HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

After Charms class, it was time for lunch.

A vast ocean of red and blue robes flowed down from the upper floors, punctuated by occasional gasps and shrieks at the sudden changes in the Grand Staircase's direction.

"I think there must be some kind of pattern to the way these stairs change," said Mandy Brocklehurst, Ethan's other roommate, pushing her glasses up her nose. She was a thin, quiet girl with glasses like beer bottle caps, and she was a half-blood witch.

"Maybe," Michael replied perfunctorily, smiling at every girl who passed him. "Do you know Cho Chang from second year?" he asked excitedly, a dreamy expression on his face. "She's so pretty, and I heard she's interested in Quidditch, which is really rare!"

Mandy rolled her eyes, and Ethan just grunted a "hmm," taking it as a response.

The path to the Great Hall was extremely crowded, not only because classes had just let out, but also because the famous Harry Potter was near them. Everyone who passed him would turn to look, and some even stopped, staring wide-eyed at his forehead.

Michael sighed enviously. "I really wish I had Harry Potter's reputation; look, all the girls are looking at him."

"If you look closely, you'll find that all the boys are staring at him too," Ethan pointed out.

Michael fell silent. He had given up hope of having a normal conversation with Ethan.

Soon, they had no choice but to stop, as the path ahead was completely blocked. It seemed a group of people, disregarding everyone else, had cornered Harry. Ethan looked down, gazing into the deep space beneath the stairs, and murmured, "I'd really like to know what would happen if someone fell from here."

Michael shivered. To prevent his unhinged companion from becoming a stair-related murderer over a missed lunch, he raised his wand, let out two loud bangs, and shouted, "Please move, move!"

It had little effect. His shouts were quickly drowned out by the noise.

"We can only wait," Mandy said, a hint of impatience showing. "I wanted to go to the library to do my homework after eating."

Ethan blinked. He also wanted to get through this section quickly. Not only was he a bit hungry, but he was also eager to see the newly posted professor assignments. It wouldn't do if all the good ones were taken. How could he get them to clear a path?

Just then, a flash of inspiration struck.

"I have an idea," he announced, clearing his throat.

Seeing Ethan's confident demeanor, Michael suddenly had a very bad premonition.

"Wait—"

"I have broomstick rash."

Ethan's demonic whisper, like a stone dropped into a still lake, rippled outwards.

The noise vanished.

Everyone turned, looking at Ethan and his companions in horror. The gruesome illustration everyone had seen reappeared in their minds, and a phantom scent of blood seemed to spread through the air.

Then—the crowd scattered.

"Ahhh, don't come near me!"

"Let me through! Don't block the way!"

"Damn it! Who the hell touched my arse in the chaos?!"

In just a few breaths, the path ahead was clear. No one dared to block the way. Only Harry and his friends, finally free, remained, their clothes disheveled and their faces bewildered as they looked up at Ethan standing on the stairs.

Ethan watched them with a smile, his expression gentle and friendly. His cobalt-blue eyes were like starlight, brilliant and profound. Sunlight streamed in from the window behind him, illuminating him as if plating him with a layer of gold. At this moment, Ethan was like an angel saving others from distress, filled with a sacred aura from head to toe.

He slowly spoke:

"You're welcome."

Harry stared, speechless. Are you perhaps a bit too extreme?

Michael slowly raised a hand to cover his face, groaning in despair. He had wanted to get through quickly, yes. But he hadn't wanted others to avoid them like they had the plague. Merlin, my lifelong reputation, my right to choose a partner within the school…

Ethan was completely unaware of his companion's thoughts. He thought contentedly to himself, I've done another good deed today. Helping the weak and helpless Savior, and preventing a stampede. Oh, I really am a kind and warm-hearted wizard.

He nodded in agreement with himself, then stepped forward, descending the now-empty stairs under the indescribable gazes of the others.

Great Hall.

The hall was bustling with noise, the fragrant scent of food inviting enough to make one salivate. At the high table, the professors sat like a calming presence; otherwise, the mischievous students might have blown the roof off. Ethan saw the Weasley twins secretly placing whoopee cushions on seats. With a small explosion, a wisp of black smoke rose from the Gryffindor table, and several first-year boys with soot-blackened faces looked at each other and giggled.

Youth, indeed… Ethan sighed inwardly.

He glanced around and, sure enough, saw a newly installed bulletin board on the wall with a crowd of students gathered around it. That had to be what Professor Flitwick called "work-study." Ethan's eyes lit up. He swallowed, struggling to walk past the long tables laden with a rich lunch, and made his way to the edge of the crowd.

Students from all Houses and years were gathered there. Most of the younger students were just looking for fun, while only the older ones were seriously considering which assignments to take, seeing it as practical campus experience. The students were packed tightly, and the height of the older students completely blocked Ethan's view.

Ethan politely said, "Hello, please excuse me~"

The student in front turned impatiently. "Wait, what's the rush—huh?! Ethan?!"

The moment he saw Ethan, the student's expression froze. As the name "Ethan" was called out, the crowd that had been gathered around the bulletin board suddenly scattered, leaving Ethan to enjoy it alone.

At the staff table, Professor McGonagall saw this, and her eyebrow twitched. She always felt as if Ethan were bullying others, but she had no proof. After all, the other students had voluntarily made way for him, hadn't they?

"Professor Snape," Professor McGonagall said, her sharp gaze directed at the hook-nosed man beside her. "I recall that when you returned from Spinner's End, you reported that this child's personality was fine, no different from others." Being sorted into Azkaban and apparently intimidating his classmates in secret—this was "no problem"? It was a huge problem!

Snape remained silent. He averted his gaze, pretending not to hear, and took a sip of water while gnashing his teeth. Because of this brat, Dumbledore had already sought him out several times. Now, Malfoy was involved. Yet, the boy knew his deepest secret and had drawn him a one-of-a-kind portrait. How could he punish him in a reasonable and justifiable way?

Snape watched Ethan gloomily. Suddenly, an idea struck him. A malicious smirk curved his lips, and he rose to walk toward the bulletin board.

(End of Chapter)

***

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