Name: Egg of Inverse Incubation
Grade: Tier 3, Blue Precious Description: Like an insect sealed in amber, death conceived inside a living body—that is the Egg of Inverse Incubation. Effect: When the shell cracks, it releases a surge of violent dark energy, lashing out at everything nearby while hungrily seeking the weakest lifeforms to parasitize. Rating: A treasure tailor-made for Dumbledore.
"I don't recall this thing being in the original proposal. Did Ethan slip it in at the last second?"
Beneath the stern gazes of the headmasters, Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, rifled through his sheaf of parchment, sweat beading on his forehead. His career path had become a minefield littered with Ethan-shaped explosives.
"Mad-Eye never mentioned any 'black egg' when he grilled me about the tasks…" Bagman muttered under his breath. He shook his head. Probably nothing. Moody asked questions the way dragons sneezed—loud, fiery, and impossible to ignore. No way he was actually planning something. If he was, Bagman was doomed.
Then, quite by accident, Bagman caught sight of Dumbledore's face—the greatest white wizard of the century. He froze, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "Are you… are you all right, Headmaster?"
The usually serene, twinkling countenance had cracked wide open. Astonishment and sorrow warred in those ancient blue eyes as they fixed on Ethan across the platform. It was the look of a man who'd been stabbed in the heart without warning.
"Ah… I'm quite well, Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore replied, pulling himself together. His gaze lingered on the massive black egg pulsing with a sickeningly familiar energy. His withered fingers tightened around the edge of his robe. An Obscurus. The very monster that had devoured his sister.
Did Ethan know? Was this deliberate? Or just cruel coincidence? Dumbledore shook his head, forcing the thought down. "I'm getting old," he murmured, half to himself. "Perhaps it's time to pass the torch to the brilliant young people waiting in the wings."
Following Dumbledore's line of sight, Bagman spotted Ethan wearing the most unsettling "hehe" grin imaginable. The man nearly dropped his parchment. "You're… you're handing the world to the next Dark Lord?!"
Dumbledore: "…"
"Hehe. Keep that up and you'll jinx the whole tournament," Ethan chirped. "It's about to start."
"…Right."
Sob QAQ
On the champions' platform, Ethan presented the Obscurus egg to the three teams. Their eyes—tense, eager, afraid—locked onto the glossy black shell. Ethan's lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. With a flick of his wrist, a crimson rose encased in a crystal dome appeared in his hand.
"Memorize this," he said softly, voice dripping with honeyed menace. "When every last petal falls, you'll never see your loved ones again."
Fleur's breath hitched. "My sister—"
"Shh." Ethan pressed a finger to his lips, smile sharpening. "Patience, princess."
Fleur bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, but the words died in her throat.
Ethan lifted his staff. Mid-air, it shrank and reshaped itself into a sleek black wand. He pointed it skyward. The sound-transmitting flower pinned to his collar amplified his voice until it rolled like thunder across the arena:
"Same rules as always—the warrior who slays the monster earns the right to face me." He paused, savoring the tension. "Let the second task of the Triwizard Tournament…"
"Begin!"
"Egg-Protection Squad—roll out!"
A spell detonated overhead in a cascade of emerald and gold fireworks. The champions, poised like coiled springs, nearly tripped over their own feet at the ridiculous team name. Black lines crawled across their foreheads. Seriously? Turn the sacred Triwizard Tournament into a pack-mule escort mission?
Yet the rules were merciless: a ticking clock, a fragile egg that would annihilate everything if cracked, and an unknown monster lurking somewhere in the depths. The task had just become brutally, beautifully complicated.
Krum stared across the vast Black Lake. Plenty of room for something big. Very big.
Cedric Diggory stepped forward, all square-jawed Hufflepuff heroism. "No infighting yet," he declared. "First priority: find the glass bridge, cross it, reach the center. If we start hexing each other now, nobody gets through. And if that egg breaks…" He let the threat hang.
Reasonable. Confident. Inspirational. Neville stared at Cedric in open admiration—then blinked. Was the guy… glowing? He squinted. Yep. Cedric had sneakily cast a Lumos charm on himself for extra hero lighting. Neville: "…"
Even golden boys had their vanity.
Fleur's team conferred in rapid French, then nodded. Krum grunted, "Fine. Move." He strode to the lake's edge, raised his wand, and barked, "Revelio!"
A ripple of magic swept outward. For one heartbeat, faint outlines of the invisible glass bridge shimmered into view. Then they vanished.
Krum turned to his teammates. "Alternate Revelio. We brute-force it."
"Da!"
High on the stands, students leaned forward, breathless. Lee Jordan's voice crackled over the loudspeakers: "Durmstrang charges ahead with their trademark… er… boldness! Continuous Revelio—simple, brutal, effective!"
Professor McGonagall's glare could have melted steel. Lee coughed. "I mean bravery! Pure bravery!"
"Oh! Beauxbatons is moving! They've gone for Freezing Charms—look at that frost! Clever and elegant—"
"—as expected from the ice queens! Hehe~"
"LEE JORDAN, THAT WAS AWFUL!"
"I'm getting frostbite just listening to you!"
"Get the Weasley twins up here!"
Snowballs flew. Lee ducked, laughing maniacally, and kept commentating. "Both teams advancing fast! Hogwarts still rooted to the shore—what are they waiting for, Christmas?"
Ron Weasley was practically vibrating. "Come on! Do something!" He'd never trusted this lineup. Now it looked like they were just going to stand there and lose.
Michael Corner smirked at Mandy Brocklehurst. "Ravenclaw prediction: they're about to lap everyone."
Mandy pushed up her glasses, smug. "It's not a prediction. It's Enlightenment Society confidence."
Down by the water, Neville clutched a handful of seeds like they were live grenades. "Are we sure about this? It's a new strain. Still unstable…"
Cedric clapped him so hard Neville nearly coughed up a lung. "We've got you!"
Luna nodded serenely. "The Nargles approve."
Neville swallowed. "Right. Planting now."
He crouched at the lakeside, dug tiny graves in the damp earth, and buried the seeds. From his pocket he drew a dropper filled with glowing emerald potion. Two careful drops on each mound.
The ground trembled. Thick, sinewy vines erupted skyward, twisting and braiding themselves into a living bridge of dark green tendrils that stretched across the invisible glass path—strong, flexible, and very much alive.
Neville exhaled shakily. "Please don't eat us."
The vines rustled, almost like they were laughing.
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