HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

"The Master himself has spoken!"

Quirrell's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his body tensing unconsciously as he scrutinized Ethan.

How could the Dark Lord take an interest in this boy? Ethan was handsome and tall, and even when threatening a professor, his expression remained polite and gentle, as if he were just discussing the weather. He didn't look like someone touched by the darkness at all.

The previous dispute with Malfoy was nothing but childish squabbling.

A newborn calf fears no tiger, Quirrell thought with disdain. If this brat ever met a real Dark wizard, he'd be crying for his mother in seconds.

Besides, any wizard with a bit of talent could draw a Living Painting infused with magic—Hogwarts' own moving portraits were proof enough. There was nothing remarkable about Ethan's so-called "talent."

But Quirrell dared not disobey the voice in his head.

He forced a smile and stammered,

"S-since you insist, I'll tell you…"

And so, through Quirrell's long-winded, stuttering explanation, Ethan learned the truth about Herpo the Foul.

To sum it up in one sentence: Herpo was the progenitor of Dark Wizards.

He lived in ancient Greece and was one of the earliest and most infamous Dark wizards in history—Herpo the Foul.

He had two main achievements:

First, he invented and bred the Basilisk.

A rooster's egg hatched under a toad, creating a monster whose gaze could kill.

Yes, the very creature slumbering beneath Hogwarts, summoned by a young Tom Riddle, responsible for a death at the school.

Second, he invented the Horcrux.

By committing murder to split the soul, a wizard could achieve a twisted form of immortality.

It was Lord Voldemort's signature magic.

(TL NOTE: I didn't know this was a common knowledge.)

So, in a way, Herpo was Voldemort's spiritual ancestor.

Whatever was hidden in Herpo's mansion was either incredibly precious, incredibly dangerous, or both.

Ethan's interest only grew.

Creations of the Dark Arts, forbidden and taboo, were always the most fascinating.

"Heh, heh, heh…"

Ethan couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

A chill swept through the classroom.

"I-I feel a bit cold…"

Ron rubbed his arms, shivering.

"It's like a Dementor's here. My dad says it always gets cold when Dementors show up."

"But there's only Ethan here, hahaha…"

Harry forced a laugh, but deep down, he agreed.

Aside from being human, Ethan was probably just as eerie as a Dementor.

…

As class dragged on, Ethan's mind was already racing with plans for Herpo's mansion.

The mossy bark had not only taught him the true Erised spell, but also revealed the location of Herpo's lair:

the Lake District of northern England, near Wast Water in Cumbria, deep within the "Great Rotting Swamp," where poisonous fog and tangled forests made the place nearly unreachable.

It was the perfect lair for a Dark Wizard.

"It's impossible to go alone…" Ethan muttered.

Not only was it dangerous, it was hundreds of kilometers from Hogwarts.

Even Apparition would be risky.

It was like being handed a treasure map and no way to reach the X.

He sighed, setting aside thoughts of treasure hunting for now.

"I'll need to plan carefully. Maybe over summer break. For now, focus on the Halloween art exhibition."

His debut had to be unforgettable.

As he pondered, the bell finally rang.

Ethan, along with the rest of the class, wasted no time escaping the garlic-infused air of the classroom.

But before he could reach the door, a wall of garlic stench hit him like a physical force.

"V-Vincent, please wait a moment…"

Professor Quirrell hurried over, his enormous purple turban nearly brushing Ethan's nose.

The combined smell of garlic and something faintly rotten was so strong that Ethan took two steps back, his face twisting in disgust.

"Sorry, Professor, I'm allergic to garlic. I have to go."

With that, Ethan turned and strode away without looking back.

If Quirrell wanted to get close, he'd have to lose the garlic first.

"…"

Quirrell's smile froze.

He watched Ethan's retreating figure, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

He trembled, and only after the classroom had emptied did he collapse, squatting down as if the weight of the world had finally crushed him.

"I'm sorry, Master… I'm so sorry… I'll get Ethan Vincent's skill for you, I swear…"

A cold, cruel voice echoed in his mind:

"Help me? Do you think I need your help?"

"Y-yes, Master! For you! I'll give you everything…"

"I never thought I'd be forced to parasitize a coward like you. Never mind. There's no rush to approach the boy. The Philosopher's Stone comes first."

"Yes, Master! I'm ready. Before Halloween, I'll create a diversion and get the Stone for you…"

"You'd better not disappoint me. You know the consequences."

"Yes, Master…"

Quirrell hunched over, shivering as the voice faded.

He finally exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow.

Ethan Vincent, enjoy your arrogance while you can.

Once I have the Stone, you and your ridiculous paintings will belong to the Dark Lord.

Quirrell straightened, his eyes darkening.

He hurried from the classroom, mind already racing with plans.

He had to make sure nothing went wrong.

Who would have thought the stammering, pitiful Professor Quirrell would act before the holiday?

Perhaps that greasy Snape would notice something…

But Snape would never guess that Quirrell, the loyal servant of Voldemort, would unleash a Troll on the school!

Just imagining the panic of those foolish students and professors made Quirrell grin.

At that time, he would savor the sight of Ethan Vincent's arrogant face twisted in terror.

…

While Quirrell was busy capturing a Troll and preparing his grand scheme, Ethan was equally busy preparing for his art exhibition.

One painting after another, brush never stopping, inspiration never fading.

Since he'd forgotten how to find the Room of Requirement, Ethan painted wherever he could—mostly in his dormitory.

He carefully stored his finished works in a cowhide bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm and told Michael and Mandy, with a wink, that they were "special tools for later."

Despite his reassurances, his roommates kept their distance, eventually opting to sleep in the common room.

Ethan was touched—surely they just didn't want to disturb his creative process.

He decided they would be the first to see the exhibition once it was ready.

During this time, Ethan also visited Hagrid a few times with Harry and Ron, successfully acquiring magical materials: unicorn hair, iridescent feathers, and even a few real dragon scales that shimmered with a dark green light.

Ethan used them all in his paintings, combining them with the Erised spell to create a new "golden legend."

Time flew by.

Finally, it was October 31st.

The night before Halloween—a night filled with anticipation, and beneath it, countless hidden currents.

(End of Chapter)

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