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HP: From Failed Art Student to Dark Artist of Hogwarts - 207
🕑 Added 2025-10-10 18:24:26 +0000 UTCChapter 207: Ethan: Sirius, You Killed So Many Dark Wizards... What About the Next Day?
Sirius fell into stunned silence.
The next second, his canine face exploded in mortified embarrassment! He swore that if there were a crack in the ground right now, he could burrow straight to the Earth's core!
Damn it! This is absolute torture!
After encountering this bizarre youth, Sirius finally understood what true "torment" meant. Compared to this humiliation, even Azkaban seemed merciful.
Sirius roared desperately, "What did you do to Harry?! I'm telling you, if you dare hurt him, I'll kill you even as a ghost—"
"Come, give me your paw," Ethan interrupted calmly.
Those clear words seemed to possess some hypnotic magic. Before Sirius could fully process what was happening, he'd already placed his paw obediently in Ethan's outstretched palm.
Sirius stared at his own traitorous paw: "..." Just kill me now.
Ethan's lips curved into a satisfied smile, speaking gently to the blank-faced Sirius, "Don't be so nervous. I invited you here precisely to help you."
Help a homeless vagabond return home.
Hearing this absurd claim, Sirius laughed bitterly as if he'd heard the world's greatest joke. "Help me? Ha!"
He jerked his paw away from Ethan's grip. On his haggard, dirt-streaked face appeared a mocking smile twisted by years of imprisonment. "I only want one thing. And that's to kill someone!"
As he spoke, Sirius's bloodshot eyes suddenly flashed with crazed light containing bone-deep hatred.
"How about it? Pampered young master, do you dare help me with that?" Sirius looked down contemptuously at Ethan—obviously a sheltered aristocrat who'd never gotten blood on his hands. Just an underage brat. What does he know about killing and revenge?
Ethan gazed quietly at Sirius for a long, measuring moment, then suddenly spoke with clinical precision:
"1991, the Secret Realm Challenge. I beat a student who tried to attack me until he was half-paralysed and required months of recovery."
"1992, end of first year. I killed my Defence Against the Dark Arts professor and eliminated the fragment of Voldemort attached to the back of his head."
Hearing that cursed name spoken so casually, Sirius's eyes widened sharply in shock! He seemed to realise something profound but couldn't speak a single word, only watching rigidly as a palpable bloody aura began radiating from Ethan with every measured word.
"Summer 1992, I killed an entire dark wizard gang conducting evil rituals in Knockturn Alley—approximately twenty or thirty practitioners. I didn't count exactly."
"Christmas that same year, I slaughtered the Acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest and fed their leader's corpse to the giant squid."
"1993, end of second year, I destroyed Voldemort's student-era Horcrux and trapped his consciousness in a painting of eternal suffering..."
Ethan tilted his head with that same angelic, harmless expression. "I'm finished recounting. What about you, Sirius?"
Around him surged visible scarlet energy—raw killing intent made manifest! Within it swirled vague shapes of monstrous creatures—three-headed dogs, skeletal birds, serpentine shadows—all accompanied by the shrill, inhuman cries of wailing souls echoing through the chamber.
"Ah... ah..." Sirius's eyes were wide as saucers, mouth hanging open uselessly, unable to form coherent words. Looking up at that towering column of bloodlust piercing toward the chamber's vaulted ceiling, he stumbled back two steps involuntarily!
His earlier imposing Gryffindor bravado had completely vanished. Undoubtedly, everything this youth claimed was absolutely true! He'd really slaughtered creatures across multiple species with methodical efficiency!
Even legendary Order of the Phoenix members had never single-handedly killed dozens of dark wizards in coordinated operations! And this boy had killed the powerful Dark Lord Voldemort as easily as crushing an insect beneath his boot!
In that moment, Ethan standing calmly in that blood-red mist appeared to Sirius as nothing less than a demon wearing human skin like an ill-fitting costume! Even that harmless, gentle smile seemed terrifyingly inhuman—like a monster imitating human expressions, filled with bone-chilling wrongness that violated every survival instinct.
"So..." Ethan's voice remained perfectly pleasant. "Can we sit down and talk calmly now?"
Minutes later, Sirius sat rigidly on the plush sofa Ethan had conjured from nothing. His legs pressed together, hands resting formally on his knees, head bowed submissively, sweating profusely despite the chamber's cool temperature.
Ethan sipped his hot tea leisurely as he sat across from him, the cup appearing from nowhere. Clink—he set the delicate cup on the coffee table with deliberate precision.
Sirius jolted violently at the innocent sound. He couldn't help but think: how terrifying...
Ethan's gentle voice rang out conversationally, "So your target is Peter Pettigrew, correct?"
Hearing that traitor's name, Sirius clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles went white. He slowly nodded with visible restraint. "That's right. He was the real traitor who destroyed everything..."
Ethan listened attentively to Sirius's account, nodding occasionally with understanding. Just as he knew from the historical records, the wizarding world believed Sirius had leaked the Potters' location to Voldemort, directly causing that tragic night. Peter Pettigrew was celebrated as the hero who'd stood against evil, supposedly dying with only a finger remaining as proof of his sacrifice.
But the actual truth was completely, horrifyingly reversed. Peter had leaked the secret, blown up an entire Muggle street, indirectly caused Harry's parents' deaths, murdered over a dozen innocent Muggles, and sent an innocent man to terrible Azkaban prison for over a decade. Truly heinous, unforgivable crimes.
"He's also an Animagus! A grey rat!" Sirius snarled with renewed fury. "That red-haired Weasley kid's pet! He's not dead—he's been hiding in plain sight! I'll kill him, tear him to pieces with my bare hands!"
