Who Let This Demonic Thing Get Into the Magazine?!

"Phew..."

Ethan let out a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and felt completely drained.

Yet, compared to the physical exhaustion, finishing this extraordinary painting filled him with far more satisfaction.

Crimson paint flowed across the paper, and Ethan took a deep breath of the pigment, laced with a metallic tang.

Whether it was because it came from an animal, the paint made the image look more vivid.

"I can't wait to see the next issue of The Quibbler."

Ethan muttered, carefully rolling up the painting and tying it to the owl's talons along with the reply letter.

"Sorry for the trouble."

He rubbed the owl's round head with his fingers.

The owl cooed contentedly, then spread its gray-blue wings and soared into the sky.

He watched until it became a tiny black speck, vanishing from sight.

Ethan pulled his gaze back to the subtitles appearing on the system panel.

This was the first time he'd obtained a painting with a special effect.

"Using this painting causes mild red rashes to appear on the target's point of contact..."

"It doesn't seem all that impressive, but it also says that if combined with the right spell, the painting can be upgraded further."

Ethan mused, his eyes gleaming with interest.

Combining spells with paintings—it was a bit like alchemy, or those "living paintings" at Hogwarts!

After all, mere drawing alone couldn't produce that lifelike effect.

It was as if a part of one's soul was lodged within.

Ethan had no clue how to start yet.

He planned to begin by previewing his textbooks.

In the original story, Hermione, a Muggle-born, managed to learn a few simple spells just by studying the textbooks in advance.

There was no reason he couldn't do the same.

"I'll save deeper research for when I get to Hogwarts."

Right on cue, the textbooks he'd ordered arrived via owl post.

Ethan picked up Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, plopped down onto the creaky sofa, and started reading with relish, quickly losing himself in it.

He really couldn't understand—with such fascinating knowledge out there, why could so many young wizards resist reading and studying ahead?

The mark of an overachiever deep in his soul was burning fiercely.

Some time later.

The Daily Prophet Headquarters.

Rita Skeeter, wearing her shiny green silk fitted coat, waddled her large backside into the office building.

Her short, golden curls exposed her broad forehead, and her crimson lips looked like they could devour a child in one bite.

Her thin eyebrows were always raised, her eyes flickering with cunning and sharpness, darting around as if constantly searching for a scoop.

Today was the release day for the new issue of The Quibbler.

But Rita couldn't care less.

Come on, what was The Quibbler anyway?

Full of absurd, fabricated nonsense, run by a bunch of foolish lunatics.

The articles they published couldn't even compare to a single hair on Rita Skeeter's head.

After all, fabricating stories took skill too, didn't it~

With that thought, Rita smirked smugly, mulling over what "story" to cook up this time.

Counting the days, the Chosen One should be starting school soon. How about writing about his parents' tragic death back then?

The headline could be: The Untold Truth About the Chosen One! What Really Happened That Day...

Or, using that brat who sold paintings earlier as material wouldn't be bad either.

Talk about his reckless behavior, tie in the grim environment of Spider's Alley, and hint at the former Death Eater, now Hogwarts professor, Snape...

Mm! That would definitely be a scoop!

Rita's eyes gleamed sharply, her tongue licking her crimson lips, her Quick-Quotes Quill bobbing beside her, raring to go.

Just then.

Rita noticed her colleagues huddled together, discussing something with tense expressions.

Her eyes darted, and she immediately strode over, leaning seductively on the desk to forcefully insert herself into the conversation.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"..."

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, sneering. "What earth-shattering garbage has it churned out now to get you all so worked up?"

She casually took the magazine from her colleague, her gaze inadvertently landing on that page.

The next second, a thick wave of blood scent hit her!

Vivid scarlet pigment seemed to flow like liquid across the paper, clusters of red blisters sprouting on skin that resembled raw pork—some burst, oozing pus and blood.

The twisted lines seemed to narrate the agony the figure in the painting was enduring.

[...Riding a Flying Broomstick for long periods can lead to contracting 'Broom Rash.' It's a bacterial infection that starts from the rear and slowly spreads upward...]

"Aaaah—!!!"

When Rita was violently shaken, she realized that the blood-curdling scream had come from her own mouth.

She also noticed that, in front of all her colleagues, she was frantically scratching her rear and arms!

The exposed skin was covered in streaks of red marks.

"..."

An awkward silence fell.

Rita and her colleagues stared at each other, her face burning red like fire.

"What, what kind of twisted nonsense is this!" Rita shrieked in shame and anger. "No normal publication should let something like this reach the public eye—"

Before she could finish, she stopped herself.

Oh, it's The Quibbler.

Never mind, then.

Another awkward silence.

Her colleagues looked at her with expressions of feigned concern, but inwardly they were snickering.

That fussy old witch finally got a taste of her own medicine, hehe~

Rita bit her lower lip.

Losing her composure over a painting—what a disgrace!

She glared viciously at the painting again, instinctively shuddering, and finally spotted the signature in the corner.

"Ethan Vincent...? Isn't that the kid who violated the Wizarding Secrecy Act before?!"

Rita's eyes rolled slyly, and she curled her crimson lips.

My next article will be about how twisted this kid is.

He's about to head to Hogwarts anyway, so I'll subtly hint at some 'unease'...

No one likes to have a reputation for being creepy before they've even enrolled, right?

Hehehe~ I, Rita Skeeter, am a genius...

Ministry of Magic.

"Rita Skeeter, that idiot!!"

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, slammed the newspaper onto his desk in fury.

The bold headline that met his eyes read: Justice vs Evil? The Chosen One About to Enroll vs The Evil Painter!

The article below reprinted that page of twisted illustrations from The Quibbler and described it in detail.

This caused sales of that issue of The Quibbler to skyrocket.

It was even threatening to catch up to The Daily Prophet.

After all, human nature is driven by curiosity and the love of a good spectacle.

What? Looking at this painting will drive you mad?

Then I've got to savor it thoroughly!

This year, with the Chosen One enrolling, there was already a mountain of trouble.

And now this "Ethan" had stepped into the public eye.

"That woman reporter really knows how to stir up trouble!"

Fudge huffed angrily, immediately giving orders:

"Write to The Daily Prophet! Demand they take disciplinary action against that irresponsible article!"

The subordinate nodded and picked up a quill to write a letter.

Fudge stared at the illustration in the newspaper. Even though it was just a print, he felt a wave of goosebumps rise on his skin.

Bloody creepy.

Hogwarts really had a bumper crop of talent this year.

But since the piece had been published in a "respectable" wizarding magazine, Fudge couldn't do a thing to Ethan.

"...Never mind. Keep an eye on the kid's movements. Leave the rest to Hogwarts."

After all, nothing major would go wrong, right?

Right?

Fudge turned his head, gazing out the window at the clear, boundless sky. He took a deep breath, feeling somewhat relieved.

Either way, the greatest terror was already gone.

From now on, it would be an era of peace for the wizarding world.