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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 278
🕑 Added 2025-11-28 00:53:12 +0000 UTCChapter 278: New Card – “Frieren’s Happy Chest (?)”! Add a Little Imperius Curse… Oops, Too Much!
A Blast-Ended Skrewt.
Yet another result of Hagrid the Outlaw’s latest crossbreeding experiment.
Right now, they looked like a heap of peeled lobsters.
Their sticky grey-white bodies were piled together so thickly it was impossible to tell where the heads were. Dozens of legs jutted from their sides, flailing about at random.
A thick stench of rot hung over them, like meat left out all summer.
Apart from Ethan, who watched them with real interest, every other student had backed as far away as possible.
Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff clapped a hand over her mouth, face pale. "I think I’m going to be sick… urgh…"
One of the Patil twins, Padma, gave her a sideways look. “Aren’t you Hufflepuffs supposed to be all about magical creatures?” she said lightly. “Didn’t your House produce Newt Scamander? And you don’t even like little creatures~”
"It has to be a normal animal first," Hannah shot back.
Her gaze toward Ethan only grew more respectful.
"Oh, you really get me, Ethan!" Hagrid boomed. "These little beauties came from breeding Manticores and Fire Crabs."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
Thinking about the size difference between those two species, one particular phrase popped into his head.
Polyandry?
Very open-minded.
After the last class with Gryffindor and Slytherin, Hagrid had been pretty discouraged. He had thought no one appreciated the wonder of this new species.
He had not expected to find a kindred spirit in Ethan.
"’Course I can give yeh one," Hagrid said. "But I still don’t know all their habits. Yeh’ve got to be careful."
"No problem," Ethan said. "I’ve been needing a pet."
Having a one-of-a-kind pet in his dorm. That would be enough to make all the cat-and-toad owners green with envy.
As they spoke—
Bang, bang!
A Skrewt’s tail spat fire, blasting a nearby Skrewt and taking half its body off.
The air filled with a scorching smell of barbecued flesh and rot.
Students: ?!!
So this was the "upped difficulty" for fourth-years, then.
While Hagrid shouted and struggled to tear the creatures apart with his bare giant hands, Ethan sighed. "I take back what I said earlier."
"The most notorious magic school in the world isn’t Durmstrang."
"It ought to be Hogwarts."
In the safest, most venerable school in Britain, you could even find behaviour that technically skirted the edge of the law.
By the end of class, after a full period of feeding them, Ethan had successfully secured himself a Blast-Ended Skrewt.
As it rammed itself wildly against the inside of its crate, his expression only grew more fond.
For reasons unknown, that very night Michael and Mandy moved out of the dormitory once again, claiming they were "just really attached to the sofas in the common room."
The sofas gave them a vital sense of security.
"Ravenclaws really are an odd bunch, aren’t they?" Ethan said, shaking his head.
He dangled a frog leg over the crate, teasing the Skrewt hatchling as it clawed frantically at the air.
Before long, he grew bored.
He tossed the hapless frog leg aside, picked up his wand, and aimed it at the chomping Skrewt.
A stream of incantations flowed from his lips—nonsense syllables to anyone else.
Soon, a pale thread of soul-light rose from the Skrewt’s indistinct grey-white body.
It twined around Ethan’s wand and was drawn into a special spindle, waiting to have its life redrawn.
"Danger hidden inside treasure," Ethan murmured. "A monster that devours the greed in people’s hearts."
"Perfect chance to work on the Imperius Curse from Defence Against the Dark Arts class."
Cobalt eyes locked on the canvas, he let his wand become a brush, bleeding out vivid colour.
Scratch, scratch.
The delicate sound of bristles on canvas filled the Moonlit Room once more.
Weeks later—
[Name: Sheep-Eating Chest]
[Tier: Second Tier, Blue Precious]
[Type: Living Painting]
[Effect: Exudes a rich, enticing fragrance that lures victims closer. When opened, the chest spews flames and explodes. At the same time, it extends clam-flesh-like flexible tendrils to swallow the victim whole, making escape nearly impossible. If not pulled free in time, they will be slowly digested inside.]
