"Let me see..."
Ethan tilted his head back, standing slightly on his toes, scanning the notices pinned to the bulletin board.
"Assist Madam Pince in organizing The Invisible Book of Invisibility, payment: 5 Sickles..."
"This doesn't feel like it'll be that simple," he muttered. "Assist Hagrid with disposing of rotten pumpkins, payment: 3 Sickles... Hmm, sounds like there's a catch."
"Help clean and maintain Bowtruckle nests—third-year students and above, payment: 8 Sickles..."
"Assist Professor Sprout in pruning Venomous Tentacula—danger warning! Fifth-year students and above only, payment: 10 Sickles."
The tasks posted lower on the board were mostly straightforward—helping prepare materials, cleaning, or copying texts—but the pay was modest.
The higher up the board, the more challenging the tasks became.
At the very top, Ethan spotted a notice for "Clearing out the Grindylows from the caves along the Black Lake's edge."
The reward was an impressive 2 Galleons, but it was restricted to sixth- and seventh-year students, who had to work in teams accompanied by a professor.
...It felt more like a professor taking students out to grind experience points.
As a first-year, Ethan's options were severely limited.
Just as he reached for the notice about helping Madam Pince with the books, a low, drawling voice cut through the air:
"Well, well, look at our renowned artist, so industrious, taking on school tasks already."
Ding!
You've encountered a wild Professor Snape!
Even without turning, Ethan knew exactly who it was.
It's finally happening, he thought.
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he calmly plucked the notice from the board before turning around.
Sure enough, there was Professor Snape, his sallow, hook-nosed face looming as expected.
Not far off, Draco Malfoy and his cronies were snickering, casting malicious glances his way.
—Dealing with Slytherin's pure-blood elitists is just part of the Hogwarts experience, isn't it?
"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Ethan said, retracting his gaze and offering a polite smile. "Is there something you need from me?"
Snape's lip twitched at Ethan's unbothered grin, and he continued in his oily tone:
"Since you're so eager for tasks, I happen to have one for you."
"After dinner tonight, come to my office to process rat livers. Oh, and do note they've been soaking in toad bile."
A ripple of disgust passed through the nearby students. The mere thought of handling slimy, bloody organs made their stomachs churn.
This wasn't a "task"—it was practically a punishment!
Yet Ethan showed no sign of reluctance. Instead, he asked, "And the payment?"
"...Five Sickles."
Snape suddenly felt like he was the one being played.
That feeling peaked when Ethan flashed a radiant smile.
"Deal! I'll be there right after dinner, Professor Snape. You can count on me."
"..."
Snape's mouth twitched twice, but he said nothing.
With a sharp flick of his robes, he swept away.
Only then did Michael dare approach, eyes wide, whispering urgently:
"How can Professor Snape do that? Even detentions don't usually involve handling something that disgusting!"
Ethan ran his fingers over the notice in his hand, smirking with interest. "Are rat livers really that bad? Well, I'll just have to savor the experience."
"Plus, there's money in it."
That part was crucial.
Michael: "..."
Speechless.
Right, how could he forget? This was the guy who painted Broom Rash—a masterpiece of the macabre.
What others saw as punishment might just be another Tuesday for Ethan.
Just then, Ethan glanced up and locked eyes with Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table.
Draco shot him a smug, provocative smirk, whispering something to his cronies that sparked a round of jeering laughter.
Ethan returned a faint smile, completely unfazed.
No matter what, he wouldn't turn down Snape's task, even if it did gross him out.
Ethan Vincent didn't back down from anyone trying to break him.
All he had to do was accept the challenge.
The challengers, on the other hand, had more to worry about.
Like... the consequences of failing.
Ethan's eyes flickered.
Not far off, Harry and Ron were storming toward Malfoy's group, faces flushed with anger.
—The Chosen One will arrive on the battlefield in three seconds.
Sure enough, a confrontation erupted moments later.
"Youth," Ethan sighed with a chuckle.
Michael frowned, offering a warning: "You should still be careful. The Malfoys are on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and Draco's tight with Snape. No matter what he does, he'll never face serious consequences."
Ethan's heart warmed at his friend's concern.
There were still good people in the world.
"No worries," Ethan reassured him. "I'll do my best to stay out of Azkaban."
Michael: "..."
Not try—please make sure you don't end up in Azkaban!
Suddenly,Michael felt as if all his emotions had been wasted.
Of course, this was Ethan Vincent.
The infamous painter with a reputation as twisted as the Savior's was heroic.
The only ones who needed to worry were those dumb enough to him.
Michael silently lit a candle for young Malfoy in his mind.
He clapped a hand on Ethan's shoulder, pursed his lips, and said gravely:
"Don't kill him. Leave him breathing."
Ethan: ?
What kind of monster do you think I am?
"A kind little wizard like me? Do something that awful?" Ethan said, flashing Michael an impossibly innocent smile. "At most, I'd just give him a little scare."
Michael, meanwhile, began muttering Merlin under his breath while crossing himself.
Exorcism mode: activated.
The afternoon was free of classes.
Some Ravenclaw students holed up in the common room with books, while others hit the library.
Not that they were all bookworms—some enjoyed debating games with friends or learning the mysteries of "Egg Divination" from older students.
Others ventured outdoors, identifying wild plants.
Ethan chose the library—not to study or read, but to help Madam Pince sort The Invisible Book of Invisibility.
At first, Madam Pince doubted a first-year could handle the job.
But Ethan's impeccable manners quickly won her over.
She taught him Aparecium while ranting about how other students mistreated her precious books.
In the end, she slipped him an extra Sickle as payment.
With a stern face, she told him he could come back to help in the library anytime.
In her words, Ethan felt a warmth even in the cold, hard coins.
After dinner, under the admiring and encouraging gazes of his peers, Ethan—now in full part-time hustle mode—headed to the Potions office.
The office was in the dungeons, perpetually cold and damp, with water droplets clinging to rough stone walls.
At dusk, only flickering candlelight illuminated the path, casting an eerie, lifeless glow.
Ethan felt right at home.
Perfect vibes.
Knock, knock.
He rapped politely on the door.
No answer.
He waited, then gently pushed. The door creaked open.
Inside, Professor Snape stood alone in the dim room, motionless, staring at a piece of paper in his hands.
The fireplace had gone out, and a chill hung in the air.
Ethan recognized the paper instantly—it was the portrait of Lily he'd painted for Snape.
Lost in another world, Snape's usually cold, shadowed eyes brimmed with nostalgia and sorrow.
Ethan hesitated, unsure whether to pretend he hadn't noticed.
But Snape sensed him.
His eyes snapped up, and a flush of embarrassed anger spread across his sallow face.
Before Snape could bark "Get out!" Ethan spoke first:
"It's okay, Professor. I'll paint you an even better one next time!"
"Then you can lose yourself in it completely, without interruptions."
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