HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

Ethan pondered his next move, planning to ask his question tomorrow. Conveniently, their first class was Charms, taught by Professor Flitwick, their very own Head of Ravenclaw.

With a plan in mind, Ethan let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyelids that were almost stuck together. He was truly exhausted. He had intended to write to Luna as soon as he arrived at Hogwarts, but he had been defeated by Ravenclaw's endless stairs and its tricky door knocker, a challenge that had drained all his strength. He would have to write the letter in the morning.

Dragging his weary body, not even taking a moment to appreciate the solemn, elegant furnishings of the common room, Ethan stumbled into his dormitory. He forced himself to wash up and, while his classmates were still struggling outside the door, collapsed into bed and fell instantly asleep.

It was a dreamless night.

The next morning, Ethan sat by the window, a fresh piece of parchment before him.

To my best friend Luna,

I'm sorry I didn't write last night. Hogwarts is quite challenging for a naive young wizard like me, and I was really too tired.

I received the manuscript for the new issue of The Quibbler, and the content is as interesting as ever. All sorts of ideas are already bubbling in my mind, and I hope my illustrations will amaze everyone.

By the way, I was sorted into Ravenclaw. It was somewhat unexpected, but I quickly found that it suits me very well. The people here are all talented individuals who speak so nicely. I really love it.

I believe a clever witch like you will also be sorted into Ravenclaw. I can't wait to be classmates with you. Then we can do many, many things together and accomplish many, many genius ideas!

A heads-up: I might write to you often, so don't be annoyed. After all, new things happen at Hogwarts every day.

Looking forward to your reply,

Ethan Vincent

P.S. It's a shame I can't come to your family's roasted rainbow fish feast. From your description, I can just imagine how delicious it must be.

Ethan reviewed the letter, and a small, unconscious smile curved his lips. On the windowsill, Luna's owl, Carrot, tilted its head, watching him with round, yellow eyes. Ethan reached out, and the owl affectionately rubbed its head against his hand, raising its small paw in a practiced gesture. Having delivered so many letters, it had come to regard Ethan as its second owner.

"What are you looking at? Why are you smiling so happily?" a resentful voice croaked.

Ethan turned to see Michael, looking like a ghost who had clawed his way out of a well, sitting at the head of his bed with disheveled hair. His haggard face and thick, dark circles made it look as if he had been out all night.

"It's better to go to bed early," Ethan advised sagely. "Otherwise, you won't grow tall."

Michael's eyes widened in disbelief. "Go to bed early?! You think I didn't want to go to bed early?!" As if a floodgate had opened, he launched into a complaint. "Do you know what time we got into the common room last night? Almost one o'clock! After you left, no one could concentrate at all. It wasn't until the door knocker changed its question at midnight that we finally answered it!"

Even though Ethan had already gone inside, his presence had lingered in their minds like a nightmare. He was simply toxic.

On another bed, their third roommate, Mandy Brocklehurst, slowly put on his thick glasses, looking like an old man of eighty. Because Ravenclaw had the fewest students, each dormitory was a triple room, and the space was quite large, with each person having their own small area and an independent study desk. Ethan had already planned it out. Once he earned money, he would buy many art books and exquisite models, filling his currently empty desk to the brim.

Ruthlessly abandoning his still-sleeping companions, Ethan went to the Great Hall alone and enjoyed a hearty breakfast. Under their envious and hateful gazes, he savored fried eggs with perfectly runny yolks, crispy bacon, small sausages, roasted tomatoes, and puddings stuffed with meat. He also found a jar of "Biting Berry Jam," which tasted like eating popping candy, leaving a slight tingling sensation on the tongue.

The strange thing was, even though Ravenclaw was the most diligent of the four houses, there weren't many people at the long tables this morning. The few who were there yawned continuously while eating. Alas, one must maintain a regular schedule, Ethan thought with a serious expression.

After eating, Ethan hugged his textbook and slowly walked toward the Charms classroom on the upper floor of the tower. He patiently waited for the Grand Staircase to change direction, glancing sideways at a few Gryffindors who were rushing past.

"Where are you going, young wizard?" a voice called out. A living painting on the wall, depicting a plump, heavily powdered woman holding a fan, was smiling at him.

"To the Charms classroom, beautiful lady," Ethan said politely, curiously examining the painting.

"Oh ho ho ho~ such a sweet talker." The woman blushed, laughing so hard she shook, and pointed out the way to the classroom.

"Thank you," Ethan said. "I'm curious, how were you painted into the picture—I mean, like this, moving?" Photographs in the wizarding world moved, but they were like GIFs, possessing little self-awareness. Living paintings were different. They truly integrated a part of a creature's soul and consciousness into the portrait, making them lifelike. Ethan desperately wanted to paint such pictures.

"What a curious child," the woman said. "As I recall, when I was alive, I had someone replicate a part of my memories into this portrait. Hmm, I believe there are also specific requirements for the canvas and pigments. You haven't learned Ancient Runes yet, have you? The canvas must be imprinted with magic beforehand."

"Oh, I see," Ethan nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly asked, "Then do you think you possess a soul? Or are you merely a 'replica' acting according to memories?"

"Ah?" The woman was stunned. The question hit a blind spot in her knowledge, and she murmured in confusion, "Do I… do I have a soul…? Who am I…? What exactly am I…?"

"Thank you for the explanation," Ethan nodded in satisfaction. He abandoned the completely bewildered living painting and leisurely stepped onto the returning staircase.

He didn't just want to replicate living paintings. He wanted to go a step further. If he could use a summoning method to bring figures from a painting into reality… that would definitely be very interesting.

Ethan licked his lips, an unusual light gleaming in his eyes as he chuckled to himself. This sight made other students keep their distance. Ron, who was going downstairs for breakfast, saw him and muttered, "I don't want to become like him! Ethan has gone crazy with studying!"

"Haha," Harry gave a dry laugh, muttering to himself, Buddy, you're overthinking it. We have neither his talent nor his diligence, so we probably won't become like Ethan. It's truly worrying for nothing.

(End of Chapter)

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