[Evaluation: Add a touch of Imperius Curse… uh-oh. Too much.]
On the canvas stood an impossibly ornate wooden chest.
Clusters of purple gemstones, like bunches of grapes, studded its surface. Intricate green patterns wound across it, as if it sat beneath a vine-covered trellis.
A heady, fermented sweetness radiated from it.
The scent seeped out of the dormitory and drifted into the Ravenclaw common room.
Ravenclaws who had been bent over their books looked up one by one. A flush rose on their cheeks, their eyes turning hazy, like drunkards.
Swaying, they stood and began to shuffle toward the source of the smell without quite knowing why.
A passing draft cut through the room.
The fragrance thinned and scattered. Everyone blinked and snapped back to themselves.
"Huh? What was I just… going to do?" someone asked.
Then, as one, they turned to look in the direction of Ethan’s dorm and fell silent.
That had felt suspiciously like the Imperius Curse.
Ethan… are you sure this is "serious" art?
Inside the dorm—
"Done."
Ethan’s eyes lit up as he gazed at his new work.
Modelled on a Blast-Ended Skrewt and enhanced with the Imperius Curse, it was, he was sure, perfectly suited to give the visiting schools a taste of Hogwarts at its most authentic.
Do your schools have art students and beast-breeding masters this brilliant?
"Once you add dragon as the main course, the First Task is complete," Ethan said.
The painting shrank into a long, rectangular card in his hand. He grinned.
"All that’s left is to wait for the end of October, when Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrive, and the Tournament begins."
"Can’t wait, hehe."
Before the delegations arrived, the whole castle was refurbished top to bottom.
Every oil painting glowed with fresh, pinkish "skin." Every dusty suit of armour gleamed, standing straighter than before.
Ethan, like a diligent little ant, quietly decorated Hogwarts’ hidden corners. More than once, Dumbledore watched him from not far away, helpless.
At last, on 31 October, the long-awaited day arrived.
Ethan walked with the others up to the tower to drop off their books. "Shame Potions ended early," he said. "I wanted to see which poor soul Professor Snape was going to poison."
"Maybe he put it in his own flask," Luna said cheerfully.
Everyone knew she was just saying something mad. But that offhand tone and unshakable certainty still made people shiver.
As Ethan and Luna discussed "poison that won’t kill you if I lose" as casually as the weather, Michael calmly talked Divination with the others.
Ask him why, and he would say he had simply got used to it.
Once they had stowed their things, the students gathered in the Entrance Hall.
Ethan pinned on his prefect badge—yes, he had received it after all.
Since he had begun his nightly patrols, not a single student had broken curfew.
"Ravenclaw, line up," he called lazily, flicking his wand.
Iron-grey arms erupted from the flagstones, like steel willow branches, herding the squealing younger students into neat rows.
The little witches and wizards went bone-white and straightened up faster than lightning.
Backs ramrod straight, they fell silent.
They looked like a trained company of soldiers, in stark contrast to the chaos of the other Houses.
Ethan nodded, satisfied, and turned to his Head of House. "Professor Flitwick, Ravenclaw is clearly first place. Shouldn’t we get some points?"
Professor Flitwick dabbed sweat from his brow, hardly daring to meet his colleagues’ eyes. "W-well, er… very well. Five points to Ravenclaw."
Watching the whole scene from the side, Professor "Moody" thought:
So Hogwarts really does belong to the Vincents, then?
Is this allowed?
He hissed under his breath, eyeing the grey arms swaying like reeds. Something about them felt oddly familiar.
Probably just his imagination.
Once the lines were formed, the students filed outside.
They stood along the slope by the lawn, breath steaming in the cold air as they waited.
Beauxbatons’ delegation… I wonder what Miss Fleur looks like now.
Ethan thought.
In his mind’s eye, a Picasso-esque blonde portrait surfaced.
Just then, his nerves twitched.
He lifted his head, squinting at the clear blue sky.
A black speck appeared, growing larger and larger.
"Beauxbatons’ delegation is here! Merlin’s beard, is that a house?!"
