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[HP:Failed Art Student]-Chapter 2: Fantasizing Again—The Summer She Didn’t Call Him “Mudblood”
🕑 Added 2025-07-22 06:07:59 +0000 UTCBang!
With a jolt, Severus Snape shot to his feet.
His eyes were locked onto the painting before him, a flicker of fear flashing in their depths.
As if he were staring down a terrifying curse—or perhaps the most irresistible confection.
Flowing hair, shining eyes, a radiant smile bright as sunlight.
It was merely a black-and-white portrait, and yet to Snape, it burned with fiery red hair, glimmered with emerald eyes, and echoed with the silvery sound of a girl’s laughter.
A voice he would never hear again, calling his name:
"Severus~!"
So lifelike. So vivid.
Snape snapped out of his trance.
He yanked the painting down in one abrupt motion, raising his hand in fury—only to stop and carefully, almost reverently, put it away.
Damn it.
Now Snape understood why even a simple painting could drive those Muggles into such a daze.
It wasn’t a painting—it was a devil’s snare in the form of art.
“Well, Professor,” Ethan Vincent said, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Are you satisfied with it?”
“…How...do...you...know that person?”
Snape enunciated each word, his pitch-black eyes boring into Ethan’s.
Legilimens.
In an instant, he was plunged into darkness.
A swirling, undulating void, churning with formless thoughts and memories…
?!!
Snape jerked back to reality!
Confusion and suspicion surged in his chest.
What...what the hell is this kid thinking? Is he even human?
Ethan, however, seemed utterly unbothered by what Snape had just attempted.
After all, he was a pure-hearted good child.
Ethan tapped his temple lightly and said earnestly, “You passed on an image to me—an intense, powerful feeling—and I merely painted it out.”
He was in an excellent mood.
Snape’s reaction told him everything he needed to know.
The painting was a resounding success.
Just look at how much Professor Snape loved it!
[Extraordinary-rank artwork detected. Automatically added to the gallery.]
[Title: “Always” (Gifted)]
[Type: Portrait]
[Rank: First Tier · White Rare]
[Description: A portrait of a deceased individual—depicts the lifelong love of one person’s soul.]
[Effect: Can vividly trigger memories, immersing the viewer in them. When given as a gift, permanently increases affection from a specific person.]
[You can view this painting on the gallery wall.]
[Current gallery entries: 1]
[When 5 artworks are collected, the Newcomer’s Gift Pack will unlock.]
[Soul Fusion Rate increased by 1%.]
[Current Soul Fusion Rate: 26%]
As the system’s voice faded, Ethan felt a warm surge spread through his limbs and bones.
Like a man thawed by hot soup after a freezing storm, only now did Ethan realize how stiff and sluggish his magic had been.
So this is what an increase in Soul Fusion Rate feels like…
Even if it was just a 1% rise, Ethan could now paint extraordinary-grade artworks more easily.
But what caused the increase?
He glanced at Professor Snape.
Could it be related to interacting with key figures of this world? Ethan mused silently.
Everything would be revealed at Hogwarts.
The only thing he knew for certain was that if he wanted to improve his painting skills and create more remarkable works—
He would have to raise his Soul Fusion Rate.
Hogwarts...
What a thrilling thought.
Ethan’s eyes darkened slightly. His tongue ran across his back molars.
“…Originally, I was planning to report your…abnormality to the Ministry of Magic. Or perhaps…to Dumbledore,” came Snape’s low mutter.
“But then I thought—what does this have to do with me?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Snape’s lips. He reached into his robes and whipped out a letter, thrusting it toward Ethan.
“I’m only here to deliver this. Nothing more.”
Wow. What an elegant way of saying ‘bribed into silence.’
Ethan clicked his tongue inwardly and accepted the letter with curiosity.
The thick envelope bore a shield-shaped wax seal.
In the center, a bold, capital “H,” surrounded by a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle.
It was the Hogwarts acceptance letter!
A thrill surged through Ethan’s chest.
He eagerly opened the envelope—careful not to damage the ornate seal—and pulled out the thick parchment inside.
[Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Acceptance Letter]
[Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)]
Dear Mr. Vincent,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A list of necessary books and equipment is enclosed.
Term begins on September 1st. Due to your unique circumstances, a designated representative will be in contact to provide guidance prior to the start of term.
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
The second page listed the required books and supplies.
Snape, meanwhile, began rattling off a slew of Wizarding World basics—regardless of whether Ethan was keeping up.
He talked about Muggles, about Hogwarts, the four houses, and more.
Though clearly reluctant, Snape still explained everything with surprising thoroughness—perhaps thanks to the painting’s lingering effect.
“I must warn you,” Snape said, voice sharp, “you’ve already broken the Wizarding Statute of Secrecy—casting magic in front of Muggles.”
“Those foolish paintings of yours.”
“Even before term started, the Ministry had to dispatch multiple Obliviators to wipe memories and clear crowds from your damned artworks.”
“They also confiscated those cursed contraband items.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Confiscated? Including the one I just gave you, Professor Snape?”
“…”
Snape choked slightly—a rare occurrence.
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Ethan’s face, which was the picture of innocence, as if the question had been asked in pure sincerity.
“…If you end up in my House—Slytherin—I will make sure to give you special attention,” Snape hissed, sounding very much like a snake.
With a sweep of his hand, a cloth pouch appeared on the table, the clink of coins ringing clearly within.
Beside it lay a train ticket: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
“Hogwarts has grants for special students. It’s not much, but used wisely, it should last you a while.”
“I’ve told you everything you need to know before term. I trust that you—our little art prodigy from Spinner’s End—can make your way to Diagon Alley on your own.”
“I’ll manage. Thank you for coming all this way, Professor Snape,” Ethan said with a nod and a bright smile.
Snape snorted through his nose, then strode toward the once-empty cabinet and ran a hand over it in mock inspection.
Then, like a giant black bat, he swept out through the door and disappeared without a trace.
Ethan closed the door behind him and let out a long breath.
Clutching the letter, he felt like everything that had just happened had been a dream.
Just then, he noticed something new inside the previously empty cabinet.
He walked over and saw a book resting there, its cover bound in deep black, with unadorned gold letters etched on the front:
“Advanced Guide to Potions.”
…It didn’t take a genius to guess who left it.
“Well, well, tsundere Professor Snape,” Ethan said with a chuckle.
He picked up the book, flipping through the pages and finding handwritten notes from its previous owner.
“Bezoar: A stone from a goat’s stomach, capable of neutralizing many poisons. Common antidote ingredient.
Note: Strong, pungent stench of mutton. If there’s no smell, it’s fake.”
“Ugh. Just hearing the name is disgusting…”
Still, if it were a matter of life and death, who would care about a little stench?
Ethan mused and read on, soaking in the knowledge by lamplight.
Night had fallen. Though his heart still raced with excitement, Ethan decided to wait until morning to shop in Diagon Alley.
The next morning, Charing Cross Road, London.
Ethan stood between a bookshop and a record store.
People bustled past him, none paying attention to where he was looking.
The Leaky Cauldron.
