AN: Warning! Very graphic violence in this chapter!
The New Princess
Hogwarts Year 1 - Arc 3 - Part 4 - Chapter 34
The Seminar - Part 3
Previously
The audience remained silent, unable to clap as the final guest speaker finished his speech. The man, a simple shopkeeper who had lost his whole store in a Youma attack to a small magical hamlet, nodded. He did not care that he received no applause nor did he want any as he walked off the stage, leaving Venus to reclaim her place.
Venus stood center stage, her face illuminated by the harsh stadium lights, her steady gaze sweeping across the audience.
"Thank you for listening to our speakers today," she began, her voice firm yet tinged with sorrow. "I know their words were disturbing. They were meant to be. What you heard and saw was not easy to bear, but it was necessary. Necessary to give you a clear picture of what you're dealing with—or what you might face if you're ever unlucky enough to meet a Youma."
She paused, nodding to someone off-stage. "We will now take an hour's recess. This is your chance to rest, to settle your minds. Take a walk, hug your families—do whatever you need to regain your composure. In one hour, when you return, we will present something… final; a demonstration for those who still believe you can face a Youma alone. It will be shocking. It will be graphic. But let me assure you: You will be safe as long as you remain inside your shield. Each booth is protected by rune-based shields. In the highly unlikely event of a breach, we will handle it."
She paused before adding, "Please...make sure you use the facilities as you won't be able to once we restart until after the demonstration."
With those ominous words, she turned and exited the stage, leaving the crowd to murmur in uneasy anticipation.
And now the continuation:
The break passed in tense silence. Most of the audience left their food untouched, their appetites soured by the day's grim revelations. In one corner of the stadium, a mother tried to soothe her crying child, her hand trembling as she clutched her wand as if it were a lifeline critical to her survival. Nearby, a vendor muttered angrily about wasted profits, glaring at his would-be customers as they downed calming draughts instead of buying his snacks. Alcohol had been forbidden before the event and thus was not served.
Few spoke; fewer yet dared to laugh. All seemed miserable.
None of them realized the worst was yet to come.
Ten minutes after the scheduled restart, the stadium lights flickered—ominously late, signaling the last remaining stragglers to return to their booths. Five minutes later, a low hum reverberated through the air as protective shields activated, shimmering faintly around each section. Whispers faded, replaced by the suffocating silence of expectation.
"In a flash of brilliant light, Venus reappeared on stage. She raised a hand for silence, her expression grave. It was granted instantly. The cameras zoomed in to capture her every movement as she began to speak."
"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, her voice steady and solemn, "welcome back to the evening session. I hope you've all used the facilities as I advised—because, as I warned before the break, the worst is yet to come. As of this moment, all of you are in 'lockdown,' locked into your booths, unable to leave until the end of the next demonstration. This is because it will feature a living, highly dangerous Youma. We apologize for the inconvenience, but this is for your safety and education. For those who forgot to use the facilities, I hope you can hold it in... or know the necessary charms. Because until this presentation is over, you won't be able to—well—go."
The audience shifted uneasily—some paling, others glancing around nervously as whispers rose like a tide. From the murmurs of the crowd, it was clear nobody had expected this.
In Booth Number 67, Myria blushed when her brother asked if she had gone, then joked about her needing to go again.
Venus pressed on.
"You may not have realized it, but everything we showed you this afternoon was preparing you for this moment. The stories of Youma encounters, the horrors you've heard—they were merely the prologue. We've seen far too many people believe they can face the enemy alone, only to die… or worse.
"This ends now!"
"We hope that by showing you a Youma in action, you won't repeat the mistakes others have made in the past. What you're about to witness is not for entertainment. This is not a game! It's to ensure that everyone here understands the stakes. This demonstration will be graphic—very graphic. For those of you with children, I sincerely apologize once again. But grim as it may be, this knowledge could mean the difference between life and death."
She gestured toward the booths.
"Before we proceed, let me remind you once more of the potions provided for your use. During the break, our staff ensured that every chest was refilled. If your heart is kind… or perhaps fragile, I strongly encourage you to take one now. They are yours to use and keep, free of charge—please, don't hesitate."
She forced a small smile.
"For those unfortunate enough to ignore my warning… a second potion has also been provided. It handles involuntary, shall we say, physiological responses. Consider it our final mercy."
There was a brief pause, then a few awkward laughs and embarrassed blushes followed.
"What you're about to see… will feel wrong. It should feel wrong. But it is necessary."
Venus held up a parchment, its surface glowing faintly under the stadium lights.
"This is an Unbreakable Writ of Capital Execution, signed by Minister Fudge himself."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by horrified murmurs as the implications sank in. Venus allowed the reaction to crest before carefully folding the parchment and setting it on the table.
"For those unfamiliar, this writ grants us full legal authority—and immunity—for what is about to occur. In short...someone is about to die!"
More gasps echoed through the stadium, mostly from the younger and more innocent in the audience. Quite a few children looked at their parents, wide-eyed, scared, uncertain.
"There is no easy way to say this," she said quietly, her voice deliberate, ignoring the stir her words had created. "The man you will see in a few minutes is a condemned criminal—a killer. He is a Death Eater, guilty of heinous crimes: murder, torture, and worse. He has agreed to face a Youma in exchange for a chance at freedom. If he wins, he walks free—all crimes erased, a chance to start anew. If not…" She paused, jaw tightening. "Well, you'll see."
"The murmurs turned frantic. Some parents quickly shielded their children's ears, while others argued in hushed, frantic tones with their companions. A few attempted to leave their booths, only to find shimmering shields blocking their path, unyielding and unbreakable."
"Venus winced, her hands gripping the podium tightly. At that moment, she was acutely aware that they were, in effect, holding the audience captive—and she hated it. She despised this part of the demonstration and silently prayed that it wouldn't backfire.
She let the growing noise rise for a moment, then cut through it—her voice sharp and commanding.
'For those who still believe they could face a Youma alone—this is your final warning. After this, your survival will be entirely in your hands. We won't stop you, but we can't save you either.'
The crowd fell silent, a mix of resignation and dread settling in.
Venus scanned the faces before her, her gaze hard and unyielding.
This had to work. It simply had to.
"Understand this: You cannot fight them. You cannot reason with them. But after this demonstration, I assure you—you will respect them. You will fear them. Or... the next time you face one… you will die—or worse, be turned into one of them."
She paused, letting her words settle like an impending storm. Her exhale was slow and measured, her tone quieter but no less unwavering as she continued.
"It is moments like these that remind me of an old Roman saying: Avē Imperātor, moritūrī tē salūtant. Hail, Emperor—those who are about to die salute you. And though no emperor stands here today—" her lips curled into a faint, grim smile, only a hidden princess, she thought—"the sentiment remains.
