Succubus System At Hogwarts

As the end of the semester approached, the Night Walk Six split their time between keeping an eye on Snape and preparing for their final exams.

Even Hermione and Cassandra, who were always at the top of their class, actively joined the revision sessions.

Only Ian remained completely unbothered about the exams.

For him, they weren't anything to stress over—his real concern was preparing for the challenges of next year.

In the Charms final, Ian aced every aspect with absolute precision, earning an extra 20 points from Professor Flitwick.

For Transfiguration, Ian transformed his teacup into a beautifully engraved snuff bottle and casually gifted it to Professor McGonagall, earning another 20 points.

As for Potions, there was no suspense. The moment Ian finished brewing, Snape took one glance, muttered something under his breath, and gave him full marks—without even bothering to grade properly.

Of course, Ian's potion was above standard, so he wasn't about to complain.

Only in History of Magic did Ian actually put in some effort—on the night before the exam. Like most students, he spent the evening cramming notes in the common room.

Though, naturally, he used Hermione's notes.

As expected, he aced the test without breaking a sweat.

Ian stuffed his hands into his pockets and tilted his chin slightly. "Ah, first in the year… someone pour me a drink."

"Third in the year, not bad." Cassandra smirked.

"I got second." Hermione beamed. "Honestly, I thought the Hogwarts exams would be terrifying, but they were actually fun."

She had received Outstanding in every subject, and while she was still busy revising, she also helped Harry and Ron survive their exams.

While neither of them achieved Outstanding, they both earned Exceeds Expectations in every subject—except Potions.

"Hermione, that one's on you," Ron groaned. "Potions is the nightmare of my life."

He had barely scraped by, just avoiding failure at the last minute.

Harry had a thoughtful expression. "I was just thinking… if I had been sorted into Slytherin, would Snape still target me this much?"

"No. He'd just target you in a different way."

Ian deadpanned, his voice ice cold. "You should be thankful you didn't get into Slytherin. Otherwise, as your Head of House, Professor Snape would have even more ways to discipline you."

Harry shuddered at the thought and quickly changed the subject.

"Ian, I still think we should check out the trapdoor."

"Professor Snape, the guy you're so suspicious of, hasn't made a move yet. Why should we go there?" Ian shot Harry a look of pure exasperation.

The game hasn't even started yet, why are you trying to speed-run it?!

"I heard from my father that Professor Snape was once a follower of You-Know-Who, but he later betrayed him," Draco whispered. "Now that I think about it… maybe Professor Snape is planning to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"

Ian stared at Draco's platinum-blond head, his expression indescribable.

Great job, Draco. You never fail to keep up the Malfoy reputation.

"Draco, why don't you just say his name instead of calling him You-Know-Who?" Harry asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Hermione had also noticed the oddity.

Aside from her and Ian, everyone else referred to Voldemort as You-Know-Who.

"Don't tell me yo know nothing, Potter! Back in the days of You-Know-Who, there were rumors that he cursed his own name," Draco said, looking at Harry as though he were an idiot. "Anyone who speaks it aloud would have their location instantly revealed."

"Hermione was born a Muggle, so she wouldn't know about this. You and Ian refuse to say it out of stubbornness and pure hatred." Draco gestured toward himself, Ron, and Cassandra. "Look at the three of us—we never say his name directly."

Hermione frowned. "That rumor sounds completely ridiculous."

Ian knew the rumor was true—after all, it had been proven in the original work.

In their seventh year, Harry and his friends stubbornly kept saying Voldemort's name, which ended up exposing their location multiple times.

If it weren't for their protagonist plot armor, they would've died countless times.

As the six of them chatted, they walked out of the castle, heading toward Hagrid's hut, which wasn't far away.

At that moment, Hagrid was happily humming a tune as he combed the unicorn's mane, looking in an excellent mood.

Ever since Ian had resurrected the unicorn, it had frequently visited Hagrid's hut—hoping to meet its handsome savior.

Of course, Ian didn't miss the opportunity to check in on the unicorn now and then… and in return, he had gained quite a few valuable items.

Unicorn tears could detoxify poisons, unicorn hair could be used to craft wands, and unicorn blood… well, that was even more precious.

Every time the unicorn gifted him something, Ian would sigh and say, "I definitely didn't save him in vain."

"Don't you think it's weird?"

Harry suddenly spoke up.

"What?"

"I'm talking about that egg." As he watched Hagrid's hut, he couldn't help but think of the egg with suspicion. "Why was Hagrid so obsessed with getting a dragon—and then he just so happened to meet someone who had a dragon egg?"

"Who the hell walks around carrying a dragon egg?"

As Harry became more and more animated, he quickened his pace toward Hagrid, the others following close behind.

"You know… that is weird."

Hermione's brows furrowed as she quickly caught onto Harry's line of thinking.

"Let's go!" she urged. "We need to ask Hagrid about this!"

Hagrid, spotting them from afar, grinned widely and waved them over.

The group responded one after another before settling down around Hagrid.

Harry wasted no time getting to the point. "Hagrid, do you remember what the person who gave you the dragon egg looked like?"

Hagrid scratched his head, trying to recall. "I don't know who he was."

"He was wearing a black robe that covered his entire face."

Harry immediately turned to look at Ian, his expression saying, 'See? I told you something was off!'

That man was wearing a black robe—how could someone dressed like that possibly be a good person?!

Meanwhile, Snape, wherever he was, probably sneezed.

"…Really? Just because of the black robe?"

Ian, ignoring Harry's dramatic reaction, calmly asked, "Hagrid, did that man say anything else to you?"

"Of course!" Hagrid perked up excitedly. "He asked me if I had ever raised any special magical creatures, and I told him all about it!"

At that moment, Hermione's expression darkened.

"Hagrid," she said sharply, "was he particularly interested in Fluffy?"

Hagrid nodded without hesitation. "That's true."

"He asked a lot of questions about Fluffy," Hagrid continued. "I told him the key to handling magical creatures is knowing how to keep them calm.

For example, Fluffy will fall asleep immediately as long as he hears some music!"

Hagrid was still laughing and chatting with the group when his smile suddenly froze.

His face paled.

He had let it slip. Again.

The six little ones in front of him didn't even hesitate—they spun around and bolted toward the castle.

Hagrid watched their retreating figures, then groaned and shook his head.

"I shouldn't have said that… I really shouldn't have said that."

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