Hogwarts: Starting as a Card Maker from a Failed Art Student

Chapter 137 Ethan begins to push forward the destruction of Hogwarts.

Chapter 138 Ethan begins to push forward the destruction of Hogwarts.

Ethan smiled brightly at the diary that had suddenly fallen silent.

Then, without mercy, it was thrown into the wardrobe universe.

Little Tom, this little box is your eternal home (gently).

Tom was already numb.

In just a few months, he experienced more colorful things than he had in his entire life of more than ten years.

"Colorful" in a physical sense

I felt the vibrant colors that still clearly entered my mind even when my external vision was shut off.

Tom—

Tom eventually gave up thinking about it.

Kamika.

The golden blade sliced ​​through the giant snakeskin, dividing it into five pieces.

Roll up four of them and put them in your leather bag.

The remaining portion, the one Ethan had marked, was pasted on the wall.

After it's over.

Beads of sweat had already formed on Ethan's forehead.

"call."

He breathed a sigh of relief, as if he had accomplished his mission.

He put his hands on his hips, tilted his head back, and used his magical perception to "examine" the snakeskin canvas that was covered up.

It stands tens of meters tall, towering before us like a giant.

It emitted a bright white light of nitrogen and argon amidst the flowing mist all around.

It is even larger than the murals in the ancient city.

It's obvious at a glance.

Imagine the immense effort required to fill it!

Ordinary people would only glance at it and then give up.

But Ethan felt an overwhelming surge of excitement.

Thump! Thump!

My heart was pounding violently, pounding against my ribs!

I want to paint, I want to fill the blank canvas with paint!

Just as a baby cries when it is born, just as a wild animal fills its hunger by devouring.

Ethan's yearning for painting also stemmed entirely from his soul.

Only by continuously pursuing higher levels of painting can one achieve this.

Ethan was not sleepy at all.

He gently stroked the basilisk's body, feeling its armor-like scales.

With his other hand, he manipulated the paintbrush, continuously sketching on the huge canvas.

Even if you can't see it, it doesn't affect anything.

With his experience in painting murals of the ancient city, Ethan easily manipulated the scaffolding that could be extended or shortened at will.

That speed was like being in a wheelchair.

One stroke, one stroke—

Take a sip of the paint Tom gave me.

It is depicted on a smooth, delicate snakeskin canvas.

Ethan planned to start by drawing the snake's body in the middle.

Connecting the preceding and following sections, this forms the main body of the five images.

Ethan's plan in mind:

Tonight I'll sketch out the basic outline, and tomorrow I'll start incorporating the spell and drawing the scales—

however.

Ideas are always beautiful, but reality is always cruel.

At a certain moment.

Suddenly, Ethan's screen went black.

Then, like a robot that had lost power, it tilted and fell off the scaffolding.

He fell to the ground with a thud.

I'm dizzy.

[Hiss?]

The basilisk was very worried, its orange-yellow vertical pupils staring at its suddenly motionless little master.

I leaned over and carefully offered it to him, feeling Ethan's steady breathing and body temperature.

Only then did I feel relieved.

Although its current owner keeps touching it randomly, it seems to like it quite a bit.

[Hissing]

The little owner can't see its eyes.

The basilisk flicked its tongue as it slowly crawled back into the depths of the secret chamber and coiled itself up again.

—If it were this little master, it would be willing to give him the treasure left to it by its father.

the next morning.

"Hmm—."

Ethan was awakened by his biological clock.

Frowning, feeling the cold ground against his cheek, he gradually regained consciousness.

—So it turns out she was drawing when she ran out of energy and fainted.

Ethan struggled to his feet, his head throbbing with pain.

In addition, after sleeping on hard rocks all night, my whole body ached terribly.

Sensing that the basilisk was deep inside the cave, Ethan tore off his blindfold.

He took out the invigorating potion and gulped down two bottles!

Mother Yi-Shan breathed a long sigh of relief, finally feeling alive again.

Turning his head, he gazed at the massive, dark snake, whose outline was barely even a tenth complete, let alone its full contours, and muttered to himself:

"Even the outline is this difficult. At this rate, how long will it take to finish the whole painting?"

Not to mention.

If this continues, he'll end up in the school hospital sooner or later.

Last year, he became a VIP user of the school hospital because of his drawing of Cerberus.

If it happens again this year.

I'm afraid that even if Head Nurse Mrs. Pomfrey were to tie him up, she would still tie him to the bed to prevent him from painting.

Does this mean I'll have to rely on energizing potions to paint from now on?

If it's feasible, then it's not impossible.

But his remaining rationality told Ethan that this was not feasible.

"...My head is about to spin if I keep thinking about this. Let me take a break."

