Ethan turned, his cobalt-blue eyes locking onto Quirrell with an unsettling calm. Beneath the professor's forced, wooden expression, Ethan caught a flicker of venomous hatred.
Oh, dear, oh, dear.
Had Quirrell forgotten the allure of his artwork?
Ethan's lips curled into a faint, mischievous smile. He opened his palm, and a shimmer of iridescent colors—twisting like soap bubbles in sunlight—swirled into existence.
No way would Quirrell dare touch him in front of Professor Dumbledore. All the more reason to make the first move!
Before the gaping crowd in the Great Hall, Quirrell lurched forward, his foot rising with the graceless stumble of a zombie or a marionette jerked by invisible strings.
"Ugh!"
Harry clutched his forehead, his lightning-bolt scar pulsing with sudden, inexplicable pain.
No… don't…!
He stared at Quirrell, a gut instinct screaming for the professor to stay away from Ethan.
Just then—
Whoosh!
A pitch-black door materialized inches from Quirrell's face. Too close to react, he stepped right through it, only to tumble out directly in front of Ethan. With a heavy thud, he landed on his knees.
"…"
Quirrell looked up, his blank stare meeting Ethan's deceptively innocent face.
"You're welcome, Professor Quirrell. I saved you a few steps," Ethan said, his smile dripping with mock sincerity.
The Great Hall fell silent, jaws dropping as students and professors alike gawked at the surreal scene. Even the faculty table froze in stunned disbelief.
Harry: "…"
His scar stopped throbbing.
Forget worrying about Ethan—better worry about whoever he's got in his sights!
After two beats of silence, the Great Hall erupted into a frenzy of whispers and gasps, the chatter blending into a chaotic hum that set the room ablaze.
—[Why Did the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Kneel to a Student?!]
—[Shocking! The Garlic-Turbaned Oddball and the Pure-Hearted Wizard: The Secrets You Need to Know!]
—[Quirrell's First Act After Reinstatement: Kneeling to Ethan! The Truth Will Leave Men Speechless and Women in Tears!]
Hogwarts Daily Prophet reporters were already scribbling furiously, logic abandoned in pursuit of a headline that would set the school abuzz.
Professor McGonagall shot to her feet, her face a storm of worry and indignation, itching to intervene. But seeing Headmaster Dumbledore's calm, unmoving figure, she forced herself to stay put.
Fine. Let's see how Quirrell plans to discipline this devilish painter.
"…"
Quirrell's mouth twitched, his mask-like face cracking under the strain. In his entire life, only his master had ever brought him to his knees—until now.
This was utter humiliation!
He burned with the urge to cast Avada Kedavra and end Ethan on the spot. If he stood before the Mirror of Erised now, he wouldn't see the Philosopher's Stone—just this brat's lifeless body.
But his master's orders were absolute.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed his rage. Under the weight of countless curious stares, Quirrell forced the words out through gritted teeth:
"Mr. Vincent! W-will you… allow me to be your mentor?"
"I swear! I'll teach you… well!"
His shrill, hoarse voice echoed through the hall.
Even Dumbledore's eyebrows arched in surprise.
The students exchanged bewildered glances.
"Did I hear that right?" Ron gaped, scanning the room. "Quirrell wants to mentor Ethan? Him?"
"Maybe he's trying to sabotage Ethan by tanking his IQ," Harry quipped, adjusting his glasses with a smirk.
Hermione clasped her hands, her voice tight with concern. "That's too cruel!"
Harry: "…"
Hermione, you're too pure for this world.
Bang!
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened, as if struck by a bolt of lightning. The sight of Quirrell kneeling before Ethan, pleading, was so surreal it rattled even her, the seasoned Transfiguration professor.
Quirrell mentoring Ethan?!
This was his idea of punishment?!
What was wrong with the world?
The plan to discipline the wicked artist had spectacularly imploded.
How many "fathers" does Ethan have, anyway? Is he Quirrell's dad now?
McGonagall slumped back into her seat, dizzy, her gaze unfocused. She reached for her mug of hot milk, pretending it was a strong butterbeer, and took a shaky sip.
Across the hall, a sharp crack rang out.
Professor Snape's grip on his goblet tightened, the sound ominous.
Quirrell… trying to steal my apprentice?
His dark eyes bored into the kneeling professor, a litany of curses dancing on the tip of his tongue, ready to fly.
No. He'd already offered Ethan advanced Potions lessons. Ethan's marks in Potions were stellar—he'd never pick a stammering fool like Quirrell.
Then again, Ethan excelled in every subject, rivaled only by that know-it-all Granger.
Quirrell was odd, but to Ethan, he was probably just a bumbling, incompetent professor. No one with a shred of sense would choose him…
Wait.
Ethan's brain wasn't exactly normal.
Snape's confidence wavered. He fixed his gaze on Ethan, waiting for his response with bated breath.
He wasn't alone. Every professor and student in the hall held their breath, eyes locked on Ethan. Even Dumbledore leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.
Ethan tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Oh, alright. I'll choose you then."
In that moment, Ethan saw through Quirrell's ploy. This was no doubt Lord Voldemort's doing, ordering his servant to cozy up to him—likely for his painting magic.
But Quirrell wasn't just any professor. He was a formidable Dark Wizard, capable of breaking into Gringotts and escaping unscathed. And with Voldemort literally attached to him?
Double the mentorship. Open-minded. Easy to manipulate.
Perfect for advancing his Living Painting research.
Why turn down a gift like that?
Ethan's eyes crinkled with an innocent, disarming smile as he extended a hand to the dumbfounded Quirrell.
The hall fell silent.
CRACK!
Snape's goblet shattered in his hand, a testament to the strength he usually reserved for stirring cauldrons.
Ethan's simple words struck like a Bludger, leaving the entire school reeling.
"Pfft!"
Ron sprayed pumpkin juice across the table, splattering Hermione's plate. She didn't even notice.
"Bloody hell…" Ron mumbled, juice dripping from his chin. "Ethan actually agreed…"
Harry frowned, puzzled. "Why would Ethan say yes? Is he just being kind? Quirrell's a fraud—what could he possibly teach?"
Hermione clenched her fists, her voice resolute. "Ethan must have his reasons!"
Harry and Ron: "…"
Ethan's mental chaos was truly a force to be reckoned with.
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