"Yes, you can always trust me."
Connie Rosier's lips curled into a slight smile. Her magnificent purple eyes remained fixed on Minister Scrimgeour, filled with a sense of calm and certainty.
It was hard to imagine that only a year ago, she had been a clumsy, bumbling rookie who had just joined the force.
"...Good."
Minister Scrimgeour nodded appreciatively, his expression softening slightly. He was not naturally the type to trust others easily, but this Auror had remained steadfast under the crushing weight currently pressing down on the wizarding world.
Through her sheer strength, she had "survived" mission after mission, avoiding the fate of her colleagues who were currently filling the wards of St. Mungo's. She had even passed a Legilimency test. There was absolutely no doubt about her loyalty.
To be honest, under normal circumstances, the Ministry would never have hired—let alone promoted—someone with a tainted family background like the Rosiers. They would have lived in constant fear that she would follow in her family's footsteps and defect to the Dark Lord.
But these were desperate times. They needed every hand they could get.
"We can't afford to scatter our forces anymore," Scrimgeour said, his voice dropping an octave. "Since infiltration and sneak attacks have proven useless, we will concentrate our strength for a frontal assault on Hogwarts!"
He clenched his fist, his face etched with iron-clad resolve.
"Screen every faction we can trust. Mobilize every scrap of power at our disposal!"
"In one month's time, we take Hogwarts!!"
He simply refused to believe that Ethan truly possessed the power to contend with the entire British wizarding world single-handedly. If Ethan were really that strong, why hadn't he simply declared himself ruler? Why go through the trouble of occupying a school?
"Even Voldemort would seize control of the Ministry before showing 'humanitarian' concern for Hogwarts," Scrimgeour muttered to himself.
He suddenly realized he had spoken the name "Voldemort" without the slightest hesitation. A strange silence fell over him, his heart filled with complex emotions.
Compared to Ethan Vincent—perhaps the greatest enemy the wizarding world had ever known—Voldemort had become nothing more than a common stray dog by the side of the road.
"This time, I will be on the front lines myself, commanding the operation," Scrimgeour declared, his eyes flashing with the piercing intensity of an eagle. "Success or failure, it all comes down to this!!"
"...Yes, Minister," Connie replied with a slow nod.
Suddenly, she pursed her lips and asked, "Don't you think what Ethan Vincent said might be true? About the Death God?"
"Ha! If that load of rubbish is true, I'll get on my knees and beg Ethan for forgiveness myself!" Scrimgeour sneered. Then, he frowned, eyeing Connie suspiciously. "Why are you asking that?"
Ever since the powerful magical artifacts from the Department of Mysteries had been handed over to those Germans, he had become increasingly paranoid. It was said that the German Auror involved had vanished without a trace; no one knew where Ethan had hidden him. That precious piece of intelligence had come from Connie herself.
"It's nothing," Connie replied smoothly, her expression unchanged. "I was just worried about potential... accidents."
With a slight bow, she turned and left the office.
As the door clicked shut, she glanced at her dark-skinned colleague standing nearby—the Order of the Phoenix spy, Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Get ready," she said, her voice slow and meaningful. "The Great War is about to begin."
Kingsley nodded solemnly, his eyes reflecting a whirlwind of thoughts. He had intended to say "Merlin protect us," but the words died in his throat.
Finally, he whispered a different prayer: "May the Light of the Lamp shelter us all."
In a cavern along the coast.
The avatar of the Death God lay sprawled against the damp rock wall like a bloated, giant toad. What was once a pink suit was now caked in mud and grime, resembling a rotten rag, its original color completely unrecognizable.
[The time is almost here... Hehe, foolish humans... you shall all become my sustenance...]
Her mouth curled into a wide, grotesque grin. The thought of her impending revenge—of hearing her enemy's shrill screams—made her entire body tremble with an unbearable, tingling excitement.
[That useless Nagini... she hasn't succeeded after all this time! She has likely been captured by that boy already...]
However, she didn't seem panicked. Instead, a smug look of "I told you so" crossed her face. She had long ago sensed Ethan Vincent's fatal weakness—"mercy."
[Useless humanity... that is the greatest gap between you and a true 'God'! Do you wish to cure that poor beast tortured by demonic blood?]
[Hehehe... then do it.]
[The moment you 'cure' her is the moment I shall command her to kill you! Let fate return to its proper track!!]
[Hehe... hehehehe...]
A bone-chilling laugh, sounding like teeth gnashing against bone, echoed through the cavern. She didn't doubt for a second whether Nagini would obey her. As the avatar of Death in the mortal realm, she possessed the vast majority of the Death God's authority. Driving a mindless, weak beast was as simple as breathing.
[One month... just one more month... despair and death shall descend upon this land!!]
[This time, there will be no mistakes... Ahhh! Praise be to You! The Supreme Death God!!]
