HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

Halloween Eve had arrived.

Silver moonlight spilled across the windowsills, and pumpkin lanterns lined the corridors, cackling at passing students. The castle was alive with eerie laughter and flickering shadows. From the Great Hall, the sounds of celebration and feasting echoed—music, chatter, and the clatter of silverware.

Ethan stood in the entrance hall, listening to the distant commotion. The hall itself was vast enough to fit a house, its ceiling lost in darkness, aglow with floating green candles, decorative cobwebs, and fluttering bats. Suits of armor had been replaced by menacing skeletons, and pale phantoms drifted overhead.

Everyone was enjoying the Halloween feast in the Great Hall. It was the perfect time to set up his art exhibition.

Ethan chose a quiet stretch of corridor near the underground staircase, a place with only a handful of Living Paintings—just enough to blend his own works among them.

As he worked, an old woman in a wheelchair, painted into a Living Portrait, called out kindly, "Why aren't you at dinner, child? What are you doing here?"

"I'm hanging my paintings to add a little flavor to Halloween," Ethan replied honestly, waving his wand to levitate the canvases onto the wall.

"Oh—you can paint! What a lovely boy!" The old woman cupped her face, eyes shining with delight. "Hang one next to me, so I can admire it up close—"

Her words died in her throat.

She stared, transfixed, at the painting Ethan hung beside her.

It was grotesque and terrifying—an almost beastly figure, neither fully human nor animal, with tangled brown hair and skin that seemed to melt over thick, unnatural bones. Its eyes were wild, burning with a furious, chaotic light. The creature was squeezed into the frame as if the canvas were a fragile cage, ready to burst free and tear into the world.

The old woman seemed to hear a drum-like heartbeat and to smell hot, fetid breath.

"This is my good friend," Ethan said cheerfully, "titled 'Loyal Hagrid.'" He gazed at the painting with nostalgic affection. To achieve the effect, he'd even used chicken blood—collected from outside Hagrid's hut. The result was perfect.

He took a deep breath, savoring the metallic tang in the air.

It was the ideal piece to open the exhibition—guaranteed to stir the heart.

He just didn't understand why, when he'd shown it to Hagrid, the gentle giant had fallen silent. The next day, Hagrid had even cut his hair for the first time in years.

He must be at the age where he cares about his looks, Ethan thought.

"—Ahhh!!!"

A sudden scream snapped Ethan from his thoughts.

He looked up to see the old woman leap from her wheelchair and scurry into another painting, vanishing in terror.

"Very good, very spirited," Ethan nodded in approval. He hoped she'd keep up the screaming to enhance the atmosphere.

Humming a cheerful tune, Ethan floated his paintings into place.

"The Third Umbilical Cord," "Dim Moonlight Path," "Feeding Ghoul," "Roaring Creeper"…

Gradually, the corridor fell silent. The Living Paintings were deserted; not a soul remained. Even the moonlight seemed tinged with blood.

At the end of the corridor, Ethan hung his two proudest works:

"The Portal" and "Eris's Call."

Name: Eris's Call

Type: Conceptual Painting

Grade: First Tier · Golden Legend

Description: "Embrace me, enter me."

Effect: Causes the viewer to become intensely captivated, as if personally immersed in their deepest desire, unable to escape. If not broken free in time, they will be trapped in a beautiful dream, losing themselves forever.

Warning: This card is dangerous. Please use with caution.

Gallery Status: This painting is now on display.

Current artworks in gallery: 4

Newbie Gift Pack progress: 4/5

This was Ethan's second golden legend, created by fusing the Erised spell. The painting radiated a golden glow, formless yet blinding, like the sun itself. Just looking at it made Ethan's head spin, his skin burn, as if nothing else existed but that light.

He snapped out of it, shaking his head.

That was close. He'd nearly been trapped by his own creation.

This card was dangerous—what should he do? He only wanted others to appreciate his art, not get lost in it forever. Someone as pure and kind as him could never put others in real danger.

This was Hogwarts, after all.

Suddenly, inspiration struck.

—Noble Fusion!

His newly learned skill had yet to find its true use.

"Fuse 'The Portal' with 'Eris's Call,'" Ethan whispered, channeling his magic into the two paintings. The paint on both canvases bubbled and stretched, then melded together like living sinew, until they became one.

He checked the effect of his new creation, and his eyes lit up.

This was it!

Now, the painting could lure viewers into dreams, and at the last moment, deliver a jolt—snapping them back to reality.

A friendly "anti-addiction system," he thought with a grin.

Satisfied, Ethan hung the final painting.

According to the fusion card's prompt, he still needed to set up the portal's exit in the Great Hall—to give everyone a little surprise.

Just imagining what was about to happen made Ethan's lips curl in anticipation.

"I wonder who'll be the first to admire the exhibition…" he murmured, smiling as he strode toward the Great Hall, his shadow stretching long and thin beneath the moonlight.

…

Shortly after Ethan left, a panting figure crawled out of the basement staircase.

It was Professor Quirrell, fresh from releasing the Troll.

"Heh, heh heh heh…"

Quirrell could barely contain his excitement. He'd done it. The Troll was loose in the dungeons. Now, he just needed to feign panic, rush into the Great Hall, and report the news. While everyone was distracted, he'd slip away to the fourth floor and break through the trapdoor.

"Once this is done, the Master will surely reward me…" he muttered, climbing the stairs.

Suddenly, an icy chill swept over him.

The corridor ahead had become twisted and dark, as if the gates of hell had opened. Silence pressed in from all sides. The moonlight was cold and sharp, and the air stank of blood.

Quirrell froze, his heart pounding.

What was happening?

Had someone beaten him to it?

Had Hogwarts become a slaughterhouse before he could even make his move?

He swallowed hard, a primal fear crawling up his spine.

Just what had he walked into?

(End of Chapter)

***

[Check Out My Patreon For More Chapters On All

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

[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[Thank You For Your Support!]