HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

A deathly silence fell over the Great Hall.

Everyone stared at Ethan in shock, as if a thousand trolls were stampeding through their minds!

Surprise? A pleasant surprise?

It was clearly a shock!

Merlin's red long johns, what on earth just happened?!

The Weasley twins stood directly on their chairs, craning their necks to look at Professor Quirrell lying motionless on the ground. Their eyes sparkled as if they were gradually understanding everything.

Elegant—absolutely elegant to the extreme!

If Ethan gave the word, they would rally around him as the "Prank King of Hogwarts"!

If not for the inappropriate atmosphere, with Dumbledore's beard twitching, they truly wanted to kneel before Ethan and shout, "Long live Ethan Vincent!"

"Mr. Vincent, what have you done?!"

Professor McGonagall staggered to her feet, not even noticing she'd knocked over her wine glass. She was shocked and confused, completely unable to understand why the usually well-behaved Ethan would do such a thing.

Ethan blinked innocently and said:

"I just wanted to give everyone a surprise... I set up an interesting art exhibition in the corridor, and the last painting has a teleportation effect."

"Mm—though I kept some horror elements so everyone would know it's Halloween."

With that, Ethan smiled brilliantly.

If it had been anyone else who fell with such a crash, Ethan would have honestly admitted his mistake—that he failed to cast the Levitation Charm properly, causing real injury.

But it was Quirrell who fell?

Then no problem. In fact, it could verify the power of his fusion painting.

Even Quirrell, a Dark wizard with Voldemort attached to his skull, couldn't resist it.

Fusion Artwork: A Dream of Nanke

Grade: First Tier—Golden Legend

Description: The dream of Nanke must eventually end, a floating life like a dream is all emptiness.

Effect: Creates illusions, making viewers forget their memories and enjoy wealth, honor, and their heart's true desires. But at the moment of achieving everything, they will fall through the portal back to reality.

Evaluation: An extremely vicious card—only someone truly sinister would combine these two paintings.

How could it be called vicious?

Ethan felt the system's evaluation was unfairly biased. He had clearly set up anti-addiction measures to prevent people from indulging in illusions. It should be considered thoughtful.

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, having heard Ethan's answer, was about to faint.

In her decades of teaching, she wasn't unfamiliar with mischievous students like the Weasley twins. But she had never seen such highly skilled "pranking"!

Professor McGonagall couldn't understand how Ethan Vincent had managed to do this to a professor—a grown wizard!

It wasn't scary when students were mischievous. It was scary when students were both mischievous AND clever!

[Your artwork has greatly shocked everyone, leaving them with a deep impression!]

[Soul Fusion increased by 4%]

[32%→36%]

Blue subtitles appeared, and Ethan immediately felt power surging within his body! Like molten lava crawling through his blood vessels.

At this moment, Ethan was like tempered steel, the power of his bloodline and soul breaking through constraints in repeated impacts, erupting forth!

Hiss—so satisfying!

Ethan shuddered with pleasure as he curved his lips.

Suddenly, the wand in Ethan's hand began vibrating violently. That feeling of resonance with his inner magic power emerged again!

Only this time, Ethan had clear awareness—he could do it! His wand could transform into a paintbrush perfectly suited to him!

A drop of thick red liquid fell from the wand tip to the ground. Like blood, like tears, emitting a rusty smell and corroding a dent in the floor.

On the podium, Headmaster Dumbledore finally reacted. His expression grave, he walked down in quick strides, knelt beside Professor Quirrell, and waved his wand to cast spells.

Above, the black portal in the ceiling quietly closed as if it had never appeared.

But like glimpsing a corner of the world's truth, even without visible changes, one's mindset could hardly return to normal.

"I can never eat chicken legs in this hall with peace of mind again!" Ron wailed tearlessly, while commemoratively stuffing another chicken leg into his mouth.

Under Dumbledore's magic, Quirrell regained some consciousness. He lifted his head in confusion, blood trickling from his nose.

Looking around, he seemed to realize something, his eyes slowly widening to show extreme terror.

"No... this isn't real... how could that be fake... no, no...!"

In front of everyone, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, former excellent student Quirrell, actually began crying.