Nurmengard Prison, Germany.
Andre, the German Auror who had once invited Ethan to join the army of the Acolytes, now lay silently in a corner. A layer of white frost covered his body. His eyes were wide, filled with intense terror and disbelief. It seemed that until his final breath, he hadn't understood why the master he trusted most had pointed a wand at him.
Rustle...
A shadow cast upon the wall rose slowly. Bones popped and cracked as if the figure hadn't stretched in ages.
"Sigh, these old bones are still being put to work," Gellert Grindelwald sighed, murmuring helplessly.
Waving Andre's wand, he conjured a coat, a cloak, and a scarf, wrapping them around his frail frame. Outside the barred window, the cold wind howled, tossing his long white hair.
"A man suddenly drops in and tells me he wants to introduce me to the current Dark Lord... he nearly scared me to death."
This was no exaggeration. When he had heard the Acolyte excitedly shout the name "Ethan Vincent," Grindelwald's heart had skipped a beat. Dead memories began to assault him; the greatest Waterloo of his past conquests surged back into his mind like a nightmare.
It was through this man that Grindelwald had learned of the current state of the wizarding world.
But... what did "the wizarding world is about to be destroyed" even mean? What was "The Era of the Lamp"? What was "The Advent of the Painted Father"? And what was the deal with this Death God?
It felt like the title of a bad novel: I Woke Up and the World's Difficulty Increased by 1000x.
Grindelwald turned his head. Though aged, his sharp gaze landed on a door that had appeared abruptly in the middle of the prison. Since the Acolyte named "Andre" had fallen through it, it had not disappeared. It stood there like an abyss, enticing one to enter.
"...Let me see for myself just what kind of 'Golden Age' you have painted for this world."
"And while I'm at it, I'll pay a visit to an old friend I haven't seen in a long time."
Grindelwald took a deep breath, straightened his clothes, and stepped toward the portal with a hidden sense of anticipation.
Whoosh!
His figure merged into the doorway, swallowed by darkness in an instant. Then, as if its mission were finally complete, the portal vanished.
Silence returned to the narrow cell. After decades, it was empty once more. Only the whistling wind continued to blow through the isolated fortress, just as it always had.
Knockturn Alley, England.
Fenrir Greyback, the Death Eater who reveled in his werewolf identity and lived for slaughter and curses, stood atop a wooden crate. He daintily licked blood from his razor-sharp claws. His amber, vertical pupils looked down at his restless kin below. He bared his fangs and rasped:
"Let us hold a feast of blood, my brothers! Revenge against the filth who betrayed us!"
"Use death to tell them: they will never, ever escape their cursed and filthy fate! Hahaha!"
"Kill them! Strip the skin from their bodies!"
"Awoo——!"
The werewolves and Death Eaters howled in frenzy, their faces twisted with mindless insanity and bloodlust. Under the influence of the Death God, Dark Magic was affecting their sanity more than ever before.
Fenrir licked his lips with satisfaction and murmured hoarsely:
"Woof woof The big bad wolf is coming!"
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
Even under Ethan's protection, the students of Hogwarts, who were living through "harrowing" days of intense study, could feel the shift in the atmosphere.
"Is someone finally coming to save us?"
Ron stared blankly at his parchment, looking up from his essay 'On the Origins and Necessity of the International Statute of Secrecy (Twelve Feet Long)' and muttered in despair.
Ever since Hermione had thrown herself headfirst into the training for the Enlightenment Society, there had been no one left to let them copy homework.
"Look on the bright side," Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder with a wry smile. "Maybe the giant octopus will eat us first."
After speaking, Harry turned to look at the wall, his expression turning serious.
The walls of Hogwarts were now covered in intricate, complex patterns. It was as if they were alive; without anyone noticing, they had "grown" over almost every surface of the castle. Upon closer inspection, one could see they were composed of countless spells, radiating an incredibly profound aura.
"That's actually possible!" Ron chimed in. "Ethan has sealed off so many classrooms, hasn't he? Fred and George snuck out at midnight to look, and they came back saying they saw... walking octopuses?!"
"Merlin's beard! I'd sooner believe we've been transported to an alternate dimension."
"Sigh, I just hope we survive this semester peacefully," Harry hoped fervently.
However, his wish was not to be granted.
Late that night...
"SCREECH——!!!"
A high-pitched, piercing cry, like a siren or an arrow piercing the air, suddenly shattered the silence of the night!
"Gah!"
The students were jolted awake, leaping from their beds! It felt as if a cold hand had snatched them right out of their dreams.
Gryffindor Dormitory.
"W-What's happening?!"
Harry scrambled to put on his glasses. What met his eyes through the window was a line of figures in the distance, stretching out like the lights of the underworld!
In an instant, Harry realized—the war had begun.
