Chapter 350: Cast into the Styx, [Wash Away] Sins!
In the stone grotto, a dead silence fell.
The dark wizards stared at the strange old woman who had appeared from nowhere.
A cold dread crept slowly up each of their spines.
"Wh— what the hell is that?"
One of them gritted his teeth, knuckles white around his wand.
"Damn it! Yaxley said this was foolproof — what is all this?!"
"Just die already — Avada Kedavra!"
The sickly green curse streaked through the air, aimed straight at the old woman!
But halfway there, a massive hand plunged down and caught it.
Bang!
The curse left nothing but a blackened crater in that ashen palm.
"D— damn it!" The dark wizard's voice cracked with fury. "Why won't the Killing Curse work on any of them?!"
On the other side.
Michael caught sight of that familiar, withered arm — and his eyes lit up.
"It's Professor Unknown! This is Professor Unknown's magic!"
"Professor, you've finally come to save us!"
[Heh heh heh...]
A low, eerie laugh.
The great hand withdrew slowly, like a curtain drifting down from above.
And behind it.
The old woman's grinning, ghastly face.
[It seems… you've been naughty children…]
The words left her lips.
And in that instant —
The corners of her mouth stretched far beyond any human limit, splitting upward all the way to her ears.
Those dull grey eyes fixed on the dark wizards.
She rasped, one word at a time:
[Naughty children… go to Hell!]
Whoosh!
The old woman's upper body lurched forward and stretched grotesquely!
That gaping maw — split to her ears — yawned wide open!
Row upon row of ragged, uneven fangs, clearly visible within.
In one motion, she swallowed the dark wizards whole.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Wretched screaming rang out as blood dripped freely from the corners of her mouth.
Then, with a deep gulp, she swallowed them down.
One of the dark wizards — Giles — plunged downward through the dark alongside the others.
Splash.
He hit the water.
"—Hah!"
Giles wrenched his head above the surface, gasping hard.
Still in shock.
He patted himself down with shaking hands. "I… I'm still alive…? What just happened… was that an illusion?"
The pain of those fangs had been far too vivid for that.
Like every nerve was being sawed at, back and forth, over and over.
"Damn it — some kind of illusion magic, is it a Boggart? What on earth is going on…"
Giles slowly pushed himself upright.
Took stock of his surroundings.
A flicker of panic crossed his eyes — followed by something hungry, something dark.
"Hah… it's all fake anyway. I just need to focus and Disapparate…"
"It's not like I haven't been in tight spots before…"
His mind drifted back. The faces of those he'd killed over the years.
Muggles. Ordinary witches and wizards. Aurors.
He liked it — taking lives. It gave him a feeling of absolute control.
It let him forget the humiliation his family had suffered when they fell from grace.
"Giles! How could you — how did you become like this?! Even if you wanted to restore the family name, killing wasn't the answer!"
And at the very end of that memory.
The green light blazing through the dark. His father — helpless, pathetic — falling beneath his own wand.
And the Dark Lord's hand on his shoulder, offering approval.
…Strange. Why am I suddenly thinking about all of this.
Giles shook his head.
During those years locked up in Azkaban, he hadn't even been able to remember his family name.
He got to his feet, ready to leave this godforsaken place.
But then.
Thwap.
A hand closed around his ankle.
He jolted — jerked his head down —
And came face to face with something familiar.
[Son… my wonderful, brilliant son…]
A rotting face. An eye dangling loose. Only a few teeth left.
A sight more horrible than anything.
And yet.
Giles recognised it immediately.
His father.
What was his name again?
"N— no… that's not possible…"
His eyes went wide with horror, his voice cracking into a scream: "You're dead! I killed you myself — it's impossible — AAAUGH—!!"
He let out a cry of agony, staring in terror as the flesh around his ankle—where his father's hand gripped him—began to peel away, layer by layer.
He raised his hands.
No wand.
Just two palms, rapidly rotting, dissolving before his eyes.
Ah.
It clicked.
He was dead.
This, he supposed, was Hell.
He looked up.
From the bog all around him, face after face rose to the surface.
The faces of everyone he had killed.
Crawling towards him. Clawing at him.