Let us grant this criminal the respect in death he never showed his victims in life. Let his sacrifice serve as penance for his sins—and a lesson for us all."
She straightened, voice low and heavy with purpose, her gaze sweeping over the hushed crowd.
"This is not the first time humanity has underestimated the Youma. Rome learned that lesson centuries ago. To their folly, they once brought a Youma into their grand arenas, believing it would be a spectacle—a challenge for their finest warriors.
They were wrong. Very wrong."
Her tone darkened.
"What followed was a massacre. Rome burned—for many days and nights. Thousands perished. Powerless to help, Emperor Nero fled. He left Rome—his people—to fend for themselves. The situation seemed hopeless… until the Huntresses of Artemis intervened."
She paused as new whispers filled the stadium.
"Rome didn't burn because Nero played the fiddle—that's a myth, created by Muggles to explain what they couldn't understand. Forget the fiddle. Rome burned for one reason only: the Youma."
Her voice sharpened.
"Had the Huntresses—and Artemis herself—not intervened, Roman history might have ended then and there. Their leader, Diana—better known as Artemis, or to us, as Sailor Pluto—yes, the very same goddess, the very same Guardian Pluto who stands among us today—watched then, as she watches now. She stood in the ashes of Rome and swore that such a mistake would never be repeated."
More whispers filled the arena—some amazed, others skeptical.
Venus exhaled deeply, gaze steady.
"And yet, here we are again, poised...doomed to repeat history!
Today, we stand in a stadium, just like the Romans once did, about to, once more, witness a Youma execute a prisoner."
"Only this time…"
…we are prepared."
We know the danger!
"We do this so you may learn—and live."
She swept her gaze over the silent crowd, her tone final.
"After today, no one will leave doubting their power."
Then she turned toward the shadows of the stage and spoke, her voice like a blade:
"You cannot fight them! You cannot reason with them!"
"Watch closely. Remember what you see and may whatever god you believe in have mercy on us."
"It's time..."
"Bring out the Youma!"
In the Founders Booth at that very moment, Aryanna and her friends couldn't believe what they had just heard.
"This is unbelievable!" Hermione whispered, her face pale and eyes wide with shock.
"Is this even legal?" Hannah's voice trembled with mounting horror, her hands gripping the edge of the booth so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Aryanna bit her lip, glancing anxiously towards the Minister's Booth. "It must be legal," she murmured, her tone uncertain. "The Aurors aren't intervening, and the Minister seems to be defending it…" Her gaze flickered nervously to the restless crowd below. "And Setsuna would never… at least, I don't think she would… surely not..."
Down below, a bright white light flickered into existence, leaving behind a large covered object at the center of the stage. The crowd gasped as the object hovered for a moment, then settled with a soft thud, its size and shape still a mystery under the veil.
Beside it, standing tall and unwavering, was Sailor Pluto herself. Her regal presence seemed to draw the very air to her, and the audience couldn't help but hold their breath in awe. Clad in her signature green and black, her staff of high office— the staff of time and space— was held firmly by her side. Its polished surface gleamed under the stadium lights, a symbol of both immense power and unyielding responsibility.
Her eyes, sharp and calculating, she scanned the crowd as though she were measuring each soul there, silently judging the weight of what was about to unfold. With a brief, solemn glance toward Venus, she raised her staff slightly, preparing herself for what was to come.
Aryanna stared at her long-time mentor, her mind racing. What are you doing, Setsuna? Better yet, what are you thinking? The knot in her stomach tightened as the murmurs of the crowd grew louder, a wave of anxiety sweeping through the stadium.
As the light slowly faded, the dark cloth that had concealed the object was pulled away with a dramatic flourish. The audience collectively drew in a sharp breath as the form beneath was revealed— a Youma, in all its grotesque, twisted beauty.
The caged creature was a nightmarish combination of sharp, jagged claws and pulsating, sinewy limbs, its body a grotesque patchwork of horrific shapes, each feature more repulsive than the last. Its skin was an unnatural blend of sickly shades, rippling as if alive, each movement more unsettling than the last. Its eyes, glowing with a sickly yellow hue, fixated on the crowd, locking onto their every gaze with a predator's hunger. The intensity of its stare sent a ripple of fear through the stadium, and for a moment, it felt as though the creature could reach out and snatch them all with its mere gaze.
The Youma's jagged claws scraped harshly against the reinforced cage, emitting a sharp, metallic screech that sliced through the air like a blade. The sound was almost physical, grating against the nerves of everyone in the arena, causing the audience to recoil instinctively. The screech was immediately followed by the sizzling crackle of an electric shield that surrounded the cage, sending a jolt of energy through the air at the creature, forcing it to stumble back, momentarily stunned. The audience's fear was tangible as they watched the creature struggle against the invisible barrier, but the shield held firm, its electric pulse keeping the Youma contained.
Finally, defeated it settled down, watching and waiting!
"By Merlin! Surely that's a level three!...at minimum. Maybe even a low four," Hannah cried, her voice barely audible over the din.
"This can't be right," Hermione muttered, her brow furrowed in concern. "Whatever they're planning, it's too dangerous. If that thing breaks loose—"
"Then it will be easily defeated by our future counterparts," Aryanna said, forcing calm into her voice, though her gaze remained fixed on the Youma. Her attempt at nonchalance was betrayed by the way her fingers drummed in anticipation on the edge of the railing. It was clear from the tone of her voice that she didn't like this at all.
Hermione however shook her head. "People do stupid things when they are scared..." she left the rest unsaid.
Susan nodded, her expression grim but resolute. "They are truly making a statement! Still...in the end, this is nothing compared to what you defeated at Hogwarts. That beast was a level five and both of you managed to defeat it. Everything will be fine," she said, offering a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder.
Hannah's hands trembled nervously as she took in the beast below. As the least experienced present, she found it difficult to quiet her fears. "We just have to trust them, right? They...we wouldn't put everyone at risk without a reason."
Aryanna gave a small, shaky laugh. "Well… if we can't trust ourselves, then who can we trust?"
"Not funny!" came the combined retort from the other girls, causing Aryanna to raise her hands in mock surrender.
Down below, Sailor Pluto stepped forward, her presence commanding. Her voice cut through the cacophony of the crowd like a blade. Slowly, she took center stage, replacing Venus, who had gracefully stepped back to let the elder Guardian address the masses.
"Citizens and honored guests, people of the magical world, please remain calm. You are in no danger! What you are about to witness is a demonstration of the utmost importance."
She gestured to the reinforced cage, where the very unhappy Youma once again lashed out at its confines. Its claws crackled with energy as they met the electrified bars, the creature recoiling with an angry screech as if burned.
