Chapter 41: A New Curse Title

“Slytherin—rumor has it he comes from the marshes of eastern Ireland, though this has never been fully confirmed.

Now, if you think carefully, you can deduce the origin of Lady Ravenclaw.”

Sheen paused, waiting for a moment.

“England, Wales, Ireland...”

In contrast to Justin, who was lost in deep thought, Hermione’s eyes grew brighter as she spoke.

“It’s Scotland!

The four founders of Hogwarts come from the four parts of the British Isles

Scotland, Wales, England, and Ireland!”

“Correct.”

Sheen gave his affirmation.

“Do you remember? The Sorting Hat's song—*Fair Ravenclaw, from glen*.”

Sheen recited the line.

“The 'glen' here is defined as a Scottish term for a highland valley.”

“Sheen, you must be a walking storybook!”

Justin whispered in admiration, and Hermione also nodded, lifting her chin.

Sheen gave an "Mhm," picked up his wand, and walked to the back of the classroom.

There, some books with brittle, yellowed pages lay scattered on the floor.

“S—cour—g—ify—”

Sheen waved his wand, drawing a smooth S-shape, and the dust-covered books were instantly cleaned.

【You have practiced a Cleaning Charm to an Introductory level. Proficiency +3】

【Introductory Cleaning Charm unlocked】

【A new Spellcasting Domain title has been unlocked. Please check.】

Sheen was in no rush to check it. Instead, he picked up the books, placed them back on the shelves, and scanned the classroom.

The desks and chairs, which had once been covered in cobwebs, were now clean and had been neatly arranged by Justin and Hermione.

The massive bookshelves, though still slightly crooked, were fully restocked, having been cleaned inside and out by Sheen.

The strange-looking apparatuses piled in another corner had also been stacked and categorized by the three of them.

Overall, it truly looked like a classroom in use, rather than an antique from a thousand years ago.

Thus, Sheen opened his panel

【Title: Spellcasting Novice】 【Slightly increases perception of spells; significantly increases spellcasting talent】

Significantly?

With anticipation, Sheen continued reading.

【Wizard Sheen, Spellcasting Talent: Blue (Boosted by Spellcasting Novice title; original talent was White) Note: Average wizards are Green】

*I... should be considered a semi-spellcasting genius now, right?* Sheen thought.

The effect of talent was profound.

The difference between White talent and Blue talent was like the difference between a common snake and a Basilisk.

Sheen had wanted to learn the four spells from Defense Against the Dark Arts for a long time, but with little success. *Standard Spells, Grade 1* provided no description, and *Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense* remained vague.

It seemed they required a professor's guidance, but relying on Professor Quirrell was less promising than hoping Professor Snape would swing wide the doors of his dungeon for him.

So, Sheen attempted to self-study.

Unexpectedly, in a short amount of time, guided by a certain profound intuition, he had unlocked the Red Sparks and Green Sparks.

Only ten times.

Just ten times.

It made the young wizard wonder if his former White talent might have been considered a defect in the wizarding world.

As for these two spells—Red Sparks and Green Sparks—they seemed quite basic, but they served two purposes in actual combat.

First, they could be used as emergency distress signals. Sheen remembered using them during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Second, they could be used as low-level offensive spells in combat.

During Harry's first year, Ron had said

Harry and Malfoy, having only attended a few classes, could at most fire sparks at each other with their wands.

The "sparks" referred to here were the Red and Green Sparks.

As Sheen walked out of the classroom, he occasionally heard the cry of Mrs. Norris in the corridor, as well as—

“Sir Cadogan, a bet is a bet! You must go to the portrait of the Drunken Monks and fetch me a bottle of fine spirits—”

Sure enough, a lady's voice drifted from the wall beside him. Sheen looked up and saw a portrait of a plump witch in a white dress, smiling as she spoke to the portrait next to her.

The portrait featured a short, stout knight carrying an excessively long sword, with grass stains on his knees from falling.

He let out a long sigh.

“Merlin's beard—my dear Green, why don't you even care about Quidditch?

You spend all your time hiding in the library!

Returning this late!

Look at this, now my share of the wine is one bottle short!”

Sheen knew at a glance that Sir Cadogan and Lady Violet had made another bet.

This was a very common occurrence. Given that they were hung on walls doing nothing for eternity, the portraits naturally sought amusement from their surroundings—such as betting on Hogwarts students behind their backs.

Just as wizards might guess which raindrop on a window would fall faster when bored, these portraits would quietly hold competitions among students. A common one was seeing who could reach their destination first via the moving staircases.

(Of course, a neutral portrait would follow along to act as a judge.)

Sheen did not respond to Sir Cadogan; otherwise, the knight would chatter incessantly all the way to the common room.

The last time he had revealed his name to him was enough to make Sheen regret it. The knight had managed to spin five or six jokes out of a single name

“Sean Green decided to become a painter, but he failed because he had only seen one color. Do you know why?

Because he only—

Seen Green! Hahahaha!”

Sean Green felt that this wasn't funny at all, so he casually moved the portrait of the Drunken Monks to a more discreet location.

...

The night passed quickly.

Hogwarts was about to welcome a new week, and Monday was the only day that caused significant emotional fluctuations for Sheen.

Perhaps it was the most nerve-wracking day for all the Ravenclaw first-years.

Because this morning, they were scheduled for their second Potions class.

Sheen had already rehearsed the ritual three times last night and had repeatedly reviewed his notes on the Scabicide Potion.

In fact, to prepare for today's brewing, he had only finished his Potions essay yesterday, specifically to ensure his understanding of the subject was in an excellent state.

In the silence, the dungeon doors swung open with a "Bang—"

Professor Snape's wide black robes billowed, making his sallow face appear even more grim.

Though his movements were elegant, the young wizards still felt the oppressive, powerful aura emanating from him.

“—An alliance between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, hmph—”

His voice was dark and forceful.

“A week has passed. If I notice that certain individuals are still stubbornly maintaining—a staggering deficit in both intelligence and practical ability—”

Before he could even finish, the young wizards were already trembling below, some turning pale.

(End of Chapter)