Chapter 80: Ah, Vada Spark?

“Ah, Avada—” Sheven began to recite the incantation, and a thread of green light flickered at the tip of his wand.

“Ah! Don’t! You can’t use the Killing Curse, you’ll be sent to Azkaban!” Quirrell, seeing the green glow, panicked instantly and shouted incoherently.

“Are you a demon?” Moody and the other two Gryffindor apprentices, not targeted by the wand, also became alarmed, trembling all over.

Yet Sheven showed no intention of stopping; the green light at the tip of his wand shone ever brighter.

“I’ll tell! I’ll tell! Spare me!” Quirrell was utterly desperate, so frightened that he broke into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

“That’s more like it!” Sheven finally lowered his wand, smiling.

But to the four Gryffindor apprentices, his smile was nothing short of a demon’s grin!

After Quirrell’s trembling explanation, Sheven learned the cause of the discord between Moody and his three roommates—

As it turned out, Moody’s parents were both distinguished Aurors, and growing up in their shadow, Moody had set himself an ambitious goal: to become the greatest Auror in the wizarding world. To achieve this, he had worked tirelessly, even integrating the vigilance required of Aurors on missions into every moment of his daily life.

Thus, whenever he heard any slightly louder sound while sleeping, he would wake instantly. If anyone spoke loudly or made a commotion during his sleep, Moody would immediately wake up, draw his ever-present wand, and retaliate with a jinx…

After suffering several jinxes, his three roommates were naturally dissatisfied and gradually isolated the eccentric Moody.

Last night was the catalyst for their conflict to erupt.

The strict and demanding Headmaster Dippet had finally relaxed curfew for once, and the lively Gryffindor cubs were not about to miss the rare opportunity—they all stayed in the common room to enjoy a night of merriment.

Alastor Moody, determined to be the greatest Auror, disdained joining in their revelry and went to bed early.

However, his habit of light sleep for vigilance could not withstand the fervent celebration of the young wizards outside. When the Gryffindor revelry was halfway through, Moody, repeatedly awakened, could no longer endure it; he stormed out of his dormitory, loudly scolding them and interrupting the festivities.

No one likes to be interrupted when they are enjoying themselves, so Moody was promptly shunned by everyone in the common room. As his roommates, Quirrell and the other two suffered collateral damage, being chastised by the older students. This only deepened the resentment of Moody’s three roommates.

Still, disturbing someone’s sleep is clearly inconsiderate, so the three had not planned to confront Moody; under normal circumstances, the matter might have faded away amidst their tolerance.

But this oddball, so out of step with everyone, dared to return and lecture them for losing house points, with such a harsh tone? Their dissatisfaction had already reached a breaking point, and Moody’s warning upon his return detonated it completely. Thus, today’s midday conflict occurred naturally…

After hearing all this, Sheven couldn’t help but sigh—differences in living habits among roommates are indeed one of the main causes of dormitory discord.

He glanced at Moody, who had set himself lofty ambitions from childhood—now this, Sheven thought, was a worthy successor for the Ministry of Magic, the true future of the wizarding world!

Sheven couldn’t help but reflect on the meaning of his own life in this world.

‘So what is my ambition?’ Sheven pondered deeply.

Of course, studying the magical knowledge of this world was his objective, but it was hard to claim that pure magical research was his true aspiration. Even at the Sorting, the Hat had sensed Sheven’s inner reluctance to spend his days immersed in spellcraft as he had in his previous life—that was why it ultimately placed him in Slytherin.

And what are the traits of Slytherin? Ambition, cunning, shrewdness, leadership, the desire for control, and a quest for achievement? Sheven felt lost; he didn’t believe himself ambitious, nor particularly shrewd or cunning.

Rather than the self-preservation typical of Slytherin serpents, he tended to be more impulsive. In fact, in the series of actions he’d taken to prevent the destruction of magical nodes, his behavior had resembled the reckless bravery of a Gryffindor.

‘So what makes me suited for Slytherin? Is it only my bloodline?’ Sheven frowned, lost in thought.

Just then, a voice interrupted him.

“What are you doing here?” A senior wizard in Gryffindor robes strode over, his chest adorned with a badge of red, bearing the image of a lion and a prominent letter “P”.

“Weasley Prefect, save us!” Quirrell spotted the wizard and cried out like a drowning man finding a lifeline. “This Slytherin demon tried to use the Killing Curse on me!”

Weasley looked at the tear-stained Quirrell and the four bound Gryffindors, his expression immediately becoming grave.

He drew his wand and pointed it at Sheven, declaring solemnly, “Slytherin student, as Prefect, I order you to put down your wand. Any suspicious movement, and I’ll be forced to cast a spell on you!”

“All right,” Sheven said nonchalantly, spreading his hands. “It was just a friendly duel between classmates. They lost, I won. Simple as that.”

“Weasley Prefect, don’t listen to his excuses—he really tried to use the Killing Curse on us!” Quirrell, terrified that Weasley might believe Sheven, shouted anxiously. “He uttered half the incantation, and his wand glowed with the signature green light. We all can testify!”

“Can you cast the Killing Curse with only half an incantation? Does the spell linger at the wand tip without release?” Weasley eyed Sheven suspiciously, feeling Quirrell’s description didn’t quite fit the Killing Curse…

“It’s true, we can all vouch for it!” The other two roommates, apart from Moody, nodded in agreement, making Weasley’s expression grow even more serious.

“Slytherin student, I need to examine your wand,” he said sternly to Sheven.

Sheven shrugged and handed over his fourteen-inch pine wand without concern.

“Sheven, why did you give him your wand? He only needs a Priori Incantatem to see what spell you cast just now!” Abraxas said anxiously to Sheven.

“Uh, was my acting really that convincing…” Sheven rubbed his nose and asked, speechless. “So you all believed I used the Killing Curse?”

“Didn’t you?” Abraxas and Mobley were completely perplexed.

“Whatever, see for yourselves.” Sheven nodded towards Weasley.

As expected, Weasley prepared to use the Priori Incantatem to identify the spell Sheven had cast. He took out his own wand, aimed it at Sheven’s pine wand, and intoned, “Prior Incantato.”

A thread of green light appeared at the tip of Sheven’s wand.

“See? I told you he used the Killing Curse!” Quirrell exclaimed excitedly, eager for the prospect of Sheven being expelled.

Yet Weasley’s face was covered in exasperated lines.

“Verdant Sparkle?” He looked at Sheven with a rather odd expression, asking,

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