Aryanna winced. Even from the booth, she could tell the Youma was starving. Its gaunt frame and erratic movements betrayed its desperation. "Well… at least the execution will be quick," she mumbled. "The Youma will be in no mood for playing around."
At least she hoped so.
Meanwhile, the crowd's reactions ranged from horrified gasps to hushed whispers, a chorus of anxiety and dread that filled the stadium. Parents pulled children closer, while others leaned forward, unable to tear their eyes away.
Sailor Pluto's gaze swept across the crowd, her calm demeanor unshaken. "This is what we call a high-level three Youma. A mid-class Youma. In a few minutes, you will see firsthand the power and danger these creatures possess. I must remind all of you that this demonstration is not for entertainment. It is a stark reminder of the threats we face and the measures we must take to protect our world."
Aryanna's stomach churned as her eyes darted to her friends. "That's only a level 3?" she exclaimed surprised. "I was sure it would be at least a four!"
"That Death Eater won't have a chance," Hermione said, her voice tight. She swallowed hard. "It will suck him dry."
"I think that's the point," Susan said grimly, her eyes narrowing as she studied the stage.
"Those poor children," Hermione groaned.
"It could be worse...at least it's not a level four," Hannah said with a sigh.
'Yet!' was the collective unsaid thought.
The group shared a heavy look, the gravity of the moment settling over them like a thick fog. One way or another, what was about to happen would not be pretty.
On stage, Sailor Pluto raised her staff, the Garnet Orb glowing faintly as she motioned upward. The stadium lights dimmed, casting an eerie glow over the proceedings. The tension was electric, every eye fixed on the cage and its ominous occupant.
Then came the next words, delivered with chilling finality:
"Bring out the condemned!"
The stadium was deathly silent as they awaited the Death Eaters' arrival. Venus's words hung in the air like a solemn cloud, chilling every heart, fraying every nerve. The mention of the Roman Games—and the horrifying consequences of unleashing a Youma centuries ago for sport—had struck an unsettling chord. The crowd couldn't help but imagine the terror of that ancient calamity, their minds conjuring images of blood-soaked sand and helpless screams while friends and family tried to flee... but couldn't.
Would this beast be similar?
As if to punctuate her words, a sudden sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the edge of the stage.
Everyone watched in silence as a lone shackled man—the condemned—emerged from the shadows, flanked by four Aurors, their faces set in stoic grimness as they ascended the platform to stand near Pluto and Venus.
Chains bound the man's wrists and ankles, the classical signs of a serious long-term inmate of Azkaban, Magical Britain's infamous prison. His tattered robes hung loosely on his gaunt frame. It was clear the past few years had not been kind to him. Despite his disheveled appearance, however, his eyes glimmered with a defiant, almost feral spark.
The crowd instinctively leaned forward, a mix of morbid curiosity, satisfaction, and dread compelling their attention. The man's crimes, displayed on the Magi-screens for all to read, were whispered in scandalized tones as his identity became clear to those who recognized him. For everyone else, he was simply a notorious Death Eater whose atrocities had made headlines, and for them, that was enough.
Sailor Pluto stood tall, her gaze unwavering as she addressed him directly. "You have been given a choice, and by your own free will, you have chosen to face the Youma in exchange for possible absolution of all your crimes should you emerge victorious. Do you understand the terms of your agreement?"
The man sneered, his voice hoarse from disuse, but laced with venom. "I understand that if I kill the beast, I go free. If it kills me, well… at least I die a fighter true to my lord's cause. A better fate than being stuck with the foul Dementors for the rest of my miserable life," he announced, glaring bitterly around the stadium as if committing everyone's faces to memory for later revenge.
Some in the audience shuddered, parents shielding their children, as the man's eyes briefly roamed over them, sometimes halting briefly on a small girl before continuing on its way.
A faint murmur rippled through the audience, but Pluto silenced it with a sharp gesture. She stepped forward, her voice as cold as the wind before a storm. "Do not mistake this for leniency. The lives you've taken, the suffering you've caused—none of it will be undone here tonight. This is not redemption," Pluto said, her voice like iron. "This is justice—final and public. Know that your death will serve to honorably educate and help others. Know that you will serve a purpose instead of simply rotting away useless and forgotten."
"Yeah yeah whatever! I don't have all day. Let's get this done with," the man practically growled, clearly unwilling to listen.
Pluto shrugged. "As you wish, I can see my words mean nothing to you anyway. Let us proceed."
With that, she turned toward the cage and the Youma inside, gesturing for the Death Eater to follow her.
The crowd collectively held its breath as they watched the condemned man walk his version of a drastically shortened green mile—the final steps of his miserable life, flanked by Pluto with Venus a few steps behind, keeping a close eye on him. Many shuddered at the sight of the beast—a towering, monstrous figure with clawed hands, jagged teeth, and a body that seemed to ripple with unnatural energy, a sickly green hue radiating from its form.
The Youma, sensing what was about to happen, snarled, its gaze sweeping the arena before locking onto the condemned man. It smiled and took a welcoming step back, making way for what it knew would soon become its next meal, welcoming the man closer into its domain with calculating cold eyes.
Pluto stepped to the edge of the cage, close but not enough for the Youma to reach out and grab her. Her voice rose above the oppressive silence. "This is your enemy. This is what you must defeat if you wish to be freed. This is the reality you must face. Be warned... the Youma will not stop; it will have no mercy and will not forgive. Once you are inside, you will witness its true nature."
"Whatever, just let me at it," the doomed convict interrupted. Pluto stopped abruptly. "So eager to die? No matter. Those words were more for the audience anyway!" The man ignored her, his eyes fixed on the Youma. "So, you're the little beast to end my life?" he sneered. "You don't look so tough. I've fought werewolves and even faced a dragon and survived. What's all the fuss about?" he taunted, hoping to get a rise.
This got a gasp from the crowds who began to mumble amongst themselves. Some, those with money and the stomach to handle it, even began to place bets amongst their neighbors inside their booths on the outcome of the imminent battle.
The Youma, however, just continued to stare mockingly, its smile widening slightly into a grin, its only response.
The tension in the room rose steadily, reaching a breaking point as man and Youma locked eyes, each finding the other wanting.
Seconds later the wizard's sneer faltered for the briefest moment, but he quickly masked his false bravado with a taunting grin. The Youma, in contrast, continued to stand unnervingly still, its glowing eyes gleaming with something far more dangerous than hunger—amusement.
Meanwhile, Pluto and Venus both stepped back further from the condemned, looking resigned.
Once far enough away, Pluto looked toward the crowd and, with a deep breath, called out, "The condemned is in place... we will now release his shackles and return his wand."
