Oh, You're Actually Crying?

"..."

The smug smile froze on Malfoy's face.

His eyes went wide, unable to believe what he'd just heard. He reflexively shot back:

"Sorry, Professor, maybe I misheard—"

"You did not mishear, Mr. Malfoy."

Professor Snape's icy voice shattered the last shred of hope in his mind.

In front of everyone, he showed no mercy:

"Must I say it again? Due to your personal, troll-like, crude and brainless behavior, Slytherin will lose ten points!"

"Insulting a classmate—is this the manners your father taught you? What have you even learned? I think I should report your recent disgraceful conduct to Lucius."

As his words fell.

The office fell dead silent, inside and out.

"..."

Malfoy was completely stunned by the scolding, frozen in place.

His so-called cronies were no exception, exchanging bewildered glances.

Not daring to breathe, they felt three question marks pop up over their heads.

They'd guessed the outcome right—Professor Snape had harshly disciplined a student.

But they'd guessed the process wrong—the one being disciplined wasn't Ethan, but their ringleader, Draco Malfoy!

Standing on the floor, Malfoy felt dizzy.

The air in the underground office seemed to grow sticky and stifling all at once, making it hard to breathe.

Never in his life had anyone chewed him out like that!

And in front of his classmates, no less.

Realizing this, Malfoy's pale face flushed bright red.

He wished he could travel back a few minutes and slap the self who'd insisted on bringing his buddies a good one!

—Ethan, you really were looking out for me!!

"B-but, though."

Malfoy's double-door bodyguard, Crabbe, stammered out:

"Malfoy was the one insulted, wasn't he? Why are you protecting this Mudblood..."

Oh ho.

Another contender?

Hearing that forbidden word, Ethan looked at the clueless oaf with admiration.

Maybe Crabbe had just said it out of habit.

Probably, they'd used the word "Mudblood" to refer to him all the time.

But saying it in front of Snape...

Ethan shifted his gaze, landing on Professor Snape.

Sure enough.

His face had turned as black as a pot lid.

"Snap."

The fireplace went out on cue.

Or maybe it was forcibly snuffed out by Snape's magical outburst.

"Never, ever, say that word, in front of me—!!!"

A low, yet thunderous voice rang through the room.

A gale of wind swept through.

Crabbe was scared shitless, and the other Slytherins turned pale, not daring to make a sound.

They'd never seen their Head of House this furious before.

"Slytherin loses another ten points, for your stupidity!"

"Malfoy, Crabbe! Detention, starting tomorrow night, for two weeks!"

"Now, get out of my sight!"

With Snape's roar, Malfoy and the others were tossed out like trash swept up in a storm.

"Bam!"

The door slammed shut behind them.

Ethan turned his head slowly and saw Malfoy, head bowed and fists clenched, silent.

Ethan bent down, tilting his head close to Malfoy, his cobalt-blue eyes fixed straight on him.

He said softly:

"Really crying?"

!!

Malfoy shoved Ethan away abruptly, biting his lip, his eyes clearly reddened.

He didn't understand. He couldn't comprehend.

For the first time, he had been so insulted, and on top of that, he'd earned a lifetime of social death—two humiliations layered together. It should have been a sure win.

Yet why had it turned out like this...

Why, in the end, was it he who received the harshest punishment?!

Two weeks of detention as a welcome gift right at the start of term—Malfoy couldn't even imagine what his father would say!

Crabbe grinned stupidly: "It's okay, Malfoy! You've still got me!"

Malfoy: "..."

Go die.

Malfoy looked up at Ethan, whose face wore a concerned expression like "Are you okay?"

Those curved cobalt-blue eyes seemed to mock him, delivering the ultimate insult.

Ethan Vincent!

How had this Mudblood managed it?!

Could it be... the other party was actually a wolf in sheep's clothing?

On the surface, just an orphan with no connections, but secretly, his pull was even stronger than Malfoy's?

He had Professor Snape completely wrapped around his finger!

The more Malfoy thought about it, the more it made sense.

It dawned on him.

No wonder Ethan had the nerve to insult the noble Malfoy family—he had backing...

Malfoy bit his lip, a deep wariness settling in.

After a long moment, he said hoarsely:

"I see. I didn't expect you to be hiding it so deep, Vincent."

Ethan: ?

Hiding what?

Had he caught Ethan using Lily as leverage?

Malfoy knew quite a bit of inside info, huh—probably his father told him.

Thinking this, Ethan nodded. "That's right. You figured it out."

Just as I thought.

Malfoy's eyes lit up.

Ethan really did have backing!

"...We'll see about that."

Malfoy gritted out, giving Ethan a long, hard look before turning and striding away.

Goyle and Crabbe hurried after him.

As for those fair-weather friends, they exchanged glances, and someone let out a low snicker.

They glanced at Ethan and teased, "Not bad, kid—you really put the great Malfoy in his place."

"Tell us, how'd you do it?"

The looks they gave Ethan carried a hint of wanting to get in good.

After all, Ethan was a Ravenclaw.

Sure, his status was a bit low, and he might even be a Mudblood.

But tossing him a few scraps and doing him a favor wouldn't cost them anything.

Hearing this.

Ethan slowly curled the corners of his mouth.

The temperature seemed to drop suddenly.

Half his face was hidden in shadow, his stark white teeth illuminated by the candlelight.

The cobalt-blue pupils fixed on them, like a beast peering out from the abyss of darkness, exuding a chilling, sinister cold.

"You... really want to know?"

Two seconds later.

"Ahhh—"

Several figures fled in panic from the corridor.

"..."

Ethan stood in the corridor, watching their retreating backs with an innocent look, thinking:

I didn't even do anything. Why'd they run?

I just wanted to discuss the great art of painting with them~

Humming a little tune, Ethan strode quickly toward his common room.

He couldn't wait to record the inspiration he'd gained tonight.

Tomorrow morning, he'd head to the owlery to send a letter, buy a new batch of art supplies, and redo [One Look Opens the Door].

Luna, oh Luna.

It's such a shame you're not enrolling in Hogwarts this year.

You have no idea how much you're missing out on!

[To my best friend Ethan,]

[I must have read your letter at least five times. I wish I could fly to Hogwarts right now and go to school with you.]

[Unfortunately, I'm not old enough yet, and besides, without me, the Dirigible Plums by our front door would all fly away again—Dad still hasn't fully mastered how to take care of them.]

[Seeing how warmly you've helped so many people, especially helping a professor recall his happy childhood memories, it only confirms that my first impression of you was right.]

[The moment I first saw you, I knew what a wonderful Young Wizard you were! Your insights on Goblins were absolutely brilliant.]

[Speaking of your lessons, I see you're struggling with how to transform your wand into the perfect paintbrush.]

[Hmm, I think maybe you could try bathing it in moonlight at night?]

[You know, moonlight can reflect the deepest desires in a person's heart.]

[Enclosed is the next issue of The Quibbler manuscript.]

[Yours with concern, Luna.]

[P.S. If you don't have any plans, would you like to spend Christmas at our place this year?]

[My dad and I are both really looking forward to your visit. We can have a Roasted Diricawl feast together.]

[Waiting for your reply.]