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[HP:Failed Art Student]-Chapter 6: Who Let This Creepy Stuff Get Published?!
🕑 Added 2025-07-22 06:11:48 +0000 UTC“Phew…”
Ethan Vincent let out a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead, feeling utterly drained.
Yet, compared to the physical exhaustion, completing this extraordinary painting filled him with a profound sense of satisfaction.
Scarlet paint flowed across the canvas, and Ethan inhaled deeply, savoring the metallic, rusty scent of the pigments.
Perhaps because it was derived from animals, the paint gave the artwork an almost unnervingly lifelike quality.
“I can’t wait to see the next issue of The Quibbler,” Ethan muttered, carefully rolling up the painting and tying it, along with a letter, to the owl’s leg.
“Thanks for the help.”
He gently rubbed the owl’s round, fluffy head with his finger.
The owl let out a contented coo, then spread its gray-blue wings and soared into the sky.
Ethan watched it shrink into a tiny black dot before disappearing entirely.
His gaze shifted to the system’s floating text that appeared before him.
This was his first time creating a painting with special effects.
“When this painting is used, it can cause mild red rashes to erupt on the contact area…”
“Doesn’t seem that impressive,” he mused, “but it also says that if combined with the right spell, the painting’s effects can be upgraded.”
Ethan’s eyes gleamed with intrigue as he pondered the possibilities.
Combining spells with paintings felt a bit like alchemy—or like those enchanted portraits at Hogwarts!
After all, mere brushstrokes alone couldn’t produce such vivid, lifelike effects.
It was as if a fragment of a person’s soul had been infused into the canvas.
Ethan didn’t have a clear plan yet.
For now, he decided to start by previewing his textbooks.
In the original books, Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch, had managed to learn a few simple spells just by studying her books in advance.
There was no reason he couldn’t do the same.
“Further research can wait until I get to Hogwarts.”
As if on cue, the textbooks he’d ordered arrived via owl post.
Ethan grabbed Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, plopped onto the creaky sofa, and dove into the pages with relish, quickly becoming engrossed.
He couldn’t fathom how some young wizards could resist diving into such fascinating knowledge or skip previewing their books.
Deep in his soul, the mark of an overachiever burned fiercely.
Some time later, at the Daily Prophet headquarters.
Rita Skeeter strutted into the office building, her reflective green silk suit clinging tightly to her frame, hips swaying dramatically.
Her short, golden curls framed a prominent forehead, and her crimson lips looked like they could devour a child in one bite.
Her thin eyebrows were perpetually arched, her eyes glinting with cunning and sharpness, constantly darting around as if hunting for the next big scoop.
Today was the release day for the new issue of The Quibbler.
But Rita couldn’t care less.
Please. The Quibbler? What a joke.
It was full of absurd, fabricated nonsense, written by a bunch of delusional lunatics.
Its articles weren’t worth a single strand of her hair.
After all, even fabricating stories required skill, didn’t it?
With a smug curl of her lips, Rita began plotting her next article.
It was about time the Boy Who Lived started school. Maybe she could dig into the tragic death of his parents?
The headline could be: The Untold Truth of the Boy Who Lived! What Really Happened Back Then…
Or perhaps she could write about that kid who’d been selling paintings.
Spin a tale about his reckless behavior, tie it to the seedy environment of Knockturn Alley, and drop a subtle hint about Snape—former Death Eater, current Hogwarts professor…
Yes! That would be a hit!
Rita’s eyes sparkled with glee, her tongue flicking across her crimson lips as her Quick-Quotes Quill twitched eagerly beside her.
Just then, she noticed her colleagues huddled together, whispering tensely.
Her eyes narrowed, and she sauntered over, leaning dramatically on the desk to insert herself into the conversation.
“What’s going on? Spill it.”
“…”
Her colleagues exchanged glances.
Finally, one of them handed her a magazine and said, “Take a look at this issue of The Quibbler…”
“The Quibbler?” Rita raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with mockery. “What kind of earth-shattering garbage did it churn out this time to get you all so worked up?”
She casually took the magazine and glanced at the open page.
In an instant, a thick, bloody stench hit her like a wave!
Vivid scarlet paint seemed to ooze from the page, forming grotesque, crimson pustules on what looked like raw, pork-like skin. Some had burst, leaking pus and blood.
The twisted lines seemed to scream the agony of the figure depicted.
[…Prolonged riding of a broomstick can lead to “Broom Rash,” a bacterial infection that starts at the buttocks and slowly spreads upward…]
“AAAH—!!!”
It wasn’t until she was violently shaken that Rita realized the blood-curdling scream had come from her own throat.
Worse, she was frantically scratching at her buttocks and arms in front of her colleagues!
Her exposed skin was covered in angry red welts.
“…”
An awkward silence fell.
Rita locked eyes with her colleagues, her face burning as red as her lipstick.
“What is this cursed thing?!” she shrieked, humiliated. “No respectable publication would let something like this see the light of day—”
She stopped mid-sentence.
Oh. Right. This was The Quibbler.
Never mind, then.
Another awkward silence.
Her colleagues’ concerned looks barely hid their smirks.
That prissy old hag finally got what was coming to her, they seemed to think, chuckling inwardly.
Rita bit her lip, seething.
To lose her composure over a painting? Utterly mortifying!
She glared at the image again, shuddering instinctively, and finally spotted the signature in the corner.
“Ethan Vincent…? Isn’t that the kid who violated the International Statute of Secrecy?”
Her eyes gleamed, and a wicked grin spread across her crimson lips.
Her next article would paint this kid as some kind of dark prodigy.
He was about to start at Hogwarts, so why not stir up a little “unease” about him?
No one would want to start school with a sinister reputation hanging over them, would they?
Heh heh heh. I, Rita Skeeter, am a genius.
At the Ministry of Magic.
“That idiot Rita Skeeter!!”
Minister Cornelius Fudge slammed the newspaper onto his desk.
The bold headline screamed: Justice vs. Evil? The Boy Who Lived vs. the Sinister Painter!
Below it, the article featured The Quibbler’s disturbing illustration, described in vivid detail.
Thanks to it, that issue of The Quibbler had seen a massive spike in sales.
It was even starting to rival the Daily Prophet.
After all, human nature thrived on curiosity and spectacle.
What? This painting can drive you mad? Well, I’ve got to see it for myself!
With the Boy Who Lived starting school this year, the Ministry already had its hands full.
And now this “Ethan” had burst into the public eye.
“That blasted reporter, always stirring up trouble!” Fudge fumed, barking an order: “Write to the Daily Prophet! Demand they take action over this irresponsible article!”
His subordinate nodded and began drafting the letter.
Fudge stared at the painting in the newspaper. Even as a mere print, it sent chills down his spine.
What a creepy piece of work.
Hogwarts was certainly getting an interesting batch of students this year.
And since it was published in a “legitimate” wizarding magazine, there wasn’t much he could do about Ethan.
“…Fine. Keep tabs on this kid’s activities. Let Hogwarts handle the rest.”
Surely, nothing too chaotic would happen.
Right?
Fudge turned to the window, gazing at the clear blue sky, and took a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter.
No matter what, the greatest threat was gone.
The wizarding world was entering an era of peace.