She nodded toward the Aurors who had escorted the man. They hesitated, but one stepped forward while the others raised their wands, pointing firmly at the Death Eater. "One wrong move and we'll put you down like the rabid animal you are," the lead Auror warned, nodding for his colleague to unlock the chains. Another auror gave him a wand before stepping back - his wand confiscated long ago.
As the preparations continued, whispers rippled across the booths like wind through dry leaves.
"He looks worse than I expected," someone murmured, tone caught between pity and disgust.
"Serves him right," said another coldly. "I heard he was one of the worst. Multiple counts of murder and rape. Let the beast tear him apart."
A child's voice, high and uncertain, pierced the murmur:
"Mum… is the monster really going to eat him?"
The mother's face paled. "Don't watch, sweetheart. Just… close your eyes when it starts."
In a VIP box, a wealthy pure-blood wizard smirked and sipped his drink. "I've got fifty galleons he lasts less than five minutes."
"You're being generous," said his companion, chuckling darkly. "I gave him two, at best."
Far below, in another booth a Hufflepuff student, surrounded by family and sharing a booth with a friend whispered, "He's a monster too, just in human form… but I still feel sick watching this."
The Death Eater simply nodded and reaching out he clasped his wand like a long-lost friend. He waited patiently for his soon-to-be former jailer to release him from his chains. One way or another—dead or alive—he would not be returning to Azkaban. He would be free! Once released, he promptly rubbed his wrists, his bravado returning in full as he touched his wand in the form of a twisted grin. "All right, then," he muttered. "Let's see what you've got," he said, turning back towards the Youma.
"DIFINDO!" Without warning, before anybody could react, he quickly cast a severing spell at the Youma's neck. But a barrier formed around the cage. The severing spell hit the barrier and dissolved in a harmless spark. The Youma didn't flinch. It didn't have to. It just grinned.
He grunted, accepting his failed attempt. "Well... can't blame a man for trying," he muttered unhappily, ignoring the murmurs from the crowds and the Aurors tensing up, their eyes firmly on him and his wand.
Pluto ignored him and proceeded with the next part.
"I will now raise the outer protective barrier. Aurors, please step back out of the ritual circle and away from the ward lines."
She waited just long enough for the Aurors to comply, watching as they slowly stepped backward out of a pre-drawn circle, their wands never leaving the condemned wizard as they retreated. Only once they were safely out did she raise her staff and, with a small spark of magic, brought it down with a thump. Instantly, a white shimmering barrier rose around the Death Eater and the caged Youma, forming a perfect oval around them. Only then did the Aurors finally lower their wands and relax.
Somewhere in the stadium, a cry of "Constant Vigilance!" could be heard before it was silenced.
Venus sighed as she turned away, her expression unreadable, and the arena fell silent once more.
'This was it,' Venus thought grimly, her eyes never leaving the condemned man.
'Let the Games begin!'
"Let the execution begin!"
The effect of her words was as immediate as it was final.
In an instant, the cage vanished, leaving the Youma free in all its dark glory.
The stadium's audience—young and old alike—watched with bated breath. Some erupted into a cacophony of noise: cheers, jeers, shrieks and taunts. Others remained deathly silent, their faces pale with dread. On the field, the Death Eater stood alone, wand clenched tightly in his hand, facing a monster he had no real chance of defeating yet faced nonetheless. Hhe marched forward, his steps slow and heavy, like a condemned man walking to the gallows.
Opposite him, the Youma's grotesque form loomed ominously. Its eyes gleamed with malevolent delight, sensing the prey's fear. The creature's jagged claws flexed, scraping against the ground with a grating sound that once again sent shivers through the crowd.
"Come on then... beast, let's do this," the Death Eater said with false bravado, unable to fully hide the tremble in his voice as he raised his wand and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
A concentrated flash of green light shot from the wand's tip, hitting the Youma squarely in the chest. For a moment, the stadium fell silent. Time seemed to stand still.
Then, the Youma laughed.
The sound was chilling, a grating, mocking cacophony that echoed through the stadium. The Killing Curse had done absolutely nothing. Not even a nosebleed... not even a tickle! The Death Eater's eyes widened in horror, his confidence shattering.
Venus and Pluto shook their heads. "It's always the Avada, so predictable... so useless," Pluto mumbled with disdain, loud enough for the camera near her to catch and transmit to everyone in the stadium. "Youma are immune to the Killing Curse!"
"You are going to have to do better than that, Jackass!" someone, somewhere in the crowd taunted, his voice easily heard in the sudden quietness, biting and infuriating in equal measure.
The Death Eater stared in shock, unable to comprehend that the infallible spell had failed. Desperation set in as he tried another spell. "Sectumsempra!" he cried, slashing his wand through the air. The cutting curse flew toward the Youma, striking it across its neck, but it barely flinched. The spell left only a small purple, slightly bleeding line—like a paper cut—an inconsequential wound that slowly healed seconds later. The creature sneered, taking a menacing step forward.
Now very afraid, the Death Eater's panic grew. He fired spell after spell, each one more frantic than the last. Stunners, fireballs, ice spells, cutting curses, exploding hexes, binding curses—each bounced off the Youma's hide or was absorbed with ease. The ice and fire seemed to hurt it, leaving small bruises and slight burns behind, but not nearly enough to be effective for long as they too soon healed, although a bit slower. The creature advanced steadily, its laughter growing louder and more menacing.
"He's done for," someone muttered. "There's no way he can win this!" another agreed. The vast majority of people couldn't believe what they were seeing. Could nothing harm the Youma? Some gamblers were already handing over money, certain it was a foregone conclusion.
Indeed, it seemed they were right. The Death Eater's growing exhaustion was evident; his spells grew weaker and less effective with every passing moment until finally, they no longer did any harm at all. His eyes darted around in desperation as the Youma stood unscathed. The crowd's murmur of disbelief grew louder, punctuated by the clinking of coins as gamblers settled their bets. It was a completely one-sided battle, made only worse considering only one side had attacked, the other just taking it all.
Finally, breathing heavily, sweat and exhaustion clearly visible on the Death Eater's face, the Youma, who had waited patiently, began to slowly move forward. First one step, then another, clearly savoring the fear of its prey.
In a final act of desperation, the Death Eater screamed, "Reducto Maxima!" putting all of his remaining magic into the spell, hoping to blast the creature away. The spell struck the Youma's chest, with parts of the spell redirecting into the ground, but instead of being blown to pieces, it was only pushed back a few steps, leaving a small crater on the ground where it had stood. This time, however, it seemed to infuriate it. Ironically, the debris from the spell did more to anger the monster than the actual spell itself.
No longer smiling, having finally had enough of the man's ignorance and arrogance and tired of playing with its food, it sprang forward to come to a stop, its face mere inches from the man's face, its breath visible on the man's hair, its razor-sharp teeth reflected in his eyes.
