Not Sigurd
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Hey everyone, LuxRadium here.
Life's been going well, but things are getting really busy right now, so I'm going to take a break for a while until things settle down. I'm not sure exactly when I'll be back, but when I return, expect a massive drop. As always, thank you so much for your support, and happy reading!
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The circus tent was now fully encased in a shimmering magical barrier — an unyielding dome of enchantment. No matter how hard Vizet and the others tried, there was no way out.
After rounding up the reindeer and herding them onto the stage, the shark-like creature appeared to be struggling. It thrashed in place, clearly attempting to revert to human form, but failing. With a final convulsion, it collapsed onto the stage, its body twitching in pain.
"No! You must change back!" the circus leader snarled, clutching his staff in both hands and slamming it violently against the floor.
The shark let out a strangled cry. A spray of blood erupted from its mouth — then, in a sudden pulse of magic, it transformed back into a clown, panting and trembling.
The other two clowns soon joined him, shambling toward the circus leader like lifeless marionettes. The three of them stood behind him in silence, their movements stiff and unnatural.
They tried, unsuccessfully, to imitate concern — barely managing to contort their painted faces into something resembling worry.
Vizet narrowed his eyes. He could feel it now. These three clowns weren't truly alive. They were animated puppets.
The circus leader's gaze drifted toward them.
His expression softened — strangely wistful — as he whispered to the three middle-aged men, "Don't worry. They will all be punished. Don't worry…"
At his words, a tremor rippled across the herd of reindeer.
Faint threads of blood-red light began to seep from their bodies — too subtle to notice at first, but unmistakably present.
The light streamed toward the center of the stage, gathering and condensing into a scarlet sphere, glowing with ominous intensity.
Vizet's eyes widened. He understood instantly.
These reindeer-wizards were being drained of their vitality. That blood-red light was their life force, pulled from them in growing currents.
The sphere of light spun faster and faster, becoming a vortex. The rate of absorption increased dramatically.
The reindeer began to convulse. Their limbs shuddered. The rich gloss of their fur dulled to lifeless grey, and their once-sturdy bodies began to wither.
The circus leader, still gripping his staff, let out another wet cough and burst into laughter.
His eyes gleamed with hatred.
"You killed them!" he shrieked, spitting more blood. "Now you're going to pay! This whole place has to pay!"
He raised his staff toward the ceiling, face twisted in fury. "This country has to pay too! You're all sinners! Every last one of you — filthy, selfish bastards! You're all going to die!"
Xenophilius, who had been watching in horror, looked utterly bewildered. "Why is he saying this…?"
He turned to Vizet, a question forming on his lips. "Wait — could he be that boy… Sigurd? But that's not right, Sigurd was supposed to be —"
Before he could finish, the circus leader snapped his gaze toward him, his voice sharp and venomous. "How do you know my name?!"
At the same time, both Vizet and Luna shook their heads.
"No," they said together. "He can't be Sigurd."
The circus leader's face contorted with rage. He stumbled back, spewing more blood — this time tinged with dark, writhing smoke.
"Why do you say I'm not?!" he howled. "You don't know what I've endured!"
He slammed the staff against the floor again, and the lights flickered.
"The cowards on this island — they watched us die! We gave them joy! We made them laugh! And when the fire came, they just turned away!"
His voice cracked — part rage, part grief.
"If it weren't for them, none of this would've happened. None of it!"
He staggered forward, staring into the swirling scarlet sphere. His body trembled violently.
"We were a family!" he bellowed, tears mingling with blood on his painted cheeks. "A real family! We made people happy, we brought wonder! Do you even understand that?"
"You don't!" he roared. "You know nothing! Nothing about what they meant to me!"
His voice dropped to a broken whisper, shaking with emotion.
"They were everything I had… and they destroyed them. They destroyed all my treasures. I lost everything."
"I don't know who you are," Luna said sharply, her voice unusually firm, "but you are definitely not Sigurd."
Her tone held a rare trace of anger.
"Your family is clearly in pain, but you can't even see it. You just have them support you, making faces that pretend to worry about you."
"Real family doesn't act like that."
Vizet understood Luna's frustration. He stepped forward and stood beside her. "I don't see that you cherish them at all."
"You give orders, nothing more. You speak of revenge, but it's all talk — just words. I don't believe the real Sigurd would ever do something like this."
Their words struck the circus leader hard. He doubled over, coughing violently, blood flying from his mouth — thicker now, laced with heavy black smoke.
Vizet had a fleeting thought: If we just keep talking, maybe he'll keep coughing... and die.
The circus leader clung to his staff and gasped for breath. "I know them better than anyone! Look — I do cherish them!"
"You're lying!" came the shrill chorus. The three clowns nodded exaggeratedly. "He's Sigurd! He loves us more than anyone!"
"Did you hear that?" the circus leader rasped with a satisfied grin. "They know! But you — you're trying to deny the truth of this island! That makes you accomplices! You're just as hateful!"
With a sweep of his cane, he gave the order.
The three clowns twisted violently, transforming back into sharks with snapping jaws and serpentine tails. They launched themselves through the air, aiming straight for Vizet and the others.
Vizet didn't flinch. He'd been watching carefully — how the sharks obeyed him, how the circus leader bled black magic. The signs were undeniable.
This was dark magic.
He moved without hesitation, raising his wand, letting the primordial current surge through him.
Primordial Magic: Purification
He drew a Tai-chi symbol in the air and shouted, "Expurgare!"
From beneath one of the airborne sharks, a cyclone burst forth — gathering force, wrapping around the other two, and pulling a deep mass of black air from their bodies.
As the black mist tore free, the sharks dropped like stones, hitting the stage hard. They writhed, helpless and convulsing.
"It's just as I thought," Vizet muttered. "An Obscurial."
"Headmaster Dumbledore told me that the greatest talent that an Obscurial has is in Transfiguration!"
He waved his wand again. The dark mist dissolved harmlessly into the air.
"You might be the criminal who attacked the Swedish Ministry of Magic. You might even be the head of this circus. But you are not Sigurd."
"I am him!" the circus leader shrieked, clinging to his delusion like a drowning man to driftwood.
"Wasn't Sigurd already declared dead?" Xenophilius said suddenly. "I asked around last night... The local wizards told me the circus members were all buried. And they'll spend the rest of their lives repenting."
The words hit like a blow.
The circus leader flinched violently, face contorting. "You're lying! Don't think you can save them with a few well-placed words!"
He raised his staff in fury and slammed it to the ground.
The scarlet glowing ball at the center of the stage spun wildly.
The reindeer twitched and collapsed, their bodies shriveling like lizards scorched dry under the desert sun — on the verge of losing the last traces of life.
Vizet's eyes narrowed.
Vitality siphoning. A common method in cursework.
He had studied it in depth while training under Professor Quirrell, and had acquired not only the theory but a fast, effective counter.
He raised his wand once more.
"Expurgare!"
A cyclone exploded upward from beneath the scarlet sphere, engulfing it.
With a single blast, the glowing ball was shattered.
Immediately, the life force returned to the reindeer. Like balloons refilling with air, their bodies expanded, their limbs straightened, and the healthy gloss returned to their fur.
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