"Bloody hell..." Ron stared at the Death Birds screeching outside the window, his face turning pale. "W-What do we do?"
Just then, the door was slammed open with a loud bang!
Hermione stood there, wrapped in her robes, her hair practically exploding like a lion's mane. Her face was filled with excitement and nervousness, her eyes reflecting the bright lights outside. She scanned the room and shouted:
"What are you all sitting there for? Get up and prepare for battle! This is the first step for Hogwarts—for our Enlightenment Society—to step out into the world!"
Ron hesitated. "The enemy... is it the Ministry?"
"No," Hermione shook her head firmly. "It's the forces of darkness."
She sounds brainwashed, everyone in the room thought simultaneously. Yet, not a single person backed down.
Harry jumped up. As he heard his heart pounding and felt the blood rushing through his veins, he realized that he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
Ron, Seamus, Dean—even the "cowardly" Neville—didn't hesitate to pull on their clothes and grab their wands. They left the dormitory, merging into the flood of students pouring through the corridors.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted. "I want to tell you something before it's too late!"
"What?!"
Harry took a deep breath and grinned brilliantly. "Stop barging into the boys' dormitory! If you're going to barge in anywhere, go barge into Ethan's bedroom!"
"!! W-What are you talking about..." Hermione stammered, her face turning bright red.
They left the common room and ran toward the Great Hall. Along the way, red, yellow, blue, and even green robes were all mixed together.
"Listen up."
Gemma Farley, a Slytherin upperclassman who had returned to the school, looked at her juniors with pride and a heavy voice: "If anyone wants to bring shame to their family name, you can go hide in the dungeons right now."
"The rest of you who have brains, follow me!"
Draco Malfoy was the first to follow, his eyes shining with a burning light! He was determined to let Lord Ethan see his shiny blonde head first.
In the Ravenclaw ranks, Luna Lovegood waved her wand, releasing a silver-white glow that looked like falling snow. Her pale, delicate face turned toward the younger students who were crying in fear. She said softly:
"Don't be afraid. Follow the light; it will guide you to a safe place."
"Waaaaah..."
The little ones, still in their pajamas, were crying so hard their faces were smudged. Under Luna's comfort, they held hands and followed the silver light toward the Great Hall.
The Hufflepuffs were the most numerous. The "little badgers" huddled together like a brigade of potato soldiers, following closely behind their leader, Cedric Diggory.
When this massive tide of students, answering the call, filed through the front gates, they saw exactly what they expected.
Their Headmaster, Ethan Vincent, was standing at the front.
"You've come."
Ethan turned his head. He didn't look surprised. It was as if he had known all along that his students would stand up and fight alongside him.
After six years of growth, Ethan had transformed from the skinny orphan of Spinner's End into a tall, commanding young man. His long limbs were encased in a sophisticated navy blue suit, with fine gold patterns that caught the moonlight. His face was handsome, his features deep and chiseled. His black curls swayed in the wind, and his cobalt-blue eyes held a gaze as deep as the ocean.
Just by standing there, he caused the noisy crowd of students to fall silent. Every eye was fixed on their Mr. Lamp.
"...Everyone, I love art."
"Oil paintings, murals, engravings, watercolors, ink wash... realism, abstraction, hyper-realism, conceptual art..."
"Art is a tool to express the soul, a channel to convey emotion!"
"And I only wish to bring beauty and light to this world!"
Ethan raised his arm high as if praising the sun, his voice echoing in everyone's ears. The students held their breath, listening intently, unwilling to miss a single syllable.
"Now, there are people—there are beings—who wish to defile this art!"
"Like rats in a sewer, they gnaw at every scrap of light that leaks in. When peace and beauty are mentioned, they respond with a contemptuous laugh!"
"We cannot live in a false peace forever."
"Now is the moment to shatter the dream and face the harsh reality!"
With those powerful words, Ethan's fists suddenly clenched! Everyone's hearts seemed to skip a beat, as if gripped by his hand.
"He's so handsome..." one girl murmured, staring infatuatedly at Ethan. No one laughed at her, because everyone else was in the same state.
Ethan scanned the crowd, his cobalt eyes moving over the excited and passionate faces. Young, fearless faces. He took a deep breath, turned, and looked at the line of fire in the distance.
The corners of his mouth curled up. For once, his usually calm and indifferent face showed a hint of mockery. He spoke slowly:
"How can a few lonely stars hope to withstand the rising sun?"
Ethan raised his wand. It transformed, becoming a spear wreathed in brilliant light!
He leaped into the air. With a roar, the three-headed Cerberus sprang forward to catch him, willingly acting as his mount! Above his head, the Death Bird held its silver-white staff and let out a chilling cry!
Ethan raised his spear high, pointing it toward the distant fires, and shouted with a thunderous voice:
"Remember this! After tonight, the British wizarding world shall find a new master!"
"FORWARD!!"
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