When he stepped out of the shattered glass and the swirling dust, Ethan Vincent had shed every disguise and returned to his true form.
Jet-black hair spilled like liquid night, eyes burning like twin torches in the dark. His tall frame stood amid the wreckage, an unshakable pillar that silenced the chaos with its mere presence.
In that instant, the tide turned.
"Ethan!"
Harry's voice cracked with desperate relief. His gaze fixed on the president of the Enlightenment Society—the wizarding world's new, terrifying savior—and the panic in his chest finally eased.
"Mhm. I'm here."
Ethan turned, a slow, dazzling smile curving across his unfairly handsome face. Beneath the golden flare of magic, he looked radiant. The perfect picture of a righteous hero arriving in the final second to save the day.
Then, right in front of Harry's widening eyes—
Ghost-blue fire licked across the left half of Ethan's face. Skin melted away like wax, revealing bare, gleaming skull. From his back, tattered black wings ripped free with a wet, tearing sound.
"Heehee~ Don't worry. None of them are leaving alive tonight♪"
His smile stretched too wide, too many teeth, too much manic glee. In the span of a heartbeat he was already among the Death Eaters.
Harry: "..."
One Death Eater blinked in confusion. "Wait—was that kid actually one of ours? Storming straight into the enemy like that—metal!"
…Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Harry stared at that face which could no longer be called human and let out a weary, self-mocking laugh. He tightened his grip on his wand, strength flooding back into his arms.
With Ethan here, they could not lose.
[ETHAN VINCENT—!!!]
High above, Lord Voldemort roared in fury.
The moment he saw the Aurors already waiting at Hogwarts, he understood everything. From the very beginning, his "resurrection ritual" had been nothing but a stage meticulously prepared by that insolent boy!
He could not bear to imagine what sort of mockery Ethan—disguised as the mild-mannered Mr. Lamp—had been hiding behind those polite smiles while Voldemort gloated about his coming triumph.
[But you never dreamed… that fate itself would lend me a hand, granting me the ultimate power I have always coveted!!]
BOOM!
Blood-red tentacles erupted outward. Like living roots they burrowed into the bodies of the surrounding Death Eaters in an instant.
"Tch! What the hell is this abomination up to now?" Mad-Eye Moody clicked his tongue, magical eye whirring. He barked orders at the Aurors to hold the defensive line and keep casting.
They were the elite—hand-picked by Dumbledore himself and stationed inside the maze for precisely this night. They had known Voldemort's resurrection was coming. But knowing and seeing were two different things.
Moody muttered under his breath, "Since when did the wizarding world turn into a bloody Cthulhu story…?"
Still, Death Eaters were Death Eaters. After one stunned heartbeat, the Aurors steadied themselves and met the horror head-on.
"Didn't think retirement would get this exciting," Moody growled, a savage grin splitting his scarred face. He glared up at the black-haired boy now soaring into the sky. "DON'T WASTE SPELLS ON THE TENTACLES! Focus fire—bring down the masked bastards!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Spells lit the gloom like fireworks, streaking toward the Death Eaters— only to be swallowed by writhing crimson flesh.
"ARRGH—it hurts—it hurts—"
"My Lord—no! We're your loyal servants—!"
Screams overlapped, raw and animal.
Mr. Goyle—broad, brutish, proud—now only regretted. Regretted everything. His insides were being rearranged by something hungry, something that sawed at nerves and soul alike.
Lucius Malfoy, that clever silver peacock, had refused to come tonight. Times have changed, he'd said solemnly. Now is the era of humanoid natural disasters.
Back then Goyle had laughed behind his mask. Coward.
Now he understood who the real fool was.
"Gregory…" In his last coherent moment, Goyle whispered his son's name—still safe at Hogwarts, still alive. Funny. He'd spilled rivers of other fathers' and sons' blood without blinking. But when it was his turn… he was terrified.
[Haa… haa…!]
Flesh ballooned, bones cracked and re-knit. The Death Eaters rose again as shambling, eyeless horrors. Their fallen wands lay abandoned on the grass.
[ROOOAAR!!]
They charged the Auror line.
Ethan cocked his head, smile sharpening— when a sudden gust screamed past his ear.
BANG!!
A blood-red tentacle, spear-stiff and glistening, slammed into his barrier and sent him skidding backward through the air.
Ethan looked up.
Lord Voldemort's lipless mouth twisted into a sneer atop the growing mountain of meat.
[Your opponent is me, boy.]
The mountain pulsed, wet and obscene.
[Since you were kind enough to choose Hogwarts as our stage…] [How could I refuse such generous hospitality?] [I'll kill you. Then I'll kill every last soul in that castle.]
Dumbledore included.
Right now, Voldemort felt invincible.
Rumble…
The colossal flesh-mountain lurched forward, tentacles dragging it through the maze like a living cataclysm, crushing hedge and stone alike as it advanced on the castle.
[HA HA HA HA HA! You will watch them all die screaming, boy—your friends, your teachers, every wide-eyed child!]
Ethan sighed theatrically.
"Someone's full of himself tonight."
He lifted his left hand. Scarlet lightning coalesced into a vicious, forked spear. In his right, a massive silver war hammer blazed with holy light.
Red and gold twined between his fingers like he held both hell and heaven on a leash.
Black dragon-scale armor unfolded across his body, layer after layer, drinking the moonlight, exhaling curses.
At the same moment, the entire maze answered his will. Thorns surged like living serpents, wrapping Voldemort's titanic form, barbs sinking deep. Crimson roses bloomed along the tentacles, drinking deep.
Death Bird wings. Black Dragon's cursed lightning spear. Dragon-scale armor that devoured magic itself.
Every spell pushed to its utmost limit. This was the gift of the elixir—his months of preparation finally bearing fruit.
"Ah… I've never felt this strong." Ethan's cobalt eyes fixed on the roaring mountain of meat. He raised both weapons high.
"Puppet of forces greater than yourself… you who fear death above all else—" His voice rang across the night like a death knell.
"On my name, Ethan Vincent, I grant you a glorious end."
"KNEEL, LORD VOLDEMORT!"
[IN YOUR DREAMS!!!]
BOOM—!!
Gold and crimson collided like colliding moons. The shockwave shredded the clouds, baring the starless sky. Ripples of raw magic tore across the maze and slammed into the spectator stands.
"Whoa! What the hell is that?!"
"Some kind of bonus boss Ethan added for the Tournament?"
"If Ethan's the one running the show, I'm not even mad."
Most students craned their necks, thrilled, thinking it was all part of the spectacle.
Only a few realized something had gone catastrophically wrong.
Hermione lowered her Omnioculars with shaking hands, face ashen.
Through the lenses she had seen it clearly— that pulsating, hatred-drenched mountain of flesh was not one of Ethan's "beautiful" horrors.
It was something else. Something evil beyond words.
And it was coming straight for them.
"The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey… Professor Dumbledore took down the protective screen… and now this appears…"
Even without seeing clearly, every instinct screamed that the lone figure trading blows with the monster was Ethan.
Hermione's voice trembled. "What… what is going on…?"
Then, out of the corner of her eye—
A pale figure in Ravenclaw blue was moving against the excited tide of students, descending the stands with eerie calm.
—Luna?
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze