Ethan said with a bright, cheerful smile.
The sheer innocence of that smile made Minister Scrimgeour want to leap right out of his seat, draw his wand, and challenge him to a righteous duel!
—What kind of normal person can control Dementors?!!
...Only an existence as evil and terrifying as the Dark Lord, or perhaps something even worse than the Dementors themselves, could instill fear in creatures devoid of emotion and force them into submission.
The moment he remembered what he was actually dealing with, Minister Scrimgeour suddenly lost his impulsive urge.
The version of himself that had leaped up to duel sat back down quietly in his imagination.
He couldn't beat him. He really, truly couldn't beat him.
"...So," Minister Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow, speaking slowly, "to prevent the criminals in Azkaban from breaking out, you blew up Azkaban?"
"You could say it's killing one of the many birds with a single stone," Ethan replied modestly.
"Nonsense!" Minister Scrimgeour slammed his gavel down heavily, a vein popping on his forehead. "You destroyed Azkaban! What are we supposed to do with future criminals?!"
Unexpectedly.
As if he had been waiting for this exact moment, Ethan snapped his fingers with a crisp crack and answered, "Regarding that issue! You gentlemen don't need to worry, I've already prepared for it!"
Hearing this, Minister Scrimgeour's heart skipped a beat, his anxiety skyrocketing to the absolute extreme.
With a swift motion, Ethan produced a black leather-bound notebook.
As the yellowed, ancient pages fluttered open, a bizarre and kaleidoscopic scene poured out from within!
—It was the genesis of the universe, leading up to a singularity that exploded, churning out countless vibrant colors and life.
Then came the First Flame. Ancient dragons, as tall as the heavens, spread their wings and roared, while towering progenitor giants and all kinds of creatures emerged together.
After that, the First Flame faded, and the world returned to darkness. And from this darkness, immortal souls were born.
Wailing, struggling, dying over and over again.
Until they lost their humanity, turning into shriveled, walking corpses—Hollows—enduring endless torment!
And these souls were none other than the prisoners of Azkaban!
Trapped within the diary, they were joyfully struggling for all eternity in an abyss of despair and agony!
Their hoarse, agonizing wails echoed throughout the courtroom.
It was genuinely more soul-shattering than the Dementors!
"Trapping the prisoners within my painting allows them to experience an immersive hell—it's both portable and secure. I call it—"
""My Struggle"."
Ethan's eyes curved into crescents as he enunciated each word clearly.
With every page turned in his hand, twisted faces of pure terror were revealed.
[Name: "My Struggle"] [Tier: Tier 2 · Purple Epic!] [Type: Scene Painting] [Description: Who put this crap in a book?] [Effect: Perfectly recreates Hidetaka Miyazaki's developmental path from childhood, showcasing the ultimate struggle between man and nature. Those imprisoned within this painting will experience a literal hell as immortal souls—facing endless mountains of corpses, seas of blood, infinite monsters, and poison swamps.] [Evaluation: Mom never has to worry about prisoners breaking out again, because they've all gone completely insane! Teehee~]
The courtroom plunged into dead silence once more.
After a long while.
From the gallery, Ron asked in a trembling voice:
"Is Ethan... is he really innocent?"
Why did it feel like he was darker than a Dark wizard?!
That so-called "portable prison" was infinitely more hellish than Azkaban! Didn't they see how those Dementors looked as if they had just seen their hometown?!
On the other side.
Miss Connie Rosier, who had been brought over by Luna, had her almond eyes wide open and her red lips parted in shock.
After a few seconds, a flush crept up her cheeks.
...S-So handsome.
An Ethan who strives so hard is just too handsome!
Right at that moment.
Connie suddenly felt a gloomy, piercing gaze shooting at her from the side.
She shivered, turned her head, and met a pair of deep blue eyes.
Luna: Stare—
"...B-But!" Connie subconsciously changed her tune. "This doesn't erase Ethan's atrocities!"
Moreover.
If Ethan really was [Mr. Lamp]...
Then all those previous events, including that terrifying "World Destruction Declaration," were all his doing.
Thinking of this, the blush on Connie's face gradually faded. She looked at the black-haired boy who was the center of attention down below, rubbed her fingers together, and muttered:
"Ethan, just who exactly are you... and what is it you want to do?"
Was the beacon of light in her heart—the one that pierced the darkness and guided the way—merely a flame meant to lure moths?
Ethan... Ethan... Ethan...
Luna glanced at the highly focused Auror lady and retracted her gaze.
It fell back onto Ethan in the center of the crowd.
His heroic, radiant appearance was deeply etched into her retinas.
A moment later.
Luna's eyes curved, bringing up a sweet smile as she whispered softly:
"Ethan is just Ethan. He's the great painter who brings art to the world. And he is the guiding light leading the world toward a bright future."
He was undeniably their grand hero.
And more importantly, her one and only friend.
"He absolutely cannot... be taken away by anyone else..."
Luna's eyes darkened slightly, the magic around her body surging subtly.
Ethan's peerless masterpiece had shocked everyone once again.
It made anyone who wanted to "defend" him completely at a loss for where to even begin.
It genuinely felt like exiling Ethan to an alien planet would be the safest solution.
Minister Scrimgeour's neck was flushed red with anger. Trembling all over, he held his gavel high but froze in mid-air, unable to bring it down.
He felt a profound sense of powerlessness—a feeling that the entity across from him wasn't even the same species, making any anger completely pointless.
...Dumbledore, how on earth did you endure this guy for five whole years?!
Minister Scrimgeour felt a deep sense of absolute awe.
Just as the stalemate persisted.
A blood-curdling scream suddenly erupted from the gallery:
"—Ahhhhhh!!!"
It was none other than the Savior, Harry Potter. As if jolted awake from a nightmare, he crashed to the floor from his seat!
His hands flailed wildly as cries of pure agony and panic tore from his throat!
"Harry?!"
Sirius leaped up from his seat, throwing his arms around his godson. He frantically brushed the sweat from Harry's forehead, whispering urgently, "What is it? Is your scar hurting again?"
Harry gasped heavily for air.
Then, under the watchful eyes of everyone present, he practically roared out:
"M-Mr. Weasley's been attacked! He's on the floor... bleeding, he won't stop bleeding!"
Harry had seen that familiar door again.
After Hermione investigated, she had told him it was the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic.
And this time, from a bizarre, slithering perspective on the ground, he had seen it with terrifying clarity—
"He" had lunged and bitten Ron's father, Mr. Arthur!
Meeting a barrage of astonished stares.
Harry looked around, unable to comprehend why they were all just standing there.
In a crystal-clear, ringing voice, he shouted again:
"What are you all staring at?! Mr. Weasley was attacked by a Dark wizard—"
"Right inside the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries!!"
As his words echoed.
Crash!
Minister Scrimgeour shot to his feet, his chair toppling over backward.
His face was darker than it had ever been!
...Setting aside why Weasley would be in the Department of Mysteries.
And how Harry could possibly know about it.
Just the mere fact that a Ministry official had been attacked by a Dark wizard inside the Ministry of Magic itself.
If it was true... it would be the Ministry's most catastrophic scandal! An absolute disgrace!
Minister Scrimgeour subconsciously snapped his head toward the black-haired boy below the stands.
He met a pair of cobalt-blue eyes that were completely devoid of surprise—and even held a hint of amusement.
Hearing this horrifying news, he showed zero shock.
It was as if he had expected it all along.
In that split second.
A bone-deep, icy terror crawled up Minister Scrimgeour's spine!
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