"Phew."
Ethan felt the candle burning in his skull flare a little brighter. The shadows in his mind thinned, his thoughts sharpened, and even his voice seed to pick up a new, steady radiance.
"From now on, every word I say will carry more weight."
He could feel it clearly. He rubbed his throat, a pleased smile tugging at his mouth.
If the whole world was going to listen to his voice, solid public speaking skills were essential.
His soul fusion had climbed to 87.9 percent, brushing the 90 percent threshold.
The final ten percent. The sprint.
Ethan knew the Enlightened were not the final stage of life's ascent. There were steps beyond, leading up toward that presence that coiled around the vault of the heavens, looking down.
The thought made his chest surge.
Art, spread across the universe.
For now, he was still in the "spread across the world" phase.
Heehee.
[Lamp light has illuminated the Hidden Place.]
[You have discovered an Old Days manuscript: Ghoul's Resonance Elixir Recipe.]
A yellowed manuscript appeared in his hand. The paper, weathered by uncounted years, was as brittle as dead leaves.
And yet, under his fingers, it felt oddly rough and tacky.
A bit like touching an old person's skin.
"Two‑legged sheep really are first‑rate materials in the dark world. No wonder so people tattoo maps and the like on themselves."
He muttered to himself and scanned the recipe with interest.
[Ghoul's Resonance Elixir was first created by ghouls to awaken the mories of rotting at inside a living stomach.]
[In later ages, it was used to fuse curses that had taken root in the body.]
["It gave new life." — 1553, "Bloody Mary".]
[Ingredients: honey, Hades lily, powdered ivory bone, and a spotted mushroom grown from flesh saturated with Dark magic.]
"So instead of stripping away and curing a curse like a werewolf's, it rges with the curse and uses its power," Ethan murmured, thoughtful.
His mind jumped to Dumbledore's sister.
Ariana, tornted by an Obscurus.
Perhaps this potion could help her…
A hand slapped his shoulder, snapping him back.
"Hey, Ethan! Spacing out again? Get back to the castle and celebrate!" Michael said.
Ethan blinked and looked around.
He stood in the middle of a festive flood.
Hogwarts had taken first place twice. As long as they did not completely fall apart in the third task and let Durmstrang overtake them, the Tournant was theirs.
Students were cheering their way up toward the castle. Banners snapped, conjured fireworks banged overhead, and a badly played saxophone wailed sowhere in the crowd.
It felt like a holiday.
"You all go ahead," Ethan said with a smile. "There is sothing I need to take care of."
Barty Jr.
Poor Barty Jr. His Dark Lord was about to be disappointed again.
Tsk. Given the chance, and still could not deliver.
Michael shivered at the sight of Ethan's soft "hehehe" smile and wisely did not ask.
"Just do not be late," he said instead. "You are the star of the show. Without you we would not have seen sothing like this. This year's Tournant is going into the history books."
eting his bright, earnest gaze, Ethan blinked and smiled. "Oh, I have no doubt."
After all, with Voldemort and Mr Lamp waiting in the wings, the final task was guaranteed to be a spectacle.
Enough to give the world a little Dark Lord shock.
He handed Luna a few vials of Invigoration Draught and watched the Hospital Wing staff bustle her away, then turned and walked in the opposite direction.
The smile faded.
Cold, predatory glints surfaced in his cobalt eyes.
All right. Ti to deal with Barty Jr.
He already knew exactly how to put this failed Dark wizard to use.
As he opened a portal, a prickle of awareness made him glance back over his shoulder.
He sensed sothing.
His mouth curled.
He stepped through.
A short while earlier, the mood had been very different for Rita Skeeter.
Surrounded by celebration, she sat hunched over a pile of shredded drafts, fury boiling in her chest.
"Ethan Vincent. That rotten brat."
She ground her teeth, crumpling another page in her fist.
"He really did top the first task. Even the monster was no less impressive than a dragon."
A dragon, a giant squid.
Just how many "treasures" did Hogwarts have tucked away?
And every ti, the articles she had written in advance had gone in the bin.
Again.
MacArthur from the office sauntered over, smirking. "Well, well. If it isn't our departnt's rising star, the 'Front Page Killer' herself. Funny, seems like nothing's gone out from your desk yet."
He glanced at the wrinkled papers.
Rita snapped her notebook shut with a crack and snorted. "Mind your own."
"Only that mine went off to the main office the mont the task ended," MacArthur said lazily. "Might even snag the headline."
"Betting on Ethan to win was definitely the right call."
Rita watched him swagger away and very nearly crushed her own teeth.
A lowly loser, daring to look down on her.
She had ruined more reputations with her quill than he had relatives.
She straightened, perversely proud.
This ti, she had gone in hard on both Ethan and Harry.
No parents? Then they must be desperate for attention.
Write it.
A godfather who was once a convicted killer, Sirius Black?
Maybe the whole thing was Harry's plot.
Write it.
Write all of it.
Truth did not matter. Eyes on the page did.
If soone died, why waste ti on mourning? The real work was to dig into the "unknown side" of their life the mont the body went cold.
At the mont, she was lining up the greatest white wizard of the age, Albus Dumbledore, in her sights.
"Damn it, my front page," she hissed. "What can I do to keep my front page?"
Gnawing her quill, she glanced up—and saw Ethan walking against the flow of the crowd.
Her eyes lit.
"Of course. Why did I not think of it sooner?"
"If there is a story bigger than the task itself, the headline is mine."
Murmuring to herself, she licked her upper teeth in excitent, ducked into an unnoticed corner, and vanished with a pop.
A beetle with markings like her ugly glasses buzzed out and followed Ethan, slipping through the dark door after him.
Ethan, let dig up your little secrets and trumpet them to the world.
Front page, here I co.
She had no idea this would be the worst decision of her life.
Hogwarts, underground chamber.
"Hah!"
Barty Jr jolted awake.
Sweat soaked his hair. His pupils jittered, his breath ragged, as if he had just clawed his way out of a nightmare.
His blue magical eye rolled crazily on the flagstones, then whirled and fixed on him.
For so reason, looking at that inorganic blue orb, Barty had the oddest sense that it was alive.
It had to be his imagination.
It was just a magical device, not a real eye.
His body ached as if a troll had stamped him flat. His soul felt sucked dry, scrubbed raw by a Dentor's kiss. Needles drove in and out of his skull with every heartbeat.
"Wh‑what…"
He pushed himself up, grimacing as he held his head.
This felt familiar.
Every ti he worked with Mr Lamp, things seed to end like this.
Why was that?
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