Chapter 356: Assault on Gringotts! The Upgraded Portal — Doraemon's Anywhere Door!
Invoking Fate's hostility?
Well, that only meant he absolutely had to keep treating them.
Ethan's eyes lit up.
He smiled like a cat that had just spotted a mouse — bright with keen interest.
Which made Neville, standing beside him as they returned to the ward, shudder involuntarily.
…Every time Ethan made that face, someone was about to have a very bad time.
Last time.
It had been because Justin, trying to seem cool, had casually remarked that the club's training was too easy. Is that all?
The next day.
He was found hanging from the Whomping Willow.
Clothes in tatters. Unconscious.
A treasured piece of photographic evidence — later known as "The Day of Suffering" — was preserved for posterity.
Right at that moment.
Neville's grandmother, Madam Augusta, came storming in.
She shoved Ethan aside like a mother hen throwing herself in front of her chicks.
Placed herself between him and her son and daughter-in-law, and bellowed in furious outrage: "You — you demon! What have you done?!"
Then she rounded on Neville, voice dropping into a rapid scold: "Tch, I never should have listened to you, bringing an outsider into the ward. I always knew you weren't the sharpest — getting taken advantage of and thanking the person for it…"
Neville's face went pale. His head sank lower and lower.
Oh no.
Ethan shook his head quietly.
He opened his mouth, ready to bail Neville out.
But then a voice rang out. Low and hoarse, trembling, but packed with heat:
"I — I already told you — Ethan came here to help us!!"
Madam Augusta's scolding stopped dead.
She stared, wide-eyed, at Neville — who had jerked his head up and was glaring right back at her.
Only now, in this moment, did she realise.
This round little boy she'd raised with her own hands —
Had somehow grown taller than her without her noticing.
"I know I'm not as clever as other people," Neville said, his voice rough.
"But I remember who reached out to me when everyone else had written me off—!"
Though, he quietly swallowed the part about the suspicious "plant fertiliser" that sometimes arrived on his doorstep and moved of its own accord.
For the first time in his life, he pushed back against his formidable grandmother: "I never — not once — believed Ethan would hurt me!"
Thwack!
In his agitation, Neville slapped Ethan on the back.
Ethan said nothing, but quietly choked.
…Neville, you've clearly been holding back in Defence Against the Dark Arts. That's quite a lot of strength you've got there.
See you next class. :)
Hm.
Ethan's lips curved faintly. He felt a quiet swell of approval.
Well done, little lion.
"Neville…" Madam Augusta murmured, at a loss.
As if she no longer recognised the breathless, red-faced boy in front of her.
In the tense silence that followed.
"Mum… Ethan was… helping us…"
An unexpected voice spoke from behind them.
Madam Augusta went still.
Then she whipped around.
And stared at her son and daughter-in-law in disbelief.
What she saw: two faces that, while still hazy and scattered, were visibly clearer than they had been minutes ago.
Thin fingers reaching out to lightly clutch her sleeve.
A voice, quietly repeating: "Ethan… helped us… he's a good person…"
Madam Augusta stood with her mouth open.
For a long moment, she couldn't speak.
When she finally did, she pressed a hand over her face and made a sound — somewhere between a sob and a breath.
Astonished light blazed through those reddened eyes. "Merlin…am I dreaming?"
The nurses and Healers crowding the doorway were equally dumbstruck.
The most senior-looking Healer among them — his glasses had slid clean off his nose, dangling at an angle — hadn't noticed.
He was murmuring in disbelief: "Galloping Gorgons — how — how is this possible?"
"Their souls were shattered — they shouldn't have been able to improve at all —"
"Who on earth could have —"
He looked up.
His eyes landed on Ethan.
Recognition struck, and his expression blazed. He crossed the room in a flash, then dropped straight to his knees.
Threw his arms around Ethan's legs, tears streaming down his face: "It's you — Mr Vincent, who invented the Werewolf Cure Potion—!!"
"Please — you must come and grace our hospital with your guidance — please — let me study your brain!"
Ethan stared at him.
Why is dissection always the first proposal?
Tell me—are you a spy sent by Fate?
[You have performed a "Miracle", reversing the Longbottoms' deteriorating condition.]
[Lamp Brightness increased!]
Ethan felt the lamplight drifting inside his skull swell and grow.
Threads of golden radiance reached outward, connecting to everyone in the room.
Like candles being lit one by one, they brightened the pale, sterile ward.
In time.
This lamp's glow.
Would illuminate the world.
Amid the chaos, it was Madam Augusta who came back to herself first.
