Nurmengard, Arena Stage.
The lighting technician (a kidnapped Neville) trembled as he activated the disco ball effects.
The DJ (Peeves, currently under the Imperius Curse) was scratching the decks, playing a bizarre remix that mashed up "Friday the 13th" with "The Most Dazzling Ethnic Wind."
"Next up! The strongest cross-species duo in history—'The Dark Lord and His Baby!'" Lucius Malfoy screamed hoarsely, waving glow sticks frantically.
Voldemort took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage to the beat.
His look today was the pinnacle of "Wasteland Aesthetic": Grindelwald's heavy gold wig sat crookedly on his head, adorned with that pink lace bow. He wore a sheer, sequined black bodysuit (sewn overnight by Quirrell).
His partner—the giant Blast-Ended Skrewt—was wearing a tiny pink tutu and a bow tie.
"Music! Hit it!" Voldemort screeched.
The BGM instantly switched to a passionate Argentine Tango.
Voldemort grabbed the Skrewt's waist (or rather, a crack in its shell) and began to dance with a glazed look in his eyes.
"Step, two steps! Step, two steps! Like claws! Like the devil's pace!"
The Skrewt clearly hadn't taken tango lessons; it only knew "imprinting."
Voldemort advanced, it retreated; Voldemort spun left, it spun in place and sprayed acid.
But this created a weird harmony—because the Skrewt was so heavy, every step made the floor tremble, and the green acid spray acted as a dry ice effect, giving the performance a "Doomsday Carnival" vibe.
"Good! Very tense!" Grindelwald (neck still crooked) applauded from the judges' table. "That is dominance! Even crushing the floorboards is a form of ruling!"
Just as the dance reached its climax, and Voldemort prepared for a difficult "Dip and Knee Drop" move, disaster struck.
The Skrewt looked at Voldemort's face so close to its own, and suddenly, maternal instincts flooded its brain.
It extended its ten-foot-long tongue and affectionately licked Voldemort.
"Mom... Love..."
"AHHHH! Saliva! My makeup!" Voldemort was blinded by the lick. His foot slipped, and he fell backward.
And his high-heeled platform boots (worn for height) landed squarely on the Skrewt's tail.
ROAR—!!
The Skrewt shrieked in pain and instinctively sprayed a jet of high-concentration acid.
Sizzle!
The acid hit the magical chandelier directly above the stage.
The one-ton crystal chandelier swayed, then plummeted straight toward the judges' table.
"My gold wig!!" Grindelwald was scared out of his wits, trying to run, but his neck brace limited his movement.
At this critical moment.
A red light flashed.
"Arresto Momentum!"
The chandelier froze in mid-air.
All spotlights converged on the entrance.
Dumbledore walked in.
But he wasn't alone.
He was wearing a bright pink K-Pop girl group outfit (mini skirt, crop top, thigh-high boots), with a golden cloak draped over his shoulders.
To match the outfit, he was even wearing full stage makeup—eyeshadow glittering like a disco ball, false eyelashes long enough to fan a fire.
But the most shocking part was—
This body was a Schwarzenegger-level muscle beast.
His massive arms stretched the crop top like tight bandages, his pecs pushed the cloak out like two mountains, and hairy, muscular calves peeked out from the thigh-high boots.
"This... this is..." Ron got a nosebleed. "Muscle Barbie?"
"To save Hogwarts' image," Dumbledore gritted his teeth, the floor shaking with every step, "sacrificing a little dignity is nothing. Ivan! Change the BGM to 'Gee'!"
"Yes! Headmaster!" Ivan, trembling in the corner (because Snape was approaching with a tattoo needle), immediately switched the track.
"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!"
Dumbledore began to dance.
Not a soft, feminine girl group dance, but a powerful, violent "Macho Girl Group Dance."
Every body roll caused fifty pounds of muscle to ripple; every hip sway looked like it could shatter the floor.
The pink pleated skirt flew up around his massive thighs. The visual impact was intense—almost blinding.
"This is art!" Grindelwald stared, mesmerized, forgetting his neck pain. "Look at those deltoids! Look at those traps! Albus! Did you build this body for me?!"
"Shut up, Gellert!" Dumbledore roared while doing a pelvic thrust. "Give me a score! Or I'll use Avada Kedavra as a defibrillator on you!"
The judges (including the Skrewt), intimidated by his tyrannical aura, all raised their "10" scorecards.
Just then, Snape walked up to Ivan.
"Potter," Snape said coldly, "since you enjoy turning my hair tonic into advertisements so much, I will make you the advertisement."
"Professor, don't!" Ivan hugged a pillar. "Tattoos hurt! And they scar!"
