HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 309

Chapter 309: Cleared! Cedric: Mate, Do We Really Have to Touch the Cup Together?

Harry looked down at the blood-red rose in his hand.

The tip of its stem was as sharp as an arrowhead.

"I get it. Leave it to me, Cedric!"

Harry forced the noise out of his head and clenched the “rose arrow” tight, feeling the thorns bite into his palm.

Cedric bared his teeth in a grin, gripped his greatsword again, and roared at the statue, “Your opponent is me, you mad Queen of Hearts who rules this cursed garden!”

“AAAAAH!”

The statue’s voice boomed with grief and rage as she raised her arms high and spread her fingers.

Crack, crack.

Fragments of stone spun and gathered in her palm.

In the end, they formed a sceptre, set with a deep red heart.

Clang!

Like a declaration of royal authority, the sceptre smashed down.

The ground shook violently.

“Urgh!”

Cedric barely kept his footing.

Then thorny vines shot out from cracks in the earth and wrapped around his ankles.

And then.

Clatter, clatter.

A chilling scraping sound came from the shadows beside the Queen.

For an instant, Cedric’s heart actually stopped.

He stared ahead, stunned.

Fortunately, Ethan was still, at least technically, a primate.

What the Queen called forth was not the black knight.

It was row after row of Hearts playing-card soldiers, carrying spears, axes, swords, and every kind of weapon, advancing in perfect formation.

“…Phew.”

Cedric let out the breath he had been holding.

Thank goodness. Just minions.

If another “black knight, white knight” popped out right now, he would seriously consider investigating his respected club president’s ancestral origins.

Just in case he traced them back far enough to end up in the deep sea.

“What do we do?!” Harry’s head felt like it was swelling as he faced the onrushing soldiers.

This made it even harder to get close to the Queen of Hearts.

“Let me handle it, Harry,” Cedric said, voice low.

He drew a deep breath and raised the sword hilt high, squeezing out his last ounce of strength as he poured all his magic into the greatsword.

In an instant, the blade swelled larger, blazing with dazzling light.

“Come on, then!” Cedric roared.

He brought the greatsword down with everything he had.

Boom!

Like a mountain range cleaved in two, a wall of light rose straight up through the playing-card soldiers.

The surge of air burst outward to both sides like storm waves.

Soldier after soldier was thrown away.

A straight, clean path to the Queen of Hearts opened.

“Argh!”

Cedric dropped to one knee, completely drained.

The magic greatsword scattered into light.

Breath surged out of his chest and exploded from his throat. “Go, Harry!”

Harry’s eyes snapped wide.

In that roar, his legs moved almost on their own.

He charged at the Queen of Hearts with every scrap of strength he had.

Clang!

A heavy axe blade chopped down at Harry’s heel.

He did not even look back.

He stumbled, then leapt onto the Queen’s arm and ran up it.

At the top he jumped again, landing over her left breast.

He clung to the hollow in her chest.

The stone heart wrapped in black mist was right in front of him.

“Ungh!”

Harry raised the rose stem high.

He was about to drive the sharp tip into the Queen’s heart.

If he struck, the curse would end, and the task would be cleared.
Right?

Harry’s hand froze halfway.

A question he could not push down rose in his mind.

Was he ending a curse, or ending the person who had been cursed?

Thump, thump.

Even though it was stone.

Even though this was only a monster Ethan had carved out of rock.

In that moment, Harry swore he could hear a living heartbeat.

In the few seconds he hesitated.

Rumble.

The statue shook violently.

A huge force grabbed Harry from behind and flung him away.

“Ah!”

Harry yelped as he tumbled across the ground.

He looked up in horror and saw the winning rose had slipped from his hand, landing right at the statue’s feet.

The next second.

Clatter, clatter!

The playing-card soldiers stacked up in layers, blocking the path.

They completely cut off Harry’s view.

It was over.

That was the only thought in Harry’s head.

