The sea stretched endlessly before them, its surface a battlefield of chaos and destruction. Broken planks and torn sails drifted like wounded soldiers across the churning waters, twisted ropes snaking between the debris like maritime serpents seeking refuge.
Ethan planted his boot firmly on the ship's railing, his cobalt eyes drinking in the vast expanse of turbulent ocean. The salt-laden wind whipped through his black hair as a surge of heroic ambition coursed through his veins like liquid fire.
"This is the beginning of my great journey!" he declared, throwing his arms wide to embrace the endless horizon. His voice carried across the waves with the confidence of a conqueror claiming new territory.
Mr Lovegood surveyed the apocalyptic seascape, watching Dark Wizards flailing desperately in the frigid waters like rejected auditions for a maritime disaster film. The poor man felt his daughter's friend might be better served by leaving his great journey firmly in the planning stages.
"Should we help them with their scattered belongings?" Luna asked innocently, pointing her wand toward the glinting objects in the water. "Accio lost coins!" The spell drew only the loose currency that had spilt from the wreck, leaving personal effects untouched.
"Genius!" Ethan's approval came with an enthusiastic thumbs up.
Luna giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Thank you!"
"Well..." Mr Lovegood began tactfully, his conscience wrestling with practical considerations, "This money technically belongs to other people. Perhaps we shouldn't..."
"Finders keepers," Ethan declared with the moral flexibility of a career pirate. "I don't see any names engraved on these coins."
Lovegood sighed in defeat. Was this the kind of ethical education Hogwarts provided? He made a mental note to review their curriculum more carefully.
The father-daughter duo eagerly collected their windfall, counting six precious Galleons alongside respectable piles of lesser denominations. Not a bad haul for an afternoon's fishing expedition turned nautical demolition derby.
The real prize, however, hung majestically from their mast like a silver banner of victory. The Remora Fish King's massive form caught the dying sunlight, its scales gleaming with otherworldly beauty as it swayed gently with the ship's motion. Securing such a colossal creature had required considerable magical engineering to prevent their mast from snapping under the tremendous weight.
Ethan had encased the creature's head in shimmering water bubbles, ensuring their legendary catch wouldn't suffocate during the journey home.
"Reparo," he commanded, watching their battle-scarred vessel reassemble itself. Shattered timbers fused seamlessly, torn sails mended their wounds, and water cascaded from the rising bow like a maritime rebirth.
Hull Harbour spread before them like a welcoming embrace, their ship cutting through the waves with renewed purpose.
On the weathered docks, Butcher Jack maintained his patient vigil through clouds of tobacco smoke. His weathered hands cupped his pipe while predatory eyes scanned the horizon with unwavering focus.
"Still playing the waiting game?" a passing wizard enquired with mild amusement.
"Don't bother," another voice chimed in. "Your wealthy customer probably became fish food hours ago."
Jack's grunt carried absolute conviction. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."
Something deeper than logic kept him anchored to those salt-stained planks, enduring the bitter wind's embrace until sunset painted the sky in shades of fire and gold. His butcher's instincts whispered that abandoning his post now would mean missing something extraordinary.
"There!" Jack's shout cracked like thunder as he vaulted to his feet. "They're coming!"
A distant speck materialised on the horizon's edge, growing larger with each passing moment as it raced toward shore with determined purpose.
Word spread through the harbour like wildfire, drawing curious onlookers who gathered with the anticipation of spectators awaiting a gladiatorial match.
As the vessel drew closer, a sharp-eyed sailor's voice shattered the expectant silence: "Sweet Merlin's beard! What in blazes did they tie to that mast?!"
Every eye followed his pointing finger, and the collective gasp that followed could have powered a small windmill.
The approaching ship cast a shadow that seemed to swallow the entire harbour. Suspended from the mast like some primordial sea god's trophy hung a creature that defied comprehension. Dozens of metres of silver-scaled magnificence caught the light like liquid mercury, its massive form rising and falling with each laboured breath.
Eyes the size of dinner plates regarded them through crystal-clear water bubbles with an intelligence that made several observers question their understanding of marine biology.
Jack's pipe tumbled forgotten to the dock as his jaw fell slack. In four decades of professional butchery, he'd never witnessed anything approaching this scale of aquatic magnificence.
Then they saw the boy.
