: Art Students Who Failed the College Entrance Exam Find New Employment

Spider's End Alley, 1991.

Ethan finished his day of painting at his stall.

Clutching a dozen yellowed pages with rough edges, and with her dark little hands gripping several charcoal pencils of varying thicknesses, she laboriously stepped through the door.

Ethan slammed the door shut with his heel, the old hinges creaking under the strain behind him.

He carefully placed the food he was carrying on the table, then slumped down on the greasy sofa and let out a long sigh of relief.

The room that came into view was narrow and simple.

The walls were covered in peeling, grayish-white paint; a cabinet held broken cans; and a chair was missing a leg.

In the corner, there were shards of glass gleaming in the evening glow, which had previously belonged to several empty beer bottles. Ethan had sold all of this junk.

His cobalt blue eyes stared at the wall for a long time—on which hung a sketch of a black-haired youth.

Lifelike, with a cynical glint in its black eyes, as if it were about to roar out at any moment.

This is what Ethan looked like in his previous life.

In his previous life, he was an art student who failed the college entrance exam twice.

Ethan hated the rigid exams that didn't allow for "creativity".

The last thing he remembered was the Dayun brand truck speeding towards him after he failed the exam for the second time.

Fortunately, he had no parents in his previous life, so he had no worries.

He transmigrated into the body of an 11-year-old child living in a slum.

The poor child's birth mother had long since found a new lover, and his father was an alcoholic who would throw and beat things when drunk.

However, this biological father hasn't been home for over a month now.

It probably turned into fertilizer somewhere.

It looks like a cat.

"Gurgle~"

My stomach rumbled with hunger.

Ethan pulled a wet sandwich from his pocket; it was money he earned from painting for people.

While munching on the strangely flavored sandwich, Ethan had a sudden thought, and a pale blue screen appeared before his eyes:

Ethan Vincent (11 years old)

[Soul Integration Level: 25% (You have not yet integrated into this world, and your magic will be unstable as a result)]

[Special Skill - Painting: Lifelike Imagination Lv1]

While your paintings may not be groundbreaking, they are certainly eye-catching.

[Gallery: None]

magic!

Ethan noticed the word keenly.

He had read the Harry Potter series.

While I'm not an expert, I know the main plot and main characters.

Spider's End Alley is a location in the original book, where Professor Snape lived.

If the system shows that he has magic, then he might be able to get into Hogwarts.

It seems they were in the same generation as the savior.

Ethan's mind was filled with fantasies, and he longed for the lost owl from his past life day and night.

The hardships and real-world problems of the past month have smoothed out Ethan's rough edges—from being sharp and outspoken, he has become more reserved and learned to disguise himself.

He couldn't spend his whole life rotting in Spider's End, earning a meager salary by painting portraits for people.

He must go out and use his art to open the eyes of this corrupt world!

A small, fervent flame of adolescent bravado ignited in Ethan's eyes.

but--

"Click."

Ethan took a bite of the sandwich.

The waterlogged bread mixed with rotten vegetable leaves, when chewed, tasted like mud and was nauseating.

"Let's figure out how to make money first."

call!

The flame of youthful idealism was extinguished by reality.

Just then.

A series of knocks suddenly sounded on the door.

Ethan jumped up from the sofa, his eyes immediately becoming alert.

It was already getting dark, not a suitable time to visit.

Could it be those petty thugs...?

Ethan slowly backed away, trying not to make a sound, and pulled a kitchen knife from under the sofa.

Due to years of malnutrition and violence, this body was extremely thin.

He had all his money on him, and Ethan planned to escape through the window if things went wrong.

however.

"I know you're home, Ethan Vincent. And don't try to run away through the window like some stupid troll."

A deep, drawn-out voice sounded from outside the door, reminding Ethan of a wet snake slowly crawling on the ground.

Troll?

Ethan stopped moving and his eyes widened.

This is not an "everyday phrase".

A figure appeared in my mind.

Could it be "that person"...?

Thump, thump!

Ethan could hear his own heart pounding.

He swallowed hard, slowly walked away from the window, went upstairs, and opened the door.

What came into view was a man wearing a black robe, with greasy curly hair and a large hooked nose.

