The festive warmth of Christmas at Hogwarts faded like the last wisps of enchanted snowflakes drifting from the Great Hall's ceiling. Garland and tinsel were taken down, the towering trees vanished, and students who had left for the holidays began to return, filling the castle with bustling chatter once more. Ethan watched the school slowly shift back to its usual state, but his mind was elsewhere.
Since Christmas, an uncomfortable thought had settled in his mind, refusing to leave. Harry Potter had received an invisibility cloak. Not just any cloak, but the Invisibility Cloak, one of the legendary Deathly Hallows. Ethan remembered its description well. Perfect, undetectable, and ageless. A true artifact of legend. And its owner now roamed the castle at night, completely unseen. The realization hit that the Room of Requirement, his sanctuary for practicing advanced magic, was no longer a secret haven. If he was unlucky, he could very well walk straight into Harry Potter without ever knowing it. Or worse, Harry could follow him.
The problem wasn't just the potential loss of the secret space. It was the risk of being seen. Harry was a magnet for trouble, and the last thing Ethan wanted was to become entangled in the main story. He was not here to be part of Harry Potter's adventures. He was here to learn, to master magic, to explore the very limits of this world's arcane secrets. And for that, the Room of Requirement was invaluable. He couldn't risk losing it. He couldn't risk Harry finding it, not yet. He couldn't risk Harry finding him.
So he stopped going.
For some time, Ethan forced himself to avoid the seventh-floor corridor. Even the idea of wandering close to it felt dangerous. His schedule changed subtly. His free time that had once been spent pushing his magic in that secret chamber now became an exercise in patience. But he refused to waste this time. If he couldn't access his training room without fear, then he would focus on something just as important, reading.
Ethan buried himself in books on concealment, silencing, and misdirection. The library became his place to go once again, each day spent flipping through musty old tomes, scrawling notes on parchment, his quill scratching in the quiet. He avoided students, choosing the more isolated corners of the library.
His studies were meticulous. He started with the basics, reinforcing his understanding of the Disillusionment Charm, a charm that allowed one to blend seamlessly with the surroundings, though it was far from true invisibility. Mastering it was a challenge, as the charm required precise focus. Too little intent, and it left him half-visible, like a watery ghost. Too much, and his outline shimmered unnaturally, a dead giveaway to a trained eye.
From the Disillusionment Charm, he moved on to the Silencing Charm, Silencio. A spell he had always considered just a spell he would eventually learn, but now viewed as essential. Silencing his footsteps, muting the rustle of his robes, even stifling the faint creak of a door hinge. Ethan practiced this one the most, until he could cast it with barely a whisper, the faintest swish of his wand enough to silence a noisy chair leg or a squeaking floorboard.
But even that was not enough. The castle was filled with enchanted objects and watchful ghosts. So he dove deeper, learning about the Muffliato Charm, which created a faint buzzing noise in the ears of anyone nearby, masking his own presence. He practiced it on the far side of the library, testing it as others went past him. He would cast the charm quietly, then speak or make a small noise, watching them for any sign of reaction. When their heads remained bowed, eyes fixed on their books, he knew it was working.
Sometimes, it was embarrassing, acting like a fool and being noticed when the spell didnt work. But he had to test out his spell somehow.
Yet paranoia remained. The risk of being seen by someone who could pierce magical concealment was always present. Ethan knew that many of the teachers, especially Dumbledore and Snape, possessed magical senses far keener than his own. For them, a faint shimmer of a poorly cast Disillusionment Charm or the wrong flicker of movement would be enough to notice him. And there was still Harry Potter, wandering the castle beneath the perfect, true invisibility of his cloak. The idea gnawed at him, even in the safety of his own bed. Would Harry think to follow a faint shimmer he might glimpse in the darkness? Would he hear the softest sound, a muttered incantation in a quiet corridor, and grow curious? If he did, everything Ethan had worked for could be jeopardized.
Yet, despite this anxiety, Ethan's obsession with concealment grew. He began to test himself in the corridors at night, slipping past patrolling prefects, avoiding the sharp gaze of Mrs. Norris with a silent Silencio and a careful step. He would use Disillusionment in the shadows of the moving staircases, waiting as students passed without a second glance.
But even as he grew more skilled, a new idea began to take shape in his mind. It wasn't enough to hide his body. He needed to hide his magical presence, the subtle trace that all magic left behind. He needed to mask his spells, to cast without leaving a whisper of arcane residue. This was not something first-year students were meant to understand, but Ethan's situation was anything but normal.
His search for answers led him to obscure magical theory, references to magical signatures and magical suppression. He learned that every spell, even the most basic, left a faint trace, an impression on the magical world that could be detected by those with the skill to look for it. This was something he could not afford. If he cast a spell and Dumbledore was there or Snape, it was over.
So Ethan began experimenting, focusing not just on casting a spell, but on erasing the evidence of its use. He practiced in the darkness of his dormitory, wand held tight beneath his blanket, whispering charms and trying to draw in his magic, to cast without making an impact on the air around him. Yet sadly, it seemed too advanced for him. What was wrong? What was he missing?
Days turned into weeks, each filled with study, practice, and cautious observation. He walked the halls with care, always listening, always watching. He caught glimpses of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, always together, always talking. They were living their adventure, their story, while he was simply another student.
He wondered once again how far along they were with the Philosopher's Stone. Did Harry already witness the creature which drank unicorn blood? Or maybe they were trying to figure out who Hagrid got his dragon egg from?
Yet, it wasnt his business. So, the days of winter slowly passed on by. The snow outside began to melt, and Ethan's spells became sharper, his concealments tighter, his understanding of stealth a finely honed art. The Room of Requirement remained untouched for now, but in his mind, he was already planning, already considering when he might safely return, and what he would practice next.