None of them noticed that on the ground, where a dark wizard ought to have been unconscious, Barty Crouch Jr.'s face twisted with hatred for a fleeting second.
Beside him, Luna pouted as she looked at the figure on the high platform and gave a soft huff.
This was nothing like Ethan at all.
"That's the student who invented the werewolf cure potion! His na is Ethan Vincent!" soone shouted.
"rlin, does this an we're saved…?"
"Can a single student really defeat that thing?"
"Co on, painting big brother, you can do it!"
Cries and mutters rose and spread through the camp. Every gaze fixed on the boy standing tall above them, like life returning to a land that had been dead and still.
Whatever else might be true, right now Ethan was their one and only hope.
None of them could have imagined that the "great hero" before their eyes was actually a puppet in disguise.
High in the air, the real Ethan closed his eyes, squeezing out the last dregs of his magic to maintain his ntal link to the puppet.
That flock of golden birds earlier had been his doing as well.
He had just hit himself with his own attack to stage the grandest performance possible.
But it was ti to end it.
His magic would not hold much longer. The opening act was already perfect.
Ethan adjusted his pure white mask and looked down. In the deeper, older voice granted by the Aging Potion, he said slowly, "Remarkable. To think the wizarding world still has such outstanding talent."
He paused. Even he felt a touch embarrassed.
Sotis, speaking the truth was awkward.
Then he flung his arms wide and barked, "But what else have I seen?"
"I have seen rot. I have seen chaos in the office and laws that are nothing but a farce."
From behind the blank white mask, a voice like rich wine flowed out—low and elegant, not deafening, yet it made everyone fall silent and crane to hear.
"Trials that will listen to only one side, bought and bent by gold and power. The fortress prison of Azkaban, nothing more than a breeding ground for further evil."
"Even a father can spirit his son out of Azkaban, use his position to hide him under his own roof, and deceive the entire world."
On the ground, in the camp, Mr Crouch—until now furiously interrogating his house-elf over Barty's disappearance—stiffened.
His always-rigid eyes flew wide as he stared upwards in disbelief.
A father who swapped his son out of Azkaban.
Who else could that be?
And yet this was supposed to be a secret known to no one.
Who in rlin's na was this man?
As if in answer to the question burning in so many minds, the voice rang out again.
"I am called Mr Lamp. The guiding light on the road ahead, the sun that will herald a new age."
Mr Lamp.
Whether they had heard the na before or not, everyone carved those two words deep into their hearts in that instant.
[You have left a deep impression on the crowd. Soul attunent increased by 1.8%.]
Behind the mask, feeling another surge of magic squeeze out from within, Ethan smiled.
Whether the people below could see it or not, he bent at the waist in a formal bow, half curtain call, half announcent of a new act to co.
The gesture made Hermione frown.
Why did that look… familiar?
"Mr Lamp," Ethan said, "in light of the fact that soone did step forward tonight, I will stop here for now."
"However, rember this."
He raised his head and turned the blank mask toward them all.
"After this night, the Morning Star has fallen… and darkness will rise."
After all, a dazzling lamp only shone at its brightest in the deepest night.
He snapped his fingers.
Behind him, the Rat King, who had been supporting him all this ti, stretched out its withered arms, curling them around him and hiding his body.
Further back, Star-Colour floating in the sky thrust out even larger arms, enveloping both Ethan and The Rats in the Walls in its grasp, like a flower bud closing.
The shocking, strangely beautiful sight held every eye.
Wizards from all over the world knew in that mont that they would never forget what they had seen for as long as they lived.
Slowly, the monster faded and dispersed. Only a sar of colour remained on the night sky, as though a paintbrush loaded with pignt had dragged a stroke across the stars to create a singular spectacle.
["Star-Colour" has fallen dormant. You may now view it in the Gallery.]
[As a result, your magic will manifest as brighter, more vivid colours for a ti.]
New paints again?
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
This was not the ti to be thinking about that.
Mr Lamp's performance was done.
Now it was hero Ethan's turn.
While everyone's attention was still caught by the colours in the sky, Ethan quickly used his Portal to switch places with the puppet.
It was a risky move, but no one would notice.
No one, except Luna.
When Ethan looked down, he t Luna's clear blue eyes.
Luna blinked up at him.
Even without words, Ethan could read her thoughts perfectly.
You went and had fun without again.
Hmph.
He coughed and hastily looked away.
Next ti. Next ti for sure.
"Everyone," Ethan said.
A sound-bloom flower pinned at his collar carried his voice without the need for him to press his wand against his throat like a knife. With his right hand freed, he could make whatever gestures he wished.
Under a thousand watching eyes, Ethan slowly raised his arm. Wand in hand, he looked as though he ant to gather them all together beneath it.
Authority radiated from every line of him.
"You have all seen it," Ethan called, voice ringing. "You have seen what kind of new threat has appeared in the wizarding world."
His features blazed with life, his eyes shone, and his words struck with such force that hearts below began to pound in ti with them.
"Our true enemy has never been just Voldemort," Ethan said. "It is sothing harsher and far wider in scope."
Of course—this rotten magical system.
"We cannot pile all the burden onto the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter," he went on. "So here and now, as a mber of the wizarding world and a wizard with a will, I volunteer to stand up and share that burden."
Each word hit like a drumbeat, blowing away the dead air and igniting a new fla of hope in countless chests.
"Yes! Take down Mr Lamp!"
"Ethan is our new Saviour!"
"The wizarding world can be saved!"
The roar of voices swelled like waves.
Even foreign wizards who did not understand English were swept up in the fervour, shouting the unfamiliar na along with the rest.
"Amazing…" Mr Diggory muttered, stunned.
His cheeks burned with sha. Only now did he finally understand why even his own son admired Ethan so much.
It was not only the "scribbling."
It was that brilliant, unwavering will.
"This boy will be rembered for centuries," Diggory breathed. "Though I am not half bad myself."
He chuckled foolishly.
[You have given people hope and, with a double identity no one could imagine, guided the entire situation from beginning to end.]
[Soul attunent increased by 0.8%.]
[Total gain: 2.8%.]
[82.3% → 85.1%.]
[Lamp brightness increased.]
[Your light reaches into a Hidden Place and uncovers an extraordinary item for you.]
[You have obtained: Deathcurse Stone.]
Ethan let his eyes fall shut for a mont, soaking in the cheers and adoration, feeling magic well up again in his once-drained body.
After a while, he lifted his hand and pressed it down slightly.
The shouts gradually faded. Every gaze fixed on him, eager for his next words.
Ethan pointed toward Harry and the others.
"Of course, I am not enough on my own," he said.
"In this crisis, mbers of my Morning Star Club have also played a vital role."
"They are Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood…"
He read out the nas of every mber present.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Ron's face, red to the ears but his back straight with pride, and could not help a small, private smile.
Then he shifted his tone.
"Therefore, to train more talented witches and wizards who can face trials and storms ahead," he said, "I hope the Ministry of Magic will approve and support my plans for the upcoming Tournant."
Out in the crowd, Ludo Bagman, who had been watching the spectacle like everyone else, went white as parchnt.
So that was what all this had been building up to.
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