Looking at Ethan's outstretched hand, Quirrell stared blankly, unable to recover for a long time.
He... he agreed just like that? So easily?
Why? In Ethan's eyes, shouldn't he just be an incompetent, worthless professor?
Could it be... had Ethan discovered his true identity?
In an instant, Quirrell's heart skipped a beat. A flash of panic and viciousness crossed his eyes as his hand instinctively gripped his wand.
Immediately after, he was pinned down by a sharp gaze from above.
"..."
Quirrell's body began to tremble slightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore looking down at him.
...Calm down, calm down. Don't expose yourself.
Quirrell slowly took a breath, looked up, and met Ethan's pure and innocent smile. A pale little hand with calluses extended toward him.
Under the reflection of the chandeliers in the Great Hall, he seemed like a merciful savior trying to guide the wicked onto the right path, his entire body radiating a holy light.
...Hmm, this brat probably wouldn't lie. He definitely doesn't know my true identity. Maybe he's just curious, wanting to see what I would actually teach.
Thinking this, the panic in Quirrell's heart gradually subsided. He forced a "delighted" smile, grasped Ethan's outstretched hand, and stammered:
"Th-thank you so much! I-I will definitely prove myself, y-your choice isn't wrong! Mr. Vincent!"
Ethan smiled slightly: "No need to thank me, Professor Quirrell. I happen to have some research in painting that I'd like help with."
Hearing this, Quirrell's eyes lit up. What a coincidence!
His Master had just ordered him to get close to the secrets of Ethan's enchanted paintings!
"Y-you can rest assured! I will d-do everything I can to help you!"
Ethan's smile widened. That's exactly what I was waiting for you to say.
"You can rest assured too, Professor Quirrell. I won't be polite."
Quirrell: "..."
Why did that sound strange?
For some reason, looking at Ethan's friendly smile, Quirrell felt chills down his back. He laughed dryly, saying, "of course, of course," while trying to withdraw his hand.
But just then, the five fingers holding Quirrell's hand suddenly tightened, gripping his hand firmly.
?
Quirrell looked up in confusion, meeting Ethan's curved cobalt-blue eyes.
From a distance, these eyes were as calm and gentle as lake water, like their owner's personality... steady and rarely rippling.
However, up close, Quirrell saw dancing flames in the depths of these pupils. Tiny, yet containing incredibly vigorous vitality! As if just one drop of oil could make these flames explode and burn everything down with devastating force!
"Professor Quirrell."
The boy's clear voice called Quirrell's thoughts back. Quirrell shivered. The primitive fear of facing a terrifying predator vanished in an instant. Quirrell refocused his attention on Ethan's words.
Ethan: "I have broom rash on my hands, you know."
He licked his lips, making Ethan's smile look exactly like a pervert's.
Quirrell: "Huh?"
Quirrell: "HUH?!"
What rash?!
Quirrell was as shocked as if he'd been rammed by a strong man, memories of Halloween flooding back. He jerked his hand back, staring at his palm in terror.
It was clean, without any red rash.
Ethan: "Haha, just kidding, Professor Quirrell."
Ethan tilted his head, blinking his big eyes, asking innocently: "Professor Quirrell isn't angry, is he?"
Quirrell: "..."
His fists clenched hard. Quirrell's whole body began trembling... from anger. Veins bulged at his temples, his eyes filled with bloodshot lines, and he almost ground his teeth to powder.
How dare he toy with him like this... he was the Dark Lord's most valued servant! Damn! He wanted to tear him to pieces!
Quirrell was so angry he lost his mind, an Avada Kedavra curse ready at his throat. Then the next second, Quirrell felt Headmaster Dumbledore's mountain-heavy gaze.
"...Of course I'm not angry~"
Quirrell forced his mouth into a smile, even forgetting his stuttering persona: "You're quite 'lively,' Student Vincent, hehehe."
The word "lively" was squeezed out through Quirrell's gritted teeth.
Having to bow his head while under someone else's power... sob.
Quirrell felt his nose tingling with sourness.
...This was too humiliating. Simply bullying him too much.
But regardless, he had completed his Master's command. Successfully becoming Ethan's guidance teacher, gaining a legitimate reason to access his magical painting techniques.
As for helping Ethan with research? Please~ How much could a student spend?
At that time, Quirrell had no idea he had already stepped one foot into hell.
...
Quirrell's special guidance was scheduled for after dinner each day. Only then did Ethan finally sit down to enjoy his belated breakfast.
A refreshing bacon, cucumber, and fried egg sandwich, a small apple, plus a glass of milk. A nutritious breakfast was complete.
Though young, Ethan was at the age of growing, and his previous hard times in Knockturn Alley had intensified his desire for food.
After stuffing a few more small cookies into his mouth to fill the gaps, Ethan covered his mouth and burped contentedly, his cheeks flushed from eating well.
This formed a stark contrast with Michael and Mandy beside him, who couldn't eat. The reason was simple... the gazes shooting at Ethan were too overwhelming!
Michael and Mandy were just caught in the crossfire, yet they felt like they were sitting on pins and needles. As if their every move was being monitored!
At this moment, they envied Ethan's unshakeable personality regardless of the situation.
They say painters don't just look at people, but at the lines of muscles and bones. Could it be that in Ethan's eyes, other people were like this too?
Michael curiously leaned over, asking quietly: "Ethan, how do you usually see me?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow: "Small horse pulling a big..."
Michael: "Ah, stop stop stop! I mean on the surface, like..."
Mandy pushed her glasses, continuing: "From a physical perspective."
"Oh~"
Ethan understood, scanning Michael from top to bottom. Michael tensed up under the gaze, instinctively straightening his back.
After waiting two seconds, Ethan shook his head: "Average taste."
Michael: "Huh?"
He was stunned, then his expression gradually turned ashen with horror.
Ethan turned his head, giving equal attention to Mandy, saying gently: "You need to put on some weight, not much chewiness."
Mandy: "...Thanks."
Great.
Looking at Michael's conflicted expression of wanting to speak but stopping, then stopping but wanting to speak again, Mandy understood that this silly boy now had no time to worry about those piercing gazes. More important, life-and-death matters were troubling him.
After finishing breakfast, Ethan left steadily with his textbooks under the gaze of everyone, as if seeing off a king leaving court.
While thinking about how to utilize... ah no, how to "accept" Quirrell's kindness.
First, have him collect as much unicorn hair as possible. Just one unicorn hair costs about ten Galleons at market price. Not to mention canvas woven from dozens of unicorn hairs. Using his own small treasury would drain it in minutes.
Tsk tsk, art was really expensive~
As for why Ethan didn't mind those gazes, on one hand, he only felt "enjoyment." Like bathing in hot springs, whether admiration or disgust, Ethan would joyfully accept it all.
Admiring me meant his ideals were being spread. Hating me meant his ideals were being spread even more.
If people hated him, it definitely meant his thoughts and actions had touched their interests and pain points. Double the pleasure.
On the other hand, Ethan was constantly thinking. Thinking about the future, about knowledge, about paintings. Such mental occupation naturally left no time to worry about those gazes.
Just as Ethan was about to head to the classroom, a cold voice sounded from behind:
"Mr. Ethan Vincent, please wait."
Ethan turned around, surprised to see another selected contestant, Slytherin's current prefect, Gemma Farley.
The girl had long hair cascading down, and on her snow-white face, a pair of emotionless eyes coldly looked down at him. Her lips parted slightly:
"I have something to say to you."
[Chapter Complete]
***
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