The man let out a blood-curdling scream of terror as he promptly wet himself, and then… silence. No cheers. No screams. Just the sound of one lone heartbeat—his.
"My turn... meal," it said, and with terrifying swiftness, the Youma lashed out. Its clawed hand grabbed the Death Eater, lifting him into the air effortlessly by his hair. The Death Eater screamed in pain. His wand fell from his grasp as he struggled, kicking and screaming in terror, to fall uselessly to the ground where, with a stomp of the Youma's foot, it snapped.
Everybody knew... The wizard was defeated!
Realizing the same, the man's eyes widened in terror, his robes suddenly changing color as he lost control of his bodily functions. He pleaded with anybody who would listen, promising to change his ways, never harm another soul... anything! If only he were spared.
But nobody reacted. Everybody just stared on.
"Nonono NO! Please! Someone. I'M SORRY! Anyone. Please! SAVE ME!"
Some with children in the audience, sensing the man's imminent demise, quickly covered their children's eyes. Those blessed with too many eyes to cover ordered their children to turn away and not look, or flinched and waited in horror, helplessly, as their children looked on.
The Youma's other clawed hand came up—and with a sickening squelch, it plunged deep, tearing into the Death Eater's chest. A sound of pure agony that reverberated through the stadium followed. A soft, eerie glow passed from the man's chest into the Youma's claws, like mist pulled from a dying candle.
Instantly, many in the audience began to pale, and many lost their lunch. Children all over the stadium screamed in terror, many began to cry. The rest watched spellbound as the Youma began to drain the man's life force. The Death Eater screamed wildly, his screams turning into hoarse whimpers as his skin wrinkled and sagged, his hair turning from dark to gray to stark white, before falling out altogether. His body withered, shrinking in on itself as the Youma tortured him slowly, absorbing every ounce of vitality.
Even Venus, who had seen it happen before, cringed and looked away, while Pluto just stared, her eyes never once leaving the Death Eater's dying body. To her, to do otherwise would be to disrespect the man's sacrifice. No matter what he had done in life, he deserved that much in death.
The audience, those strong enough to do so, watched in horrified silence, many now unable to look away, some fainted, others turning their heads in revulsion. For a few seconds, the sounds of people retching could be heard all over the Stadium as many lost whatever meal they managed to consume that day. Sailor Venus stood on the stage, forcing herself to look at the man's demise, her expression stern and unwavering, a grim reminder of the stakes.
"By Merlin and the Moon, this is horrible!" Venus whispered.
Pluto simply nodded in grim acceptance. This, she knew, was it. The man had lost. The grim fate of any doomed to fall to a Youma. A grisly fate indeed!
"May you find rest and be given peace in whatever afterlife you believe in," she mumbled solemnly as she watched the man's screams of agony. Watched him, seemingly emotionlessly, as he quite literally got his life sucked out of him to fuel the Youma.
In mere seconds, the Death Eater continued to grow older, a full lifetime displayed in a matter of moments until he was nothing more than a husk—a withered shell of his former self. Then it was all over. The Youma made a satisfied sound before tossing the lifeless body aside with a flick of its wrist. The corpse of the former prisoner crumpled to the ground, now nothing more than a mere pile of bloody skin and bones.
A collective shudder of absolute terror ran through the crowd. The demonstration was over, but its impact would linger long after. The Youma stood victorious, its grotesque form a stark reminder of the power and danger it possessed.
More screamed. More vomited, or vomited again. Most simply stood frozen in their seats, unable to process what they had just witnessed.
All in all, the whole encounter had lasted little more than a mere 30 seconds... but for many, it would remain in memory for a lifetime.
The stadium was gripped by stunned silence, the air thick with the weight - and smell - of what they had just witnessed. The Youma, still basking in its victory—yet keenly aware from previous experience of the consequences if it failed to return to captivity—glared at the two Guardians before reluctantly retreating to its designated area. Once it was back in place, Pluto twirled her staff, and an intricate lattice of glowing runes spiraled into being, humming with arcane power. Lightning crackled around a shimmering cage once more, sealing the creature inside.
Meanwhile, the lifeless husk of the Death Eater lay where it had fallen—an infamous spectacle, a chilling reminder of the price of ignorance and arrogance.
The scent of ozone and spent magic hung in the air, mingling with the cold, metallic tang of blood and forcefully expelled bodily fluids. Sailor Pluto lowered her staff, her expression stern but composed. "Not a pleasant sight, is it?" she said, her tone calm but cutting, her voice carrying both authority and gravitas. "And yet, this is what awaits you should you ever encounter a Youma. Take a good look—I hope you never have to see it again."
She let the silence stretch for another moment before motioning for a few Aurors to remove the body.
The crowd remained silent as they watched the small team carry out their grisly task. The soft cries of frightened children lingered, their faces pale, eyes wide with terror. For most, this was the first time they had ever seen Death.
Pluto nodded, her expression softening. After today, for better or worse, she was certain everyone in Britain would be able to see Thestrals.
"I regret that this was necessary," she continued, her gaze sweeping the audience, her voice steady yet stern. "But I trust my point has been made. If any of you still harbor illusions that you can fight—or prevail—against a Youma, consider this your final warning. The choice, from here, is yours."
She paused, letting the words settle like dust, before adding with a faint, almost taunting smile:
"That said, far be it from me to deny the foolish. As such, I will now accept volunteers. Anyone brave—or stupid—enough to face the Youma is welcome to try. Simply press the red circle on your black box, and a helpful staff member will escort you to the arena. For anyone who succeeds, there's a bounty of one million Galleons, tax-free—yours to claim if you manage to kill it."
The crowd remained frozen, her declaration met with stunned silence. The sheer audacity of the offer left them dumbfounded. A bounty that large—a massive fortune, more than most pureblood houses had in their vaults—seemed as absurd as the challenge itself. Eyes darted nervously around the stadium, searching for any sign of a volunteer—anyone greedy, desperate, or suicidal enough to try. No one stepped forward.
The Youma let out a guttural, mocking laugh, clearly amused by the crowd's fear. It echoed through the arena, sending fresh shivers down already frayed nerves.
Finally, Pluto nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah, I didn't think so."
"We will now take a thirty-minute break. I know we only just had one... but some of you look like you could use another...and quite frankly this place reeks!" Her voice took on a lightly sardonic edge. "Please use this time wisely—see to your loved ones and calm yourselves down. When we return, we will demonstrate the effects of a wide array of spells and other magical abilities on a Youma."
She gestured toward the creature, now securely caged once more. The Youma growled in furious protest. Pluto turned to face it.
"Ah yes, our friend here has just graciously volunteered to let a few pre-selected witches and wizards test... your spells on it."
