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[HP:Failed Art Student]-Chapter 61: Quack! I Don’t Want to Be Down There!
🕑 Added 2025-08-11 23:55:07 +0000 UTC“Merlin’s beard, it’s a stunning upperclassman!”
Michael Corner, standing beside Ethan Vincent, was practically vibrating with excitement, as if he’d been hit with a Cheering Charm gone wild.
He tugged desperately at Ethan’s sleeve, his eyes gleaming like a Niffler spotting gold, practically drooling.
Bloody hell!
Why did all the gorgeous older girls always come looking for Ethan?
Michael’s jealousy was so intense he might’ve spontaneously transfigured into a green-eyed monster right then and there.
Ethan, with a deft flick, shook off the grip of his overly enthusiastic roommate and didn’t bother asking the Slytherin Prefect why she’d sought him out.
With a slight nod, he followed her lead.
The two moved in tandem, one trailing the other, into an empty classroom.
Once inside, Ethan watched as Gemma Farley clicked the door shut and locked it with a subtle flick of her wand.
He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and flashed a teasing grin. “What’s next, a Silencing Charm? Deep in the heart of Hogwarts, in a secret classroom no one can find…”
Gemma’s gaze was icy, utterly unfazed by his theatrics.
Ignoring his nonsense, she reached into her robes and produced a small cloth bag.
Ethan’s sharp ears caught the faint clink of metal inside, and his mind immediately started racing.
Not again, really?
Did all Slytherins share a single brain cell?
Or was their so-called “noble etiquette” just a fancy way of saying, “When in doubt, throw Galleons at it”?
“I’ll give you two hundred Galleons,” Gemma said coolly. “Withdraw from the challenge. Slytherin needs that spot.”
Ethan burst into laughter.
His usually warm, approachable face twisted into a smirk, a playful edge of mockery dancing across his features.
In an instant, he went from angelic first-year to devilish trickster.
“I refuse, Miss Farley,” he said slowly, his voice dripping with charm. “The prize for the challenge is one thousand Galleons. Why would I give up that kind of opportunity for a measly two hundred?”
Not to mention the real prize: access to Herpo the Foul’s Abandoned Mansion, where the Hidden Room in the Tapestry supposedly held treasures of dark magic waiting to be uncovered.
Gemma tilted her head, her beautiful face clouded with genuine confusion.
“You can’t possibly get a thousand Galleons on your own,” she said.
“First, that’s the prize for first place. Second, while there’s no rule requiring teams, most competitors form groups by House—twelve participants, split into squads of four or five to work together. Even if, by some miracle, you took first place, you’d have to split the thousand Galleons with your teammates. At best, you’d walk away with two or three hundred.”
She paused, her tone flat. “Of course, the odds of that happening are basically zero.”
Her explanation was delivered in that same cool, almost monotone voice, as if she were reading from a particularly dull textbook.
Team up?
Ethan’s lips curled into a sly grin. I never planned on teaming up.
“You’re thinking too small,” he said. “If I go solo and win first place, I keep every last Galleon. Simple as that.”
Gemma’s expression grew even frostier at this absurd declaration.
“You are zero,” she stated bluntly.
Ethan blinked.
He knew she meant his chances of winning solo were nonexistent, but… zero?
Talk about cutting to the chase!
“Regardless,” Ethan replied, his tone polite but laced with a sharp edge, “I don’t take shortcuts.” He let the word hang in the air, a clever double entendre, as his gaze flicked to the money bag in her hand.
Hmph.
Draco Malfoy had offered seven hundred Galleons and a bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Two hundred Galleons? Did she think he was some Knockturn Alley beggar?
Ethan tilted his nose up proudly.
He wasn’t that desperate kid anymore, scraping by on a few coins.
No, Ethan Vincent was a man of means now—untouchable!
Gemma frowned, clearly puzzled.
Besides the money bag, what other “shortcut” could he possibly mean?
But she quickly regained her composure.
