As Ethan's words fell, the pub suddenly turned blood red. The pure white snowflakes outside the window vanished, like a falling curtain; everything was transford into a completely crimson hue.
"What... what's happening?"
The drunk patron raised his head in confusion, drunkenly glaring at Ethan and shouting, "Hey! Brat! What did you..."
Ethan's eyes shifted, lightly glancing at the drunk. The man choked as if grabbed by an invisible throat, his eyeballs bulging violently! In that terrifying mont, he seed to see twisted, grotesque things lurking behind Ethan: countless throbbing eyeballs looking down at him from constantly shifting flesh. His drunkenness vanished completely, and he was unable to utter another word.
Ethan nodded with satisfaction. "Seems our audience has excellent manners now."
In the heavy silence, Ethan withdrew his gaze, slowly walking toward the bar counter. His wand transford into a black cane tipped with silver, tapping on the floor with each deliberate, creaking footstep. With a light wave, ornate stairs materialized on the counter, connecting to the floor.
Ethan climbed the stairs gracefully, standing atop the bar. Then he turned around with theatrical flair, overlooking the stunned custors below. Smiling, one hand resting elegantly on his cane, the other conjuring a gleaming top hat above his head. He tipped the brim toward everyone with exaggerated politeness:
"Now, showti~"
Madam Rosrta instinctively wanted to applaud, but the pub was dead silent. Her motion halted as she turned nervously to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, what wonderful performance is your student presenting? Looks so impressive~"
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips tight, her expression grave, saying nothing at all.
The Three Broomsticks owner's enthusiastic smile gradually stiffened. "This is just the beginning. It's harmless, right? Right?"
Ethan is so gentle, kind, and helpful. He promised to help revitalize my pub. How could his personality suddenly change so drastically...
Just then, Rosrta suddenly rembered an overlooked question: Speaking of which, why hasn't Tom from the Leaky Cauldron asked Ethan for a 'repeat order' despite such booming business?
"Ow!" Ron's rat Scabbers suddenly bit him viciously! The creature dashed madly toward the door with desperate speed.
"Scabbers! Are you crazy?!" Ron covered his bleeding hand, his face flushing red as he shouted, feeling everyone in the pub staring at him with judgnt.
On the bar counter, Ethan looked down at the frantically fleeing Scabbers, Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed Harry's parents, grinning with dark delight. The performance has begun. The protagonist cannot escape his fate.
Ethan tapped his cane sharply on the counter. Everyone's attention imdiately focused on him like a spotlight. "Ladies and gentlen," Ethan spoke with crystal clarity, raising his hand to let the golden shrike land delicately on his finger.
In that mont, the shrike's pitch-black eyes overlapped perfectly with Ethan's. In a trance, they seed to rge as one entity, adding primal wildness to humanity.
"Oh~" Hermione cupped her flushed face, cheeks burning hot, murmuring entranced, "Such exquisite, masterful magic... when can I beco like Ethan..."
Harry erged cautiously from hiding on the floor, pushing his glasses up nervously. "When you change species."
Ethan's clear, authoritative voice echoed through the increasingly tense pub: "Next, I will demonstrate for everyone what punishnt awaits inforrs who cannot keep secrets."
"Chirp!" The golden bird opened its delicate beak, releasing a crisp, haunting sound.
Thump-thump! Thump-thump! Everyone's eyes widened in shock, hunching over in pain, desperately clutching their chests! As if pierced by countless invisible thorns! Hearts suddenly stabbed with excruciating sharpness!
The next second: "SQUEEEE!" An extrely piercing shriek! The rat clawing desperately at the blood-red barrier suddenly collapsed, convulsing violently on the floor!
"Scabbers!" Ron cried out, wanting to rescue his pet. But then, spurt! Countless thorny brambles pierced through the rat's body from beneath! The thorns continued to extend upward, growing at terrible speed. Finally, the thorny brambles twisted into a cross shape! Nearly piercing every inch of the rat's skin, blood flowing freely and staining the thorns crimson, far more blood than any normal rat should possess.
