nothing short of a treasure to any wizard aiming to master the subject.
For her gift, Ethan had chosen a cat-themed picture book from Eeylops Owl Emporium. It was no ordinary book—it was an alchemical product. The cats moved, stretched, and yawned across the pages, as if alive.
The next gift was also a notebook—but brand new.
This one was from Professor Flitwick, filled with his personal understanding of composite magic, along with his experiences in combat and spellcasting.
Ethan had asked Professor Flitwick about composite magic—a technique that combines multiple spells—more than a month ago. Flitwick had initially recommended several books, but now he had gone far beyond that.
The books had been insightful, but they lacked advanced theory. It was unclear whether the original authors had reached that level or simply chose not to share it.
Now, with Flitwick's personal notes in hand, Ethan knew his skill in composite magic was about to leap forward.
As for his gift to Flitwick, Ethan had given him a dress robe crafted from Acromantula silk, purchased at Twilfitt and Tattings. The material was extremely comfortable, though Ethan could only perform basic enchanting charms—he lacked the tailoring skills for a more intricate design.
Next, Ethan unwrapped a box of bookmarks. Each was crafted exquisitely and gave off a pleasant fragrance. This was Professor Sprout's gift.
It was especially fitting for a Ravenclaw student.
For her, Ethan had chosen a full set of Muggle botanical encyclopedias—thick, richly illustrated volumes detailing everything from common herbs to rare rainforest species.
In the following gift box, Ethan found a thick bundle of silver-white tail hairs—unicorn hairs. He was genuinely shocked.
There were easily one to two hundred strands. Hagrid had truly outdone himself. At ten Galleons a strand, that gift was worth more than most wizarding families earned in a year.
It must have been because Hagrid noticed Ethan collecting various magical materials recently.
Ethan's own gift for Hagrid was much simpler but genuinely helpful: Flobberworm repellent.
Hagrid had been complaining lately about Flobberworms ruining his vegetable patch. And though Hogwarts had a Potions Master, Hagrid clearly wanted to avoid Snape.
As Ethan continued unpacking, he found a fiery red feather that radiated gentle warmth.
It was from Dumbledore. A Phoenix feather, surely from Fawkes.
Ethan had returned the favor with something humble: a pair of woolen socks.
Though seemingly ordinary, woolen socks symbolized familial love—and no one truly knew what Dumbledore wanted, apart from the "jokingly" repeated mentions of socks.
Were all the professors' gifts stacked up like this?
As for Professor Snape—Ethan didn't dare expect anything from him. In fact, most Slytherins probably never received gifts from Snape.
Eventually, Ethan opened a box from Hermione. It held a stack of photos and a box of homemade chocolates. They looked messy but were clearly made with care.
Natasha sent a bottle of extra-hot chili sauce from London—possibly because she'd seen Ethan join Hufflepuffs for hotpot meals multiple times.
Cassandra gave a magical ring capable of casting the Shield Charm. It was decent alchemical gear, useful in both dueling and emergencies.
Penelope sent a scarf, knitted by hand. It was soft, stylish, and very warm.
Ethan had carefully selected gifts in return.
Hermione received a complete set of Hogwarts textbooks—first edition prints, pristine, and annotated with useful notes.
Natasha got a Golden Snitch, a real one. It wasn't cheap—costing two hundred Galleons—but it matched her Quidditch enthusiasm perfectly.
Cassandra's gift was a set of black Lolita-style princess dresses, which Ethan felt suited her cool, refined temperament.
Penelope received a sapphire necklace. Elegant and subtle, it shimmered just enough to catch the eye. He imagined it would look stunning with formal wear—though only she would see it under her wizard robes.
As for his roommates and other classmates—Harry, Neville, and the rest—Ethan mostly gave books, candies, and writing supplies.
Ravenclaws got knowledge. Hufflepuffs got snacks.
But Harry—Harry received something special.
Two Beretta 92F pistols.
And two boxes of bullets.