Noticing the distant, almost mocking smile on Ethan’s face, she pursed her lips and pulled another small bag from her pocket.
“This has one hundred Galleons,” she said. “It’s for you to not attack me during the competition.”
Ethan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
He glanced at the golden glow spilling from the open bag, and a warmth seemed to radiate from the coins, softening the curve of his lips.
His smile transformed, becoming warm, sincere, and downright friendly.
“Oh, my dear friend, why so formal?” he said, his voice practically dripping with charm.
Without hesitation, he reached out and accepted the “sinful burden” of those Galleons, as if embracing the cozy warmth of capitalism in the dead of winter.
Gemma Farley stood silent, momentarily stunned by how quickly Ethan’s demeanor had flipped.
But the deal was done, wasn’t it?
As for the challenge spot she hadn’t secured, well, that was someone else’s failure—not hers.
With a curt nod, she turned, unlocked the door, and pushed it open—
Whoosh!
A swarm of students tumbled in, piling up like a horde of overeager Bowtruckles.
Outside, a crowd had gathered in tight circles, their eyes burning with the unmistakable glow of gossip.
The air practically sizzled with it, as if the summer sun itself had descended on Hogwarts.
Shocking!
Slytherin Prefect tries to “buy” a first-year wizard?!
Is this moral decay or something even juicier?!
Gemma’s lips tightened, her aloof expression growing colder still.
Hogwarts was far too nosy for its own good.
Without a backward glance, she pushed through the crowd and strode away from the chaos.
Back in the classroom, Ethan crouched down to where Michael Corner lay sprawled on the floor, having tripped in the stampede.
He flashed an impossibly brilliant smile and said softly, “The portal.”
“Wait, mate—argh!”
A dark doorway materialized beneath Michael, and with a scream, he vanished.
A moment later, his wail echoed from outside the window, growing fainter as he plummeted.
Ethan waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, it’s only the second floor. Won’t kill him.”
The onlookers stared, wide-eyed. You’re far too kind, mate.
Ethan’s grin widened. “That sort of thing? Let’s talk about it when you’re older.”
The students blinked, confused. What sort of thing? What are you even talking about?!
Amid their bewildered expressions, Ethan sauntered off, utterly at ease.
In his mind, he was gleefully tallying his newfound fortune.
Another hundred Galleons in his pocket—his wealth was practically inflating by the minute!
He’d already bled Professor Quirrell dry for pocket money, so his daily expenses were more than covered.
He could even afford to splurge a bit—maybe buy some Christmas gifts for his friends.
And then there was the Christmas holiday.
He could take Luna Lovegood on a little trip.
In both his past life and this one, Ethan had always been consumed with survival and his art.
Leisure? Relaxation? Those were foreign concepts.
But if he thought about the biggest help he’d received, the one that left the deepest mark, it was Luna’s family.
Back when he was at his lowest, they’d covered the cost of his art supplies and given him a chance to showcase his paintings.
He owed them so much.
This Christmas, he’d make it a proper gathering.
With money in his pocket, his confidence soared.
Ethan’s eyes crinkled with a smile, his steps light and cheerful.
As he passed a window, he paused, glanced outside, and spotted Michael stumbling across the lawn.
With a mischievous flick of his wand, Ethan cast a tiny spell, tripping Michael once more.
Oops.
Now Michael was definitely going to be late for class.
No worries, Ethan thought. I’ll earn back all the House points you lose.
Tucking his wand away, Ethan strolled off in high spirits.
After morning classes wrapped up, all the selected participants for the challenge were summoned to a classroom to go over the competition details.
Ethan had lingered to ask Professor Sprout about the practical applications of magical plants in combat, so he arrived a bit late—the last one to walk in.
Whoosh.
As he pushed open the door, a barrage of stares hit him like a well-aimed Stunning Spell.
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a Severing Charm.
Ethan’s lips curled into a sly smile.
Things are about to get interesting.
