Chapter 288: Extraordinary Material: Obscurus! Old Man Dumbledore, Your Sister Is In My Hands, Understand?
"Good for the stomach."
Ethan's voice, warm as spring sunshine, drifted between Krum and his schoolmates.
It lingered in the air.
It was as if someone had cast a wide-area Petrification. Everyone froze.
Then, all at once, every gaze swung to the stupefied Viktor Krum.
"Y-you… what did you say?" Krum croaked, then broke into a fit of coughing.
"Oh no! Krum's passed out! He's foaming at the mouth!"
"Get a healer! Now!"
Krum's head lolled to the side. It was hard to tell whether he had collapsed from exhaustion or sheer outrage. His ashen face said he never wanted to wake again.
"Er… Krum looks a bit dead. There's a halo over his head."
"Turn off that blinking Lumos, will you, Percy? You're not helping."
Laughter rippled through the crowd, and in the middle of the chaos, Ethan laughed, bright and delighted. To the panic‑stricken teachers and students, it sounded like a devil's cackle.
"This boy does have a talent for blindsiding people," Rita Skeeter murmured, her Quick-Quotes Quill skittering. "But he's clearly never studied journalism. He doesn't understand the need to build to the big reveal."
"He opened with a black dragon and overwhelmed the audience completely."
"After this, nothing will feel new enough. They'll lose interest quickly."
She pushed up her glasses, lips curving in smug satisfaction, and shook her head.
"Still just a young upstart."
In that cheerful mood, the curtain finally fell on the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
That night, the hospital wing blazed with light.
A placard hung on the door: Ethan and Dementors Not Allowed.
The atmosphere inside was thick with resentment.
"Tsk. Biased, the lot of them. As if I am not the very picture of righteousness," Ethan said, shaking his head.
He twined a lock of his black hair around a finger and wondered whether dyeing it gold might help. Add a glow, and he would be dazzling anywhere.
"Yes… test it on Malfoy first."
He yawned, felt the weight of fatigue roll through him, and turned on his heel. In one smooth motion, he slipped out the window, and with the Deathbird's wings howling around him, arrowed up toward the Ravenclaw tower. The ghostly blue fire of his eye-light scared Percy right onto his backside on patrol.
Sleep took him.
With his breathing steady, his consciousness slipped past the skin of reality. Guided by the Lamp, he reached the hidden place.
[You have arrived at the Nether Shore.]
Waves whispered.
Ethan opened his eyes to an endless red sea. The sky was dusk without a sun. Ruby-crested surf lapped the beach in soothing rhythm, like a mother patting a child's back, and a quiet calm settled over him.
At the edge of the water stood a small figure. A little girl stared out across the sea in silence. The last light lay across her, but she cast no shadow.
Interesting.
Ethan's mouth tilted, and he strolled toward her, stepping over the ribcages of fish strewn across the sand and leaving a line of footprints behind him.
Sand hissed underfoot as he stopped beside her and turned his head to look.
She had a young, thin face and clutched a grimy stuffed rabbit to her chest. Her eyes were full of fear and exhaustion, as if she were always braced for something terrible.
The flow of magic…
Ethan's pupils tightened. He saw a mass of power, vast and lightless, like a nuclear charge waiting to go off. Even as stable as it was now, it made his scalp prickle.
He wanted to study it. He wanted to wield it.
His cobalt eyes began to shine.
"Mm—"
The girl flinched.
It was not hard to see why. If a stranger slowly leaned in until his face was far too close and stared without blinking, anyone would be frightened. A mediwitch would probably prescribe him a calming draught.
Shivering, she whispered, "P-please keep away from me… I will hurt you…"
"Really? I do not believe it," Ethan said.
"…"
She shook harder.
"Kidding," he added, straightening with a harmless smile.
He held out his hand. "Ethan Vincent. What is your name?"
"I-I am Ariana," she said in a small voice, sneaking a nervous glance at the not-quite-human boy. She ducked her head and did not take his hand.
Ariana?
The name rang a bell, but he could not place it. He let it go, glanced around in curiosity, and fired off questions.
"What is this place? Who are you? Why are you here? Why did you call me?"
"Uh… ah…" Ariana was thrown by the volley. Clutching her pink rabbit, she blinked in confusion, looking utterly lost.
"This place is called the Nether Shore," she said at last. "It is where the dead who did not become ghosts and cannot move on linger."
She looked up, her gaze slipping beyond the rolling red sea to some far horizon.
Those eyes were a bit like Luna's.
"Why can you not go on?" Ethan asked.
She did not answer. She stood in the wash of the waves, letting them break over her thin feet. After a long time, she spoke again.
"Big brother, the fish that swim back from the distance told me you can paint true history," she whispered. "Could you… correct a wrong history?"
She turned her head. Her eyes were wet and full of sorrow.
"A past where I never existed. Then everyone would be happy."
Ethan frowned.
"Do not like that," he said bluntly. "By that logic, if the wizarding world had never had me, thousands would be happier."
But some would sink into misery.
Sirius Black, for one.
"…"
Ariana suddenly snorted with laughter. Colour came back to her face.
"You speak in such a funny way… but please paint that picture. I will give you soul."
[A mysterious girl asks you to paint a Tier Three History painting. Do you accept?]
[Warning: This painting will be extremely dangerous. It also has a chance to reach Tier Three, Purple Epic.]
Tier Three, Purple Epic.
Ethan held his breath, delight flaring in his eyes.
The final crucible to refine Voldemort and achieve freedom of magic required a Tier Three, Purple Epic painting. He had been short on inspiration.
And now inspiration had walked right up to him.
"Done," he said at once, sticking up a thumb. "Leave it to me. You will get more than your money's worth. Best deal in Britain."
Ariana began to look a little worried.
It should be fine. The fish had brought word that this marvellous boy was bright and just, that he had thrashed all the baddies.
And he was very handsome.
She gave the smallest tremor, lowered her head, and dared not meet those shining eyes again. She held out her hand and murmured, "Th-then please hold my hand. I will take you—"
She jolted.
Her rabbit fell, picking up grit. Her eyes flew wide, and she screamed in pain.
The dark magic inside her swelled like a storm grinding everything to dust. The energy boiled the sea.
So strong.
Light flared from the Lamp, snapping around Ethan as armour and crackling.
What was this power? He had never seen its like. No wonder the warning had said this commission was dangerous.
"Y-you… go!" the girl gasped.
She shoved him with both hands. A smear of grey magic streaked across him.
Whoosh.
His mind was flung away, the red beach shrinking to a dot. The last thing burned onto his sight was the blood-coloured ocean heaving up to the sky.
[You have obtained an extraordinary material: Energy: Obscurus.]
"Mm…"
Ethan opened his eyes in his bed beneath the dark-blue hangings, moonlight leaking along their edges. His roommates snored. He pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes.
"Work all day and all night," he muttered. "A proper workhorse."
He spread his hand. A grey, storming knot of magic spun in his palm, radiating savage force.
"So it is an Obscurus," he murmured.
"Dark energy lodged in a wizard who suppresses magic."
"No wonder it hits so hard."
He closed his fingers and drew the energy into himself, a smile lifting his mouth.
"Though the Obscurus outburst cut me off before I could enter that girl's history… next time."
"But this is an unexpected bonus."
He could use the Obscurus to paint a new work and try to master it. He could make a few refinements for the second task.
"An Obscurus… no one here has seen one."
His eyes gleamed.
"It will thrill their senses and make the next task even more delightful."
And bring greater fame.
Ethan would prove that under his hand, excitement had no limits.