HP: The Wizard Who Paints with Magic

"…?"

Professor Quirrell stood frozen for two seconds before he finally processed what he'd just heard.

His eyes widened, his smile stiffened, and he stared at Ethan in disbelief, as if doubting his own ears.

Did Ethan just say… he should be paid for attending this class?

Outrageous! Unprecedented!

As Ethan's words echoed through the room, the entire class fell silent.

The students playing Wizard Chess stopped mid-move, those whispering in the back fell quiet, and every head turned to stare at Ethan in shock.

Two seconds later, the whole classroom sat up straight, eyes shining with anticipation and delight.

This was a joint Ravenclaw-Gryffindor class.

Ron clutched his chess piece, ignoring the knight's indignant protests, and whispered, "Merlin's underpants! Ethan said what I've always wanted to say! There's no point to this class at all! Give me back my money!"

Harry twitched his lips.

You don't listen in any class, he thought, but he had to admit—even he felt a surge of excitement.

He looked at Ethan, his eyes filled with admiration and respect.

Ethan might be a little shady, but he always did what others only dared to dream. He was brave, in his own way.

Ethan should have been sorted into Gryffindor—

Wait, not quite. Maybe not that righteous after all.

On the other side, Ethan met Professor Quirrell's trembling gaze, smiled, and picked up his battered textbook.

"Expelliarmus, defensive spells, counter-curses, and how to protect ourselves from dark creatures and evil forces. You haven't taught us a single one."

"A brand new 'Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' costs several Galleons. Even a used one is more than ten Silver Sickles."

"Of course, I'm not worried about the money. I'm worried about time."

"We only have seven years at Hogwarts. If we waste a whole year in your class, that's a seventh of our education gone."

"Wasting someone's time is wasting their life. Professor Quirrell, you are slowly murdering us."

His words rang out, powerful and clear.

Most Ravenclaws nodded in agreement, lifting their eyes from their homework or textbooks to look at Ethan.

He was speaking the truth, they all felt.

They had looked forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but now they dreaded it—especially with the double torment of garlic and stuttering.

Some Ravenclaws even brought earplugs to class.

That alone spoke volumes.

"Heh, heh, heh!"

Professor Quirrell let out a nervous laugh, his shoulders twitching.

In his eyes, a shadow flickered.

Damn brat… so insolent.

Does he know who he's talking to?

Does he know who is truly in control here?

If only he could cast Avada Kedavra right now and silence Ethan forever.

But under Dumbledore's watchful eye, Quirrell could only keep up the act, stammering, "Th-then, Vincent, wh-what do you want to do?"

Ethan: "Either pay us for attending your class every lesson, or teach us properly."

Quirrell wasn't chosen by the Dark Lord for his stutter.

He had broken into Gringotts and tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone—he had real skill and knowledge.

"As for the fee… let's say one Galleon per person per class."

Ron immediately sat up straight, eyes shining.

Quirrell's mouth twitched. He couldn't help but clutch at his robe pocket, where his wand was hidden.

One Galleon per person per class?!

Why don't you just rob Gringotts!

"W-well, Mr. Vincent, I will teach properly, so, so please sit down…"

Ron slumped in disappointment.

But Ethan didn't sit. He continued, "That's good. Professor Quirrell, I actually have a question."

Quirrell: "..."

You little brat!

"You… you may ask…"

"I want to know—who is Herpo?" Ethan enunciated each word.

Last night, after stepping into the Mirror of Erised, he'd discovered a hidden location on the Moonlit Path—

[Herpo's Abandoned Mansion].

There was a treasure hidden there.

Ethan wanted to know about Herpo.

Of course, he'd check the library, but after seeing how long it took Harry and friends to look up Nicolas Flamel in the original story, Ethan figured it was best to ask a professor first.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione Granger snapped her head around.

She hadn't heard the name "Herpo" before, but what really caught her attention was why Ethan was asking.

Could it be a key topic for the final exam?

Hermione's ears perked up, her gaze sharpening.

"He-Herpo?"

Quirrell's expression stiffened.

He could feel the presence on the back of his head slowly stirring.

"Th-this is not knowledge for first-year students… It's too dangerous, hehe!"

Quirrell laughed nervously, as if electrocuted.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, then suddenly flashed an innocent smile. "Is that so? What a shame…"

Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief. "Wait until you're in a higher grade, then we'll talk about it—"

Ethan interrupted, "Draco Malfoy and I happen to be very good friends."

Quirrell: "Huh?"

He froze, then his pupils shrank as he realized what Ethan was getting at.

"So—" Ethan tilted his head, smiling kindly, "I can ask Malfoy to have you transferred from Hogwarts. If the school board makes a strong request, it shouldn't be too hard to dismiss a professor who's not up to the task."

"And I've heard Mr. Lucius Malfoy is already very dissatisfied with you."

"Don't you agree, Professor Quirrell?"

Hagrid was Dumbledore's confidant—only that kept him at Hogwarts despite his record.

But you, a mere Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who neither teaches well nor stands out in any way—what makes you think Dumbledore will protect you? Once exposed, you'd be tied up in front of the Philosopher's Stone for Harry to level up on.

Quirrell's mouth hung open, speechless.

This brat actually dared to threaten a professor? To his face?

The most infuriating thing was that Quirrell couldn't refute him.

Malfoy, you utter fool.

Below the stage, the students were stunned.

They'd seen brave people, but never anyone this bold.

Even Malfoy, arrogant as he was, had never threatened a professor with his family's influence.

Hermione turned, staring at Ethan in awe.

To obtain knowledge, he would go to such lengths.

He truly was her greatest rival.

She bit her lower lip, her fighting spirit burning.

Quirrell trembled, forcing a twisted, awkward smile.

Just then, a weak, hoarse voice echoed in his mind:

"Tell him… tell him about the deeds of the distinguished Dark Wizard, Herpo…"

"This child is clever… his paintings possess real and eerie magic… This talent is unique and precious…"

"Teach him, use him… make his power your own!"

(End of Chapter)

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