She gave a mocking bow. "We thank you for your sacrifice and contribution."
The Youma snarled and glared hatefully at the Guardian, but Pluto ignored it.
The stadium remained eerily quiet, save for a few low murmurs, even long after Pluto and Venus had exited the stage and the ever eager elvish cleaning staff arrived to clean up the mess.
Meanwhile, back in the Minister's Booth,
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, stood in the VIP box, his face pale and his hands trembling slightly. The brutal display of the Youma's power had left him deeply shaken. He had known the situation was dire—nothing else could have driven him to abandon his wealthy backers and their generous donations—but seeing the raw carnage up close was another matter entirely. The lifeless Death Eater—a proud pureblood and once an upstanding, respected member of society—lay drained and discarded like a broken doll. The unrelenting ferocity of the Youma was burned into Fudge's mind. He could no longer ignore the terrifying reality.
So this was what they—what his country—was facing.
The grim spectacle left no doubt in his mind that deputizing the Guardians had been his only sensible move. The only realistic move! Without them, they would be utterly defenseless. His magical forces, as they stood, had no chance. The realization frightened and humbled him in equal measure.
For the first time in his career, Fudge experienced a fear that eclipsed even his dread of losing his position. The thought of another Youma tearing through their world without restraint filled him with a cold, gnawing terror. Abandoning centuries of tradition—even to ally with Muggles—now seemed a small price to pay. After all, what use was power if the next Youma could rip it away in an instant?
Dead men had no power . Not even over those who gazed upon your ghost. Besides, there was no way he wanted to die, like that!
As the crowd began to disperse for the break, one of the international delegates turned to him, addressing Fudge in halting English. "This is... unprecedented. I've never seen anything like it," he muttered, his body trembling and his voice shaky, barely above a whisper.
Fudge nodded absently, not even registering the shift in language - that he was all suddenly speaking in English, while before it seemed he could not. "Yes, it's a stark reminder of the dangers we face. We need to ensure the public understands the gravity of the situation—and that no one is foolish enough to attempt fighting one of these creatures alone... or at all, for that matter."
"The Guardians seem to have done an excellent job of that," the Russian delegate said, producing a flask with trembling hands. A splash of vodka dripped onto his expensive robes as he added, "After what we just saw, only the most reckless would dare try."
The French delegate exhaled slowly, her face pale and her usual poise cracked by the enormity of the threat. She too suddenly spoke in perfect English, her voice low and tense. "We must all increase our efforts to combat these creatures. This kind of power cannot go unchecked. Our very existence depends upon it. Each of us must reassure our nations that we are in control and taking every measure to keep them safe."
The collective combined thought of 'even when it's clear we are not' remained unspoken and taboo.
Fudge's gaze lingered on her, noting the slight tremor in her hands. She was usually the epitome of calmness; he had never seen her this shaken before.
"Yes, we must," the Russian delegate agreed reluctantly, staring betrayed into his flask as though it held answers but finding none. His only answer was the faint clinking of the flask against his trembling hands as they shook. "I have no desire to end up like... him," he muttered, his glance darting toward the sordid remains on the Magiscreen. Regretting the sight instantly, he took another hasty swig, coughing violently as he overdid it.
Fudge hesitated, then stepped forward. "Even if it means working with Muggles?" he asked, his voice quiet, testing the waters.
The Russian and Bulgarian delegates exchanged uneasy glances. The Russian coughed again, more from nerves than vodka this time. "Perhaps not that far," he began hesitantly.
The Bulgarian shifted uncomfortably. "Minister, while I agree it's essential to fight back, one does not simply abandon centuries of tradition, paranoia, and... mistrust—indeed, hate—on a whim. These things take time."
"My people would hang me if I suggested—least of all commanded—that they work with Muggles. Not after what they did to the Romanovs. The fear of something similar happening to another powerful magical family is simply too great," the Russian added fearfully.
"I'm open to trying," the French delegate interjected. She squared her shoulders, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her nerves. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"We could get killed," the Bulgarian muttered darkly.
"They might bring out the guillotine," the Italian delegate added dryly, earning a sharp scowl from the French Minister.
"True," the German delegate spoke finally, his tone calm but unyielding. "But we will all die — someday. Much sooner if we do nothing! Be it at the hands of our people, a dark lord, in bed... a guillotine, or at the hands of the Youma." If we don't act, it's a foregone conclusion it will come sooner rather than later. Sitting idle simply is not an option."
The Bulgarian looked at him in surprise. "Even you, Hans?"
"Of course," Hans replied dryly. "We may be neutral, bordering on pacifism in most things since the Great War, but we are not fools. Only an idiot would sit idly by and let the enemy butcher their people."
"So, we're all in agreement then?" the American delegate, who had been silent up to that point, asked firmly, his hands nervously fingering his wand in his pocket. All heads turned toward him. Though he'd said little, his reputation carried weight.
"We fight back with everything we have—even if it means working with the Muggles?"
"Well... I wouldn't go that far," the Bulgarian began, but he was interrupted by a series of nods and 'yes's' from all around him.
The Russian delegate sighed deeply, his reluctance clearly etched across his face for all to see. "Well... I… suppose so," he admitted begrudgingly, seeing the way the table was turning. "But only until the Youma threat is eliminated. And we will not work directly with the Muggles," he added quickly as if to save face.
"Fine! Yes... we'll agree to an alliance—but only until the Youma threat is defeated. And we will not work with Muggles!" the Bulgarian snapped as if trying to regain control of the conversation.
The others exchanged glances, a mix of pity and mild disdain in their eyes, but ultimately nodded.
"It's a start," Fudge said softly, his voice tinged with both hope and dread. But deep down, Fudge knew: that starting was the easy part.
The real nightmare hadn't even begun.
Selling the idea to the purebloods was one thing—if that was even possible.
Getting them to cooperate, to work together with Muggles?
He doubted it. And he'd know.
He was one himself.
'Better get my affairs in order!" he thought dismally.
He was sure, the worst was yet to come.
In Booth number 67, Myria sat in the stands, her heart pounding in her chest. She clutched her mother's hand tightly, unable to erase the horrifying scene from her mind.
Beside her, Orion was wide-eyed, pale, and shaking as he guzzled a calming potion as if it were the best thing since butterbeer. Usually composed and calculating—or at least trying to be, in the way only a teenage boy could—he now seemed like a mere shadow of himself.
'So this is what could have happened to me if the Guardians hadn't stopped that Youma?' he thought, his hands trembling. It truly put the danger into perspective. 'That's it, I'm joining the Guardian Fan Club the moment I get back to Hogwarts, even if I have to do it secretly. Those girls have my full support! I don't care what the others think. Those idiots don't have a clue.'
