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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 211
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 14:14:55 +0000 UTCChapter 211: Welcome to Black Manor—The Dusty Mansion Has Been Opened
Hogwarts has no secrets.
By the time Ethan arrived at the Great Hall for lunch at noon, every single student in the castle knew about his exploits in both Divination and Potions classes. Admiring glances followed him from every table.
The Weasley twins practically vibrated with excitement. "Truly worthy of Ethan! Easily accomplishing what we've tried so desperately hard to do but never could!"
Ron found himself fantasizing again—imagining himself standing up to Professor Snape with that same fearless bravery. As for the thirty points deducted from Ravenclaw? Nobody seemed to care. First, the notoriously unreasonable Professor Snape had deducted them unfairly. Second—please! That was Ethan Vincent! With intelligence far beyond normal students beneath his intimidating exterior, he'd earn those points back within minutes.
Under those fiery, worshipful gazes from all sides, Michael sighed with genuine emotion. "In the future, you'll definitely leave a brilliant, permanent mark in Hogwarts history, Ethan. But—how will you actually complete the bet you made?"
After all, everyone in the magical community knew that once someone transformed into a werewolf, unless the full moon passed completely, there was absolutely no known way to change them back mid-transformation!
"Ethan can only win by cheating somehow, right? Like using those freaky paintings or something," Ron speculated aloud. "Right, Harry?"
He turned expectantly, seeking his best friend's validation, only to see utter certainty radiating from Harry's face. Harry's eyes flickered with memory, recalling that terrifying summer night when he'd run away from the Dursleys—witnessing Ethan's incredible feat firsthand.
"I believe Ethan definitely has a legitimate way," Harry declared with absolute conviction. "This time, he'll subdue Snape completely!"
Ron raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise, watching his friend's trusting expression with growing concern. Ethan, I really suspect you're secretly putting love potions in everyone's food. Otherwise, why does literally everyone act completely brainwashed around you?
That afternoon, Ethan attended his first Ancient Runes class of the semester, settling into the seat beside Hermione with comfortable familiarity.
Michael frowned in confusion. "Hermione, shouldn't you be down at Care of Magical Creatures right now? Why are you here—"
"Top students have their clever methods," Hermione replied mysteriously with obvious satisfaction.
Michael stared at her: "..." He silently shut his mouth, watching Ethan and Hermione chatting pleasantly together, internally shedding tears of jealousy.
The first Ancient Runes lesson covered this semester's foundational content—as Hermione had accurately predicted, mostly memorizing ancient words, translating complex sentences and historical documents.
Meanwhile, at the castle's edge by the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was conducting his very first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. The situation wasn't particularly promising—first, not a single student could figure out how to open the adorable fluffy textbooks without getting bitten.
Then upon seeing the beautiful but intimidating Hippogriffs, no student excitedly called out or volunteered to approach.
It seems deciding to introduce the skeletal Death Bird later was definitely the right choice, Ethan had thought during planning.
But Hagrid cheered himself internally despite the rocky start. This morning, the kind and remarkably helpful Ethan had come offering a powerful assistant to help ensure his class ran smoothly and safely!
"Don't worry, everyone! We have another special helper today to protect your safety!" Hagrid shouted loudly toward the dark forest with obvious enthusiasm. "Blackie! Come here, boy!"
Whoosh! A massive canine creature burst from the thick bushes with surprising speed! Seeing it charge toward them, Harry initially thought with rising panic he'd encountered another death "omen," his blood freezing in his veins. But looking more closely, the dog was completely different from the Grim—a large black-and-white spotted short-haired dog.
"Woof woof woof!" The dog bounded toward Harry enthusiastically, like greeting beloved family, extending a long pink tongue to enthusiastically lick his face. Strangely, Harry felt an inexplicable familial warmth from this creature.
Though this dog's fur is somewhat patchy and looks a bit different from purebred Dalmatians—probably a mixed-breed rescue.
"Hahaha!" Harry couldn't stop laughing at the affectionate attention, which made the big dog even more excited and playful. Within moments, the friendly dog had completely eased the tense atmosphere.
Malfoy snorted with characteristic arrogance. "I'm staying right by this stupid oversized dog. At least it won't scratch me like those monsters with their talons."
