Heroes Can Be Wronged, But You Can't Insult My Painting!

Spider's Alley.

[Your artwork is beginning to exert a slight influence!]

[Soul Fusion Degree increased!]

[26%→27%]

With the system's announcement.

Ethan felt a surge of heat pour down from his head, flowing into his limbs and bones, nourishing his body.

"The Soul Fusion Degree went up again!"

Ethan exclaimed in surprise, staring at his palm as if he could see magic sparking from it.

On the table lay the latest issues of The Quibbler and The Daily Prophet.

"Who says Rita's a bad reporter? Rita's a fantastic reporter!"

Ethan especially loved the article she'd written about him, "Justice vs. Evil," which even dragged in the celebrity Harry Potter.

The phrasing was spot-on too.

All that "hidden dark aura," "potential mental influence on people," "the parties should stay vigilant."

It made Ethan almost embarrassed.

"See, she really appreciates my art too, hehe~."

Ethan thought with shy pride.

So, to thank her for that piece.

Ethan specially drew a small picture in the same style and sent it to Miss Rita via Luna's owl.

He'd been eagerly waiting for a reply.

But instead, he learned from the newspaper first.

That Miss Rita had suddenly fallen ill, bedridden, and taken a week off.

What a shame~

Right then.

Ethan looked at the system's "Soul Fusion Degree increased" notification, and a flash of insight struck him with a new guess.

"Could it be that the Soul Fusion Degree is tied to my fame in this world?"

"Or, more precisely, [artistic fame]?"

It made sense.

The last time his Soul Fusion Degree went up was when Snape admired his portrait of Lily.

Just Snape alone had boosted it by 1%, the same as this time.

"The more important the person in this world, the bigger the boost... Yeah, I need to get close to the main characters from the original story."

"Give them a little shock from a failed art student."

Ethan's gaze shifted to the newspaper clippings on the wall.

In the illustration, the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood on a cliff in the rain.

A stunning bolt of lightning split the night sky.

The Chosen One and Hogwarts, huh...

Heh heh heh, I can't wait.

Ethan licked his lips, curling them into a sinister "plan's in motion" grin.

Just in time, after all this studying.

He was almost ready to successfully create his first artwork combining "spells and painting."

Meanwhile.

Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Harry Potter lay on a bed surrounded by broken toys, suddenly sneezing for no reason.

"Huh, who's thinking about me..."

Harry mumbled drowsily, rolling over. Without The Daily Prophet, he had no idea what was happening.

Soon, he drifted peacefully back to sleep.

In his dream, he was riding a flying motorcycle, wand in hand, galloping through Hogwarts.

The magical world—he couldn't wait.

September 1st.

King's Cross Station, London.

The clock in the hall had only just struck half past ten.

Ethan was already dragging large bags of luggage, standing between Platforms 9 and 10.

If he were catching a plane, he might have arrived several hours early.

The luggage looked heavy, piled precariously on the trolley, and occasionally older girls came by to ask if he needed help.

Ethan politely declined them all.

It wasn't that he wanted to be self-reliant—it was that his luggage had all been enchanted with a Levitation Charm.

"Wingardium Levio↑sa."

It was the spell Ethan remembered most vividly from the original story.

As the first Charms lesson for a young wizard, it naturally wasn't too difficult.

Through self-study, Ethan quickly mastered it.

Beyond that, he had also successfully cast several common basic spells from the first few chapters of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.

Not that hard, really.

Ethan thought to himself, hands in his pockets, fingers brushing his wand.

In fact, he had even managed to infuse one of those spells into a painting.

Earning his first "Blue Rare" card.

One tier above "White Uncommon."

Pushing his feather-light luggage, Ethan took a deep breath at the brick wall before him, then charged straight through it!

"Whoosh!"

A brief darkness, the cold whistle of wind in his ears.

The next moment, sunlight and noise surged in like a tide.

"Woo—"

The train hissed steam, the smell of coal smoke mingling with pumpkin pastries filling his nostrils.

