Here is your chapter with punctuation corrected and unified only, while keeping system notifications exactly as they are and not altering your wording or style beyond punctuation consistency.
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– "The Screen"
Light trickled through the green-tinted water outside the windows, casting rippling patterns on the dungeon walls. The Slytherin common room was waking up: hushed footsteps, yawns, the quiet rustle of robes, murmured complaints about morning classes.
Adam stirred on the sofa where he'd fallen asleep.
He blinked groggily, his eyes dry, head pounding like someone was hammering iron inside his skull. A low groan escaped his throat.
> "Merlin's bloody beard..." he muttered, rubbing his temples.
It felt like he hadn't slept at all. A prickling sensation crawled over his skin, as if static electricity danced beneath his veins.
He sat up slowly, frowning as a wave of dizziness crashed through him. His vision wobbled—
—then cleared.
And that's when he saw it.
A translucent, glowing rectangle floated in front of his eyes. Slightly bluish, shimmering faintly, letters crisp and impossibly sharp:
> [SYSTEM ONLINE] User: Adam Sainz. Condition: Minor Headache | Vital Signs Stable Skill Tree: Locked Quests Available: 1
Adam froze, his breath caught halfway in his chest. He glanced left, right—but the other Slytherins were chatting, gathering books, completely oblivious. No one else seemed to see the shining screen hovering in midair.
He swallowed, lifting a trembling hand toward it. The screen followed his gaze, almost as if it were pinned to his line of sight.
> "What the hell..."
Another line blinked into existence:
> [Tutorial Initiating...]
A jolt of panic shot through him. He slapped the screen with his palm—but his hand passed straight through it like mist. It rippled and re-formed, pulsing gently as though amused.
> [Congratulations, Player Adam.] The System has chosen you. Prepare for growth. Prepare for survival. Quests will begin shortly. Good luck.]
> [Accept Tutorial? Y/N]
Adam felt his pulse racing.
> "This... can't be real," he whispered.
But as he stared at the glowing letters, a tiny icon pulsed like a heartbeat in the corner of the screen.
And in the pit of his stomach, Adam knew one terrifying truth:
Whatever this was... it had already begun.
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Adam's POV:
My eyes feel like sandpaper.
I'm sitting there on the couch in the Slytherin common room, staring at this... thing floating in front of me. A screen. Just like the ones in those games or the manhwa I sneak sometimes behind my textbooks. Letters glow faint blue against the greenish light filtering through the lake outside.
> [Accept Tutorial? Y/N]
I squeeze my eyes shut. Count to five. Open them again.
It's still there.
I glance around, hoping someone—anyone—is freaking out about a magical screen floating in midair. But no one notices. Nott is yawning into his sleeve. Pansy's gossiping with Daphne about hair potions. It's like I'm trapped in a snow globe no one else can see.
My chest tightens.
> This can't be real. It has to be some prank. Or a hallucination. Maybe I fell asleep studying and I'm dreaming...
I reach out and try to swat it away. My hand passes through it, cold and tingly, like dipping my fingers into icy water. It shivers and reforms instantly.
> [Accept Tutorial? Y/N]
My pulse thunders in my ears.
A part of me wants to press Yes. To see what happens. To know why the hell this chose me.
But another part of me—the part that has survived Slytherin politics and kept my head down—wants to run screaming in the opposite direction.
> Nothing good comes for free. Especially in magic. Especially at Hogwarts.
I take a deep breath, tasting the damp stone air.
> "No," I whisper. "Not right now."
I close my eyes and focus hard, willing the screen to vanish.
Nothing happens.
It just hangs there, blinking softly like it's waiting patiently.
> [Accept Tutorial? Y/N]
I stand up so fast the world tilts sideways. My head pounds like it's about to split open.
For thirty minutes, I pace back and forth in the shadows near the fireplace. Back and forth. Back and forth.
My thoughts spiral:
> What if this is dark magic? What if it's connected to Voldemort? What if this is exactly how people go mad?
But...
> What if it's power? What if it's answers?
My fingers twitch, itching to press Yes. But my gut tells me not to rush.
At last, I drag my hand through my hair, feeling the greasy strands clinging to my fingers.
"Later," I mutter. "I'll decide later."
I glare at the screen.
"Go away."
It doesn't go away. Instead, it shifts:
[Tutorial Pending…]
I let out a frustrated breath. Fine. It can wait.
I shut my trunk, tug on my green-and-silver tie, and smooth my robes. My headache's still there, throbbing behind my eyes, but there's no time to dwell.
Professor Snape's class waits for no one.
And the last thing I need is him suspecting something's off.
---
Scene – Snape's Classroom
The dungeon classroom was cold enough that breath fogged faintly in the air. Rows of cauldrons simmered gently, releasing faint, bitter scents of herbs and minerals. Bottles gleamed on shelves behind Professor Snape's desk, each labeled in his sharp, spidery script.
Adam slipped into a seat at the far right, eyes still shadowed from his restless night. The glowing screen flickered occasionally in his peripheral vision, but he forced himself not to look at it.
At the front of the room, Snape swept in, robes billowing like a thundercloud.
"Wands away. Books open. Eyes on me."
His black gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on Adam, but sliding past him with apparent disinterest.
"We shall begin with a few questions, since it seems certain people in this class believe they can coast into their NEWTs on fame alone."
He prowled between the desks, his voice a soft hiss.
"Miss Granger. What is the key stabilizing agent in the Elixir of Clarity?"
Hermione's hand shot up.
