Boil Potion

Snape divided the students into pairs with his characteristic, viscous voice, instructing them to mix a simple potion for boils.

He glided through the cauldron room in his long black robes, like a circling vulture, ready to unleash sarcasm at the slightest mistake.

Skofot was in a group of one, occupying a workstation in the corner.

His movements were precise, following the steps strictly: weighing, grinding, stirring, without a single wasted motion.

His overly standardized procedure and the faint, cold aura surrounding him caused classmates who occasionally passed by to subconsciously steer clear.

Soon, his cauldron held a textbook-perfect, clear, pale blue potion.

However, the other end of the classroom was in chaos.

Neville Longbottom was so nervous he was fumbling. He accidentally dropped a porcupine quill into the cauldron before it was removed from the heat—

"Bang!"

With a dull thud, Neville's cauldron exploded instantly, splattering sticky, bubbling failed potion like green mud everywhere!

Seamus Finnigan, closest to him, bore the brunt of it, but a large wave of hot, acrid-smelling slime accurately splashed towards Skofot in the corner!

Sticky, scalding potion rained down on him.

His second-hand black robe was instantly soaked, his face, hair, and arms covered in disgusting, cooling, solidifying green slime, with even a few drops dripping down his chin.

In an instant—

A cold, viscous, almost tangible wave of terrifying killing intent erupted from Skofot!

This killing intent wasn't directed at everyone, but like an invisible shockwave, it first slammed violently towards the culprit.

Neville, stunned by the explosion, was suddenly enveloped by this cold killing intent, as if from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

He felt his heart being squeezed by an invisible hand, and a choked gasp, unable to form a coherent sound, escaped his throat.

His face instantly turned as pale as paper, his pupils dilated to their absolute limit, and his entire body froze as if under a full body-binding curse, unable to even tremble.

Only tears and snot uncontrollably streamed down, and a dark wet stain quickly spread across his crotch—

He had peed himself from sheer terror.

And this potent killing intent, while sweeping over Neville, also brushed past Snape, who was about to roar, like the edge of the sharpest blade—incredibly lightly, yet unmistakably.

Snape was about to reprimand Longbottom, calling him an "idiot with toadstools for brains," when that familiar and heart-stopping cold killing intent reappeared.

This time, because the distance was closer, the sensation was clearer—

It was definitely not an illusion, nor was it an aura a young wizard could possess!

Cold, cruel, with an extreme disregard for life.

His words caught in his throat, he abruptly turned his head, his gaze like a poisoned dagger, piercing directly at the source of the killing intent—

Skofot Leoqi, covered in green slime and in a mess.

He saw the boy lowering his head, his expression unclear, but his eyes, peeking out from beneath the slime-covered hair, seemed... unusually deep and calm.

However, the terrifying killing intent rapidly receded like a tide after its burst, vanishing without a trace, so quickly it felt like another illusion.

[Emotion Points +60] (From Neville's extreme fear and breakdown)

[Emotion Points +40] (From Snape's shock, wariness, and intense curiosity)

[Emotion Points +30] (From the surrounding students' fear and commotion)

[Emotion Points: 855/100]

The classroom fell into dead silence, everyone stunned by the sudden turn of events and the brief, soul-shivering aura.

Snape's expression was terrifyingly grim.

He strode quickly to Skofot's side, his sharp gaze sweeping over the boy's messy state, then fixed intently on his eyes, his voice as if dredged from an ice cellar: "Leoqi?"

Skofot slowly raised his head, his face smeared with green slime, but his expression had returned to one of slightly bewildered innocence, though his voice was a little hoarse:

"Professor... I... I need to clean myself up."

He looked like an ordinary victim, unfortunately caught in the crossfire, except for... that terrifying aura that had almost caused Neville's mental breakdown just moments ago.

Snape's lips thinned into a tight line.

He had no proof; everything had happened too quickly.

He stared intently at Skofot for a few seconds, then finally gritted out:

"Go to the Hospital Wing immediately and have Madam Pomfrey examine you. Then, clean yourself up."

He then turned to Neville, who was slumped on the floor, weeping uncontrollably, a flicker of undisguised disgust in his eyes:

"As for you, Longbottom... Finnigan, drag him to the Hospital Wing! Because of your... incompetence,"

he glanced at Neville's crotch, "Gryffindor loses twenty points! Everyone, clean your workstations!"

Skofot didn't say anything further. He silently rose from his seat, the viscous potion dripping down his robes.

Head bowed, he avoided everyone's gaze and walked steadily out of the Potions classroom, leaving behind a mess and countless uncertain, astonished looks.

Snape watched his retreating back, cold waves churning in his hollow black eyes.

The first time was a coincidence, the second an accident, but this third time... Skofot, what secrets are you hiding?

That's definitely not from a young wizard...

Skofot, who had left the classroom, slowly raised his hand in the deserted corridor and wiped the slime from his face, a flicker of anger flashing deep in his eyes.

Neville's breakdown, Snape's suspicion... The income from this "accident" was quite considerable.

It's just that this stickiness is truly unpleasant.

He quickened his pace and headed towards the Hospital Wing.

The Hospital Wing was filled with the faint scent of disinfectant mixed with herbs.

Madam Pomfrey efficiently examined Skofot, confirming that the failed potions had caused no serious harm beyond minor skin redness, but she insisted he stay for observation overnight.

She used a cleaning charm to remove most of the stains from him and gave him a clean set of patient clothes.

"Rest well. If you feel any discomfort, ring the bell immediately."

Madam Pomfrey's tone was unquestionable as she drew the curtain around his hospital bed.

Skofot leaned against the crisp white pillow, listening to the faint breathing of other patients in the Hospital Wing and the sound of Madam Pomfrey organizing medicine bottles in the distance.

With a thought, he summoned the system panel again.

[Emotion Points: 855/100]

His gaze fell on the shop button, and he focused his intent to click it.

[Fixed Items]

[Teleport Card - 5 Emotion Points]

[Manifestation Card - 5 Emotion Points]

[Today's Items]

[Training Card x3 - 150 Emotion Points] (Description: Train spells in the Wizarding Space)

Training Card? Wizarding Space?

Skofot's eyes lingered on the item description for a moment.

This was exactly what he urgently needed right now—

A place where he could practice magic safely and without disturbance.

Although the [Scavenger] card had brought some trouble, the efficiency of gaining Emotion Points was indeed considerable, enough to support this kind of consumption.

With almost no hesitation, he made his choice.

"Purchase [Training Card x3]."

[Emotion Points -150]

[Emotion Points: 705/100]

Three virtual cards with a soft white glow around their edges appeared in the system's backpack slots.

[Backpack]

Killing Curse Simulation Card x 1

Training Card x 3

He didn't use them immediately. This was the Hospital Wing; although the curtain was drawn, it wasn't absolutely safe. He needed to find a more suitable time.

Closing the system panel, the quiet of the Hospital Wing enveloped him.

The physical fatigue, along with a certain mental exhaustion from the [Scavenger] card, made him feel sleepy.

He slipped under the covers and closed his eyes.

An ordinary day at Hogwarts ended with the accident in Potions class and this lingering scent of disinfectant.

He needed to rest and conserve his energy for tomorrow, and for the "training" that might come.

Skofot adjusted his breathing and soon fell into a deep sleep.