As soon as the words left his lips, the pub's floor turned a deep, blood-red hue.
The pure white snowflakes outside the window vanished, replaced by a crimson curtain that seemed to have fallen from the sky.
"What's going on?"
The drunkard lifted his head in a stupor, staring blearily at Ethan before shouting, "Hey! Kid! What did you do—"
Ethan's eyes shifted toward him, delivering a light, warning glance.
"Gulp!"
The drunkard's eyes bulged as if an invisible hand had squeezed his throat!
In that instant, he seemed to glimpse a twisted, grotesque entity lurking behind Ethan.
Within its ever-shifting mass of flesh, countless throbbing eyeballs gazed down at him.
The sight sobered him up instantly, leaving him unable to utter another word.
Ethan nodded. "It seems our audience is quite well-behaved."
In the ensuing silence, Ethan pulled his gaze away and slowly approached the bar.
His wand transformed into a black cane tipped with silver, tapping softly against the ground with each creaking step he took.
With a gentle wave, several steps materialized on the bar, connecting it to the floor.
Ethan ascended the stairs onto the bar.
Then, he turned gracefully, looking down at the bewildered patrons below.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a grin.
One hand rested on the cane, while the other conjured a top hat above his head.
He tipped it elegantly and playfully toward the crowd. "Now, it's showtime~"
Madam Rosmerta subconsciously moved to applaud.
But she realized the pub had fallen utterly silent.
Her hands paused, and she tilted her head toward Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, what wonderful performance is your student about to give? It looks so impressive~"
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression grave, and said nothing.
The proprietress of the Three Broomsticks felt her smile stiffen gradually. "This is just the beginning, it's harmless, right?"
"Right??"
Ethan, such a gentle, kind, and helpful student...
He had promised to help her revitalize the pub.
How could his personality shift so drastically all of a sudden... At that moment, Madam Rosmerta suddenly recalled a question she had overlooked:
Come to think of it, why was the Leaky Cauldron's business thriving so much, yet Tom hadn't asked Ethan for a "repurchase"?
Just then, "Ow!"
Ron's rat, Scabbers, suddenly bit him hard!
It scrambled out in a frenzy, darting straight toward the door.
"Scabbers! Are you crazy?!"
Ron clutched his bleeding hand, his face flushing red as he whispered loudly.
He felt like everyone in the pub was staring at him.
From atop the bar, Ethan looked down at the frantically fleeing Scabbers—Pettigrew, the traitor who had betrayed Harry's parents.
A pleased curl tugged at his lips.
The performance had begun.
The protagonist couldn't just run away.
"Thump."
Ethan tapped the bar with his cane.
Everyone's attention snapped to him immediately.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Ethan announced clearly, raising his hand to let the golden shrike perch on his finger.
In that moment, the shrike's dark pupils seemed to merge with Ethan's eyes.
In a daze, it was as if they had become one.
Adding a hint of wildness to his human demeanor.
"Oh~" Hermione cupped her face, feeling her cheeks burn.
She murmured in a trance, "What exquisite and skillful magic! When will I be able to become like Ethan..."
Harry popped up from the ground.
He pushed up his glasses and muttered, "When you change species."
Ethan's clear, resonant voice echoed through the pub, accompanied by the faint sound of scurrying rats: "Next, I will perform for everyone."
"What punishment awaits a tattletale who cannot keep a secret."
"Chirp—" The golden bird opened its beak, emitting a crisp cry.
Thump! Thump!
Everyone's eyes widened as they bent over, clutching their hearts in agony!
It felt as though countless sharp thorns had pierced right through them!
A sudden, stabbing pain throbbed in their chests!
The next second, "Aie!!!"
A shrill, piercing scream rang out!
The rat, which had been clawing at the blood-red barrier, suddenly collapsed, writhing in convulsions!
Ron: "Scabbers!"
He was about to rush over and save it.
Right after that, "Splurt!"
Countless thorny spikes burst through the rat's body!
And they continued to extend and grow upward.