"This is a magical tattoo." Snape waved his wand. "It doesn't hurt, and it moves. Furthermore, it grows based on your subcutaneous fat layer. Unless you diet down to a skeleton, you can never wash it off."
Snape chanted the spell:
"Inscribe · Soul of the Hair Tonic!"
Countless black runes crawled up Ivan's body like little snakes.
Seconds later.
A tattoo appeared on Ivan's left cheek: [Snape's Special Reserve · Anti-Hair Loss · Supreme Edition].
Around his neck was a ring of small text: "Not Using It Means You're Not Slytherin."
Worst of all was his back, which now featured a giant hair tonic bottle emitting green smoke, complete with a QR code on the bottle.
"Perfect." Snape admired his masterpiece. "Now, get on stage. As a 'Walking Billboard,' you need exposure."
Ivan was shoved onto the stage by Dobby in despair.
The stage was chaos: Voldemort and the Skrewt were slapping each other (because the Skrewt licked his makeup off), and Dumbledore was still performing his violent girl group dance.
Standing under the spotlight, looking at the glowing green tattoos on his body, Ivan had a sudden stroke of genius.
He struck a bodybuilding pose at the camera, pointing to the bottle on his back:
"Fam! Do you see this? This is the 'Limited Edition Skin' bestowed by Professor Snape himself! Scan the QR code on my back right now! Not only can you buy hair tonic, but you also unlock the hidden perk of 'Being Insulted by Professor Snape Once'! Only 9.99! Only today! Only now!"
The livestream chat exploded.
[User_SnapeFanClub]: OMG! I'm buying! I want the Professor to scold me! What is this weird kink?!
[User_MuggleKing]: The tattoo glows? Give me a set! I want it on my forehead!
Snape watched Ivan's practiced sales pitch and the skyrocketing sales figures backstage, his expression complicated.
He wanted to be angry, but looking at the pile of Galleons coming in...
"That kid..." Snape gritted his teeth. "He actually turned this ugly tattoo into a trend?"
Just then, Voldemort noticed Ivan.
He looked at the giant, green-smoke-emitting hair tonic bottle on Ivan's back, and his eyes suddenly lit up.
In his confused brain, that wasn't a tattoo; it was the aura of his own kind.
"Potter..." Voldemort abandoned the Skrewt and stumbled toward Ivan, hugging his waist and rubbing his face against the tattooed bottle. "Are you... are you a hair tonic spirit too? Why do you smell so strongly of ginger? Mom... I found Mom again..."
Ivan: ???
Snape: ???
"Let him go, Tom!" Snape roared. "That is my student! Not your kin! And certainly not a hair tonic spirit!"
"I don't care!" Voldemort hung onto Ivan like a giant baby, even trying to lick the QR code on Ivan's neck. "I want to drink! I want to drink this green bottle! Quirrell! Get a straw!"
The scene was absolute chaos.
Dumbledore was still tirelessly dancing, pecs glistening under the lights.
Grindelwald was cheering for Dumbledore from below the stage, trying to attach his gold wig to Dumbledore's real hair.
The Skrewt was eating the judges' table.
Ivan was being crushed by Voldemort, and the tattoo on his back began to heat up frantically from the friction, enveloping them both in green smoke.
"Help..." Ivan reached out a hand. "Professor Snape! Remove this tattoo! Voldemort is trying to drink me like a beverage!"
Snape took a deep breath and raised his wand.
"Ultimate Scourgify · Obliviate · Enhanced Edition!"
A white light flashed.
Voldemort's eyes rolled back, and he fainted on top of Ivan.
Ivan's eyes rolled back, and he fainted too.
Even Dumbledore, currently mid-dance, blacked out from the intensity of his movements. His massive body crashed down, landing directly on top of Snape and Grindelwald.
CRASH!
The stage collapsed.
Dust settled.
Only the Blast-Ended Skrewt remained standing. It looked at the pile of humans stacked like pancakes and nodded in satisfaction.
"Family photo..."
It sprayed a stream of confetti (from who knows where), then contentedly lay down on this "Mountain of Meat" and fell asleep.
Dobby's holographic projection popped up over the ruins:
> [Urgent Announcement: This match is cancelled due to force majeure. However, given the shocking nature of Headmaster Dumbledore's 'Muscle Girl Group Dance,' the organizing committee has unanimously decided the champion is... The Blast-Ended Skrewt.]
> [Prize: One ton of premium Rock Cakes, and the dealership rights to Professor Snape's Hair Tonic.]
From beneath the ruins came Snape's muffled voice:
"Ivan Potter... when I crawl out of here, I will peel your skin off and use it as an advertising banner..."