[Ha ha… my dear son…]
"AAAAGH — just — just finish me off!! PLEASE—!!"
[Give me back my life...]
"AAAH — ha — HA—!!"
[Go to Hell...]
"…s— save me… someone save me…"
"God… I know I was wrong…"
For the first time in his life.
Giles prayed.
The same wailing.
Echoing through every corner of that lightless space.
The Styx flowed on, washing through everything.
Its razor currents scouring away the sins of the dead.
As for what came after the scouring —
Well.
Apologies.
Its creator seemed to have "accidentally" forgotten about that part.
[Ahh… delicious… I haven't eaten so well in such a long time…]
The old woman smacked her lips, her grey-white eyes rolling slowly.
Her gaze drifted to Michael and Neville, still frozen stiff where they stood.
She smiled, showing those teeth:
[Heh heh heh… don't be scared, little ones. I only take the naughty ones...]
[Their bodies are gone, but their souls haven't perished yet...]
[They must have all their sins washed away before they can cross the Styx...heh heh heh...]
[Remember to be good children, now...]
With that.
The lantern light shifted.
The little boat—seeming to move slowly, yet vanishing with startling speed—slipped back into the darkness.
As though following a call only it could hear.
Before long, fresh wailing rang out from somewhere in the distance.
"…" Michael was shaking so hard he could barely stand, voice half a sob: "So all this time… Professor Unknown hasn't just been going easy on us. He's been going oceans easy on us."
"Thank you, Professor, for sparing our worthless lives!!"
Neville, beside him, said nothing — just nodded vigorously.
"Hm?"
Michael suddenly noticed something. "Where's Luna?"
By now the mist had thinned, and the shapes of other students were gradually emerging throughout the grotto.
But among them.
There was no sign of the peculiar golden-haired girl.
[You have ferried many souls burdened with sin, and earned their gratitude!]
[Soul Fusion increased by 0.2%!]
[Current Soul Fusion: 94.2%]
Reading those faint blue lines.
Ethan smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with quiet satisfaction.
Like a seedling soaking in warm rain, drinking up the magic.
"Wonderful. Hogwarts never had anywhere for the Ferryman of the Styx to really stretch its legs. Dark wizard hideouts, though — this is the good stuff~"
Ethan's eyes curved with a grin.
"Each gain is small, but they add up. A hundred percent is only a matter of time!"
"For now — time to collect what's mine. The Ancient Magic, and Bellatrix's wand."
Ethan hummed softly to himself.
And strolled, unhurried, in the direction where the magical current ran strongest.
Through the grotto, past the wailing that echoed from every corner.
Crushing magical traps underfoot. Threading through passageways.
Until he reached a cave at the very deepest point.
Inside.
A warm, amber-golden glow suffused the air.
As though it had been waiting for him.
"Hmm." Ethan's nose twitched. He ran his tongue along his lip. "That's a human. Someone's already here."
Probably Yaxley's last little "obstacle."
But it didn't matter who.
Right now.
Short of Death itself, or something born of Fate — nothing in this place could touch him.
With that thought, entirely untroubled, Ethan walked straight in.
But the figure that came into view.
Made Ethan's eyes go wide with genuine surprise: "— Luna?"
At the sound of her name.
The golden-haired girl standing with her back to him turned around slowly.
Candlelight flickered from where it stood in clusters around the cave, catching the soft lines of her face.
In her hands, she cradled something that gave off a silver-white radiance.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
For the first time, he felt it — something about Luna was different from the girl he remembered. The one who used to bounce around everywhere, curious about everything.
Somewhere along the way, without him noticing.
She'd grown up.
Like a flower just beginning to bloom.
"You're here, Ethan," Luna said quietly, a faint smile at the corner of her mouth. "I've been waiting for you a little while."
Ethan's eyes moved.
He caught a glimpse of the unconscious figure at her feet.
"You're looking at someone else again."
A soft sigh drifted into his awareness.
His gaze lifted without thinking and settled on Luna.
The golden-haired girl opened her arms to him.
On her pale, slightly wan face, a gentle smile bloomed.
Her voice was soft, almost coaxing.
"Come here, Ethan."
"The Ancient Magic you want—it's right here."