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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 279
🕑 Added 2025-11-28 00:55:29 +0000 UTCChapter 279: Rampaging Abraxans, Miss Fleur Arrives!
It was a powder-blue carriage the size of a small house, drawn by over a dozen winged horses as large as elephants.
When they touched down, Ethan clearly felt the lawn shudder under his feet.
Several lower-year students lost their balance and went sprawling.
The horses tossed their platter-sized hooves and snorted, clearly agitated, tossing their heads again and again toward the Forbidden Forest.
"Are those Abraxans?" Mandy, Ethan’s roommate, pushed up her glasses in surprise. "They are extremely picky about their environment and food. Very rare magical creatures."
"Hmph. Over the top," Ethan said. "Looks like Beauxbatons came determined to show off."
He studied the holy-looking winged horses with interest.
By chance, his gaze met that of one of the stallions.
For an instant, the horse looked as if it were staring at the apex predator of the food chain.
It shrieked in terror, rearing high and yanking hard on the reins.
Clang!
The carriage lurched violently. Several thin screams came from inside.
That one outburst was like a drop of oil in a hot pan.
The already-nervous Abraxans all went wild at once, screaming and bolting, dragging the carriage in a mad charge.
"Aaaah!"
Hogwarts students scrambled back, trying not to be pulped under flailing hooves.
The scene dissolved into chaos.
Dumbledore frowned and lifted his wand to intervene.
Before he could cast, a low roar and a piercing shriek split the air.
Two huge shadows surged up, one from the ground and one from the sky.
A Three-Headed Hound of Hell slammed a massive paw into one crazed horse and knocked it flat. Each of its three heads snapped in turn, brutally clamping down on the throats of two more.
Black mane flared like fire, and raw killing intent froze everyone where they stood.
Then a shadow swept down like a gale.
The Bird of Death.
Beating its tattered wings, the skeletal bird swung its silver-white staff in a wide arc.
Whoom.
Ghostly blue corpse-flame lashed out like chains from the depths of hell, locking the horses’ legs in place.
The Abraxans screamed even louder, fighting the restraints.
At that moment, a clear voice rang out.
"Luna."
Ethan spoke calmly, not a ripple in his tone.
"Hm," Luna said.
She parted the crowd and stepped forward without a hint of fear.
Facing the elephant-sized horses as they shrieked and thrashed, she raised her wand and said gently, "Don’t be scared… it is safe here."
Pale blue magic flowed from her wand like a vast, soft hand, stroking along their bodies.
A miracle unfolded.
Under that magic’s touch, the maddened horses actually began to calm.
"Good boys, good boys… just like that," Luna murmured, voice softer than a feather.
Her palm smoothed over sleek, powerful muscle. A smile bloomed on her face.
"She… she looks like she’s glowing," Michael whispered, dazed.
Ethan glanced his way and let the corner of his mouth curl up.
Crash.
The tilted carriage door flew open.
A woman even taller than Hagrid tumbled out.
"Wow," several students breathed, their eyes tracking upward as she straightened and kept rising.
Madame Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons, did not look pleased.
She stared in shock at the Abraxans, then turned to the Three-Headed Hound and the monstrous bird holding them down. Her expression grew increasingly aghast.
Abraxans only went berserk when they felt truly threatened. But with their bulk and strength, only dragons could really match them.
And dragons could not possibly be living in the Forbidden Forest.
She had never heard of such a thing.
Then there were those two creatures.
Madame Maxime turned her head toward the black-haired boy at the front of the crowd, eyes grave.
Such terrifying power… not something a fourth-year should have.
Perhaps only someone on Dumbledore’s level would dare claim to face him head-on.
If he could unleash two monsters like that on a whim, what would the real Tournament be like?
In that moment, Madame Maxime finally understood the meaning of that "liability waiver" she had been sent.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone descending from the carriage.
At the same time, every Hogwarts boy went abruptly, utterly silent, as if their souls had just left their bodies.
They stared, transfixed, at the figure coming down the steps, minds completely gone.
It was a girl of impossible beauty.
Silver hair was coiled elegantly at the back of her head. Her silk blue uniform traced every perfect line of her body. Pride glinted in her blue-green eyes.
She was like a royal rose: impossible to look away from, yet difficult to approach.
"Veela half-blood," Hermione muttered, frowning, then turned quickly to check on Ethan.
Seeing him utterly unaffected, such a sharp contrast to the slack-jawed boys around him, she relaxed slightly.
However.
Ethan did not move, but the "rose" did.
"Ethan Vincent!"
The silver-haired girl’s sharp call cut across the lawn. Her brows snapped together, and her once-idle face came alive.
With her Headmistress’s nod, Fleur marched straight toward Ethan at the very front.
She stopped in front of him with a sharp click of her heel, folded her arms, opened her mouth—and realised she had no idea what to say.
So she just glared at this infuriating boy with her jewel-bright eyes.
The first voice to break the silence was neither hers nor Ethan’s.
"Ah, you must be Miss Fleur."
The airy voice from behind made her jump. She spun, frowning, and glared at the speaker.
A slim blonde girl stood there, pale and quiet, making Fleur think of a storybook elf.
She frowned, eyeing the girl warily.
"Ethan talks about you often," Luna said, tilting her head up with a guileless smile. "You have written him a great many letters."
Fleur’s lips curled in satisfaction.
She toyed with a strand of hair by her cheek and tried for a casual tone. "Hmph. You don’t think I write them all myself, do you? I’m not that idle."
"Our winters felt much warmer thanks to them," Luna said.
Fleur:?
She blinked.
Two seconds later, she exploded. "You—you threw my letters into the fireplace?!"
"Haha, no," Ethan said. "Luna is just teasing you."
"You had better be teasing," Fleur snapped.
"In truth, they were very useful as practice scrap."
"What?!"
Her beautiful eyes went wide as she stared at Ethan in outrage.
His "haha, tricked you" expression made her dizzy. She could not tell which half of what he said was a joke and which half was real.
This hateful boy was just as slippery as ever.
No—ten thousand times more slippery.
She clenched her fists, teeth digging into her lip, cheeks flushing rose.
Finally, she huffed, "Hmph! Just you wait. I’ll make you marvel at how much I’ve improved."
"Not just at ‘taming beasts’."
She flicked a proud glance at Luna, spun on her heel, and strode back to the Beauxbatons line.
"Merlin’s beard," Michael breathed. "It’s been three whole years, and you still live rent-free in her head."
"Give the rest of us a chance."
He and the other boys looked at Ethan as though they would quite like to tear him limb from limb.
Their eyes were full of suffering.
Ethan shook his head. "Tsk. Male jealousy is truly ugly."
Ignoring their wails, he turned to Luna with a smile.
"You’re in third year now, right on the age line for the Tournament," he said. "Do your best. Show them that ‘Loony Lovegood’ can do more than tame beasts."
Luna nodded obediently. "Mm."
Pale blue magic coiled around her fingers.
This was not ordinary magic.
This was the same ancient magic that had just subdued a team of rampaging Abraxans.
