The Potion Class and Snape's Initial Alertness

Snape only caught a fleeting glimpse of a robe corner, and the lingering, spine-chilling cold murderous intent that remained in the air.

His grip on his wand tightened, knuckles whitening from the pressure.

He stared fixedly at the empty corner, a surge of anger at being toyed with and deeper suspicion churning in his chest.

Him again! Skofot Leoqi!

This little troll wasn't provoking him—

He was... hunting?

Testing his limits?

Or simply enjoying this unsettling game of taunts?

Snape's face darkened to a terrifying degree.

He stood there like a frozen statue, only the cold flames burning in his pitch-black eyes.

He didn't give chase—that would be pointless and make him seem impatient.

But he remembered.

He'd settled this debt.

This Leoqi had successfully upgraded from a "student requiring observation for anomalies" to a "dangerous element needing high alert and a chance to be thoroughly dealt with."

[Emotion Points +35] (From Snape's suppressed fury after being precisely provoked, cold murderous intent, and heightened vigilance)

[Emotion Points: 675/100]

Fotkai walked briskly through the dim corridor until he could no longer feel that tangible, icy gaze on his back, then he slowed his pace slightly.

A faint, almost imperceptible sneer curled at the corner of his mouth.

Effective.

It seemed this Potions Master would be a stable, high-quality source of Emotion Points for a long time to come.

He just wondered how long this dangerous game could last.

He touched the cold silver needle in his robe pocket and headed toward the entrance of the Slytherin common room.

The Potions classroom was located underground, even colder and damper than the Slytherin common room.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of various strange materials mixed together, and glass jars holding unknown animal organs were placed in the corners.

Skofot arrived early and chose the last seat in the farthest corner, where the shadows were thick enough to swallow him whole.

He sat quietly, with a brand-new copy of Potions and Poisons open in front of him, looking like the most ordinary, diligent student previewing the lesson.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried into the classroom, Skofot only lifted his eyelids from the book to give them a faint glance, then lowered his head again, hiding himself in the dim light, as if indifferent to everything.

Class began, and Snape glided through the room like a black bat, calling roll in his low, cello-like voice, smooth yet oppressive.

As expected, he paused when he reached Harry's name.

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know... sir."

Harry stood blankly, Ron fidgeting beside him.

Hermione's arm was nearly raised to the ceiling.

"Tsk, tsk—fame clearly isn't everything." Snape curled his lip in disdain, deliberately ignoring Hermione's raised hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, if I asked you to find me a bezoar, where would you look?"

Harry still couldn't answer, his face flushing red.

"Potter, then tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane."

Silence filled the classroom, broken only by the faint bubbling of cauldrons.

Harry stood there awkwardly, enduring Snape's relentless grilling and the stares of the entire class.

Snape savored this sense of control, a cold smirk on his lips.

And then—

A surge of overwhelmingly fierce, pure murderous intent, tinged with blood and the stench of death, shot like a solid ice spike from the back of the classroom, striking precisely at Snape's back!

This killing intent was so intense, so cold, that it could not possibly belong to an eleven-year-old young wizard!

It even surpassed most adult wizards, carrying a brutality and indifference born of... wading through seas of blood and mountains of corpses!

Snape's entire body tensed instantly, his wand sliding into his hand almost reflexively.

He whirled around, his hollow black eyes like the sharpest blades, brimming with offended fury and extreme vigilance, locking onto the source of the killing intent—

The dark corner at the back of the classroom!

His gaze fixed firmly on Skofot Leoqi.

Yet what he saw was utterly at odds with that terrifying murderous intent.

The dark-haired boy remained quietly in his corner, still holding the copy of Potions and Poisons in his hands.

He seemed startled by Professor Snape's sudden turn and sharp gaze, his face marked with obvious bewilderment and confusion.

Under the dim light, his eyes appeared exceptionally clear, even widening slightly at the unexpected attention, carrying a hint of just-right alarm (thanks to the [Scavenger] card's "Off-putting" debuff, which naturally drew notice and invited misunderstanding).

He looked... utterly innocent.

As if that moment of terror, comparable to the Dark Lord's killing intent, had been nothing but Snape's own illusion.

Snape's brow furrowed tightly, his pale face shifting through a series of uncertain expressions.

He stared hard at Skofot, trying to find any crack in that feigned innocence (as he deemed it).

There was nothing, absolutely nothing.

The boy even flinched back slightly under his scrutiny, as if frightened.

[Emotion Points +50] (from Snape's extreme shock, fury, intense suspicion, and self-doubt)

[Emotion Points: 725/100]

"P-Professor?" Skofot spoke softly, his voice trembling a little. "Is... is there a problem?"

Snape did not answer.

He fixed his gaze on Skofot for several long seconds, a look that seemed to dissect him from the inside out.

Finally, he spun back around sharply, his black robes cutting a harsh arc through the air.

He did not continue questioning Harry, but the oppressive aura radiating from him dropped the temperature of the entire classroom by several degrees.

"Aconite and wolfsbane are the same plant! Both of you idiots write that down!"

He barked at Harry and Ron, then launched into a rapid explanation of the potion steps for today, his pace so fast it was hard to follow.

The atmosphere in the classroom grew even more stifling.

Harry and Ron felt both relieved and shaken, while Hermione looked worriedly at the professor, then cast a puzzled glance at Skofot in the corner.

She vaguely sensed that something had just happened beyond her understanding.

As for the instigator, Skofot, once Snape turned away, he lowered his head again, the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth in the shadow where no one could see, quickly smoothed away.

He continued "obediently" reading his potions book, as if none of it had anything to do with him.