Succubus System At Hogwarts

After the spell class, Ian was still surrounded by two beautiful little witches.

"Ian, what do you think of my spells?" Cassandra asked seemingly indifferently.

"Excellent, Cassandra!" Ian replied without hesitation. "You're truly deserving of your title as Miss Vole!"

Hearing Ian's praise, Cassandra smiled triumphantly and shot a smug look at Hermione.

See, Granger? Ian still cares more about me!

Hermione wasn't one to back down. She glared back before grabbing Ian's other arm. "Ian, let's go to the library to read!"

Not to be outdone, Cassandra clutched Ian's robes. "Ian, didn't you say you wanted to practice Quidditch?"

Caught between the two witches, Ian felt an instant headache coming on.

"Uh..." he started, but before he could finish, both witches called out simultaneously.

"Ian!?"

Swallowing nervously, Ian forced a dry smile.

"Oh! I just remembered—I need to meet Professor Snape to ask about a potion. I'll have to go now! Goodbye!"

Not waiting for a response, Ian turned and bolted down the corridor, not daring to look back. He feared that if he stayed a moment longer, the piercing glares from the two witches might actually do him in.

Watching Ian's retreating figure, Cassandra and Hermione exchanged sharp looks before deciding to part ways, each heading off to join friends from their respective houses.

Cassandra's group maintained a cheerful atmosphere, while Hermione's side felt notably subdued.

...

"She kept nagging me! It's LeviOsa, not LeviosA!" Ron grumbled to Harry. "Does she really need to be so serious about everything?"

Harry's face paled at Ron's words. He quickly clamped his hand over Ron's mouth and whispered urgently in his ear, "Are you crazy? Do you want to get yourself killed? Saying bad things about Hermione—what if Ian hears you? You'll be in serious trouble!"

Ron pulled Harry's hand away, muttering under his breath, "I'm not wrong..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure, you're not wrong. But don't forget—Ian likes Hermione!"

"So what?" Ron shot back, his neck stiffening defiantly. "What's Ian going to do? Beat me up for her?"

"Uh, yeah?" Harry replied, spreading his hands helplessly. "Which do you think matters more to him—a girlfriend or a friend?"

"I..." Ron opened his mouth but couldn't form a reply. After a moment of silence, he fell quiet.

Of course, he knew that to Ian, Hermione—the "girlfriend"—would take priority.

"I'm serious, Harry!" Ron said indignantly. "You should've stopped Ian from getting involved with her! That thorn! No wonder she doesn't have many female friends in Gryffindor!"

His voice grew angrier. "I don't know how Ian puts up with her! If you ask me, Cassandra is way better!"

As Ron's words became increasingly inflammatory, Harry felt a chill run down his spine.

He quickly glanced around, praying that Hermione wasn't nearby.

But as luck—or misfortune—would have it, the very thing Harry feared came to pass.

He caught sight of Hermione standing behind them, her eyes red and brimming with tears.

"Hermione..." Harry stammered, his voice faltering as panic set in.

Turning towards carefully, Harry looked at Hermione's trembling figure, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Inwardly, he cursed Ron a thousand times over.

Ron, you absolute idiot! I told you not to talk nonsense! And what did you do? Talk nonsense!

Hermione ignored Harry, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Without a word, she pushed past the two of them and ran off, tears spilling as she fled.

"It's over..." Harry muttered, staring after Hermione's retreating figure. He felt as though the sky had just come crashing down.

Ian shouldn't beat him, his own brother, right?

He did persuade Ron.

"Ron, you should go and apologize to Hermione."

"I'll apologize at dinner..." Ron wanted to argue, but when he thought of Ian's dark face, he shuttered and immediately changed his mind.

Harry sighed, and seeing Ron's defeated look, he patted him on the shoulder. "Brother, you're on your own."

...

On the other side, Ian, who had successfully "escaped from death," stood at the door of the dungeons and took a deep breath.

He reached out and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Snape's low voice came from inside.

Ian pushed the door open, spotting Snape brewing a potion. He greeted softly, "Professor."

Snape ignored Ian and continued adding herbs to the cauldron.

Ian didn't mind and approached Snape, handling some herbs deftly. "Professor, what potion are you brewing?"

"..Felix Felicis," Snape answered without looking up.

"Oh?"

Ian stared at the golden potion simmering in the cauldron.

"You may not know about it but it is a very important potion." Snape paused and glanced at Ian.

