Chapter 39: Me vs. God 1v1? (Big Fog)
Ethan looked at the red fireball, tennis-ball-sized, in his left hand, then raised his right hand. A black fireball of the same size appeared in his palm.
He slowly brought the two fireballs together, and the red and black flames instantly merged into a slightly larger black fireball. The result surprised him.
"Is black really that much more powerful than red?" he muttered.
After dispelling the fireball, he confidently summoned the blue flame over the lake.
This time was just as successful. He easily grasped the blue flame in his hand.
Even better, unlike last time, when grabbing the flame had left his palms covered in ash, now he simply waved his hand and thought, "Fly into my hand."
Propelled by magic and sheer will, the blue flame obediently rose from the water and settled into his palm, exactly as he had expected.
"Good boy." He touched the flame as if petting an obedient dog.
But flames weren't physical. Beyond the warmth, there was nothing to actually feel.
His hand passed right through the flames, and even when his sleeve brushed against them, it didn't catch fire.
When the two flames collided again, the black flame grew slightly larger than the red, but otherwise the result was much the same.
"I guess I need to actually develop this innate flame," he mused. The result was both surprising and expected. After seeing how the Incendio spell had interacted with his Black Flame, he'd known his innate flame wasn't ordinary, but he hadn't expected it to be quite this dominant.
He wondered, "How does the Black Flame compare to Fiendfyre and Gubraithian Fire? Will it still have the edge?"
Those two flames, one Dark and the other standard spellwork, were probably the most powerful magical fires in the world.
He washed the ash from his hands in the lake, then used a Levitation Charm to pull up a large volume of water, washing away any evidence before heading back to the castle.
Humming to himself, Ethan strolled back to his dorm, tossed his bag aside, dropped into a chair, and crossed his legs, bouncing his foot.
"You're in a good mood," Draco said. He'd just returned to grab some snacks. "What happened?"
"Nothing, I'm just happy!" Ethan grinned, his smile brilliant.
"Fine, don't tell me," Malfoy sneered, grabbing a few bags of snacks and heading out to continue schmoozing with the other important students.
Ethan just smirked, his good mood untouched.
Better yet, he conjured a fireball in each hand, closed his eyes, and hummed tunes no one else knew.
This went on for quite a while; when Draco came in for another snack, he was still like that.
A terrified Goyle whispered to Draco, "Draco, is he mad?"
Crabbe, standing next to him, nodded vigorously. He thought the same.
Draco glanced at the fireball hovering in Ethan's hand with his gray eyes, somewhat worried that the two fireballs might accidentally burn down the dormitory.
He shook his head. "I don't know. Who knows what's wrong with him this time? Let's ignore him for now; he should be fine after a good night's sleep."
Ethan heard every word, but he was in such a good mood that he remained lost in his own thoughts and had no intention of arguing with them.
The next day, Ethan was woken up by his roommate.
"Wake up, Ethan, wake up!"
He'd been sound asleep, lost in a beautiful dream, when someone shook him awake. He looked annoyed. "What's wrong? What's wrong? Why did you wake me up?"
"You kept laughing. It was terrifying. You woke us all up, and now we're too scared to sleep." Draco was hugging a pillow. Behind him, Goyle and Crabbe stood in their pajamas, also clutching pillows.
"Is it really that scary? Was I laughing that loud? I didn't feel anything." Ethan suspected he was exaggerating.
"Really, it's terrifying! Let me show you." Draco, afraid Ethan wouldn't believe him, did his best to imitate the laugh.
"Hehehe!"
"All right, all right. Did you two really hear that kind of laugh?" Ethan was getting creeped out and quickly stopped Draco, turning to the two behind him.
The two nodded, looking frightened.
"All right, you two go back to sleep. I should get up anyway." He glanced at the wall clock; it was already seven, and his alarm was set for seven-fifteen.
Going back to sleep and recapturing the dream was obviously unrealistic, especially since he had already promised Hermione.
He gave up on sleep, got up quickly, washed up, grabbed his backpack, and went to the Great Hall for breakfast.
As he walked up from the dungeons, he was still lingering on his interrupted dream. "What a pity," he muttered. "I was rampaging across the earth, storming heaven, killing archangels left and right. I was about to face God himself when I woke up."
He sighed. Would he ever dream so vividly again?
After breakfast, he packed some food, met up with Hermione, and headed for Hagrid's hut.
He kept up a steady stream of conversation to calm Hermione's nerves about meeting Hagrid for the first time.
"Hagrid! Hagrid! I'm here again!" Ethan called out. Hermione hung back about a hundred meters, waiting for him to finish.
"Nobody home? Did he go to the Forbidden Forest again?" He pressed his ear to the wooden door but heard no sign of Fang.
He waved at Hermione.
"Is something wrong? Is Hagrid not here?" Hermione asked, trotting over to join him.
He nodded, found two logs of suitable size, and sat down by the doorway. "Hmm, he's probably gone into the Forbidden Forest for firewood. Let's wait here."
Soon, the sound of a dog's barking drifted from the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"Hagrid's back. That's his dog, Fang. Don't worry, he won't bite you."
He introduced the dog to Hermione. She looked a little pale, so he reassured her that Fang was harmless.
Sure enough, with Ethan there, Fang didn't just refrain from biting; he completely ignored Hermione. The moment Hagrid loosened the rope, Fang bolted from the edge of the Forbidden Forest straight to Ethan's side, trying to lick his face again.
"All right, Fang, that's enough." Ethan was too weak to stop the dog, who towered over him on his hind legs, and could only endure the slobber covering his face.
Ethan gave her a wounded look, his meaning obvious: I'm suffering this for your sake.
Hermione chuckled at his pitiful expression.
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