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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 270
🕑 Added 2025-11-22 15:52:20 +0000 UTCChapter 270: The Morning Star Club Achieves Great Merit! Ethan, Are You Really Going to Summon an Ancient God?!
Harry woke to chaos.
He had barely managed to pull on his glasses when his godfather yanked him to his feet.
"Move, Harry! Move!" Sirius barked urgently. His usually carefree face showed rare alarm and severity.
"What's happening?" Harry asked groggily. He could hear panicked screaming outside the tent.
"Dark wizards," Sirius said. "They might be here for you!"
That snapped Harry fully awake. "And Ethan! Ethan's also their target!"
"Ethan will be fine. You don't need to worry about him—"
Before Sirius could finish, Harry wrenched free, gripped his wand, and bolted outside.
The smell of burning hit him immediately. Thick smoke billowed. Flames rose at the edge of the camp, forming terrible serpents that roared as they devoured everything around them. Fortunately, that area was uninhabited. The attack before the World Cup had inadvertently forced the Aurors to strengthen security. They were now locked in combat with the attackers—nothing as brutal as the Goblin War, yet the screams and panic gripped the ten thousand spectators like an invisible hand. They fled in a stampede. Those who fell could not rise again, swallowed by the crush.
Where's Ethan? In this kind of chaos, knowing his personality, he should be standing in the most conspicuous place—
"Harry!" Ron grabbed him from behind. "What are you doing? Run!"
"Ethan and the Lovegoods aren't in this tent. I'm worried they're in danger—"
Ron cut him off. "Please! Of everyone here, they're the last ones who'll be in danger!"
Harry's eyes widened in shock. Then he shouted angrily, "I'm a member of the Morning Star Club! I will not abandon my friends!"
He raised his wand high toward the sky and called out the first spell that came to mind. "Expecto Patronum!"
Silver light burst forth like a blade cleaving flame and darkness. A magnificent stag galloped out. People looked up at the beautiful sight, and the chaos actually began to calm.
"Bloody hell. You've really done it," Ron said, dumbstruck. His mouth hung open. A shadow passed through his eyes as he unconsciously tightened his grip on the black umbrella Ethan had given him.
Harry, not noticing his friend's mood, frowned and looked around. "Where are the Ministry officials?" he muttered.
Ethan's influence was rubbing off on him. Harry was beginning to notice things he would normally overlook. During a dark wizard attack, Ministry officials like Ludo Bagman or Mr Crouch, whom Percy idolised, should have been organizing evacuations and maintaining order. But there was no sign of them, as if the officials the wizards supported did not care whether they lived or died.
As Harry's thoughts spiralled, his scar suddenly flared with pain.
"Ugh!" He staggered, back soaked in cold sweat. Through blurred vision, he saw a figure standing atop a tent, utterly out of place, wand pointed directly at him.
"Crucio—"
"Expelliarmus—"
Three voices rang out almost simultaneously. Sirius shoved Harry aside. A massive surge of pale blue magic slammed into the tent from the side like an enraged rhinoceros, sending the wizard flying. The red curse veered wildly off target.
Harry turned. Through his crooked glasses, he saw Luna standing in the firelight. The eccentric Ravenclaw's golden hair floated around her as she raised her wand calmly, surrounded by swirling blue magic. She looked like a spirit descended into the flames—composed and powerful, radiating an ineffable dignity and authority that made even the furious Harry shrink back slightly.
"It's not over yet, Harry," Luna said in her dreamy tone, watching the man slowly rise from the wreckage. "Until Ethan returns, the Morning Star Club must protect everyone."
At the camp's edge, Connie Rosier dodged a curse, Apparated behind a dark wizard, and flicked her wand with a sharp cry. Thorned vines erupted from the ground, binding him tight. The barbs dug deep into his flesh, draining his magic and blooming into crimson roses.
Under the wary gazes of other Aurors, Connie grinned excitedly, eyes shining. This was the Rosier family's ancestral dark magic, the foundation of her rapid rise to the rank of captain at such a young age. Moreover, if not for Ethan's Great Trial removing many corrupt officials, no amount of skill would have earned her promotion.
That was why Connie harboured an admiring, girlish affection for the handsome young man. Knowing Ethan was somewhere in the camp under her protection made her fight even harder. Her wand became a thorned whip, lashing at everything around her and driving the dark wizards back.
"Damn it!" one snarled, glaring at Connie. Most of them were stuck on the perimeter, unable to break through. Only those skilled at Apparition had managed to slip past the defences.
"Hmph! Just a rabble. Your organiser is nothing special!" Connie declared.
A voice spoke from above. "You disappoint me."
Connie's head snapped up. Against the starry night sky stood a strange man. Strange not just because of the pure white mask he wore, but because behind him floated something impossibly twisted—a mass that looked like countless corpses fused together, tangled black hair drifting like seaweed, countless arms reaching out. They lay beneath his feet willingly, reverently, paving his path through the air.
Connie felt instinctive revulsion.
"It's Mr Lamp!" a dark wizard shouted. "Mr Lamp is here! We've won!"
"Hahaha! Little girl, your death has come!"
The dark wizards jumped up and down in excitement.
Mr Lamp? Connie gripped her wand, eyeing the masked man warily. She remembered that name. He had brutally slaughtered an entire tavern of dark wizards in Knockturn Alley. Rumour said he had blown up Hogwarts last year. An extremely dangerous man. Had he planned both attacks?
Damn it! I wish I could see who's under that mysterious mask, Connie thought, biting her lip.
Meanwhile, Ethan gazed down coldly at the leaping dark wizards below. From this height, he understood how those in power viewed humanity.
"How ignorant, yet so self-assured," he murmured, raising his hand. Golden light bloomed in his palm.
[Using painting: The Beckoner—Telescope]
An antique brass telescope appeared in the glow, cool and pleasant to the touch.
"Let me show you true art in the final moments of your pitiful lives spent tormenting others."
Ethan raised the telescope toward the open Universe above the Wardrobe.
Whoosh!
A massive cobalt-blue eye snapped open in midair, gazing through the telescope into the wardrobe's profound and brilliant cosmos.
An indescribable presence swept out instantly, freezing everyone in place.
What… what is that?!
Connie stared upward in shock. An iridescent shimmer beyond language seeped forth.
Then—
Crack!
A scorpion-like limb gripped the edge of the wardrobe door!
