Chapter 266: The Quidditch World Cup Opens! Ethan Is Going to Stir Things Up
"Excellent," Ethan said with a satisfied nod.
He snapped his notebook shut and looked at Mad-Eye Moody with shining eyes. "You've given me so much inspiration. Don't worry. Even though you won't be there in person, I'll carry out your will."
Moody choked.
That sounded like he was already dead and buried.
Seeing Ethan's eager expression, Moody felt uneasy. Could this twisted lunatic actually bring those ridiculous suggestions to Hogwarts?
No. Impossible. Dumbledore would never just stand by and let evil run rampant. Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
With that thought, Moody relaxed. He dismissed it as the ravings of a deranged dark wizard.
Before the Quidditch World Cup opened, Ethan, who was busy tinkering with the magical eye, received a letter from Barty.
The handwriting was so forceful it nearly tore through the paper, each word twisted with frustration:
[I've disguised myself as Mad-Eye Moody and done what I can to calm things down. Don't be so dramatic next time!]
[And as you requested, we've gathered as many dark wizards as possible. They're all eager to make a big scene at the Quidditch World Cup.]
What followed was a string of maniacal "HAHAHA"s, as if trying to transmit audio through the page.
"How evil," Ethan murmured, tapping his fingers on the table, expression slightly grave.
"What's wrong?" Luna asked, her clear gaze resting on the letter.
"Nothing." Ethan folded the paper and sighed. "I was just thinking how shameful it is that after three years, I still haven't painted a large-scale, destructive artwork."
Whether it was the Three-Headed Hound of Hell, the Bird of Death, or the newly painted Gluttonous Stag and Rat King, they all had to inflict suffering the old-fashioned way. Even the five-painting fusion Serpent of Jörmungandr only put people to sleep rather than taking their lives.
"I was too merciful before," Ethan said, clenching his fist with deep self-reproach. "I've been wallowing in Hogwarts comfort, forgetting just how evil and cruel dark wizards truly are. Even I, who thought myself clear-sighted, fell into this trap."
His eyes glowed with conviction. "Others are drowning in beautiful illusions. They need a heavy blow to make them see the darkness rising on the horizon."
The Quidditch World Cup, with a reported hundred thousand attendees, was the perfect opportunity. As Mr Lamp, he would make everyone aware of the danger (from Voldemort) approaching.
When chaos reached its peak, that would be the time to overthrow the old order and establish new rules.
Ethan thought of Sirius, who had spent over a decade wrongfully imprisoned, and of his own experience standing before the Wizengamot. A surging wave rose in his chest.
Even if it meant being sent to Azkaban, this revolution would be worth it.
"When the truth is revealed, people will surely be moved beyond words," Ethan said, wiping at the corner of his eye.
"Yes, I think they'll be moved to tears," Luna agreed.
After all, dark wizards were common. Eight-armed octopuses were not.
"Let me think… what kind of shocking, memorable, large-scale, destructive artwork could I create?" Ethan gazed at the magical eye in his hand. "Sight is a pathway. The ability to see through everything means a stable channel."
"Combining Eye Within the Door and Portal, enhanced with the magical eye's enchantments, I'll create a new painting. Let's call it Telescope for now. Then I'll aim it at The Universe in the Wardrobe, looking at that magnificent cosmos painted with the Colour Out of Space."
What would be summoned through this stable visual passage?
Just thinking about it made him excited.
A pale blue fire kindled in Ethan's cobalt eyes. His pen flew across the sketch pad without pause.
Luna watched Ethan lose himself in his work again, then lowered her head and returned to her book. The soft sound of turning pages harmonised with the scratch of pen on paper.
Luna curled up on the left sofa while Ethan bent over the right desk. Wind drifted through the window, lifting the girl's golden hair and rustling the papers by the boy's hand.
This moment became eternal.
On the day of the Quidditch World Cup opening, since they did not need early-bird tickets, the wizards living in Ottery St Catchpole agreed to travel to the venue together.
When Ron, Harry, and the Weasleys puffed their way up the hilltop, they immediately spotted Ethan toying with a dagger.
"Oh, you're finally here," Ethan said, straightening with a brilliant smile. The sharp blade glinted silver in the sunlight.
Ron, Harry, and the Weasleys: "..."
Ethan, we can explain!
"Ethan! It's been ages!" Hermione called, running over with Ginny. "How was your summer? For the World Cup, my parents took me to the birthplace of Quidditch! Did you know the Golden Snitch was originally replaced by a creature called the Golden Snidget..."
Ethan listened patiently without interrupting. He glanced at Ginny hiding behind Hermione and smiled, making her freckled cheeks flush even redder.
When Hermione gasped and stopped, embarrassed, Ethan said, "My summer was quite fulfilling too. I visited a place full of talented people and brought warmth to a reclusive old man. He gave me a precious magical item in return."
Hermione raised her eyebrows sceptically. "Wow... um, that does sound fulfilling."
Why did it sound like a primary schooler's daily good deed report? Something felt off.
Then Ethan noticed the tense atmosphere among the Weasleys. The usually explosive twins were tight-lipped and silent.
Ron sidled over and whispered, "They had a huge fight with Mum! She doesn't like the stuff they've been working on. Before we left, she found everything and destroyed it all!"
After hearing the full story, Ethan understood. It was the classic conflict between conservative parents and forward-thinking children.
"Now it's all gone! The products we spent all summer preparing!" George said.
"How are we supposed to raise money to open our shop now?" Fred added.
Rare frustration and dismay showed on their identical faces. They stared at Ethan, instinctively hoping for help from their younger club president.
Ethan blinked. "Hm? Didn't I tell you? Since it was your Weasley ancestor who found the moonflowers, you're entitled to at least thirty percent of the profits from them."
Just Professor Snape's payment alone would stack into a small mountain.
The Weasley twins: "!!!"
Not just them—even Ron was stunned. It was like being hit by a shower of Galleons out of nowhere.
Only Arthur Weasley, arriving late, asked in confusion, "What's happening? No fighting, boys!"
After a long moment, George and Fred swallowed and looked at each other. "We... we can't accept this," they said hoarsely.
They had only stumbled across a bag of seeds in a cellar. The moonflowers had nothing to do with them. No matter how much they needed the money, the moonflower profits were too immense.
But Ethan smiled. Morning light bathed his handsome features.
"Don't worry about it. The Weasleys are a family of heroes. This is what you deserve."
The twins froze. The enormous problem had evaporated instantly thanks to Ethan, leaving them feeling unreal.
"Oh, Ethan!" they cried.
Ethan stepped back, avoiding their grateful bear hug. His eyes curved with a meaningful smile. "Besides, after the Quidditch World Cup ends, Mrs Weasley will probably stop minding what you do."
As long as you're alive.
The twins exchanged confused glances. Only Sirius, who had spent last term in Ethan's company, shivered instinctively.
"Maybe we should skip this event—" Sirius began, hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Merlin's beard! Look at the time! Hurry, children, or we'll be late—" Arthur exclaimed.
"Portal," Ethan said calmly.
"AHHHHH!"
With Ethan, there was never such a thing as "late." Of course, there was also no such thing as "escape."
After meeting up with the Diggorys and using a boot Portkey, the group tumbled into a roaring sea of noise.
Amid the laughter, cheers, and waving flags, Ethan caught sight of dark clouds gathering on the horizon.
His lips curved slightly.
The Quidditch World Cup had begun.