Seeing Ian was listening eagerly he continued, "They call it the Liquid Luck, and is so hard to acquire that many have started treating it as an elixir, calling it Felixir. So if you don't have a troll's brain, I hope you understand I'm doing something important and take your leave. Mr. Potter."

"Oh, what a great potion! Speaking of which, I've gotten several of the ingredients for Felixir from Professor Sprout over the past two months."

Snape paused and glanced at Ian. "The ingredients for Felix Felicis are hard to find. If you've managed to collect them all, you can bring them to me, and I'll brew it."

"Thank you, Professor!" Ian agreed immediately, not giving Snape a chance to reconsider.

Of course, I'd agree! Ian thought to himself. There's no way I, a first-year student, could brew Felix Felicis on my own—not without significant help or resources. Even with the system's upgrades, I'm short on "currency" right now.

The brewing process for Felix Felicis was famously intricate, requiring up to six months and an exceptionally high level of skill. The failure rate was also notoriously high.

Even Horace Slughorn, the renowned Potions Master and former Head of Slytherin House, had only brewed it successfully twice in his lifetime. That fact alone demonstrated just how precious and challenging the potion was.

"By the way, Professor, what gift would you like for Christmas?" Ian asked suddenly.

Snape paused, the stirring rod still in his hand, and turned to look at the boy beside him, frowning. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing at all!" Ian blinked innocently, a sly smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I just want to give the professor a gift!"

Snape stared into Ian's clear green eyes for a moment before snorting and turning away. "I don't need a gift from you."

"How about a few bottles of magical shampoo?"

Ian said, his gaze drifting to Snape's greasy long hair with a barely concealed expression of amusement.

"I think your hair could use it—something oil-controlling and volumizing, perhaps?"

Ian grinned as he continued, "I remember Professor McGonagall telling me that our Potter family's wealth grew significantly thanks to my grandfather, Fleamont Potter. He invented the hair-conditioning potion, which sold so well it quadrupled the family fortune."

With a mischievous smile, Ian added, "Professor, would you like me to get you some?"

"..."

The veins on Snape's forehead began to throb. His teeth clenched as he growled, "Ian Potter!"

In that moment, Ian looked as infuriatingly smug as James Potter himself.

Ian chuckled awkwardly. "Professor, I was just joking."

"Joking?" Snape stared at Ian with a dark, forbidding expression.

If he believed this boy, he would be as foolish as a failed potion experiment. Taking several deep breaths, Snape silently reminded himself, This is Lily's child, and resisted the temptation to hurl Ian into the cauldron.

"If you have nothing else to do, go to the Great Hall. Dinner should be starting soon."

"Professor," Ian said, touching the tip of his nose sheepishly, "actually, I wanted to ask you something. Do you know who's managing the Potter family's property now? Harry and I only recently returned to the wizarding world, so we don't know much about our family's situation."

Ever since Professor McGonagall had told him about the family's lucrative hair-conditioning potion business, Ian had been intent on reclaiming the Potter family's assets.

He figured Harry wouldn't mind letting his twin, who had grown up alone and unsupported, take the lead in handling the family fortune.

At Ian's question, Snape's expression softened slightly.

After a moment's thought, he replied, "Your family's property should be managed by the house-elves of the Potter family."

"Do we have house-elves?" Ian asked in surprise, looking up. "Why haven't I seen them? It's been two months since Harry and I returned to the wizarding world, and we haven't seen any house-elves come to us."

"You study at Hogwarts. Will the house-elves come to the school to find you?" Snape's venom began to attack the little wizard again, "Every child here is treated almost equally, is the food of Hogwarts' kitchen not to your liking that you want your own elves here? Tch. Your poor professor doesn't even know that the young master of the Potter family is so grand..."

Ian: "..."

He glanced at Snape silently and chose to shut up.

Forget it. I've already poked the Snape bear twice today. Better not step on another landmine.

Seeing Ian's silence, Snape snorted coldly. "If you want to take over the Potter family's property, speak to Dumbledore. Ask him to take you to the Potter family's old house."

He added pointedly, "You should know that house-elves are fiercely loyal to their family. If they haven't seen you or your brother, they're not going to hand over the property."

"Alright, Professor," Ian replied with a nod. "I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore."

"Humph! It's late. Go to dinner!" Snape snapped, not even glancing at Ian. "And remember to close the door on your way out!"

"Okay, okay. Goodbye, Professor," Ian said quickly before slipping out the door.

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