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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 280
🕑 Added 2025-11-28 00:56:03 +0000 UTCChapter 280: The Triwizard Tournament Opens! Barty Jr’s “Open Conspiracy”
So when the Durmstrang delegation marched proudly off their giant ship, they were greeted at once by two "gate guardians" standing on either side.
Six orange-yellow eyes stared hungrily down at them, strings of drool hanging from sharp fangs. Ghostly blue fire burned in empty skulls. Humanoid forelimbs gripped silver-white staffs like sentries, while ragged wings beat steadily at their backs.
"Wh-what?!" Headmaster Karkaroff gaped, staring at the two horrifying creatures.
The sight was so ridiculous that a few students could not help laughing.
Dumbledore smothered his own amusement and strode forward. "Welcome, Headmaster Karkaroff. Pay them no mind, just a minor little accident earlier."
He thought for a moment. "Come to that, I ought to award twenty points to Ravenclaw for a swift and valiant response."
[You have used a spectacular ceremony to welcome your far-travelled guests.]
[Soul attunement increased by 0.2%.]
Ethan’s lips twitched upward. He flicked a hand and produced a top hat, lifting the brim with elegant precision.
"Think nothing of it."
On the Beauxbatons side, several girls flushed and kept sneaking glances at him.
Karkaroff hesitated, then jerked his chin up, trying to gather his shattered dignity. "You must be the famous Ethan Vincent," he said. "Starting out this grand—aren’t you worried the Tournament itself will feel dull by comparison?"
Ethan blinked. "What are you talking about? This doesn’t even count as an appetiser."
Karkaroff: …
He suddenly swung around, clapped a hand on Viktor Krum’s shoulder, and growled, “Does the Bulgarian team carry insurance for you? If not, I’ll buy some."
Krum: …
He nodded slowly, then turned to stare at Ethan.
Under that solemn, imposing gaze, the students swallowed hard, feeling crushed and yet inexplicably excited.
Yes, challenge him. It had to be a challenge.
What kind of sparks would fly when these two stars collided?
A second later, Krum pulled a thick stack of letters from his robes and handed them to Ethan. "These are for you," he rumbled. "They want your autograph."
Everyone: ???
The students stared, stupefied, at the very picture of "simple and honest" Viktor Krum.
Somewhere inside, something cracked.
Probably their idol filters.
"I’ll sign them when I have time," Ethan said cheerfully, tucking the letters away with care.
Incidentally, Miss Fleur’s periodic bombardments of letters were also neatly stored in their own special cabinet. Ethan, after all, was a kind-hearted young man.
He would sign. As for what signature they received…
Well. That depended.
Inside the castle, Ethan slipped into the role of professional tour guide.
"As we walk, you’ll see one of Hogwarts’ most famous sights: the Screaming Corridor," he said. "Legend has it a Headless Knight once reaped a hundred lives here and piled the skulls into a hill. This is his magnificent portrait."
"Up these stairs is the domain of the Ossuary Flora. The eyeball grapes grow wonderfully here. Please don’t be shy about interacting with them."
He turned, smiling brightly at the rows of white faces.
In the dimness, the glow at the tip of his wand lit his mouth as it moved. "Hm. It feels like… we have a few extra people, doesn’t it?"
Students: ?!!
Their souls nearly shot out of their bodies. Inwardly, they screamed:
Forget "extra people"—the quietly appearing "scenic spots" all over Hogwarts were far more terrifying!
Also, why was it so dark in the castle in the middle of the day?!
"I want to go home…" one Beauxbatons girl sobbed.
Right now, Ethan’s handsome face looked nightmarish to them. It was hitting full uncanny valley.
Even the strapping northerners from Durmstrang looked green.
Karkaroff clenched his fists. "To weaken our will before the Tournament even begins… Hogwarts is truly despicable," he hissed.
Dumbledore: …
He knew nothing about any of this.
It was all Ethan.
What could one old Headmaster possibly say?
When they finally burst into the brightly lit Great Hall, many of the visiting students were nearly in tears from sheer relief.
Before they could cheer, a question cut through the air.
"Er… why is there a… railway track in the middle of your Hall?"
They were not seeing things.
A length of rail, like a branch meant to skewer prey, had punched straight through the floor and ceiling.
Ethan scratched his cheek, looking bashful. "Ehehe~ This is the secret grand prize for the final victor."
Everyone: …
Karkaroff blanched. "Shameless! This is shameless beyond belief!"
"Ahem," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps we should explain the Goblet’s selection process."
If he did not step in, Hogwarts was going to be labelled the Tournament’s great villain again.
It had always been fair, honestly.
If you lost, maybe look to yourselves first.
Entrants would write their names on slips of parchment and drop them into a golden cup filled with blue-white fire. Dumbledore himself would inscribe age-restriction wards around it.
Second-years and below would not be allowed to cross.
Nor would Ethan, as a member of the organising committee.
Ethan had no objections. He was somewhat interested in competing, but even more eager to see how far, after two years of training, his Morning Star Club members had come.
This time, it would not just be a Halloween fright.
When the entire Morning Star Club lined up and dropped their names in, the sight was impressive.
"Those are the students Ethan personally picked?" Krum said quietly.
His gaze lingered on one tall, athletic boy about his size. When Cedric turned, and their eyes met, sparks flew.
"Hmph. Interesting," Krum said. "Let’s see how good Ethan’s judgement really is."
On the other side, when the youngest, Luna, rose on tiptoe to drop her slip, a wave of whispers swept the Hall.
"Even Loony’s entering?"
"She’s not weak, but there’s no way she’ll be chosen…"
Meanwhile, the eligible Weasley twins, Harry, Ron, and even Neville, mustered up their courage and submitted their names.
Blue fire churned, devouring slip after slip, silently sorting them in ways no one could see.
Ethan watched, satisfied.
"Under my new rules, Harry’s placed his own name in…" he thought. "That should keep Barty out of it, right?"
While he was thinking that, a letter arrived for him a few days later.
"We must find a way to slip Ethan Vincent’s name past Dumbledore’s wards and into the Goblet," it read.
"So he can die unnoticed during the Tournament."
"From Barty Crouch Jr."
Ethan read the lines, lips curving in real interest.
