windkaze
patreon
[HP:Failed Art Student]-Chapter 30: True Desire, the Moonlit Path!
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 14:03:10 +0000 UTC“Stop daydreaming and get to work!”
Filch’s raspy voice snapped Ethan Vincent back to reality.
Ethan glanced at the grimy rag thrust toward him. After a brief pause, he accepted it without a word.
“Oh, one more thing,” Filch added, his tone sharp. “Don’t touch the covered items. No peeking under the cloths—it’s forbidden! I’ll be watching you.”
Filch’s eyes narrowed, his cloudy, aged gaze slithering over Ethan like a serpent. At his feet crouched Mrs. Norris, her skeletal frame bathed in moonlight. The cat’s eyes gleamed, twin lanterns in the dimness, fixed on Ethan with unsettling intensity.
Ethan spared them a glance before turning to wipe down the dusty trophies. His mind, however, was elsewhere.
Two Stupefy spells? Or perhaps Petrificus Totalus? he mused. If I used the portal, I could cast from behind them—make it look like someone else did it.
He’d need to face Filch directly, though, his line of sight extending past the old caretaker. Ethan weighed the logistics, utterly oblivious to the fact that he was serving detention for pummeling a fellow student.
Out of the corner of his eye, a shrouded object caught his attention. Bathed in the misty glow of moonlight, it radiated an almost magnetic pull. Ethan’s decision was instantaneous: Tonight, I’ll uncover its secret.
He had a feeling—a certainty—that whatever lay beneath that cloth would aid his pursuit of art. All he needed was to slip past Filch’s watchful gaze.
The weight of two piercing stares bore into his back, and a cold glint flickered in Ethan’s cobalt-blue eyes. He was polishing a glass cabinet now, its surface reflecting his striking features alongside the tarnished golden trophies within. One inscription caught his eye:
Special Contribution Award, Tom Riddle, 1943.
“You know,” Ethan said suddenly, shattering the room’s oppressive silence, “I’ll earn a Special Contribution Award someday.”
He turned, flashing Filch a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Hmph?” Filch’s brow furrowed, then he let out a derisive scoff. “Boy, do you even know what that award means? It’s for good students who’ve made great contributions to Hogwarts! A troublemaker like you, landing in detention barely a month into your first year, hasn’t a chance—”
His words faltered.
Ethan’s cobalt-blue eyes locked onto him, icy and unyielding. Even under the soft, ivory moonlight, they held no warmth. They were twin glaciers adrift in a void, radiating a chill that seeped into the bones.
Filch froze, his throat tightening. Despite the smile curling Ethan’s lips, the caretaker couldn’t speak.
As a Squib, Filch had always harbored a bitter envy of young wizards, resenting their magic while he swept their floors. His twisted heart yearned to punish these “arrogant” students—preferably with whips and chains. But now, facing this black-haired, blue-eyed boy who stood so calmly, a new emotion gripped him:
Fear.
“Hiss!” Mrs. Norris arched her back, fur bristling, her slit pupils narrowing as she bared her teeth at Ethan.
Filch stumbled backward, his eyes darting to the wand Ethan gripped unconsciously. Panic surged.
“What—what are you planning?!” he stammered.
BANG!
A deafening crash shattered the tension, followed by the clatter of footsteps—like a troll stampeding outside. For once, Filch didn’t relish the chance to catch a rulebreaker. Muttering, “I’ll go check,” he limped off as if fleeing a curse, calling, “Come, Mrs. Norris!”
The cat shot Ethan one last wary glance before darting after her master. Their silhouettes vanished beyond the door.
“…”
Ethan blinked, lowering his wand with a regretful murmur. “I was about to show him the beauty of magic. Shame he bolted.”
No matter. It spared him another rule violation. He wondered idly which student, wandering past curfew, had conveniently drawn Filch away.
The thought passed. Ethan’s gaze ignited as it landed on the tall, cloth-draped object. In a few swift strides, he crossed the room and yanked the cloth free.
Whoosh!
Before him stood a magnificent mirror, its golden frame intricately carved, stretching to the ceiling on claw-shaped supports. At its base, an inscription read:
erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
“I show not your face but your heart’s desire,” Ethan whispered, recognizing it instantly—the Mirror of Erised.
This was the mirror that had ensnared Harry Potter, Dumbledore’s final safeguard for the Philosopher’s Stone. Ethan hadn’t expected to find it here.
Moonlight danced across the mirror’s polished surface, casting his lean, tall figure in ghostly relief.
What will I see? he wondered. Myself celebrated, adored by all? Or standing at the pinnacle of art, immortalized by the world?
But even as he asked, he knew the answer. His desire wasn’t wealth or fame, nor would he bend to fleeting trends. His life’s pursuit was art—pure, untainted.
The mirror’s surface rippled like a disturbed lake. Ethan’s reflection twisted, blurred, and faded. A raw scent of earth and grass wafted from within. Moonlight pierced the glass, illuminating a scene beyond.
Ethan’s eyes widened.
A primal path, bathed in moonlight, stretched before him. Dim tree shadows swayed, whispering in the breeze.
【You have discovered a special location—Moonlit Path!】
【Current Identity: Mortal】
【‘I know that all things in the world are but fleeting glories.’】
“Mortal?” Ethan murmured, noting the label. If mortals existed, then so must the extraordinary—beings like Lord Voldemort or Nicolas Flamel, who’d transcended humanity through magic or artifacts.
What lay ahead in this shadowy forest?
Ethan inhaled deeply, stepped over the mirror’s frame, and set foot on the damp earth. Each step carried him deeper into the dense woods.
The moonlight was faint, cloaking the world in shades of black. Ethan pushed through tangled plants, their thorns scraping his skin, leaving faint marks on his face and hands. For a moment, he felt disoriented, the path behind him fading as if it had never been. He even forgot his magic.
But then his wand flared to life, casting a soft glow that banished the shadows and revealed the trail ahead—and the way back.
“Thank you, my friend,” Ethan said, gratitude warming his voice as he glanced at his wand.
The forest grew denser, the trees impassable, and sweat soaked his back. At last, he stumbled upon a hidden nook—a slab of tree bark, moss-covered, with words carved into it.
When Ethan touched it, a spectral blue light erupted, and text materialized before him:
【You have learned the Erised Spell!】
【You can create illusions through painting, captivating others.】
【You have marked a special location—Herpo the Foul’s Abandoned Mansion, the Hidden Room in the Tapestry.】
【Perhaps you can find treasures within, or dangers.】
【Often, both exist.】