Sure, it would put him at odds with some powerful purebloods, maybe even make him an outcast in Slytherin house, but it was better than being dead, he thought bitterly. 'Let those idiots die clinging to their bigoted superiority. I aim to be on the surviving side, not as a Youma's gourmet hamper, all ripe and ready for them to suck on.'
To her right, not knowing of her son's plight, Myria's father, Cedric, stood as if in a trance. He had risen from his seat during the demonstration and remained standing, his face a mask of concern and fear.
"Is it over, Mommy?" Myria asked, her voice trembling with fear as she looked at the rest of her family. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Nobody should have had to watch an execution, least of all an eleven-year-old child like herself.
"Yes, sweetheart, it's over," her mother whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Myria glanced at Cedric, who nodded reassuringly, though his gaze remained fixed on the body of the Death Eater where it had fallen. It was currently being attended to by a few Aurors.
Elara put a comforting arm around her. "We need to get out of here. This isn't a place for the children," she said to her husband.
"It never was," Orion mumbled from beside them, his voice barely above a whisper, opening and taking another swig of the calming potion. It was a testament to his parents' shock that they didn't stop him from overindulging.
Cedric, however, shook his head. "No. As much as I hate it, we must stay—now more than ever. I think the worst is over. There's no point in running. Not now." He looked toward where the shimmering shield had hung just moments earlier before fading after the demonstration. "The Guardians have clearly made their point. From now on, we will learn how to fight...or at least detect and protect ourselves from these beasts, these...monsters," he said, his hand clenched tightly in fury and fear.
Elara nodded, her mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her family. What if these creatures came for them? She too wanted—no, needed—to know how to defend her loved ones. But what could they—anybody except perhaps a Guardian—do against something like that? Her gaze drifted to Myria, clinging tightly to her hand, her small frame trembling.
Cedric, sensing her thoughts, squeezed her shoulder gently. He knew he had to stay strong now, even if he, himself, felt anything but. He was petrified, scared nearly out of his mind for himself and his family. "We'll find a way," he said, looking at his entire family, fire...and desperation in his eyes. "We'll learn everything we can. We won't let fear control us."
As they made their way out of the viewing booth moments later, sidestepping puddles on sick on the way, to take a walk around and use the facilities, Myria couldn't shake the image of the Youma and the fallen Death Eater. His crumpled form—sucked dry, deformed, and shriveled, like an emaciated Egyptian mummy—haunted her mind. Those lifeless, pleading eyes would never leave her. She knew their world had changed, and they would have to adapt. Clinging to her mother, she looked at her father, as though they were the only solid things left in a crumbling world.
Even as she walked, she knew. Her childhood was over. Far too soon.
Her small voice broke the silence. "Daddy, will the Guardians protect us?" she asked meekly, her wide, pleading eyes searching his face for answers. All joy had vanished, leaving only fear and uncertainty. She needed her father's reassurance more than ever.
Cedric looked down at his nine, nearly ten-year-old daughter. Her expression of fear and determination broke his heart. In just another year, she too would be at Hogwarts. Even though he didn't feel very secure himself at that moment, he gave her a reassuring smile, the best he could manage.
"Yes, Myria. I'm sure they will. The Guardians are here to keep us safe. And if we do our part and follow their instructions, I'm sure we'll be okay. We'll be strong, and we'll stick together."
'Now, if only I could believe that, too,' he thought, carefully masking his doubts and taking extra care to hide his disbelief from his face.
As they walked on, only Elara beside him cringed as she heard him whisper, "They better be, because right now, they're all we have."
In the Founders Booth, Aryanna sat back in her chair, her mind reeling from what she had just witnessed. "So, that really happened. They executed the man in front of hundreds of thousands of people, children included." Her voice was subdued, sad, laced with disbelief. This was far more than she had ever expected to see. What must have happened in the future for her and the others to decide to do something like that?
Oh, she'd known the execution wouldn't be pretty. No execution ever was. But only now did she truly grasp the sheer power of the message...and how powerful her alternate Guardian form made her compared to her normal—or any other normal—witch self. Like the Youma, she could shrug off spells and curses as if they were nothing. Did the Normals—the witches and wizards of the magical world—stand a chance against that kind of power?
"Quite a way to make a statement," Hannah murmured. She too was pale and shaken, ignoring a puddle of her sick which was being vanished by a nearby house elf. She too had not been immune to the grisly affair.
"So this is the power we now possess," Susan whispered, her voice heavy with understanding.
Aryanna nodded solemnly. "Scary, isn't it? To think we can call on the power of a planet at will. Even if only briefly... it's still a planet."
"What do you mean?" Hannah asked, her unease momentarily giving way to curiosity.
Beside her, Hermione, ever the scholar, jumped in to explain. "According to the Mercurial Processor, each of us draws our power from a patron planet. For you, once you accept, it will be Jupiter. In theory, we each have the potential to wield the full power of a planet, but in reality, no one could survive that. We can tap into it briefly, but using too much could kill us—or at least leave us in a coma for weeks."
"Sort of like when I use the crystal," Aryanna interjected with a nod. "As its host, I could theoretically unleash its full power... but it would be a death sentence. Scary, isn't it? For a short time, I'd have the power of a literal god. The crystal is said to hold the combined power of a galaxy. No one should have that kind of power- and yet I do... could." The others nodded in agreement.
"In comparison," Hermione continued, "Guardians have the power of a planet, Scouts draw strength from moons, and Warriors gain their abilities from asteroids or smaller celestial bodies. Warriors can also borrow power temporarily from their liege Scouts—or from us Guardians—if given permission."
"So, wait... Arya, correct me if I'm wrong but... your 'planet' is a moon! Right? So, does that mean you are in reality just a Scout?" Hermione asked, her tone laden with curiosity. She found it difficult to think of Aryanna as anything other than the leader of the Guardians and the all-powerful wielder of the Legendary Silver Crystal. The most powerful of all the Guardians, with only Sailor Saturn coming close. To think of her as a Scout... it just didn't feel right!
Aryanna smirked, amused. "Not quite. Under normal circumstances, you would be correct but Earth's Moon is... special. It always has been."
Sensing a history lesson, the others immediately turned toward her, their interest piqued. Aryanna sighed and continued.
"Okay... Look, I only know this because the crystal itself sort of told me... back when I was young. Well, younger than I am now. Back when I had a lot of free time while I waited in my cupboard."
"The others winced, reminded of their leader's early abusive life. They all knew her story. It had not been pretty."