Crafted from aluminum alloy, each weapon had an eight-and-a-half-inch core with a concealed wand-embedded bullet chamber. Dual magazines held fifteen rounds each, with low recoil but considerable power. Even a physically weak wizard could handle them.
Ethan had once seen fan art of Harry dual-wielding pistols and had thought, That looks way better than a wand.
He now wanted to make that a reality.
Truth be told, these weapons were dangerous—even adult wizards could be killed if they weren't on guard.
After all the gift boxes were opened, a message appeared in front of Ethan:
[Achievement Unlocked: Popular New Star]
Smiles are like sunshine, warming the heart. Sincerity is like spring wind, comforting the soul. A truly popular person is like a shining star.
Achievement Goal: Receive more than 100 gifts in a single day.
Progress: (1/1)
Reward: Trait: Warm Sunny Boy
What the hell…? Ethan blinked. I'm already a warm and sunny boy! Isn't this just redundant?
Chapter 61: Double-Crossing
"Noddenham Cottage!"
Ethan enunciated the location clearly while throwing down Floo Powder. A green flame burst up and swallowed him whole.
The sensation was much like Apparition—only slightly better. It was like being squeezed through a tube but without the suffocating compression.
He arrived in a small, empty wooden cabin. Besides the fireplace, the only furniture was a single table and two chairs.
The setup had been arranged by Knockturn Alley smugglers, who had secret safe houses all over Britain. Floo Powder could transport people to any of these cabins. For international travel, they used Portkeys.
Today, Bacci traveled alone. Ethan and the others had been sent to the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
After stepping out of the hut, Ethan gave instructions:
"Dennis, handle the transaction as usual."
"Understood, boss."
Dennis led Dorn and Beckley, carrying the dragon egg, toward the agreed meeting place.
Meanwhile, Ethan drank a vial of Polyjuice Potion and transformed into a burly, middle-aged white man with dark hair, blue eyes, and a height of 1.9 meters.
The hair used for the potion came from a Muggle tourist—an American—because even if Ethan disguised his face, his short stature would betray him.
He followed them from a distance of about 500 meters.
When Dennis and the others arrived, Quirrell was already waiting.
The moment he saw them, he stepped forward anxiously.
"The dragon egg—did you bring it?"
He still wore a purple turban and smelled strongly of garlic, though he no longer stuttered.
He had spent all his savings on this deal. The dragon egg was critical for unlocking the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone.
Though Quirrell bitterly regretted that fateful expedition into the Albanian forest, he was too far gone now to turn back.
"Of course," Dennis replied calmly. "We might be expensive, but we value our reputation. Dorn, show him."
Dorn opened the box, revealing a gleaming black dragon egg—several times larger than an ostrich egg.
Quirrell stepped forward instinctively.
"No touching!" Dorn warned, stepping back.
Quirrell frowned. "How do I know it's not a fake or dead egg?"
"If you grab it and vanish with a Portkey, who do we chase for compensation?"
"It's the rule," Dennis added, blocking his path. "No touching until payment is complete."
"I'm Quirinus Quirrell, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts!" Quirrell snapped. "I guarantee the transaction."
Dennis scoffed. "That position? I'm a Hogwarts graduate myself. No Defense professor lasts a year—Azkaban, crippled, or worse."
"If you're serious, pay up. If not, we're leaving."
Quirrell opened his mouth, but couldn't argue. He did plan to obey the rules this time.
"After you pay," Dennis added, "you can inspect it all you like. We won't vanish."
"Trade with him," Voldemort's voice hissed in Quirrell's mind. "We don't have time to waste."
"Yes… Master," Quirrell whispered, pulling out a dragon-hide pouch enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
He had sold everything—even his house—for this.
Beckley stepped forward. Quirrell reluctantly handed over the pouch.
As Beckley poured the golden Galleons into a counting charm, Quirrell stood back, anxious but hopeful.
This deal had to succeed.
It was all or nothing.
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