Ethan opened his eyes, and what greeted him was the cast-iron sign hanging from the station arch—

"Platform 9¾."

Owls fluttered across the half-sky, a deep red steam train lay resting on the tracks, sunlight glinting off its body.

Because Ethan had arrived early, the platform wasn't crowded yet.

Kids his age ran past him in a blur, older ones gathered to share summer adventures, while parents lingered with repeated goodbyes and reminders.

A wave of indescribable emotion welled up in Ethan's heart.

It was as if, at this moment, he had truly arrived in the world of magic.

Ethan looked back and saw faint magical ripples, connecting to the Muggle world.

—"Home behind, the world ahead"!

Just as Ethan was lost in emotion, a drawling voice came from behind him:

"Oh, you're that person who drew illustrations for The Quibbler, aren't you?"

Ethan turned and saw a head of gleaming blond hair, and a face full of smugness.

—Draco Malfoy.

Another major character from the original story.

Maybe he could help boost his Soul Fusion Degree.

With that thought, Ethan put on a smile.

"Yes, that's me, Ethan Vincent. I didn't realize I was already so famous—how embarrassing~"

Ethan covered his mouth with a coy gesture, looking very shy.

Malfoy: "..."

How could there be someone even more narcissistic than him?!

"Hah, don't flatter yourself."

Malfoy rolled his eyes dramatically, curling one corner of his mouth in a sneer:

"I only know you because your arrest warrant was posted at the Ministry of Magic for a long time."

"And my father happens to have some connections there, so he knows the inside scoop."

With that, Malfoy puffed out his chest proudly, looking down his nose at Ethan.

"If Dumbledore hadn't vouched for you, you'd have been caught by now. But I've seen your drawings—nothing special, just ordinary."

"..."

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

You can insult my character, but you cannot insult my painting.

Ethan's smile grew even more genial as he said politely:

"You have a booger in your nostril."

?!

Malfoy abruptly lowered his proud head, covering his nostrils, his pale face flushing bright red.

Now, he was caught in a dilemma.

Maybe Ethan was just messing with him, but what if there really was a little snack up his nose? Was he supposed to dig it out right here?

The noble Malfoy would never allow himself to commit such a disgraceful act!

Malfoy fumed: "You filthy Mud—"

Ethan suddenly reached out, cutting off Malfoy's tirade, and said:

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Draco Malfoy. I've heard so much about you."

"..."

Malfoy froze, staring blankly at Ethan, who had taken the initiative to be friendly, as if looking at a one-hundred-percent pure, natural troll.

Was this... a trap?

But Malfoy stared for a long time and couldn't find any trick in that hand, still speckled with a bit of paint.

...Hah, as expected, he'd bowed to the great name of the Malfoy family after all.

Otherwise, if not out of long-standing admiration, how would he know his name?

He hadn't introduced himself earlier, after all!

Having figured it out, Malfoy regained his confidence.

In truth, he had approached because his father had tipped him off.

Besides the Chosen One Potter, he could also get in touch with this "eccentric artist."

[Being able to channel magic and paint enchanted works... this eleven-year-old is worth cultivating as an acquaintance.]

His father Lucius's arrogant words echoed in his ears.

"Hmph, at least you know who's really worth associating with."

Malfoy curled his lips, keeping one hand over his nose while lowering the other to grasp Ethan's outstretched hand.

The moment they touched.

Malfoy's palm suddenly stung, as if pricked by a fine needle.

Then came an itch, like ants gnawing.

Hmm?

Malfoy frowned, inadvertently lifting his eyes, and crashed straight into Ethan's Cobalt Blue gaze.

Ethan Vincent.

This young painter, whose Netherworld artwork had set off a storm in both The Quibbler and The Daily Prophet, landing him on the Ministry of Magic's dangerous persons list twice.

Was staring back at him with a cold, delighted smile, like a doctor observing a lab mouse on the operating table.