Aryanna ignored their expressions, having long since come to terms with her past. "It was during those many lonely hours when I was bored out of my mind with nothing to do but count imaginary sheep and play with spiders that I had enough time to listen... truly listen and make sense of the messages, these pictures... the crystal was sending me. I guess you could call them memories. Between those nightly conversations, questioning Pluto and learning what she knew, and spending hours in the historical section of the ancient library on Pluto, I sort of figured it out."
She paused, looking at each of them. "You see, back in ancient times, only Earth was capable of supporting life. It was the first... and only planet to do so. Back then the other planets were the lifeless shells they are today, or didn't exist at all. The first host of the crystal, the first Serenity, decided she wanted her own place to rule—a home befitting someone of her power and status. She chose Earth's Moon, close to her first home yet distinct, and most importantly, not yet under anybody's control. But she didn't know that using the crystal's full power would kill her. Thinking herself all-powerful, she converted the Moon, giving it a magical atmosphere and making it livable. But in doing so, she unwillingly sacrificed herself."
The group winced but nodded solemnly. Ultimate power made people do reckless things. Someone always had to be the first. When eating wild mushrooms, someone always had to be the first to take the risk and pay the price. Sometimes you got lucky—until the one time you didn't. That one time was enough to ruin your day. While mushrooms were a poor comparison to galaxy-shaping power, and hardly held the same amount of risk, the general idea was the same.
"She only used a fraction of the crystal's power that day, but the effects were immense," Aryanna continued. "The Moon became more than a celestial body—it became the heart of the future Silver Millennium, her seat of power, and later its capital—the Guardian of the Earth itself. Over time, as the number of citizens grew and living space became scarce, other future hosts used the crystal to make seven more planets livable. Each one sacrificed themselves for the good of the people, imbuing the new planets with enough power to sustain life and strengthen the empire. Ultimately, seven was deemed enough—expansion without overreach, each planet ruled by a Guardian, a princess of its own, and all pledging fealty to the Queen on the Moon's crystal throne. Throughout all this, Earth remained allied to the Moon, ruled by the princes of Earth, the only planet to remain separate from the Silver Millennium."
Aryanna's voice softened, taking on a reverent tone as she recited from memory: "Four planets for the Royal Guard and inner defense: Venus, the loyal protector and right hand to the Queen. Mars, the prophetess, mistress of foresight and wisdom. Mercury; the keeper of knowledge, holder of the Mercurial Processor. Jupiter, the first General, embodiment strength and leadership.
Three for the Outer Defense: Neptune and Uranus, the vigilant guardians, the first line of defense, and far-seeing eyes of the outer reaches. Pluto; the mistress of time, spymistress, and guardian of the gates of time.
And one Queen to rule them all with the crystal's light to unite the empire and, through friendship, guide the Earth."
The group listened, transfixed, it wasn't every day you learned the history of your solar system and your predecessor's creation.
"So, that's why the Moon is so powerful?" Hannah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aryanna nodded. "Exactly." She hesitated before continuing, her voice tinged with both pride and caution. "As its newest host, I too carry the same power the first Serenity once wielded—the ability to create new worlds. But the cost of such a feat is always immense, usually fatal. Serenity was willing to risk everything for her dream. I'm not—not unless the stakes are beyond anything else and there is no other path left."
Suddenly, Hermione's sharp mind seized on a discrepancy. "Wait," she said, her brow furrowing. "You said seven planets... but the solar system has nine. Well, eight, if you listen to the Muggles."
Aryanna chuckled. "You caught that. Of course, you did. Sharp as always."
Hermione flushed but remained intent, waiting for the answer.
"Earth already existed, so it didn't need to be created. Saturn, however, wasn't always a planet—it didn't exist at all," Aryanna explained. "Saturn was born during a period of immense strife known as the Great Sundering. Born from an asteroid belt that once existed where it now rests. The meager remains of which can still be seen to this day in its ring. The empire stood on the brink of annihilation as our most ancient enemy, the Negaverse, launched an assault so devastating it threatened to unravel the very fabric of existence. In a desperate bid to counter the chaos, the crystal's power was unleashed once more, creating Saturn and its protector—a failsafe against the destruction. That was when Sailor Saturn came into being."
The Guardians shuddered. Everyone knew the stories of Sailor Saturn.
"That's why she's so powerful," Aryanna said, her voice almost a whisper. "Her power is equal to the Moon's—seven planets combined. She exists only to protect the crystal and, by extension, me. As long as I live, she remains dormant. But if something were to happen to me..." Her words trailed off, heavy with foreboding.
A heavy silence fell over the group. The weight of Aryanna's words hung in the air, unspoken but deeply felt by all.
Finally, Hannah broke the silence. "Arya, I've been thinking. About the offer."
Aryanna straightened, trying to appear calm, though her heart raced with anticipation. "Yes?" she asked, her voice steady as she waited for Hannah's decision.
Hannah hesitated, clutching her hands tightly in her lap. Her gaze shifted between Aryanna, Hermione, and Susan before returning to Aryanna. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she took a shaky breath. Finally, she looked up, her eyes fierce with newfound resolve.
"At first, I wasn't sure. I was scared. I mean, it's not every day you get the offer to become a superhero with the literal powers of a planet. But after seeing the execution and hearing your story... I know it's the right thing to do. Somehow...well...I've always known." She smiled faintly. "It's what I'm meant to be. So, if you will still have me...I'm in!"
Pride surged within Aryanna as she reached into her robes and drew forth a wand. The '4'-shaped symbol of Jupiter glimmered faintly with an otherworldly light, casting a soft glow over the room.
With solemn determination, Aryanna extended the wand toward Hannah.
"In that case... In the name of the Moon, with the powers granted to me by the Legendary Silver Crystal, in my capacity as the princess of the Silver Millennium, I bestow upon you the mantle of Sailor Jupiter. You rise now as protector of storms, guardian of strength and protection. First general of the Silver Millennium, Princess of Jupiter, heir to the planet of thunder. Stand now and take your rightful place at my side as one of our own."
Hannah got down on one knee, her hands trembling as she reverently took the wand from Aryanna's hands. The moment her fingers closed around it, a surge of power coursed through her, crackling like distant thunder. It was as if the wand recognized its designated owner. The air seemed to shimmer, the faint scent of ozone filling the room as the ancient pact between Guardian and planet was sealed anew.
"Hey! Not fair... Why didn't I get such a ceremony?" Hermione whined good-naturedly, breaking the moment and causing everybody to laugh.
"What? Was a battlefield promotion, under heavy fire and in extreme peril not good enough for you?" Susan answered back, causing even more laughs.
Aryanna shook her head in amusement. "Welcome to the team, Hannah," Aryanna said warmly before adding with a wink, "The morning wakeup is at 6.00. Be there!"
Hannah groaned but then smiled, her unease melting away. She was one of them now, a Guardian!
"Thank you... Sailor Moon. I won't let you down."