Ethan rubbed his temples and muttered to himself.

I waved my wand; it was a little past eight, not too late.

"Let's go have breakfast first, check on the other members, and then begin the first training session of the Enlightenment Club."

Ethan swayed as he stood up, skillfully opened the portal, and stepped inside.

As always, it scared Michael half to death while he was washing up.

I almost died from the toothpaste foam.

only.

After breakfast.

The already small number of members in the Enlightenment Society suddenly lost Ren.

Ethan: "You mean—Harry and the Weasley twins were both forcibly dragged away by Wood to train in Quidditch?"

"Starting at six in the morning?"

"Yes, that's right! Harry asked me to tell you."

Ron nodded a little nervously.

Wood, you dare to interfere with my members' training? You've already met your end.

Ethan thought to himself.

Luna placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder and said gently, "So, what should we do, Ethan?"

Ethan collected his thoughts and smiled gently:

"Of course, I'm going to find them."

"Perfect timing, I was also looking for a spacious place to train."

The group left the castle.

From afar, one could see that patch of crimson on the ground.

And the dark green that confronts it.

"It's the Slytherin team!"

Ron yelled and charged forward.

Hermione looked at Ethan hesitantly.

Ethan: "Go if you want, Hermione. Don't worry about what I say."

He had just stayed up all night and was too exhausted to continue.

Hearing this, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

Oki gave a grateful smile and quickly ran up to her.

Cedric rushed forward as well.

It seems he's more interested in knowing some inside information about Quidditch.

at this time.

on the field.

Harry looked at Wood, who was confronting the Slytherin captain, with a sense of shame and confusion, and a question popped into his mind:

What are they doing up so early in the morning?

Clearly, he wasn't the only one who thought this way.

George gripped his baseball bat and muttered, "Merlin's cat tail, I'd rather go to the ancient city and fight Cerberus three hundred times than stand here as punishment."

Fred nodded with a blank expression: "I feel like I missed out on a fortune."

They watched as Slytherin showed them their new Seeker—or Sponsor—Draco Malfoy.

However, after being humiliated by Ethan in his first year, his eyes became much clearer.

At this moment, he just smiled smugly and didn't say anything more.

But Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint, clearly felt the factory wasn't strong enough.

"We have the latest cyclops lights, what do you have? Oh?" ​​A bunch of rotten, stolen museum pieces? Hahaha, that's hilarious!

Wood, his face flushed with anger, was about to retort when a clear, crisp voice rang out again:

"At least, there was no money bribery in the Gryffindor team."

Upon hearing this...

The Slytherin players' faces immediately darkened.

Malfoy turned his head with a gloomy face, and just as he was about to go back, he saw Hermione speaking.

"There is Ron."

And behind him, Cedric, who stood like an impregnable fortress.

Malfoy immediately fell silent.

He squinted, thinking:

If it were just Hermione and Ron, then could they be considered the savior's "little follower"?

But Cedric.

He remembered that this morning, Hufflepuff was practically shouting about Cedric successfully passing the test and joining Ethan's gang.

If that's the case...

Malfoy immediately realized what was happening.

"I think we shouldn't waste time and should focus on training."

Ma Wenfu spoke in a drawn-out tone, but a hint of anxiety could still be heard in his voice.

The big one is coming.

however.

The troll Flint didn't get what he meant.

Flint looked down at Hermione, who was glaring at him with her neck stiff, and said, word by word:

"It's my team, you have no right to criticize me."

"Mud Seed—" Before the words were even finished.

The Weasley twins pounced on them!

"What did you say?!"

Ron roared, snapping his wand up and shouting:

"Tarantella Dance!"

Successful.

A dazzling spell shot from the tip of Ron's new wand, striking Flint precisely.

It made him immediately and uncontrollably start dancing comically!

The scene immediately erupted in laughter again.

The Weasley Twins: "Hahaha, well done! Our little brother!"

Harry happily gave him a thumbs up.

An unprecedented sense of pride welled up from the bottom of Ron's heart. His freckled face turned as red as a tomato, but his eyes sparkled.

Ron looked at the wand in his hand, as if it were the first time he knew that a spell could be cast so smoothly and that he could become the center of attention.

Even if it's only for a short while.

And this money was all thanks to Ethan.

"...Thank you, brother."

Ron sniffed and murmured gratefully.

Wu Yibian.

Flint finally managed to break free of the spell, his face turning as red as a tomato.

I'm so angry.

He raised his wand menacingly, his voice hoarse, "I will make you pay the price—"

"Oh, it's a donburi?"

A clear and pleasant voice rose from behind him again.

"So, what is the price?"

Flint turned his head sharply.

Head-on, I ran into a hard fist!