As the Quidditch World Cup came to an end, Roy, accompanied by Hermione, Daphne, Astoria, Cassandra, Cho Chang, Penelope, Narcissa Black, Nagini, Bela White, and Grayfia Lucifuge, began preparing to leave the tent grounds. The night was alive with cheers, fireworks, and distant chatter — until, suddenly, the festive air shattered with screams.
Roy's eyes narrowed.He knew this moment — the Death Eater riot that history would later record as one of the darkest scenes in the Quidditch Cup's aftermath.
"Stay inside the tent," he instructed firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "No one steps out. Grayfia, put a barrier around the tent — nothing gets through."
Grayfia's expression turned cold and sharp. "Understood." Within seconds, shimmering magic enclosed the tent like glass, protecting those inside.
Roy stepped out alone into the chaos.The air crackled with magic, tents ablaze, and masked wizards marched across the field, casting spells indiscriminately. Among them, Roy spotted Marcus Flint, the last surviving heir of his ruined family, his one arm bandaged in black cloth; Lord Parkinson, Lord Nott, and, lurking at the edge of the fray, Lucius Malfoy, his mask barely concealing fear.
Roy's calm steps drew no attention until he stopped in the middle of the battlefield. The moonlight glinted off the polished blade of his Zanpakutō: Kyōka Suigetsu as he whispered,
"Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu."
The world shifted.
Within seconds, the Death Eaters' vision warped — they no longer saw Roy or their comrades. Each one perceived their allies as their enemies. A single curse was all it took. The field erupted in chaos as dark wizards turned their wands on one another, believing they were surrounded by Aurors and traitors.
Screams of confusion echoed through the night. Spells collided. Flames surged. In mere minutes, the Death Eaters had decimated themselves — the once-feared servants of Voldemort lying silent and broken on the scorched earth.
Only Lucius Malfoy, trembling and wide-eyed, managed to flee into the darkness.
Moments later, Fudge and a team of Aurors arrived, stunned by the carnage. The Minister looked around, baffled. "What in Merlin's name… happened here?"
A surviving bystander stammered, "They… they turned on each other, Minister! They just started fighting — like they'd gone mad!"
Fudge blinked twice, certain he'd misheard. "They killed each other? You're telling me they all came here… to fight each other?"
The Aurors could only nod dumbly.
After a long pause, Fudge rubbed his temples and muttered, "Are they all idiots?" He waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. Write it down — case closed. Death Eaters destroyed by internal conflict. Serves them right."
The next morning, The Daily Prophet and Wizard Weekly ran bold headlines:
"DEATH EATERS DESTROY THEMSELVES IN CHAOTIC INFIGHTING — MINISTER CALLS THEM 'IDIOTS'!"
The story spread like wildfire. Wizards across Britain couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of it.
But none of them knew the truth.
That a single man — silent, unseen — had manipulated reality itself through illusion, wiping out Voldemort's most dangerous servants without lifting a single killing curse.
And as Roy stood outside his tent the next morning, sipping tea while the world celebrated the Death Eaters' foolish demise, he allowed himself a faint smile.
"Illusions," he murmured, "are only dangerous when the fool believes they're real."