Finally, the thorny brambles intertwined to form the shape of a cross!
Piercing nearly every inch of the rat's skin, the blood that flowed out dyed the thorns a vivid red.
So much blood—it didn't seem possible for a mere rat.
"Aie, squeak—!"
Strangely, the rat was still alive.
Its black, beady eyes bulged as it let out weak, tragic cries.
As if enduring unimaginable pain.
Everyone was stunned.
They looked up at the enormous cross, watching the struggling rat impaled upon it.
A chill raced from the soles of their feet straight to the tops of their heads!
For some reason, they felt that the rat's expression was eerily human-like.
"Chirp—" Another cry.
Like a tolling death knell.
The flowing blood pooled on the ground, forming a crimson puddle.
And then, it pulsed, and a rotting finger emerged.
In an instant, the rat's scream cut off abruptly.
Its tiny, beady eyes stared at the ground, at the rotting human figure rising from the pool of blood.
It even displayed a human-like fear and disbelief.
No, impossible... James is dead; he saw the corpse with his own eyes!
That was his gift to his Master...
How could he be here?!
"Bang!"
Harry suddenly stood up, his chair clattering to the ground.
His eyes were locked on the skeleton with rotting flesh dangling from its bones, his mind going blank.
Strangely, he felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
He even wanted to run up and embrace the terrifying skeleton.
Just as the professors turned to look, Hermione yanked him back down.
"Are you crazy?!"
Hermione hissed... "I'm... I'm sorry..." Harry's lips moved a few times, but he couldn't explain why.
It was clearly just something Ethan had conjured to scare people, so why did it feel so familiar?
"[Tattletale...]"
A hoarse, resentful growl filled the pub.
It was so vivid that it sent shivers down everyone's spines.
The terrifying skeleton was seen gripping the thorns with both hands, steadily crawling toward the unlucky fat rat.
One golden-brown eyeball, which had fallen from its socket, brimmed with tangible hatred.
Everyone was dumbfounded.
They sat frozen in their seats, not even noticing the beer dribbling from their mouths.
The proprietress of the Leaky Cauldron watched the scene unfold and murmured blankly, "Is this what outstanding Hogwarts students are like? Their aesthetics... are a bit too avant-garde... Professor Flitwick has already crawled under the table."
"Squeak—Aie!!!"
In front of everyone, the rat shrieked piteously.
Its head lolled to the side, and it fainted.
In the dead silence, only a crisp "snap" echoed.
Everything disappeared.
The blood-red curtain, the thorn cross, the rotting skeleton.
All vanished.
The pub returned to its ordinary state.
With Ethan still standing on the bar.
At some point, a golden painting had appeared beside the young man.
Aside from the overwhelming golden radiance, there was nothing else.
However, gazing upon it caused the mind to swirl into chaos and dizziness.
"eris's call"
[It can intensely mesmerize viewers, drawing them into an illusion.]
It was by combining this painting with "Shrike's Nest" that Ethan had constructed the blood-red illusion from before.
As for those real pains...
Ethan stowed his wand.
Ahem~☆
Facing pairs of "admiring" eyes, like an actor taking a curtain call, Ethan removed his top hat and bowed elegantly.
He looked up and smiled at everyone: "Well then, the performance is now over."
"I hope everyone enjoyed it and will continue to support the Three Broomsticks pub~"
Customers:
The Three Broomsticks pub, when did it connect with the underworld?
No notice was sent out!!!
"Slap."
Professor McGonagall slapped a hand over her eyes.
Afraid to open them.
She wished it was all a dream, and she would wake up back in the human world.
Ethan's finger still supported the golden bird.
Some sharp-eyed people noticed.
On the golden bird's beak, at some point, there was a touch of blood-red.
"Scabbers!!!"
Ron finally snapped out of it and cried out.
He knelt on the ground in a disheartened slump, reaching to pick up the constantly twitching Scabbers.
Then he withdrew his hand in disgust, grimacing: "Ugh! It's all wet."