Angry roars echoed through the empty stone chamber, bouncing off ancient walls.
Ethan calmly watched the red-eyed, heavily panting Sirius and asked with devastating simplicity, "Oh. Then what?"
"Then?" Sirius froze mid-rant, confusion replacing rage. Obviously, as a passionate Gryffindor who'd spent over a decade in prison, "then what" had never appeared in his limited vocabulary.
Ethan slowly, deliberately continued, "Have you actually considered that after you kill Peter in some dramatic confrontation, you'll still be a convicted prisoner in the world's eyes? Countless people will bring flowers to Peter's grave, honouring him as a great war hero who died fighting evil. And you'll only receive the Dementor's Kiss as your reward for revenge."
Sirius's face darkened with dawning realisation. The Dementor's Kiss—it sucked out every fragment of someone's soul. Though still technically breathing afterward, all consciousness and personality were obliterated. The absolute worst punishment imaginable.
"If it were me..." Ethan changed his sitting position, crossing his other leg over his knee with elegant leisure. Supporting his chin thoughtfully, he looked up at Sirius, saying each word with calculated weight:
"I'd reveal Peter's true nature before the entire wizarding world. Let everyone see with their own eyes who the real war hero is. Let everyone witness just how catastrophically incompetent the Ministry was with their hasty, negligent trial!"
Sirius froze completely, staring at Ethan's cobalt-blue eyes, whose brilliant intensity sent a shock through him, making his spine straighten involuntarily!
If we really did as this terrifying brat suggested, this wouldn't just be judgement of Peter—it would be judgement of the entire Ministry system! With the whole magical world as our audience!
Sirius swallowed hard, his anger cooling involuntarily as he said hoarsely with forced practicality, "That's impossible... you think I haven't considered it? When faced with protecting their reputation, the Ministry won't care about some inconvenient truth from over a decade ago. No matter how capable you are, you're just a third-year student. Your voice simply can't reach the general public through their propaganda machine."
Hearing this pessimistic assessment, Ethan raised his eyebrows with obvious amusement. He knew Sirius spoke uncomfortable truth. In the original timeline, even when great Dumbledore himself and the Chosen One declared "Voldemort's returned" with Cedric's corpse as evidence, the Ministry still forcibly twisted public opinion, even suggesting Harry had murdered Cedric in some psychotic break.
But Ethan loved doing supposedly impossible things most of all. Because that's what truly demonstrates magic's capacity for "miracles".
If voices can't reach the public through normal channels, use overwhelming power to make them listen, make them watch against their will!
Ethan grinned with genuine excitement, staring directly into Sirius's wary eyes and saying with absolute conviction, "Since you're cooperating with me, remember one critical thing... I once told another friend of yours the exact same statement: There's nothing I can't accomplish. I am the miracle."
Sirius gaped speechlessly, unable to form words, shocked into complete silence. Merlin's ghost... is this brat completely insane? His brain is definitely not wired normally!
Yet somehow the words that emerged from his mouth were: "What... exactly do you want me to help you with?"
Ethan's lips curved with satisfaction. Leaning back comfortably, the oppressive atmosphere suddenly relaxed into something almost casual. "Very simple, really. To help me increase my magical strength, just take me to your ancestral home. Mmm... I believe it currently serves as the Order of the Phoenix headquarters?"
Sirius stared in absolute shock, pupils dilating dramatically. He gaped at the casually speaking youth, his entire body stiffening with paranoid fear. How does Ethan know about the secret society Order of the Phoenix? How did he learn the Order's headquarters location is my family's ancestral home?
Cold sweat ran down Sirius's face in rivulets. He swallowed hard, saying hoarsely with desperate conviction, "No—I absolutely can't agree to that. The Order is all surviving members' only safe house. I can't bring a complete stranger into—"
Sirius's words suddenly stopped mid-sentence. In his vision appeared a tarnished emblem—seemingly eroded by hundreds of years of neglect, surface lustre faded completely, edges showing rust and corrosion.
Yet that distinctive shield-shaped crest, those two grey dogs on either side in noble poses—it was undoubtedly, unmistakably his Black family crest!
Sirius hadn't seen this emblem in what felt like ages. Yet some deep hereditary instinct made his heart pound with recognition. Only honoured members could rightfully possess family crests. And only those who'd shown extraordinary kindness to the Black family would be ceremonially gifted such emblems.
But... how is this remotely possible? If this emblem is as authentic as it appears, wouldn't Ethan's traditional seniority somehow be higher than his own?
Sirius froze for two disbelieving seconds, then rushed forward impulsively to examine the emblem with desperate thoroughness. On the reverse side, engraved cursive English glowed ghostly green under magical examination.
After a long moment of stunned examination, Sirius fell into contemplative silence. He looked up at the patiently smiling Ethan, hesitating with visible internal conflict before tentatively asking with confusion, "Father?"
Ethan stared: "..." Does Hogwarts have some bizarre tradition of students recognising father figures? Do I graduate with hundreds of adopted relatives?
"Ancestor?" Sirius tried again desperately.
"More accurately, your ancestor's benefactor," Ethan corrected with gentle amusement, his mind conjuring the image of the heroic black-haired woman from the distant past. Now that ancient debt can finally be repaid.
Lost in nostalgic thought briefly, Ethan collected himself, meeting Sirius's utterly bewildered face. Smiling warmly, he dangled the emblem teasingly like one might entice a dog with treats. "According to the sacred agreement, you should unconditionally grant my request. Right, Sirius Black?"
Good little puppy, quickly take me to that treasure trove of ancient magical knowledge.