She smacked the Healer on the head and snapped, "Stop standing there making noise and go run tests on my son and daughter-in-law!"
The Healer flinched, nodding frantically. "Yes — yes, of course!"
Then everyone moved at once, bustling the Longbottoms out of the ward in a controlled flurry.
Quiet, finally.
Two seconds of silence.
Neville turned his head and said stiffly, "Shall we go?"
Ethan nodded.
He glanced back one last time at Madam Augusta, standing alone in the now-empty ward, and followed Neville out.
The Gringotts map was secured. The Soul Fusion boost and painting inspiration had been a welcome bonus.
Everything that needed doing here — done.
Just as Ethan reached the doorway, a low, rough voice drifted out from inside:
"Neville… I'm counting on you…"
"He's tough as old boots — work him as hard as you like. A bit slow, but… he's a good boy, that one…"
Ethan paused and looked back.
Madam Augusta stood alone, facing the empty beds.
Her back was to him. He couldn't see her face.
He nodded. "You can rest easy. I won't go easy on him."
Oh.
Recalling the frenzy of what Ethan had just done in there, Madam Augusta suddenly felt that perhaps "going easy" might actually be preferable.
The sound of footsteps faded into the corridor.
She let out a long, slow breath.
That spine — always ruler-straight — curved just slightly, the weariness of her years finally showing through.
Whether to someone else or simply to herself, she said quietly, "Neville's grown into such a fine young man… if you could see him… I know you'd be so happy."
"Ethan Vincent… hm. Quite the peculiar lunatic."
But also.
A miracle-working saviour.
Neville, you've made a very good friend.
Madam Augusta thought, with a warmth she hadn't expected to feel.
After weeks of preparation, as Christmas drew near, Ethan's assault on Gringotts was ready.
"Finally finished! The Longbottoms — evolved form!"
Ethan sat before an enormous canvas, eyes gleaming.
Looking at the magnificent figures on it, he couldn't help being very pleased with himself.
He smiled with great self-satisfaction.
"In honour of these brave Order of the Phoenix heroes, I took particular care with their design… Merlin, is this even art that a human being is capable of producing? I could worship myself."
"Heh~"
Look at that protruding snout. Look at that iron-black colour scheme. Look at that cold, formidable bearing.
What a flawless painting.
Why, then, had his roommates Michael and Stephen chosen to sleep in the bathroom rather than come back to the dormitory and appreciate this beautiful work of art with him?
"They must be too shy," Ethan concluded with confidence.
He put the painting away, checked the time, and made his plans.
"Perfect. After the midterm exams, I'll take them to Gringotts to unwind."
"Have a little play with the vault-guarding dragon. A thrilling bit of rail parkour with the goblin guards."
"My, my. What a thoughtful and dedicated teacher I am."
Ethan smiled pleasantly.
Another productive day.
"As for how to get straight to the Gringotts secret passage… we use this upgraded Portal card — the Anywhere Door!"
A few days later, on the weekend.
Morning Star Club members stood beneath the Quidditch pitch in a state of collective bewilderment.
The cold wind showed no mercy.
They shivered through it, staring at the person who had summoned them: Ethan Vincent.
Ethan: "Everyone! The moment we've all been waiting for—"
Gryffindor captain Angelina: "Ron! Stop drifting about! Hold the goalposts!"
Ethan: "We're going to rob Gringotts — ah, I mean, embark on a grand adventure for the betterment of society—"
Harry: "Ron! Don't pass straight at my face! I've got enough to deal with from the Bludgers!"
Ethan: "We shall infiltrate from below and give the goblins a lovely surprise—"
Ron: "STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!!"
Everyone:
Did we really have to do this speech right now?
It couldn't be helped.
After Oliver Wood graduated, new captain Angelina had fully inherited his philosophy of if it doesn't kill you, push harder.
Any free moment she had, she grabbed her players and drilled them relentlessly.
There wasn't a gap to be found.
In the Weasley twins' words:
"Wood's spirit has possessed her."
Eventually, today's training came to a close.
By then, the sun had barely climbed to its midpoint. Golden morning light filtered down through breaks in the cloud.
Harry and the others descended from the air, looking thoroughly exhausted.
The moment their feet touched the ground — while their sweat was still drying —
They were met with a smile as warm and gentle as a spring breeze.
Ethan: "Done? Time to head out~"
Harry & Ron & the Weasley twins:
NO — have mercy!!
But mercy was only found in shadow.
As blazing light, Ethan pressed ever onward.
"Move out — Gringotts underground passage!"
