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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 250
🕑 Added 2025-11-11 18:38:10 +0000 UTCChapter 250: Clearing the Wrongful Case, Rewriting the Ending Sirius: Harry, Come Home With Me
[Congratulations! You have accomplished an unprecedented feat!]
[You have successfully forced an unfit Minister of Magic to step down and upheld justice!]
Pale blue text floated before Ethan’s eyes. He smiled and tilted his head toward Malfoy. “It’s done.”
It’s done? What’s done?
Malfoy blinked, then understood. His eyes went wide as he stared at Ethan with a new mix of awe and fear.
Could it be that the Minister himself had been… dealt with? How? And how did he already know?
At once, Malfoy grew even more deferential. “Congratulations, Lord Vincent. Congratulations on taking another step toward your aim. The Malfoy family will send gifts shortly.”
“I believe your path will remain as it is now, unstoppable and unmatched.”
Ethan inclined his head lightly, unbothered. The calm, calculating poise shook Malfoy even more.
This was the bearing of a Dark Lord. Compared to him, that ill-tempered Voldemort hardly measured up.
Shaking the Ministry was something even his father had thought impossible. Who could have imagined such a reversal in Sirius’s case? Ethan was only a third-year student. Was this the Ravenclaw apex of academic ferocity? Would he truly one day sweep the world with art?
Terrifying.
Malfoy’s gaze flashed. His loyalty was almost carved across his brow.
[Your painting has shocked the masses and successfully revealed a layer of historical truth.]
[You cleansed an innocent of false charges and punished the guilty.]
[Through such acts of good, you feel your soul align more closely with the world.]
[Soul attunement increased by 4.3%.]
[75% → 79.3%]
Magic rang through Ethan’s body, seeping into his veins and every cell, replenishing what had been drained by the painting. He could not help but let out a soft exhale of contentment.
As expected, the stronger third-tier paintings must be paired with a higher level of soul attunement. Otherwise, one becomes a glass cannon, fired once and left empty.
Ethan raised a brow and stared at the decimal after “79.3%.” Even the tenths place now?
System, are you kidding me?
Only 0.7% to reach 80. The feeling was like those old “Make me laugh in 7 words, winner picks the spot” bait ads. Ugh, unbearable.
Should he stir something else up? Push that attunement higher?
His gaze slid dangerously over the crowd. A draft of chill raced down their backs, and they hunched like quail, shivering.
Forget it. Art is not made in haste. Only careful polishing can give everyone the perfect experience.
He sighed and drew back his gaze, abandoning the idea of “a little expedition into the stag’s throat.”
Around him, everyone let out a breath. For some reason, being alive felt incredibly precious at that moment.
[You obtained the Brass Tear Warrior “Wormtail.”]
[You may control it at will. It also retains a sliver of its own soul; at times, it may act on its own.]
[You have begun to spread the name “Ethan Vincent.”]
[Lamplight brightness increased.]
[You obtained the trait: Luminous Litany.]
[Description: Light is not merciful, yet from first to last it shows the way.]
[Your magic is stained with the element of light, expelling uncleanness. Clearly, it will be difficult to find anything truly “pure.”]
[Your extraordinary magic will create unique anti-curse potions.]
At the last line, Ethan’s eyes tightened. A name rose in his mind at once: a cure for lycanthropy.
Could this light-aspected magic truly make an unprecedented potion possible?
His magic surged, a rim of gold spilling from him as if manifesting. It lit his face, making him seem even more righteous, like a pure acolyte sent down to redeem foolish mortals.
“Flock of birds.”
He swept his wand. A storm of golden birds sprang forth, wheeling through the corridor like flying silk, splashing light in ripples across the walls.
“Wow,” Ron breathed, transfixed. “Ethan’s magic is really nothing like the man.”
The words had barely left his mouth when there was a crash. One bird slammed into a wall. Bricks cascaded down, dust billowed, and the portrait above let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Dumbledore coughed hard. Heart, heartache.
Ethan nodded, satisfied. “Good. When Voldemort sees this one, he will weep with joy.”
Everyone choked. Who said the birds were terrifying? They were wonderful.
More, Ethan, more.
Ron muttered, still rattled, “I take it back. That bird suits Ethan perfectly. Both of them throw hands at the slightest thing.”
He remembered his pet Scabbers. The instant the gray rat rose in his mind, his gut lurched. He gagged.
For the rest of his life, he would have a phobia of rats.
“Ethan…”
Ron edged over, flustered. “I only just learned you treated that rat like that because you already knew he was Pettigrew on the run. I… I misunderstood you. Sorry.”
He ducked his head, abashed. Right. Ethan might look human enough, but he would never hurt someone for no reason—hmm?
Wait.
If Ethan had known all along that Scabbers was Pettigrew, why had he not warned him earlier? Was there some deep plan that could not be spoken of?
Ethan laughed. “It’s fine. Did you enjoy the surprise?”
Ron’s face went rigid. Ethan smiled, bright and harmless. “I kept a little of the original flavor on purpose, so you would know you were savoring an Animagus—”
“Stop talking!” Ron howled, clutching his head and dropping into a crouch as his composure shattered. So Ethan had kept quiet just to surprise him? How very kind.
Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically. Compared to that, he suddenly felt lucky. He had gained a dog of a godfather.
He looked up toward Sirius, who stood a little apart, uneasy. Harry pressed his lips together and broke into a wide smile.
Sirius lit up. “Oh! Harry!”
The scruffy man lunged forward and wrapped Harry in a bear hug. “I will keep you safe, Harry. I swear it.”
Buried in the embrace, Harry felt his nose sting. For the first time, he felt the warmth of true family. There was no blood between them, but as his godfather, in that moment, Sirius was his closest kin.
The sight moved everyone, even a few Aurors who wiped at their eyes in secret. Hermione’s eyes shone pink as she rasped, “Oh, Harry…”
She looked at Ethan with open adoration. In the end, Sirius had cleared his name before everyone, thanks to Ethan’s astonishing means.
She was fiercely proud to be a member of Ethan’s Beacon Society.
If only studying so hard were not quite so exhausting. Even as a top student, she sometimes envied the carefree girls flitting across the grounds.
“Harry,” a bell-like voice drifted. “If you like your godfather so much, you could live with him.”
Luna stepped from the crowd and leaned against Ethan as if it were the most natural thing. She blinked at Harry’s surprised look. “Family protection would extend to Sirius, right?”
“Family protection?” Harry echoed. At the same time, his heart began to pound. If he really did not have to live with his aunt and uncle, if he could live with his godfather…
Sirius beat him to it, bouncing on his heels. He looked to Dumbledore and blurted, “May we? Professor Dumbledore!”
Dumbledore studied them carefully, then nodded with a smile. “Yes. There is no problem.”
He narrowed his eyes and considered Luna’s calm face. Her eyes truly were unusual. No wonder she and Ethan got on.
“Hooray, aroo! Woof!” Sirius cried, then changed into the Spotted Dog and pounced about Harry, making him and the other students giggle helplessly.
“I see now how he eluded the Dementors,” an Auror sighed. “An unregistered Animagus.”
One link after another. In the end, it was only the Aurors who ran themselves ragged, all for nothing. Still, to witness such a reversal and this warm scene, it was worth it.
To be an Auror is to guard the happiness of every witch and wizard and preserve order, not to pursue some hollow “justice.”
Ethan Vincent had truly laid every one of them out.
They were beaten, and gladly.