"Squee... eek...!" Strangely, impossibly, the rat still lived. Its black bead-like eyes bulged grotesquely, continuously making weak, miserable sounds, as if suffering trendous, unending agony.
Everyone sat dumbfounded, looking up at the massive blood-soaked cross, watching the struggling rat in horrified fascination. A bone-deep chill ran from their feet to their skulls! Sohow, the rat's tortured expression eerily resembled a human's.
"Chirp!" Another chirp, like a death knell tolling. The flowing blood pooled on the ground, then surged with unnatural life, extending a rotting finger. Instantly, the rat's screaming suddenly stopped. Its tiny eyes stared fixedly at the ground as a rotting human figure erged slowly from the blood pool, showing humanized fear and disbelief on what remained of its face.
No... impossible... Jas is dead! I saw his corpse with my own eyes! That was my gift to the Dark Lord... How can he appear here?!
BANG! Harry suddenly stood, his chair toppling over with a crash. His eyes stared fixedly at that flesh-draped skull, his mind going completely blank. Inexplicably, he felt deep, overwhelming familiarity, even wanting desperately to run up and embrace that terrifying skeleton. Just before the professors looked over in concern, Hermione yanked him down forcefully.
"Are you crazy?!" Hermione hissed urgently.
"S-sorry..." Harry's lips trembled, unable to explain the impossible feeling. Why does sothing Ethan created just to scare people feel so deeply familiar?
[Inforr...] A hoarse, hatred-filled growl filled the entire pub, real enough to send violent shivers through everyone present. The terrifying skull gripped the blood-slicked thorns with both skeletal hands, crawling with terrible purpose toward the unfortunate fat rat. One gold-brown eye that had fallen from its socket overflowed with tangible, burning hatred.
Everyone stared dumbfounded, frozen in their seats, even as beer dripped from slack mouths unnoticed. The Three Broomsticks owner stared at this nightmarish scene, muttering dazedly, "This is Hogwarts' excellent student? The aesthetic... is a bit too avant-garde for my taste..."
Professor Flitwick had already crawled completely under the table, squeaking in terror.
"Squee... AHHH!" Under everyone's horrified gaze, the rat shrieked piercingly one final ti, its head lolling to the side, finally fainting from the overwhelming trauma.
In the deathly silence that followed, a crisp snap rang out clearly. Everything disappeared in an instant: blood-red curtain, thorny cross, rotting skull, all vanished like smoke. The ordinary, familiar pub returned to normal, with Ethan still standing calmly on the counter.
At so point during the performance, a golden painting had materialized beside the youth. Aside from overwhelming golden radiance, nothing else could be distinguished, yet gazing at it caused ntal chaos and dizziness.
"The Call of Erised" [Makes viewers intensely obsessed, trapped in illusions]
Combined with "The Shrike's Nest," Ethan had constructed that blood-red nightmare illusion. As for the very real pain everyone felt... Ethan put away his wand discreetly. Ehehe~☆
Facing countless "admiring" gazes, like a perforr at a curtain call, Ethan elegantly removed his top hat and bowed deeply. Looking up with his most charming smile at everyone: "Well then, the performance concludes. Hope everyone enjoyed it. Please support the Three Broomsticks generously~"
The custors thought in stunned disbelief: When did the Three Broomsticks connect directly to the netherworld? Nobody sent an advance notice!
Professor McGonagall pald her face heavily, afraid to open her eyes. How I wish this was just a dream, and I'd wake still safely in the mortal realm...
Ethan's finger still held the golden bird delicately. Sharp-eyed observers noticed the golden bird's beak now bore a distinct touch of blood-red.
"Scabbers!" Ron finally recovered from his shock, crying out desperately. He knelt forward to scoop up the still-convulsing Scabbers, then imdiately withdrew his hand in disgust, grimacing. "Ugh! It's all wet and gross..."
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