He turned and saw Cedric, grey with exhaustion, kneeling on one knee like a warrior’s gravestone.

He had burned out completely.

Then Harry remembered Fred, tossed aside by a single swing of the glaive.

A heavy, sick weight dropped into his stomach.

Harry slammed his fist into the ground and growled through his teeth, “Damn it!”

“Everyone fought with everything they had just to give me one chance, and I wasted it with my stupidity!”

Harry could not even bear to imagine the contempt on the faces of the students outside the maze.

“Is this what Ethan wanted to teach us? To throw away useless hesitation and kill the enemy without delay, no matter what…”

Harry muttered, head drooping.

A deep sense of failure swallowed him.

And then.

Several seconds passed.

No playing-card soldier came forward to stab him or knock him out.

“Huh?”

Harry lifted his head, confused.

The Queen of Hearts, who had been so violent moments ago, reached down and picked up the unopened rosebud.

In her grey-white eyes, empty of pupils, something human flickered.

[You actually… did not kill me…]

When a normal voice came from the statue’s mouth, not a howl, Harry realised how young it sounded.

Pitch-black tears rolled down her petrified cheeks.

The Queen of Hearts turned her head and looked down at Harry.

Slowly, she asked:

[Why? Why did you not kill me, the source of the curse?]

Harry froze.

He had no idea what was happening.

Maybe once she finished asking, she would snap into a combat expression, laugh cruelly, and ram her sceptre straight into the ground with him.

That would be very Ethan.

Harry swallowed hard and stood up, answering from the bottom of his heart, “B-because if I did that, it would not be ending a curse.”

“I do not want to hurt innocent people.”

By the time he said the last sentence, his voice had steadied and his back had straightened.

Harry knew it clearly.

Even if given a second chance, he would probably choose the same again.

Just like in the second task, when Fleur’s sister was being controlled by that Obscurus.

To lift the curse, was he supposed to hurt an innocent girl like that?

Harry braced himself for being buried in the ground.

But the Queen of Hearts did change her expression, just not into a fighting face.

She smiled.

“…Ethan, I might disappoint you,” she thought

In the gentlest tone, she said with profound gratitude:

[Thank you for your choice. Thank you for allowing my existence…]

[Ah. That boy was right. The ones who reach me in the end are all true champions…]

[I cannot keep causing trouble for others any longer.]

Harry stood there, mouth open.

Not just him.

Everyone watching beyond the water screen looked just as stunned, holding their breath as this unexpected turn unfolded.

Before everyone’s eyes, the Queen of Hearts lifted the rose.

Then she drove it hard into her own chest.

“No!”

Dumbledore took an unconscious step forward outside the maze, reaching toward the water screen as if he could stop it.

The next second.

Aaaaah!

The black mist shrieked, a piercing wail, and surged uncontrollably into the rose.

It was swallowed, devoured, and turned into nourishment.

Whoosh.

The rose burst into bloom.

Its vivid colour pulsed in waves of light, illuminating the dark maze.

A drop of potion-like liquid fell from the flower, landing on the Queen’s grey stone skin.

Crack, crack.

Spiderweb fractures appeared.

They spread quickly across the statue.

Then everything shattered.

Rumble!

Great slabs of stone shell crashed to the ground, raising thick smoke.

In the smoke, a pale, serene face appeared, an oval face framed by smooth, long hair and marked by delicate features.

Her body was still enormous, and she still wore the dazzling dark red gown of a queen and held a golden sceptre.

But now the aura she gave off was completely different: gentle, quiet, softly restrained.

[…Eh? I am still alive…]

Even though it was her own action, the girl looked as surprised as they were.

She lowered her head to her left chest.

In the heart-shaped hollow, like something from a cartoon, a complete ruby heart gleamed.

Thump. Thump.

It beat strongly, feeding energy through her whole body.

[…So no matter what, I would be “healed”…?]

