HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

"Let me see…"

Ethan stood on his tiptoes, gazing at the requests on the bulletin board.

"Assist Madam Pince, the librarian, in organizing 'The Invisible Book of Invisibility'—reward 5 Sickles…"

"Assist Hagrid with rotten pumpkins—reward 3 Sickles… Hmm, I always feel like it won't be that simple."

"Assist in cleaning and maintaining Bowtruckle nests—requires third-year students and above, reward 8 Sickles…"

"Assist Professor Sprout in pruning Venomous Tentaculas—Danger Warning! Requires fifth-year students and above, reward 10 Sickles."

Most of the requests posted lower down were relatively simple, mostly involving preparing materials, cleaning, or transcribing, with modest rewards. The higher the request was posted, the more difficult it became. At the very top, Ethan even saw one for "Exterminating Water Ghouls in the caves on the edge of the Black Lake." The reward was a substantial two Galleons, but it was only for sixth or seventh-year students who had to form a team and be accompanied by a professor. It felt more like a professor taking students out to level up. As a first-year, Ethan's options were very limited.

Just as Ethan was about to take down the request to help Madam Pince, a low, drawn-out voice sounded from behind him.

"Look at how diligent our famous artist is, already taking on school requests."

Ding!

You encountered a wild Professor Snape!

Even without turning, Ethan knew who it was. Finally, he thought. He didn't respond immediately. First, he unhurriedly took down the library request, and then he turned his head. Sure enough, it was Professor Snape's sallow, hook-nosed face. Not far away, Malfoy and his cronies were snickering, looking over with ill intent. Confronting Slytherin's pure-blood supremacists was, it seemed, an unavoidable part of attending Hogwarts.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape." Ethan withdrew his gaze and smiled politely. "Is there something you need?"

Seeing Ethan's unaffected smile, Snape's mouth twitched. "Since you're looking for requests," he said glibly, "I happen to have a task for you. After dinner tonight, come to my office to help me process rat livers. Oh, and I remember they happen to be soaked in toad bile."

As his words fell, the faces of the surrounding students changed. Just thinking about handling such slimy, bloody things made them feel sick. This wasn't a "request"; it was a punishment.

However, Ethan didn't show the slightest bit of unwillingness. Instead, he asked, "What's the reward?"

"...Five Sickles." Snape suddenly felt as if he had been taken advantage of, a feeling that intensified after Ethan smiled brightly.

"Deal! I'll come to you right after dinner, Professor Snape. Just wait for me."

Snape's mouth moved twice, but in the end, he said nothing. With a swish of his robes, he swept away.

Michael then dared to lean in, his eyes wide. "How can Professor Snape do this! Even for detention, you usually don't have to deal with such disgusting things!"

Ethan stroked the request in his hand. "Are rat livers disgusting? Then I'll have to appreciate them properly. Besides," he added, "I'm getting paid." This was very important.

Michael was speechless. Well, how could I forget? This was the person who painted bizarre artworks like Broomstick Rash. What was a punishment for others might truly be an ordinary task for Ethan.

At that moment, Ethan looked up and met Malfoy's gaze at the Slytherin table. Malfoy gave him an extremely provocative, sneering grin and said something to his cronies, and they all burst into laughter. Ethan watched this with a faint smile, not seeming angry at all.

No matter what, he would not refuse Snape's request, even if he found it truly disgusting. Ethan would never compromise with anyone who tried to thwart him. He just had to accept the challenge. And those who challenged him had more to consider—for example, how to deal with the consequences of failing.

His eyes darted, and he saw Harry and Ron stomping angrily toward Malfoy and his cronies. The Savior will arrive at the battlefield in three seconds... soon. A conflict erupted.

"Youth, indeed…" Ethan sighed with emotion.

Michael frowned and admonished, "You should still be careful. Malfoy's father is on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and he has a very good relationship with Professor Snape. No matter what, he won't be severely punished."

Hearing his friend's concern, Ethan felt a warmth in his heart. There are still many good people in the world. He comforted him, "It's fine. I'll also try my best not to go to Azkaban."

Michael stared. "No, not 'try your best,' but please, you absolutely must not go to Azkaban!" He felt as if all his concern had been wasted. Yes, this was Ethan Vincent, the eccentric artist with a reputation completely opposite to that of the Savior. The only ones who needed to worry were the enemies who came looking for trouble. Michael sincerely lit a candle for Young Master Malfoy in his heart.

He pressed Ethan's shoulder, pursed his lips, and finally said earnestly, "Don't kill him. Leave him some breath."

Ethan looked at him, puzzled. "Am I some kind of devil? How could a kind young wizard like me do such a terrible thing? At most, it's just to scare them." He flashed Michael an incredibly innocent smile, which successfully made his friend start silently chanting Merlin's name and drawing crosses on his chest.

There were no classes in the afternoon. Some of the Ravenclaw students were reading in the common room, some in the library. Others discussed various games or listened to older students impart the mysteries of "Trelawney's Method." Some went outdoors to identify various wild plants.

Ethan chose the library—not to do homework, but to help Madam Pince with "The Invisible Book of Invisibility." Originally, Madam Pince thought Ethan was too young for the job, but she was soon won over by his polite demeanor. She taught him Aparecium while incessantly complaining about how other students mistreated the books. In the end, she even gave him an extra Sickle as payment and told him, with a stern face, that he could come to the library to help every day if he needed to. Amidst her sharp words, Ethan felt that even the cold, hard coin in his hand seemed to have absorbed a bit of warmth.

After dinner, under the admiring and concerned gazes of his dorm mates, Ethan, now a transformed workaholic, walked toward the Potions classroom. The dungeons were perpetually cold and damp, the rough stones covered in water droplets. In the evening, only flickering candlelight illuminated the path, making it appear eerie and desolate.

Ethan felt right at home.

Knock, knock. He knocked politely on the door. After waiting a while with no answer, he tentatively pushed the door, and it swung open. What met his eyes was Professor Snape standing alone in the dimly lit room, motionless, gazing at a piece of paper in his hand. The fireplace had been extinguished, and the entire room exuded a deep chill.

Ethan recognized the paper at a glance: it was the portrait of Lily he had drawn for him. As if immersed in another world, Snape's perpetually cold and gloomy eyes were filled with deep nostalgia and sadness.

Before Ethan could decide whether to pretend he hadn't seen anything, Snape noticed his presence. His eyes widened, and anger at being caught surged on his sallow face. Before he could tell him to "get out," Ethan spoke first.

"It's alright, Professor. I'll definitely draw you an even better painting next time. Next time, you'll be able to completely immerse yourself in it and won't be interrupted by external things again."

(End of Chapter)

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