Ethan stood at the bow like some mythical sea prince, black hair streaming behind him as golden sunlight painted dramatic shadows across his aristocratic features. Only his piercing cobalt eyes remained clearly visible, cutting through the glare like twin sapphires announcing a new age of fishing excellence.
With theatrical precision, Ethan raised his delicate fishing rod toward the sun like Excalibur being claimed from its stone.
The crowd's response was immediate and volcanic.
"INCREDIBLE!" voices roared across the water.
"Fifty years on these docks and nothing comes close!" an old salt declared with religious fervour.
"You've hooked the North Sea's head of state!" another shouted, his laughter mixing with genuine awe.
Jack finally recovered his composure, though his eyes remained suspiciously moist as he whispered, "Yes... this is prey worthy of that bait."
The first bid cut through the excitement like a blade: "Three hundred Galleons for that monster!"
"Three hundred?" came the scornful reply. "Try five hundred, you cheap bastard!"
"Five-fifty!"
"Six hundred!"
The market manager stepped forward with predatory confidence. "Twelve hundred Galleons, final offer. I'll take it off your hands right now."
Silence fell like a curtain as lesser bidders acknowledged defeat. Twelve hundred Galleons represented more wealth than most would see in a lifetime.
Ethan nodded solemnly. "Twelve hundred once... twelve hundred twice..."
The manager's smile turned wolfish as he calculated the prestige this trophy would bring to his establishment.
"Twelve hundred three times... sorry, not for sale."
The man's expression froze mid-smugness. "What do you mean, not for sale? You just conducted an entire auction!"
"Just checking market value," Ethan replied cheerfully, then flicked his wand with casual precision.
The Remora Fish King sailed through the air in a graceful arc before striking the harbour with the impact of a falling meteorite. The resulting splash created a tidal wave that soaked every spectator within fifty yards.
In seconds, their magnificent catch vanished beneath the dark waters, leaving only ripples and stunned silence.
Ethan dusted off his hands with satisfaction. He was, after all, a devoted conservationist who'd only wanted the creature's magical essence. The twelve hundred Galleons? Frankly insulting for such a legendary specimen.
"You arrogant little..." the manager began, his face cycling through several shades of apoplectic rage.
"ROAR!" The sound hit the harbour like a physical force, rattling windows and sending smaller boats rocking in their berths.
The Cerberus materialised on the dock with ground-shaking impact, its obsidian mane flowing like liquid shadow. Six burning orange eyes fixed on the crowd with barely restrained violence while acidic saliva dripped from oversized fangs. The creature's mere presence seemed to draw light from the surrounding air, creating an aura of menace that spoke directly to humanity's most primitive fears.
The manager's threats died in his throat like words written in sand before an incoming tide. "Perhaps... we could arrange an escort to see you safely on your way?"
Amid nervous laughter and reluctant admiration, Ethan's party departed Hull Harbour as conquering heroes. The local hospitality had proven both memorable and educational. He'd definitely return for future fishing expeditions.
During the remaining Christmas holidays at Luna's home, Ethan found inspiration in the delicate morning mists that danced across frozen meadows. He carefully extracted scales that had fallen during their maritime adventure, still shimmering with residual magic from the Patronus Charm he'd claimed.
Working with the focused intensity of a Renaissance master, he created something extraordinary.
[Name: Eergani's Skirt]
[Type: Artefact]
[Grade: Tier 2 - Golden Legend]
[Description: Light as gossamer, hard as iron]
[Effect: Can resist all curses and reduce dark curse effects; however, this item has bearing limits—when exceeded, it will shatter.]
[Evaluation: Using a goddess's skirt as a shield? How delightfully irreverent!
The finished work dissolved into pure light, condensing into a gossamer veil that seemed woven from captured moonbeams. The fabric felt impossibly light against his skin, its surface decorated with scales that shifted between silver and pearl depending on the viewing angle.
"Incendio," Ethan commanded, directing crimson flames at his creation.
The fire passed harmlessly through the veil without leaving the slightest mark.
Perfect.
His eyes gleamed with triumph and barely contained anticipation. Soon he would face the basilisk's deadly gaze, armed with this masterpiece of protective magic.
After a moment's hesitation, during which his artistic pride warred with practical necessity, he placed the ethereal veil over his head. The humiliation was temporary, but surviving his upcoming encounter with Salazar Slytherin's monster required this small sacrifice of dignity.
Everything depended on this delicate barrier between life and a very permanent, very stone-like death.