Even if a challenger had truly stabbed the rose arrow into her heart, the absorbed curse and the falling liquid would still return her to life.

As for what happened to the challenger afterwards, that was another matter.

[Ah… was all of this within your expectations, Lord Ethan?]

[So brilliant. So powerful…]

Tears streamed down Ariana’s cheeks.

This time, they were not tar-black tears shaped by a curse.

They were clear, transparent tears.

Drop after drop fell into the pool.

Soon it filled with water so clear that the bottom could be seen.

And then.

The Triwizard Cup, the prize every champion had dreamed of, floated up.

It rose within arm’s reach.

At the same time, golden words appeared in the air:

[A true champion is not defined by how great their power is.]

[It is knowing when to sheathe the blade.]

[Congratulations, Champion who held fast to justice.]

[Pick up the cup. You have passed every trial.]

As Harry read the shining lines, tears flooded his eyes.

Finally.

The torment was finally over.

He wiped his face and tightened his grip on his wand, but his mouth stretched into a grin of pure pride.

He was proud to be a member of the Morning Star Club, led by Ethan.

“This is incredible,” Harry thought, laughing through his tears. “I probably will not forget these three tasks Ethan designed for as long as I live.”

Outside the maze.

“…That was unbelievable.”

Bagman stared at the water screen, muttering to himself.

For the first time, he thought the tournament Ethan had designed was bloody brilliant.

He turned, eager to share the excitement—then froze at the look on Dumbledore’s face.

The white wizard, usually steadier than the Alps, had tears on his aged cheeks.

Dumbledore gazed at the living face of his sister, a face he had buried in memory long ago, and rasped, “I misjudged you, Mr Vincent. You are far beyond what I thought. No, your vision is broader, deeper, farther than mine.”

It was like standing atop a mountain range, looking out toward a distance no ordinary person could reach in a lifetime.

Even beyond the earth, toward the heavens.

Extraordinary beyond measure, and yet still holding kindness in his heart.

A King of Mercy.

That talent, and the madness it produced, also made Ethan stand out painfully among ordinary people.

Though with Ethan’s personality, he probably did not care at all.

Thinking of the people Ethan had tormented, Dumbledore’s lips lifted.

Under Bagman’s horrified stare, Dumbledore considered it very seriously. “Perhaps the handover process for the Headmaster’s position can be started… Hmm. Should Ethan serve one year as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor first, to gain experience?”

After all, professors came and went, but Defence Against the Dark Arts was eternal—a new face every year, never the same twice.

Then Dumbledore’s smile vanished. He tightened his grip around the old wand he had deliberately brought with him. His eyes went cold, all warmth stripped away.

Next.

It would be Voldemort.

At the centre of the maze.

[Go on. Go and claim the honour that belongs to you.]

Ariana lay gracefully on her side, smiling warmly at Harry. With an elegant wave of her hand, the Hearts playing-card soldiers dropped to one knee in salute.

It was ridiculously impressive, absurdly ceremonial.

Harry’s face went hot.

He started forward in a hurry, walking as if his arms and legs belonged to different people, desperate to pick up the cup.

Then he remembered something and stopped.

He turned and looked at Cedric, who had spent every last bit of strength and could barely move on the ground.

A huge smile spread across Harry’s face.

He turned and hurried back in three quick steps.

He hauled Cedric up, supporting him.

“Come on,” Harry said. “Without you, I would never have made it this far. Let’s touch the cup together.”

Cedric’s eyes shone. “Harry…”

Staggering, they walked toward the pool.

They looked at each other, excitement and joy surging in their chests.

Together, they reached out and grabbed the cup.

Pop.

In an instant, both of them vanished.

“Huh?”

In the stands, Hermione frowned, exchanging baffled looks with the students around her. “The cup… is a Portkey?”

Then Hermione caught sight of Professor McGonagall standing up so fast her chair nearly went over, shock written plainly across her face.

In that instant, Hermione’s heart dropped into the abyss.