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[HP:Failed Art Student]-Chapter 21 He Has Lily's Green Eyes
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 12:02:39 +0000 UTCEthan Vincent’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling, almost manic light, a spark that seemed to dance between mischief and menace.
Snape stood silent, his usual sharp retorts caught in his throat.
It was like striking a pillow—his words met no resistance, leaving him grasping for a response.
Was this a matter of Ethan being too absorbed in his own twisted world, or something else entirely?
And if he let this boy sink deeper into his strange fascinations, what kind of monster might emerge?
“It appears Mr. Vincent’s perspective on the Dark Arts is… less conventional than most,” Snape drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he snatched the sketch from Ethan’s hands.
With a sharp flick of his wand, the fireplace roared to life, its flames casting long shadows across the stone walls.
Warmth seeped back into the chilly dungeon, threading through the air like a hesitant guest.
“Your task tonight, Mr. Vincent. Don’t dawdle—begin.”
Snape gestured toward two large buckets brimming with viscous red and green slime, a cruel, anticipatory smirk curling his lips. The last student he’d subjected to this punishment had dissolved into tears and nausea.
What would become of Ethan?
Let this arrogant, self-assured boy crumble under the weight of this revolting task.
Or so Snape thought.
He was wrong.
Far too soon, Snape realized his mistake.
Ethan wasn’t repulsed. If anything, he seemed to relish the task.
He plunged his hands into the buckets, squelching and kneading bloody rat livers with a disturbing enthusiasm, utterly unperturbed as the slime smeared across his robes and face.
His smile was wide, his eyes alight with a feverish, almost predatory glee, like a serial killer savoring the dismemberment of a victim, each motion a source of twisted delight.
This was a disaster.
Snape had unwittingly inspired him.
A cold dread settled in Snape’s chest.
Every moment spent in Ethan’s presence felt like an eternity of torment.
“What, pray tell, are you thinking about?” Snape snapped, unable to restrain himself any longer.
Ethan’s response was immediate, almost cheerful: “Toad-men.”
Snape blinked, thrown off balance. “What?”
Ethan looked up, green slime streaking his face, and flashed a grin that was equal parts charming and chilling. “Imagine, Professor, if toads and humans were fused—what a magnificent artistic spectacle that would be. Humans melded with soft, slimy creatures… it’s like the frailty of the heart made flesh, or perhaps a return to some primal state—”
“Enough!” Snape bellowed, shooting to his feet.
The mere thought of Ethan’s grotesque vision sent shivers racing across his skin.
Wicked. Utterly wicked.
What trauma could twist a boy so young into harboring such dangerous ideas?
With a furious wave of his wand, Snape banished the filth from the room, his eyes narrowing as he fixed Ethan with a glacial stare. “Do you think yourself remarkable? Possessing some unique artistic genius that sets you apart, that makes others tremble in your presence? Does that fill you with pride?”
Ethan blinked, his expression guileless. “I didn’t—”
“Do not interrupt when I’m speaking,” Snape cut in sharply. “Ravenclaw, two points from you.”
A triumphant smirk flickered across Snape’s face.
“You caused significant harm to Mr. Malfoy before term began,” he continued, his voice low and venomous. “I don’t know how you managed it, but is this how you treat your peers? Perhaps I should recommend to the Headmaster that your bizarre, repulsive ‘artworks’ be confiscated.”
Ethan fell silent, his gaze dropping to the floor.
Snape exhaled, a wave of relief washing over him.
In all his years of teaching, no student had ever dared to challenge him so brazenly—until now.
The silence stretched for several seconds.
Then, a soft, almost wistful voice broke the quiet. “He has a pair of green eyes, Professor Snape.”
Snape froze, his mind stumbling over the words. “What?”
“I said,” Ethan lifted his head, meeting Snape’s gaze with unnerving intensity, “Harry Potter has a pair of beautiful green eyes, just like Miss Lily. Perhaps you’ve noticed.”
Snape’s smirk vanished, his face draining of color before flushing with a sudden, molten anger.
“If you dare to provoke me further—”
“Malfoy said,” Ethan cut in, undeterred, “that if Harry Potter isn’t careful, he’ll die a miserable death, just like his mother.”
Malfoy’s actual words had referenced both of Harry’s parents, but Ethan, ever the strategist, omitted the father for maximum impact.
It worked.
Snape went rigid, as if time itself had stopped. His eyes widened, disbelief etched into every line of his face. His mouth opened, but no words came.
“So…” Ethan’s voice softened, delivering the final blow with a gentle precision. “When I saw a boy with such eyes being insulted like that, I couldn’t help but teach Malfoy a small lesson. Was I wrong, Professor?”
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
Only the crackle of the fireplace dared to break it.
If Ethan had a paintbrush in that moment, he could have painted those green eyes onto Snape’s very soul, and the effect would have been catastrophic.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet mastered the art of transfiguring a wand into a paintbrush.
Still, the damage was done.
After several agonizing seconds, Snape’s face contorted with fury—but this time, it wasn’t aimed at Ethan.
“Go. Fetch Mr. Malfoy. Now,” Snape growled, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.
Ethan tilted his head. “Professor, about my deducted points—”
Snape’s jaw tightened. “For your… courage in defending a fellow student, Ravenclaw, ten points.”
“And my commission?” Ethan pressed, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Snape’s patience snapped. He yanked a handful of coins from his pocket and thrust them into Ethan’s hand without so much as a glance.
Ethan didn’t linger. “I’ll fetch Malfoy,” he said, turning on his heel and darting out of the room.
It wasn’t until he was halfway down the corridor, breathless and bathed in the dim glow of a candle, that Ethan paused to inspect his prize.
Five gleaming Galleons, along with a scattering of Sickles and Knuts, glittered in his palm—enough to fund better materials for a more durable, higher-grade One-Eyed Open Door.
He’d struck gold.
Slowly, a grin spread across his face, his most genuine smile since the term began.
In the flickering candlelight of the damp, shadowy corridor, that smile was nothing short of terrifying.
Ethan found Malfoy loitering outside the Slytherin common room, boasting to his cronies with his usual swagger.
At the sight of Ethan, their faces lit up with a mix of wariness and smug triumph.
“Professor Snape wants to see you,” Ethan said, his tone neutral.
“Me?” Malfoy frowned, then smirked as realization dawned. Snape must want to punish Ethan in front of him—a public humiliation.
He knew it. After the damage Ethan had caused him, there was no way Snape would let it slide with just a chore.
Malfoy’s eyes gleamed with malice as he nudged his friends. “You don’t mind if my mates come along, do you, Ethan? Or are you too embarrassed for them to hear what’s coming?”
His cronies snickered, their laughter sharp and mocking.
Ethan blinked, his expression almost pitying. “I’d suggest you go alone, actually.”
Hell awaited, after all.
But Malfoy, misreading Ethan’s calm as fear, grew even cockier. “Don’t waste my time! Come on, let’s go!”
The Slytherins followed, their grins dripping with malice.
Ethan shrugged. He’d warned them. If they refused to listen, that was their funeral.
They reached the Potions office, where the door stood slightly ajar, revealing Snape’s silhouette in the dim light.
Malfoy smirked, casting a sidelong glance at Ethan before raising his hand to knock. He strode in confidently. “Professor Snape—”
“For insulting a fellow student,” Snape’s voice cut through the air, cold and serpentine, “Slytherin, ten points from you, Mr. Malfoy.”
Snape turned slowly, his dark eyes glinting with icy fury.