"Powdered moonstone, sir."
"Correct."
He didn't even look at her as he kept speaking.
"Miss Granger. Which ingredient, when added at the wrong stage, turns Felix Felicis toxic?"
"Ashwinder eggs, sir."
"Indeed."
"Miss Granger. What is the recommended brewing time for Amortentia to reach full potency?"
"Twenty-four hours, sir."
"Correct."
"Miss Granger. How does infusion of wormwood affect the Draught of Peace?"
"It makes it stronger but can also cause drowsiness if not balanced with syrup of hellebore."
"Yes."
"Miss Granger. Name one alternative ingredient to crushed scarab beetles in a Strengthening Solution."
"Firefly thoraxes, sir."
Snape paused, a flicker of disdain on his pale face. He waved a hand dismissively.
"Astounding. I'd offer you a medal, Miss Granger, but we'd be here all day."
Hermione blushed crimson, shrinking a little in her seat.
Suddenly, Snape's head snapped around toward Harry and Ron, who were slouched side by side.
"Potter. Let's see if the Boy Who Lived can manage one correct answer this morning."
Harry sat up straighter, eyes wary.
"What is the primary purpose of knotgrass in Polyjuice Potion?"
Harry swallowed.
"Er... to... thicken it?"
"Incorrect," Snape sneered. "It's a binding agent for the potion's transformative properties."
He stalked closer.
"Potter. What is the antidote for Drowsing Draught?"
"Er... pepper-up potion?"
Snape rolled his eyes.
"Wrong again. Cowslip essence."
A dangerous quiet fell over the classroom as Snape loomed over Harry's desk.
"And lastly, Potter—name one use for powdered bicorn horn."
Harry glanced at Ron, panicked.
"Er... hair tonic?"
Several Slytherins snickered.
Snape's lip curled in utter disdain.
"Almost six years, and you, Potter, still couldn't learn anything properly."
He straightened up, robes swirling around him as he turned back to the rest of the class.
"Let this be a lesson to all of you. Some people may believe talent excuses ignorance. It does not."
He paused, surveying the room with his dark, glittering eyes.
"Today we begin a new topic: the brewing of Invigoration Draught. Useful for counteracting fatigue, shock, or magical exhaustion—a potion that may well save your life in combat or after casting powerful spells."
He gestured to the board, where words began scrawling themselves in chalky script.
"Invigoration Draught requires the following: stewed daisy roots, powdered unicorn horn, and sliced peppermint. Accuracy in chopping and timing of additions is crucial, lest the potion cause severe restlessness or even manic energy."
He clapped his hands sharply.
"Your task: prepare half a vial of Invigoration Draught before the end of class. Work alone. And do not test it on yourselves. I have enough chaos to manage without students bouncing off the ceiling.
"Get out. And if any of you manage to explode a cauldron next lesson, do me the courtesy of dying quietly."
Students packed up their books, chattering in low voices, eager to escape the cold dungeon air. Adam shoved his things into his bag, head still pounding. The flickering screen in the corner of his vision taunted him—[Invigoration Draught: Brewing Successful]—but he ignored it, desperate for fresh air.
He tried to slip toward the door—
But Hermione Granger stepped right into his path.
Her eyes blazed like molten bronze, and she planted both hands on her hips.
"How did you do it, Adam?"
Adam blinked, startled. "Do... what?"
Hermione's hair quivered with righteous fury. "Don't play dumb! You barely touched your ingredients, you looked half-asleep the entire time—and then you brewed a perfect Invigoration Draught! That's NEWT-level magic. How did you do it?"
A few lingering students slowed, their curiosity piqued. Harry and Ron hovered near the doorway, exchanging glances.
Adam clenched his jaw. The words sat heavy on his tongue—I didn't even try. It just... happened. But admitting that would only raise more questions. Questions he couldn't answer.
So he smirked instead. "Maybe I'm just better at this than you."
Hermione's nostrils flared. "That's impossible. I followed every step precisely—"
"And yet," Adam cut in, tilting his head, "mine turned out perfect. Funny, isn't it?"
Her fingers tightened around her book strap. "You must have cheated."
The accusation hung in the air, sharp as a knife. A hush fell over the students still within earshot. Even Ron winced.
Adam's smile vanished. "Cheated?" He took a step closer, voice dropping low. "Because Merlin forbid someone outshine the great Hermione Granger without a thousand pages of theory to back it up."
Hermione's cheeks flushed. "This isn't about me! This is about you doing something that shouldn't even be possible!"
"Or maybe," Adam said, bitterness creeping into his tone, "you just can't stand not having all the answers."
She drew herself up, eyes flashing. "If you're not going to explain, then—"
"Then what?" Adam challenged. "You'll report me? Run to a teacher because you can't handle not being the best?"
Hermione recoiled as if struck. For a heartbeat, something like hurt flickered across her face—but it was gone just as fast, replaced by steel.
"Fine," she said coldly. "Keep your secrets. But magic isn't something you can just fake. Sooner or later, the truth comes out."
Adam gave a small, mocking bow. "Looking forward to it, Miss Granger. Maybe knowledge isn't only in your books that you read, Hermione."
Her mouth fell open, indignant. Adam didn't wait for her to reply. He gave a small, mocking bow.
"Have a nice day, Miss Granger."
He pushed past her and strode out into the dungeon corridor, his footsteps echoing off
Stone.
[Tutorial Pending…] [Accept Tutorial? Y/N]
---
I press YES.
The screen flares blinding white.
[ End of Chapter 5.]
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