Snape divided the students into pairs in his uniquely slick, oily voice, instructing them to brew a simple potion for treating boils.
He prowled between the cauldrons in his trailing black robes like a circling vulture, ready at any moment to sneer at the slightest mistake.
Skofot worked alone, occupying a workstation in the corner.
His movements were precise. He followed every step exactly—measuring, grinding, stirring—without a single unnecessary motion.
His overly standardized process and the faint chill surrounding him made the students who occasionally passed by unconsciously give him a wide berth.
Before long, his cauldron held a crystal-clear pale blue potion, perfect enough to have come straight from a textbook.
However, the other end of the classroom was complete chaos.
Neville Longbottom was so nervous that he fumbled everything. He accidentally added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the heat—
"Bang!"
With a dull boom, Neville's cauldron exploded. The thick, bubbling failed potion splattered everywhere like green mud!
Seamus Finnigan, who stood closest to him, bore the brunt of it. But a large stream of steaming, pungent slime sprayed straight toward Skofot in the corner!
The sticky, scalding potion drenched him from head to toe.
His secondhand black robes were instantly soaked through. His face, hair, and arms were covered in disgusting green slime that was cooling and hardening, with several drops even running down his chin.
In an instant—
A cold, viscous, almost tangible killing intent erupted violently from Skofot!
It was not directed at everyone, but like an invisible shockwave, it first crashed down upon the culprit.
Neville had already been frozen stiff with fright by the explosion when that icy killing intent, as though born from mountains of corpses and seas of blood, suddenly enveloped him.
He felt as if an invisible hand had seized his heart in a death grip. A ragged, incoherent wheezing sound came from his throat.
His face turned paper-white in an instant, his pupils dilated to their limit, and his whole body stiffened in place as though he had been hit by the Full Body-Bind Curse, unable even to tremble.
Only tears and snot poured out uncontrollably, while a dark wet stain rapidly spread across his trousers.
—He had been scared into wetting himself.
As that intense killing intent swept over Neville, its sharpest edge also brushed past Snape, who had been about to roar.
Snape had been about to berate Longbottom as an "idiot with flobberworms for brains" when that familiar, heart-chilling killing intent appeared again.
This time, with the distance much shorter, he felt it far more clearly.
—That was absolutely no illusion, nor was it an aura a young wizard could possess!
Cold, cruel, and filled with absolute disregard for life.
His words caught in his throat. He suddenly turned his head, his gaze like a poisoned dagger stabbing straight toward the source of that killing intent—
—Skofot Leoqi, covered from head to toe in green slime.
He saw the boy lowering his head, his expression hidden from view. Yet the eyes visible through his slime-soaked hair seemed... unnaturally deep and calm.
However, the terrifying killing intent receded like a tide immediately after erupting, vanishing without a trace so quickly that it almost seemed like another illusion.
[Emotion Points +60] (from Neville's extreme fear and breakdown) [Emotion Points +40] (from Snape's shock, vigilance, and intense curiosity) [Emotion Points +30] (from the terror and commotion of the surrounding students) [Emotion Points: 855/100]
The classroom fell deathly silent. Everyone had been stunned by the sudden turn of events and that brief yet soul-trembling aura.
Snape's face darkened terrifyingly.
He strode over to Skofot, his sharp gaze sweeping over the filth covering him.
Then he fixed his eyes on Skofot's and spoke in a voice that sounded as though it had been hauled from an ice cellar. "Leoqi?"
Skofot slowly raised his head, green slime smeared across his face.
Yet his expression had already returned to that slightly bewildered innocence, though his voice was somewhat hoarse.
"Professor... I... I need to clean myself up."
He looked like an ordinary, unlucky victim who had been caught in the blast.
Except for... that terrifying aura that had nearly driven Neville into a mental collapse a moment ago.
Snape's lips pressed into a thin line.
He had no evidence. Everything had happened too quickly.
He stared at Skofot for several seconds before finally forcing out the words through gritted teeth.
"Go to the Hospital Wing immediately and have Madam Pomfrey examine you. Then get yourself cleaned up."
He then turned toward Neville, who was sprawled on the floor, sobbing and incontinent, undisguised disgust flashing in his eyes.
"As for you, Longbottom... Finnigan, drag him to the Hospital Wing! Because of your... incompetence—"
He glanced at Neville's soaked trousers. "Twenty points from Gryffindor! Everyone, clean up your workstations!"
Skofot said nothing more. He silently rose from his seat, thick potion dripping down from his robes.
With his head lowered and avoiding everyone's gaze, he walked steadily out of the Potions classroom, leaving behind a complete mess and countless uncertain, suspicious looks.
Snape watched his retreating figure, cold waves churning in his hollow black eyes.
Once was a coincidence. Twice was an accident. But this third time... Leoqi, what secrets are you hiding?
That was definitely not something a young wizard could...
After leaving the classroom, Skofot slowly raised a hand in the empty corridor and wiped the slime from his face. A flash of anger passed through the depths of his eyes.
Neville's breakdown, Snape's suspicion... the income from this "accident" was quite substantial.
It was just that this sticky mess was truly unpleasant.
He quickened his pace toward the Hospital Wing.
The Hospital Wing was filled with the faint scent of disinfectant mingled with some kind of herb.
Madam Pomfrey efficiently examined Skofot and confirmed that, apart from mild redness on his skin, the failed potion had done no real harm. Still, she insisted that he remain for observation overnight.
She used a Cleaning Charm to remove most of the grime from his body, then gave him a clean set of patient robes.
"Get some proper rest. If you feel any discomfort, ring the bell immediately."
Madam Pomfrey's tone brooked no argument as she drew the curtains around his bed.
Skofot leaned against the white pillow, listening to the soft breathing of the other patients in the Hospital Wing and the sound of Madam Pomfrey arranging potion bottles in the distance.
With a thought, he summoned the system panel again.
[Emotion Points: 855/100]
His gaze fell upon the Shop button, and he focused his thoughts to enter it.
[Fixed Items] [Teleport Card - 5 Emotion Points] [Manifestation Card - 5 Emotion Points] [Today's Items] [Training Card ×3 - 150 Emotion Points] (Description: Train spells in Wizarding Space)
Training Cards? Wizarding Space?
Skofot's gaze lingered on the item description for a moment.
This was exactly what he urgently needed—a place where he could practice magic safely and without interruption.
Although the [Scavenger] card had caused some trouble, its efficiency in earning Emotion Points was indeed considerable, enough to support this sort of purchase.
He made his decision with almost no hesitation.
"Purchase [Training Card ×3]."
[Emotion Points -150] [Emotion Points: 705/100]
Three virtual cards with softly glowing white edges appeared in the slots of the system Backpack.
[Backpack] Killing Curse Simulation Card × 1 Training Card × 3
He did not use them immediately. This was the Hospital Wing. Though the curtains had been drawn, it was not absolutely secure. He needed to find a more suitable opportunity.
After closing the system panel, the quiet of the Hospital Wing settled around him.
The exhaustion in his body, along with a certain mental drain caused by the [Scavenger] card, made him drowsy.
He slipped beneath the covers and closed his eyes.
An ordinary day at Hogwarts came to an end amid the Potions class accident and the lingering smell of disinfectant.
He needed to rest and conserve his strength for tomorrow, as well as the possible "training."
Skofot adjusted his breathing and soon fell asleep.
Before you continue