He sobbed desperately, shaking like a leaf, his fingernails painfully and regretfully clawing at the floor. Like a patient experiencing withdrawal.

A cold atmosphere emanated from him.

Just seeing his terrible state, everyone couldn't help imagining what tremendous torture he must have endured at Ethan's hands!

Too terrifying, too frightening!

Dumbledore's expression grew serious. Though he had been watching Ethan, he truly hadn't expected Ethan to pull off something this big!

Dumbledore continuously cast calming spells, and only after several minutes did Quirrell gradually settle down.

However, the deep fear in his eyes never faded.

The Master would surely kill him...!

Quirrell bit down hard, his mouth filling with the taste of blood.

...Ethan Vincent!

He had actually fallen into that brat's trap and landed directly in front of Dumbledore!

For a moment, Quirrell thought Ethan had seen through his true identity and was working with Dumbledore to set him up.

But meeting Dumbledore's concerned yet scrutinizing eyes, Quirrell immediately realized his identity hadn't been exposed.

Some relief.

He wouldn't be killed by the Master.

...Right, even the headmaster and professors hadn't seen through his disguise. How could a mere first-year have any awareness?

So he was just unlucky?

At this thought, Quirrell's expression grew even worse.

He had never hated anyone this much, almost losing his rationality and wanting to cast Cruciatus on that damned brat right in front of Dumbledore!

What kind of bizarre, evil magic was that...!

Giving someone an incredibly real, beautiful dream, then suddenly dropping them into cold reality.

Something within reach slipping through his fingers—he nearly went completely mad.

Compared to himself, Quirrell felt Ethan was more suited to be a Dark wizard.

Too pure.

...No, no. He had to make amends and get things back on track!

"Are you alright, Professor Quirrell? What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"Out—outside, Vincent's paintings... right, right! The troll!"

Quirrell's eyes lit up as he used his last bit of strength to roar:

"Troll—troll in the dungeons! I thought I should tell you..."

His words fell flat.

They caused no ripples in the Great Hall.

Students looked at each other.

They hadn't yet recovered from "Professor Quirrell fell down," "Ethan wants to murder a professor," "Is this also a Halloween surprise?"

Under the previous massive shock, a troll or whatever... didn't matter anymore?

Quirrell: "..."

Ethan, you really deserve to die!

The plan had completely failed—one could say it was a crushing defeat.

And he'd made a fool of himself in public.

Furious and attacked by Voldemort's cruel punishment, Quirrell finally couldn't hold back. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his face as pale as paper, having suffered tremendous trauma.

His head tilted, and he completely passed out.

...

Regardless, it was still a dangerous troll that deserved some respect.

Dumbledore first asked several professors to take Quirrell to the hospital wing.

Then he called to the bewildered young wizards:

"Prefects, please escort students from each house back to their common rooms."

Rustling sounds.

Students stood up silently.

However, once the shock wore off, tonight would probably become the most thrilling Halloween they'd ever experienced.

"First years, follow me."

Ravenclaw's prefect, Robert Hilliard, spoke up.

Then he looked at Ethan in the crowd with complex eyes, exchanging glances with next year's prefect candidate, Penelope Clearwater.

"How about it? You still say he's not qualified, Sean?" Penelope said with a smile. "I think Ethan is completely qualified to join our society."

Sean Mike, the young man who had always opposed Ethan joining Ravenclaw's internal society, pushed his glasses gloomily and sneered:

"I see he's no different from before."

"No improvement at all, still playing his nasty little tricks."

"This time he even toyed with a professor—even if it's Professor Quirrell! I think he'll be expelled before joining the society."

Penelope's eyes widened: "You're just jealous, Sean! Jealous that Ethan can achieve such things as a first-year!"

"His painting magic is unique! A completely new system!"

Hit in his sore spot, Sean immediately became angry and stubbornly said, "That's not magic at all!"

"Anyway, unless he truly demonstrates his abilities, I won't acknowledge him—"

Just then, Sean suddenly had a bright idea.

He smiled maliciously and said:

"If he can defeat that troll, I'll agree to let him join the society. How about that?"

[Chapter Complete]

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