Ethan smiled brilliantly at the suddenly silent diary. Then mercilessly threw it into the wardrobe universe.
Little Tom, this little box is your forever home (gentle).
Tom was already numb. In just a few short months, he had experienced more colours than in his dozen-plus years of life. Literally "colourful".
Feeling the phantasmic colours that clearly entered his thoughts even with external vision closed, Tom finally gave up thinking.
Crack, crack, crack. The golden blade sliced through, dividing the giant snakeskin into five parts. Rolling up four of them, he stored them in his pouch. The remaining one, which Ethan had dabbed with paint, was stuck on the wall.
After finishing, Ethan's forehead had already beaded with sweat. "Whew." He exhaled like he had accomplished something great.
Hands on his hips, head raised, using magical perception to "examine" the covered snakeskin canvas. It was dozens of metres high, towering before him like a giant. In the surrounding flowing mist, it emanated a faint white glow. Even larger than the ancient castle mural.
At a glance, one could tell how enormous an effort would be needed to fill it! An ordinary person would give up at just one look. But Ethan felt an irrepressible excitement surge up instead.
Thump thump! His heart beat violently, powerfully striking his ribs! He wanted to paint, wanted to fill the blank canvas with pigment! Just as babies cry when born, just as wild beasts eat to fill their hunger when born, Ethan's desire for painting also came entirely from his soul itself.
Only by continuously pursuing higher-level artwork could he find true satisfaction. Ethan felt no sleepiness whatsoever. One hand gently stroked the basilisk's body, feeling those armour-like scales. The other hand controlled the brush, constantly sketching on the giant canvas.
Even unable to see, it didn't affect him at all. With the experience of painting the ancient castle mural, Ethan easily manipulated scaffolding that could extend or contract at will, moving with practised efficiency.
Stroke by stroke. Dipping Tom's gifted paint. Drawing on the delicately smooth snakeskin canvas.
Ethan planned to start painting from the middle snake body. Connecting front and back, the main body of the five paintings. Ethan's plan: tonight sketch the rough outline, then tomorrow start incorporating spells and painting scales.
However, ideals are always beautiful, reality is always cruel. At a certain moment, Ethan's vision went black with a snap. Then, like a robot losing power, he tilted down from the scaffolding. Thud... he fell to the ground. Unconscious.
The basilisk was worried, its orange-yellow vertical pupils staring at its suddenly motionless little master. It carefully nudged him, feeling Ethan's steady breathing and body temperature. Only then did it relax.
Though this generation's little master always touched it randomly, it quite liked him. The little master can't see its eyes... The basilisk flickered its tongue while slowly crawling back to the depths of the chamber, coiling itself up again.
If it was this little master, then it was willing to give him the treasure Father left for it.
The next morning...
"Mm..." Ethan was awakened by his biological clock. Frowning, feeling the cold ground against his cheek, his consciousness gradually returned.
So I painted until I ran out of energy and passed out. Ethan struggled to push himself up from the ground, feeling his head splitting. Plus having slept on hard rock all night, his whole body ached terribly.
Sensing the basilisk in the depths of the cavern, Ethan pulled off his blindfold. Taking out Pepperup Potions, he threw back his head and chugged two bottles! Burp... Ethan let out a long breath, finally feeling like he had come back to life.
Turning his head to look at the black giant snake that hadn't even finished a tenth of its outline, let alone the whole outline, he couldn't help muttering: "Just the outline is this difficult. At this pace, how long will it take to finish the whole painting?"
Moreover, continuing like this, he would end up in the hospital wing sooner or later. Last year, he had earned VIP user status at the hospital wing for painting the Hell Cerberus. If he did it again this year, Madam Pomfrey would probably tie him to a hospital bed to stop him from painting.
Would he have to paint while hooked up to Pepperup Potions from now on? If it was feasible, it wasn't impossible. But what little reason remained told Ethan it wasn't viable.
"Thinking more will just scramble my brain. Let me take a break first." Ethan rubbed his temples, muttering.
Waving his wand... it was past eight o'clock, not too late. "First get breakfast, check on the other club members, and start the Morning Star Club's first training session."
