HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

When Ethan finished reading the inscription, a cerulean glow engulfed him, forcing his eyes shut. The primal scent of earth faded, replaced by the familiar, musty tang of dust.

He opened his eyes to find himself back in the Trophy Room, standing before the Mirror of Erised. Moonlight spilled across the glass, reflecting his solitary figure. The room was empty, silent.

The magic of the mirror was now etched into Ethan's mind—a cipher of symbols he couldn't yet decipher, perhaps Ancient Runes he hadn't studied. Even so, as he silently recited the incantation, a wave of fervent inspiration surged through him, nearly overwhelming his senses.

He exhaled slowly, centering himself. What a powerful, dangerous magic—one that could seize a person's will, lure them into a beautiful illusion, and make them forget reality.

Ethan loved it.

With this, he could paint portraits that truly captivated the soul. Professor Snape would never again have to agonize over dreary black-and-white sketches; he could lose himself in living color. No, Ethan could even attempt to replicate the Mirror of Erised itself—a divine artifact that revealed the deepest desires of the heart.

His heart pounded, his mind racing with ideas. He couldn't wait to return to the dormitory and put this new magic to the test.

Just then, he heard limping footsteps outside the door.

Filch was back.

"Clean as new," Ethan said, waving his wand with a flourish. Dust vanished from the room in an instant.

When Filch burst in, breathless and red-faced, he froze at the sight of the gleaming Trophy Room.

"You—you used magic!" Filch's eyes bulged, bloodshot with rage.

He hadn't caught a single night prowler, and now even the punishment was ruined. Was this boy mocking him?

Ethan twirled his wand, feigning innocence. "Magic? You're wronging me, sir. I cleaned all of this by hand, bit by bit."

Filch nearly choked on his own fury. He trembled, voice rising to a shriek. "I'm going to tell the professors! They'll check your wand! You evil little brat, let's see if the school doesn't punish you properly—"

Before he could finish, a strange, lilting whisper slipped from Ethan's lips.

"Erised stra ehru..."

The spell was awkward and tongue-twisting; Ethan barely recognized half the words, relying on instinct and guesswork. But it worked.

As he waved his wand, shimmering motes of light circled Filch's head. Filch's eyes glazed over, a slack, dreamy smile spreading across his face.

Ethan paused, suddenly uneasy.

Wait. Why did this effect look so much like Imperio, one of the Unforgivable Curses?

I'm a good wizard, aren't I?

"Do a somersault?" Ethan tried experimentally.

Filch didn't respond, lost in his own blissful illusion.

Ethan let out a breath of relief. It was a safe spell. No, better—a good spell, a charm for dreams. He'd call it the Dream Charm. If there was a gap between the dream and reality when waking up… well, he was only responsible for delivering beautiful dreams, not after-sales service.

"Even an incomplete spell can have such an effect… If I could fully capture it in a painting, just how powerful would it be?" he mused, striding to the door.

He glanced down at Mrs. Norris, who was anxiously circling Filch's feet.

"Meow~ Meow~"

The sound was pitiful. Grinning, Ethan bent down and gave the wary cat a rough stroke—against the fur.

"Meow!!!"

With a miserable yowl, Mrs. Norris bolted. Ethan left the Trophy Room, feeling immensely satisfied.

That felt good.

Halfway back to the dormitory, Ethan encountered the "troublemakers" who had lured Filch away earlier—Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Compared to Ethan's calm, composed demeanor, the trio looked as if they'd seen Professor Quirrell dancing with a troll—pale and shaken.

They met at a corner. Hearing their footsteps, Ethan stepped aside just in time. The three, startled by his sudden appearance, collided with each other and tumbled to the ground in a heap.

If Filch hadn't already been under the Dream Charm, he probably would have appeared out of nowhere by now.

"Are you planning to wake the whole castle for a party?" Ethan asked, eyebrow raised.

"What? No!" Ron scrambled to his feet, panting, his face drained of color. "You absolutely won't believe what we just saw!"

Ethan's lips curled in amusement. "Hmm~ You didn't happen to break into the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor and run into a big three-headed dog, did you?"

Ron stared, dumbfounded. The trio's mouths dropped open.

He was right!

They had barely escaped with their lives, convinced they were the first in the school to discover the secret of the forbidden corridor. Yet Ethan had guessed it in a single breath.

"How—how did you know?" Ron stammered.

Ethan smiled mysteriously. "A secret."

Instantly, in their eyes, Ethan became even more unfathomable.

Of course, Ethan knew the truth from the original story. Even though Malfoy's duel had been with him instead of Harry, and the original night duel had been canceled, Harry and his friends still managed to sneak out and stumble into the forbidden corridor while being chased by Filch. Sometimes, Ethan suspected Dumbledore had enchanted the stairs to lead Harry and company to the forbidden zone at every opportunity.

Harry, nervous and excited, pushed up his glasses and whispered, "Do you remember what I said before? That small cloth bag Hagrid took from the Gringotts vault—the one the newspaper said someone tried to steal?"

"Mm-hmm, I remember."

Ethan lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially. "I suspect that cloth bag is what the Cerberus is guarding!"

Harry nodded, then added, "Hermione reminded us—there's a trapdoor under the Cerberus—"

Before he could finish, Hermione, who had been silent, suddenly snapped.

"Are you done talking?! What it's guarding, who wants to steal it, and what does that have to do with us? You're seriously violating school rules, do you know that?! And you, Vincent!"

Hermione whipped around, glaring at Ethan with deep disappointment.

"At your service," Ethan replied, bowing slightly, polite and elegant.

Hermione choked, then huffed, "I didn't expect you to study so hard and yet be so undisciplined!"

Ethan raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Is that so hard to imagine?"

Since the start of the term, he'd done plenty of "undisciplined" things.

Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line. Attacking Malfoy with magic, beating Malfoy, earning money from older Malfoy… It seemed Ethan hadn't been disciplined for a single day. Maybe it was his handsome, pure face—people just overlooked his mischief.

"Fine! I'm not going to bother with you anymore! If you don't object, I'm going back to the dormitory to sleep!" Hermione tossed her hair, her bushy mane slapping Ron in the face as she stormed off.

Ron covered his face, incredulous. "We don't object, go ahead. What kind of talk is that? It's as if we forced her to come!"

Ethan smiled, then asked, "So why did you come out? It's so late."

Malfoy had been taken home, so there was no "night duel."

Harry scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "Uh, we wanted to help you distract Filch… So you'd have time to use magic, and wouldn't have to clean those filthy trophies by hand."

(End of Chapter)

***

[Check Out My Patreon For More Chapters On All

Of My Fanfics!!] [www. [email protected]/meowthtl]

[+300 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter]

[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[Thank You For Your Support!]