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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 257
🕑 Added 2025-11-14 20:46:19 +0000 UTCChapter 257: The Werewolf Is Cured! Minister Scrimgeour Issues the Triwizard Tournament Host Invitation
Before the eyes of the crowd, the grey-black fur and the flesh beneath began to fall away in chunks, splattering blood across the ground. It looked as if the creature’s body was collapsing in on itself.
The crowd gasped. Had the potion failed?
“Professor Lupin!” Hermione cried, stepping forward, but Luna caught her arm.
The girl with golden hair and her usual dreamy expression raised a finger to her lips. “Shh. Trust Ethan.”
“But I see…” Luna stared at Lupin, who was writhing in agony, her eyes shining. “It’s peeling away, transforming… new life.”
As she spoke, a hand burst from the bloodied mess—a human hand.
Then, one after another, hands, feet, and a body struggled free, as if breaking out of a cocoon. The crowd held their breath, unable to believe what they saw.
Finally, with a last cry, Lupin emerged entirely, collapsing to the ground like a newborn infant.
But this time, he was undeniably, completely human.
[Congratulations! You have completed the werewolf cure potion!]
[You have solved a problem no one has conquered in centuries! The curse of fate has been lifted!]
[This is a true miracle.]
[Your magical sight is enhanced.]
[Your soul attunement increases by 2.3%.]
Ethan felt a surge of power through him and smiled. Success. Everything had gone exactly as he planned.
In the silence, Ethan waved his wand. A blanket settled over Lupin. Meeting Lupin’s dazed gaze, he offered a hand and a gentle smile. “Congratulations on your rebirth, Professor Lupin.”
Lupin lifted his head, his eyes meeting the full moon hanging above. The thing he had feared most for so long. Instinctively, he flinched, but the familiar pain and madness did not come. He looked at his blood-stained hands, feeling a refreshing clarity, as if a deep-seated stain had been washed away. Even Ethan’s previous purification spells had never felt this clean.
“Is it… Really over?” Lupin trembled, his eyes wide.
Memories of the injustice he had suffered for over thirty years flooded his mind—the attack that had turned him into a werewolf, the endless prejudice. But now, he realised, he could have a different life.
His nose twitched, and a smile broke across his face, almost like a sob.
“I told you,” Ethan’s clear, confident voice rang out, “I said I would do it. No matter how impossible it seemed to you humans.”
Lupin looked up, choosing to ignore the odd phrasing. His eyes, older and wearier than his years, were rimmed with red. “Yes… I feel it now. You have worked a miracle, Ethan.”
He took a deep breath, his gaze firm. “I promise, your name will spread throughout the wizarding world, even to its darkest corners.”
As a werewolf, he knew the hidden, shadowy gatherings. He would turn every outcast into Ethan’s strength.
Ethan smiled. “I look forward to it.”
Lupin gave Ethan one last deep look, then staggered to his feet. He surveyed the stunned crowd, took a breath, and shouted with all his might, “It’s done! Ethan’s werewolf cure potion has succeeded!”
No further proof was needed—his own transformation was the greatest evidence.
Like a bomb dropped into a lake, his cry echoed under the moonlit sky. After a brief pause, the crowd erupted.
“How is this possible?”
“Merlin’s pants, am I hallucinating?”
“He did it! That boy actually did it!”
“This is a real miracle! Is the future of magic finally bright?”
Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet, gaped, her head knocked sideways by the excited crowd. Her quick-quill spun out of her hand, but she didn’t notice. She stared, dumbfounded, at Lupin and Ethan, surrounded by flashes of light.
Only after a long while did she look down at her notes—pages filled with plans for a story about Ethan’s failure. She realised, too late, that it was all worthless.
[Congratulations!]
[Your achievement has stunned the world!]
[No matter what the future holds, history will remember your name!]
[Your influence has grown rapidly.]
[You have lit the Lamp in your Skull: Dim Light → Dawn.]
[The brightness of the lamp increases!]
[You have unlocked more hidden places, waiting for you to explore!]
The noise gradually turned into thunderous applause. From the stands, everyone rose to their feet, faces flushed, clapping as hard as they could.
Ethan closed his eyes, arms spread wide, soaking in the wave of sound. A deep, quiet excitement filled his chest, like the sea surging within.
He flipped his wand, which transformed into a paintbrush, and drew a swirl of dreamlike colors in the air. The paint burst into dazzling starlight, showering the crowd with a shower of dazzling starlight.
Standing amid the gasps, Ethan spoke softly, “I will name this potion… Lily.”
At his words, Harry and Professor Snape, seated at the staff table, froze. Dumbledore turned, a teasing smile on his face as he looked at the stunned Snape. “How about it, Severus? Ethan’s vision is greater than Voldemort’s, wouldn’t you say?”
Snape shuddered, then clenched his fist, his gaze complex as he watched Ethan, surrounded by applause and shimmering colours. The paint blurred Ethan’s features, making him seem even more mysterious.
“Ravenclaw,” Snape muttered, “two hundred points. For Ethan Vincent, who has made history.”
With that, he swept his robes and left without a word, while Dumbledore chuckled softly, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes.
Once, someone else had gathered people like this. But their wand had spat out blue flames that burned dissenters to ash, not gentle miracles for all to see.
“Grindelwald,” Dumbledore murmured, “you were outdone by a child.”
At that moment, someone stepped down from the excited stands and stood before Ethan. It was Minister Scrimgeour, the new Minister of Magic, known for his iron-fisted, hardline politics.
The noise died down. All eyes turned to the two figures, wondering what the new Minister would do with such a brilliant but rule-breaking student.
Scrimgeour extended his hand. “Next term, a major tournament will be held at Hogwarts. Would you be willing to serve as the host, working with the Ministry to create a perfect competition?”
The crowd’s eyes widened. Officials choked, unable to believe what they were hearing. They hadn’t heard about this proposal!
A fourteen-year-old wizard, a mad artist who had just judged Pettigrew, hosting a major tournament? And addressed as “you”?
You’re being too eager to please Ethan!
But the Hogwarts students, especially those who had taken part in Ethan’s Secret Path Challenge—like Miss Gemma Farley and Ravenclaw’s Penelope Clearwater—turned pale.
“This… this is going to be a ‘no survivors’ event,” Penelope whispered, trembling. She felt Ravenclaw’s move to Azkaban was imminent.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore’s face darkened as he remembered the roller coaster still stuck in the castle. So this was the trap waiting for him.
“Maybe I should hand over the headmaster’s position to Ethan sooner,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle. Otherwise, he might win the battle but lose his reputation.