Ethan's shout rang out with excitement.
The card in his hand burst into a streak of flowing light, and a door took shape before them all.
Hermione made a surprised sound. "This door — it looks different from before, doesn't it?"
Indeed. The interior was no longer solid black.
Instead, it swirled like a rotating nebula, coiling into a deep violet vortex.
As if it would draw anyone who stepped inside into some unknown space.
Gulp.
Every single person swallowed. Their hearts rose into their throats.
[Name: Anywhere Door]
[Tier: Second-Tier · Gold Legend]
[Effect: An upgraded version of the Portal. No line of sight required — teleports to any known location.]
[Simply speak the precise name of the destination, and you will arrive.]
[Multiple Anywhere Doors can be set, enabling rapid travel between locations, and bypassing Apparition-blocking enchantments.]
With Ethan's words, a semicircular dial that had appeared on the door frame spun rapidly.
Like an elevator ticking through floors.
Then—
Ding.
It stopped.
The atmosphere inside the door shifted subtly, carrying a damp, cold, underground smell.
"Right then. See you on the other side."
Ethan winked and tipped the brim of his top hat at the assembled group.
Then stepped in first.
Ron watched that strange purple vortex swallow Ethan whole, his mouth working.
Finally, he couldn't help himself. "Does anyone else think the way Ethan talks is… always a bit odd?"
It was like being led straight to the underworld.
"That's just Ethan's sense of humour, little bro. You'll get used to it."
The Weasley twins clapped both hands onto Ron's shoulders simultaneously, nearly flattening him.
Under "Ickle Ronniekins'" loud protests, the two of them jumped through the door without a moment's hesitation.
And before long, the Quidditch pitch, once so busy and noisy, fell quiet.
When Captain Angelina came out of the changing room, ready to tell her team about a new tactic she'd thought of—
She found an empty pitch.
Just herself, standing there, alone.
"…Where did everyone go?"
Gringotts.
Deep underground, before a blood-spattered white dragon.
A small, hunched figure crouched in the shadows.
Swaying faintly, it muttered, "Treasure… the treasure belongs to the goblins… won't let anyone steal it… not anyone…"
The voice was raw — like sandpaper dragged across stone.
"ROAR!"
The dragon sensed something. It writhed and thrashed with agitation.
But the iron chain around its neck snapped taut, wrenching that enormous, heavy body down and forcing it to lower itself.
"ROOAAAR—!!"
The dragon howled in fury.
But beneath the rage in those slit pupils, something else had crept in.
Fear.
And a cringing, cowering smallness.
In the dark, Goblin Director Gornuk opened a pair of bloodshot, vacant eyes.
Several days earlier, an uninvited guest had come to Gringotts.
At the time, Goblin Director Gornuk had been worrying over a problem: ever since Voldemort's return and the upheaval caused by the new saviour, fewer and fewer wizards were coming in to deposit money.
Then, like a ghost, she had appeared in his office.
Bellatrix. Freshly released from Azkaban.
Gornuk would never forget the terror of seeing that figure.
Like something that had crawled out of Hell.
Not a patch of clean, undamaged skin anywhere on her body. Hair falling wild and tangled across her face.
And beneath it — those eyes.
Burning with absolute hatred.
If a wizard's power drew from emotion—
Then Bellatrix, in that moment, stood at the absolute peak of Dark Magic.
Those hooked fingers dug into the goblin director's shoulder.
Blood ran freely.
And yet beneath those terrible eyes, Gornuk couldn't feel the pain.
"He stole my wand… he'll come here. He'll come to steal the treasure the Dark Lord entrusted to me!"
The screech scraped through Gornuk's mind like broken glass.
He trembled from head to foot, eyes wide and vacant.
Capable only of a soft, lost "ah… ah…"
Entirely petrified.
Bellatrix screamed with everything in her:
"Kill him! Kill that damned little wretch — Ethan Vincent!!"
Black magic poured into Gornuk's mind.
Dragging up the darkest thing inside him.
…She was right, wasn't she?
It was all Ethan Vincent's fault.
If he hadn't gone stirring things up, nobody would be this unsettled.
Don't trust the goblins? What — worried that after they die, the goblins will pocket their vaults?
Laughable.
The Ministry has its own hand in that particular pot.
Under the influence of that dark magic, threads of red slowly crept into Gornuk's eyes.
Bone and muscle began to warp, crack by crack.
He opened his mouth and, in a distant, hoarse voice, repeated:
"Kill… kill Ethan Vincent…"
"I will not… let him take… what is mine…!!"