Under Hagrid's careful direction and Harry's brave "leading example," all the students cautiously interacted with those magnificent winged creatures. At any sign of danger or aggression, the "spotted dog" would leap out powerfully, intimidating the Hippogriffs into better behavior with authoritative barks.
Hagrid's challenging first lesson ended somewhat bumpily but ultimately safely without injuries. By class dismissal, Hagrid was red-faced with overwhelming emotion, choking out repeated thanks. "Thank Ethan! Good doggy! You're so incredibly smart! Extra chicken drumstick for you tonight!"
One fulfilling, eventful week passed quickly without major incidents. Saturday morning arrived with promise.
Ahh— Dementors drifted ominously at the school's main exit, all surrounding vegetation frosted white with supernatural cold. With them stationed there, no student could sneak out undetected—
Dementor A floated closer to its companion: Brother, seems like I saw something dark over there just now—
Dementor B responded listlessly: Ah—no prisoners to feed on—so hungry—
Dementor A stared: "..." So completely unmotivated! This one's going to get fired eventually!
Looking more closely at the suspicious spot, that dark square shape had somehow vanished entirely. Must be imagining things. The Dementor drifted away gloomily to patrol elsewhere.
Meanwhile in London, at the hidden address of Grimmauld Place Number 12—
Pop! A sharp explosion echoed through the dim, narrow alley, startling a homeless drunk vagrant sleeping against grimy bricks. Groggily opening his bloodshot eyes, he saw two mysterious cloaked figures—one large, one noticeably smaller—walk purposefully past his makeshift sleeping spot.
Playing at being wizards? Ha, they're really committed to the act. As if magic could actually exist in the real world. The vagrant laughed bitterly, gulped down more murky beer from a stained bottle, then tilted his head to continue dozing uncomfortably.
Ethan stood at the shadowy street corner, carefully examining the row of identical townhouses across the narrow road. To the left was Number 11, to the right was Number 13—but no Number 12 existed at all in the sequence. This bizarre supernatural phenomenon went completely unnoticed by the Muggle residents living here.
Sirius was still genuinely amazed despite knowing what to expect. "How did you possibly get past those Dementors at the school gates? What species are you exactly—" He eyed Ethan with deep suspicion, firmly believing the younger wizard must have definitely used non-human magic to accomplish it.
Ethan turned toward him, smiling with gentle benevolence. Sirius visibly flinched at that expression, quickly reaching out to grip Ethan's wrist firmly. "Alright, just follow my lead closely for the rest of this."
The Order's Secret-Keeper was Dumbledore himself, but other members could still lead approved people inside the hidden location. Ethan allowed Sirius to drag him toward the seemingly impossible space between Numbers 11 and 13. Just as they were about to collide with a solid brick wall, Ethan's foot suddenly caught on something invisible.
Tap. He stumbled forward onto a seemingly materialized stone step that hadn't existed a moment before. Looking up with widening eyes—standing before him was a pitch-black door covered in centuries of grime. The tarnished silver handle was shaped like an intricately coiled serpent.
Sirius stood on the weathered steps, mockingly drawling down at Ethan, "Watch the step next time!"
Ethan narrowed his eyes dangerously. Before he could properly "discipline the dog," Sirius wisely changed topics, turning around to face the entrance. His gray eyes—much more refreshed and alert after days of proper rest and care—gazed at that ancient, forbidding door with complex emotions, slowly saying:
"Welcome to the Black family ancestral home—this cursed place that produces madmen and lunatics across generations."
Sirius laughed with bitter self-deprecation at his own bloodline.
Ethan evaluated the gloomy atmosphere thoughtfully. "Cozy and atmospheric."
Sirius stared at him flatly: "..." All emotional weight instantly evaporated from the moment.
He expressionlessly raised his borrowed wand, magically unlocking the heavy door with practiced efficiency. Instantly, thick misty dust slowly emerged like grasping tentacles from the darkness within. A narrow, oppressive corridor materialized before Ethan's curious gaze.
Ethan's mind suddenly flashed with realization—the very first line of Professor Trelawney's cryptic prophecy, "[When the dusty mansion is opened]," had just come true before his eyes.
