Princess Carry and Feeding

It wasn't direct fear, but rather an instinctive, primal warning of danger, making his scalp tingle and his limbs go weak.

Malfoy's struggles ceased abruptly, as if his power had been cut off.

He froze on Skofot's lap, his blood running cold.

He could clearly feel a different aura emanating from the person behind him, completely unlike their usual fragile or neurotic demeanor.

It was a contained, cold, and seemingly indifferent-to-everything… inhuman presence.

He had no doubt that if he moved again, something terrible would happen.

Malfoy became obedient.

He sat rigidly on Skofot's lap like a statue instantly turned to stone, even his breathing lightened, only his eyeballs could move in terror.

Silence fell around them, no one dared to make a sound, not even daring to breathe heavily.

After a long while, Malfoy managed to find a sliver of his voice, trembling, with a tearful tone and extreme humiliation, he tried to communicate:

"Leo... Leoqi... what... what do you want? Let me down... I... I can tell my father..."

"Quiet," Skofot interrupted, not loudly, but with an undeniable tone.

He even picked up a piece of buttered bread and offered it to Malfoy's mouth, "Eat."

Malfoy looked at the bread inches from his face, then felt the cold, off-putting aura behind him, tears of humiliation welling up in his eyes.

He bit his lip tightly, refusing to open his mouth.

Skofot didn't force him, withdrawing his hand and slowly eating his breakfast, as if having a platinum-haired "human cushion" on his lap was the most natural thing in the world.

Malfoy sat there rigidly, each second feeling like an eternity. He could feel the various gazes from his classmates—

horror, pity, and perhaps a hint of hidden mockery.

He had never been so humiliated in his life!

He tried to communicate again, his voice as thin as a mosquito's, pleading: "Please... let me down... I'll agree to anything..."

Skofot chewed his food, and upon hearing this, merely tilted his head, glancing at him with eyes that seemed even deeper and calmer under the influence of [Scavenger], without speaking.

That look plunged Malfoy into complete despair.

He understood that there was no reasoning with Leoqi in this state.

He finally gave up struggling and communicating, shrinking on Skofot's lap like a frightened quail, both humiliated and terrified, forced to "accompany" this dangerous individual through a breakfast he would never forget.

[Emotion Points +80] (From Draco Malfoy's extreme humiliation, fear, and breakdown)

[Emotion Points +50] (From the shock and fear of the surrounding Slytherin students)

[Emotion Points: 1620/100]

Only when breakfast ended did Skofot, like he was picking up a kitten, lift the stiff Malfoy from his lap. He patted his shoulder, his tone still calm:

"See you tomorrow."

Then, he got up and left the long table by himself, leaving Malfoy slumped in his chair, pale-faced, with vacant eyes, as if his soul had been drained.

Crabbe and Goyle finally dared to approach, looking helplessly at their young master.

Malfoy shoved them away violently and stumbled out of the Great Hall, he needed to write to his father immediately!

This Leoqi was an incomprehensible monster!

Hogwarts was no longer safe!

Late on the third night, the castle dungeons were deathly silent. Skofot appeared silently before the door leading to the third-floor corridor, like a precise clock.

He knew what would happen tonight—

Quirrell, or rather, the one on the back of his head, would come for the Philosopher's Stone.

He didn't use the main entrance, but circled around to an inconspicuous wall, recalling the general location of the trapdoor.

This was it.

He took a deep breath, clenched his right fist, and the surging power from his 139 Strength attribute coursed through his muscles.

No fancy techniques, no magical light, just pure, savage physical strength.

One punch.

"Boom!!"

The dull, heavy sound was particularly terrifying in the silence. Stones flew, dust billowed.

The hard stone floor was blasted open by his punch, creating a hole large enough for one person to pass through, leading directly to the familiar room reeking of dog and filled with snoring.

Fluffy, the three-headed dog, seemed disturbed by the massive commotion, its three heads lifting groggily. Before it could fully wake up and let out a roar—

Skofot had already jumped down through the hole, landing near its soft belly.

Before Fluffy could open its gaping maw, he punched again, this time aiming for the joint of the jaw of one of the heads.

"Bang!"

A dull thud, accompanied by the faint "crack" of bones dislocating.

The head snapped back with a whimper, crashing heavily onto the ground along with the other two heads, rendering it unconscious.

Simple, brutal, efficient.

He pulled open the trapdoor and leaped down.

The Devil's Snare vines coiled like vipers sensing prey.

Skofot didn't struggle, merely relaxed its body completely, allowing the slick vines to wrap around it and drag it down.

When it felt the speed of its descent increase, it suddenly tensed its core. The powerful muscles in its abdomen and waist allowed it to twist like a fish, easily breaking free from the now-loosened vines and landing steadily on the cold ground of the next level.

Passing through the Devil's Snare room, it arrived before a brightly lit, enormous chessboard.

The black and white chess pieces were tall and imposing, gleaming with a cold, stony luster.

Skofot glanced at them, showing no intention of stopping.

It walked directly towards the stone wall at the edge of the chessboard and clenched its fist again.

"Rumble!"

Another loud noise, and the stone wall was smashed open, with gravel raining down.

It bent down and crawled through, leaving the wizard's chess pieces, still waiting for an opponent, behind.

The next room was filled with flying keys, like a swarm of metallic bees.

Skofot looked up at an old broom, but didn't reach for it.

Its gaze locked onto the giant keyhole on the heavy wooden door opposite.

It walked to the door, extended a finger, and gauged the size and depth of the keyhole.

Then, it extended its right index and middle fingers, their tips gleaming with a metallic luster (a sign of condensed power), and thrust them into the keyhole!

"Click... creak..."

A grating sound of twisting metal echoed.

It twisted its wrist, and with terrifying strength, forcibly ground and bent the mechanisms inside the lock cylinder!

A few seconds later, it withdrew its fingers, and a light "click" sounded from the door—

The lock had been physically destroyed.

It pushed open the wooden door and entered the next room.

A troll lay knocked out on the ground, reeking. Skofot held its breath and quickly passed through.

Finally, there was Snape's potion logic puzzle. Seven potions of various colors were laid out on a table, with a parchment riddle beside them.

Skofot didn't even look at the parchment. It directly picked up the smallest bottle, which contained a clear liquid.

Although the System-produced [Restoration Potion]'s main function was as a beverage, it seemed to also possess a faint "purifying" or "correct identification" property?

It wasn't sure, but it trusted its intuition and... the System's "Daily Deals" refresh pattern (it vaguely felt the System sometimes provided exactly what it needed).

It took a small sip, savoring the familiar slightly sweet tea aroma and the warmth.

Then, it walked towards the mass of black magical fire.

As it approached, the flames parted silently on either side as if encountering their nemesis, revealing a passage.

It walked in, finally arriving in the last room.

In the center of the room, the Mirror of Erised stood quietly.