Ethan shakily stood up, skilfully opened a portal, and stepped through. As usual, scaring the washing Michael half to death. He nearly choked on toothpaste foam.
However, after breakfast, the already few Morning Star Club members were suddenly down by several.
Ethan: "You mean... Harry and the Weasley twins were all forcibly dragged off by Senior Wood to train Quidditch? Starting from six in the morning?"
"Yeah, right! Harry asked me to tell you." Ron nodded nervously.
Wood, daring to interfere with my club members' training... you're courting death. Ethan thought.
Luna pressed Ethan's shoulder, saying gently: "So what should we do, Ethan?"
Ethan collected his thoughts and smiled warmly: "Of course, go find them. Perfect, I was also looking for a spacious place to train."
The group left the castle. From far away, they could see that splash of crimson on the ground. And the dark green confronting it.
"It's the Slytherin team!" Ron shouted and ran toward them.
Hermione looked at Ethan hesitantly.
Ethan: "Go if you want to, Hermione. You don't need to look at my face." He had just pulled an all-nighter and really couldn't muster the energy.
Hearing this, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She gave Ethan a grateful smile and quickly ran over. Cedric also rushed over. Apparently, he wanted to know more Quidditch inside information.
At this time, on the pitch, Harry looked awkwardly at Wood confronting the Slytherin Captain, and couldn't help wondering: What exactly did we get up so early to do?
Obviously, he wasn't the only one thinking this. George gripped his Beater's bat, muttering: "Merlin's beard, I would rather fight the Hell Cerberus in the ancient castle for three hundred rounds than stand here in detention."
Fred nodded with a dead expression: "I feel like I missed out on a hundred million."
They watched the Slytherin team show off their new Seeker... or should that be sponsor... Draco Malfoy. However, after being given a big slap by Ethan in first year, his eyes had cleared up considerably. Now he just smiled smugly without saying much.
But the Slytherin team captain, Marcus Flint, obviously felt it wasn't exciting enough. "We have the latest Nimbus... what do you have? Oh, a bunch of rotting junk stolen from a museum? Hahaha, hilarious!"
Wood's face reddened with anger. Just as he was about to retort, another clear voice spoke up: "At least the Gryffindor team doesn't have financial bribery."
Upon hearing this, the Slytherin team members' faces immediately darkened. Malfoy turned around with a dark expression, about to retort, when he saw it was Hermione speaking. And Ron. Plus Cedric standing behind them like an iron wall.
Malfoy immediately lost his voice. He narrowed his eyes, thinking: If it were just Hermione and Ron, I could say they're the Saviour 'Potty's' little followers. But Cedric...
He remembered that this morning, Hufflepuff had been discussing in almost shouting voices how Cedric had successfully passed the assessment and joined Ethan's club. If that was the case... Malfoy immediately realised something.
"I think we shouldn't waste time and should focus on training instead." Malfoy drawled, but anxiety could still be heard in his tone. The big one's coming.
However, the troll Flint didn't get his meaning. Flint looked down at Hermione, who was craning her neck to glare at him, and said word by word: "My team is not for you to criticise. Mudblood..."
Before he could finish, the Weasley twins pounced on him! "What did you say?!"
Ron roared, snapping up his wand and shouting: "Tarantallegra!"
It worked. A brilliant spell shot from Ron's new wand tip, accurately hitting Flint. Making him immediately dance uncontrollably and comically!
The scene immediately erupted in laughter. Weasley twins: "Hahaha well done! Our little brother!"
Harry also joyfully gave him a thumbs up. A pride he had never felt before surged from Ron's heart. His freckled face turned tomato-red, but his eyes sparkled.
Ron looked at the wand in his hand, as if for the first time knowing that spells could be cast so smoothly... knowing that he too could become the centre of attention. Even if only for a brief moment. And this was all thanks to Ethan.
"Thank you, brother." Ron sniffled, muttering gratefully.
On the other side, Flint finally broke free from the spell, his face also red as a tomato. From anger. He raised his wand viciously and said hoarsely: "I'll make you pay..."
"Oh, really?" A clear, pleasant voice came from behind him. "So what's the price?"
Flint whipped around. Head-on, he met a solid fist!