It looks just like a black bat.

She was looking down at him with an annoyed and impatient gaze.

It was none other than Severus Snape, the Potions Professor at Hogwarts!

Ethan almost called out his name on the spot.

But the next second he forcefully suppressed his anger, adopted a wary expression, and asked:

"Who are you?"

Professor Snape snorted through his nose and said in a sarcastic tone:

"I didn't know that the genius young painter in Spider's End Alley would ask who someone was before painting their portrait..."

Severus Snape.

"Alright. Now, can I go in?"

"...It's getting dark, sir, and I can't see clearly. If you wish for me to paint your portrait, I'm afraid we'll have to wait until tomorrow..."

Before Ethan could finish speaking, Snape flung his robes and strode in.

then.

"brush!"

The room was suddenly brightly lit.

The previously broken light bulb is now emitting a bright white light.

Professor Snape plopped down on the only sofa, impatiently raised his chin at him, and a malicious smile appeared on his lips:

"painting."

"..."

Ethan paused for a moment, then silently went to get his art supplies and sat down on the three-legged stool.

Ask politely:

"What would you like to have drawn, sir?"

"Whatever. How about portraiture? Isn't that your specialty?"

Snape's lips moved, and he spoke with a hint of inexplicable sarcasm.

Portrait painting...

He is indeed good at it.

But how could an ordinary portrait leave a deep impression on the professor?

Ethan held the charcoal pencil, his mind racing.

Suddenly, a figure with red hair and green eyes jumped into my mind.

Got it!

Although it says it's a "portrait painting," it doesn't say "whose portrait painting" it is!

Ethan's eyes lit up, he made a decision, and inspiration seemed to surge through him.

He picked up the pen and immediately began to scribble on the rough white paper.

Before we knew it.

The sounds outside receded like the tide.

Ethan's entire attention was focused on the painting in his hands. He leaned forward, almost lying down inside it, and couldn't hear anything else.

His jaw was clenched, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

He only had a general impression of the person he was about to describe.

But at this moment, it was as if that person was standing right in front of him.

The paintbrush in his hand meticulously sketched out the person's detailed appearance.

This time, I can create better paintings than before.

Ethan was fully aware of this.

Rustle, rustle.

The only sound in the room was the scratching of pen tips.

Sensing the magic emanating from the boy, Snape pursed his lips, a hint of annoyance flashing in his eyes.

He came here to clean up this guy's mess.

A little wizard who is unaware of his own abilities.

He sold magical artifacts to Muggles in Spider's End.

Every painting this boy creates contains magic.

It can attract the owner's attention, making them stare at it with fascination.

They even forgot to eat and rest.

No wonder I felt there were far fewer people on the streets when I returned to Spider's End this time!

It turns out they were all controlled by magical items!

This is already halfway into the realm of dark magic, not to mention it violates the Wizarding Secrets Act.

Snape felt a headache coming on just thinking about how the Ministry of Magic had been arguing about this matter.

If Dumbledore hadn't saved the child, he would be sitting in court right now!

What angered Snape even more was that Dumbledore sent him to guide the boy simply because he was also from Spider's End Alley!

Severus, what an interesting coincidence! Hehehe~

Snape's forehead veins would bulge whenever he thought of Dumbledore's smiling face.

He has already decided.

As soon as they got their hands on the painting, they would ridicule and belittle it mercilessly.

Snape had even prepared his speech, a smug and sinister smile playing on his lips—a look that would scare away any Gryffindor.

This place also made him feel gloomy.

Dilapidated furniture, musty smell, and a lingering odor of alcohol...

All of this reminded Snape of his own painful childhood.

And then there was that beautiful figure that made his heart ache.

"Sir, the drawing is finished."

The youthful voice brought Snape back to his senses.

Snape snapped out of his daze and let out a heavy snort.

Filled with malice and anticipation, he snatched the painting, a sarcastic remark stuck in his tongue, and casually glanced at it.

The next second, he froze.

As if struck by a petrification spell, Snape froze completely.

His pupils widened in astonishment as he stared in disbelief at the image on the screen!

That was a secret that should never have appeared in the portrait, a secret hidden deep within his heart—

Lily Evans!