"Ian! Wake up! Today is Professor Snape's class!"
Draco's voice rang in Ian's ears, jolting him awake from his dreams.
Ian groggily opened his eyes and saw Draco already dressed neatly.
"Good morning, Draco. Thanks for waking me up again," Ian said, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
Draco looked exasperated.
"I didn't want to, but I promised yesterday to help you keep the first-year boys in line."
"Vice-Prefect Malfoy, you're truly dutiful," Ian said, patting Draco on the shoulder.
"Trust me, if you didn't get up, Cassandra would definitely give me trouble," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I have no desire to get lectured by her."
Ian burst out laughing at that. "Alright, alright, I'm up now. Let's hurry and grab breakfast. I don't want to be late for our Head of House's class either."
The two quickly got ready and headed to the Great Hall with the younger Slytherins in tow for breakfast.
Ian gnawed on a chicken leg while listening to Draco brag about his Quidditch escapades at home.
"Ian, you can't even imagine how amazing it feels to fly at home!" Draco's face was full of pride. "If first-years were allowed on the House team, I'd definitely make it onto the Slytherin team and lead them to win the Quidditch Cup this year."
"Wow, amazing, amazing," Ian replied perfunctorily, clapping his hands lightly.
A championship? In the movies, ever since Harry joined the Gryffindor team, Slytherin hardly ever won anything.
"Ian, when we get to second year, let's join the House team together!" Draco's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Didn't you say you used to play that, uh, Muggle sport… football, was it? And didn't you say you were some kind of goal-scoring prince? You could be a Beater, and I'll be the Seeker."
"Uh, we'll see," Ian replied, scratching his nose.
Just thinking about flying around on a wooden stick made Ian feel an inexplicable ache three inches below his navel....
Though flying brooms were enchanted with Cushioning Charms before being made, Ian still couldn't help but feel a vague sense of worry.
Besides, having lived 18 years in China in his previous life, Ian found himself more drawn to the idea of flying swords.
Who hadn't dreamed of soaring through the skies on a sword when they were young?
"What's so fun about Quidditch?"
As Ian and Draco were happily chatting, Cassandra suddenly spoke up from the side, her tone faintly disdainful.
Ian blinked. "You don't like it?"
"I don't think flying around in the sky with a broom between... is a very graceful activity for a noble lady," Cassandra said with a roll of her eyes.
"Potter, you should stay away from this idiot, or he might rub off on you."
"What!? "Draco, hearing this, immediately leapt to his feet in anger. "Who are you calling an idiot? Cassandra, don't think I won't hit you just because you're a girl!"
"Oh~ you dare?" Cassandra sneered, raising her fist without hesitation.
Gulp!
Draco, recalling Cassandra's terrifying combat skills, immediately backed down. He quietly sat back in his seat, muttering under his breath, "A good man doesn't argue with a woman..."
Watching Draco and Cassandra bicker, Ian couldn't help but laugh.
"Let's hurry up and finish breakfast. After we're done, it'll be time for Potions class," Ian said, urging the two as he polished off the last piece of roasted pumpkin on his plate.
After breakfast, Ian, Draco, and Cassandra led the younger Slytherins to the Potions classroom.
The moment they stepped inside, Ian spotted Harry and his two friends sitting in the front row, with an empty seat saved beside them.
"Ian, over here! We saved you a seat!" Harry waved enthusiastically when he saw Ian.
Ian hesitated, glancing at the distance between the front row and the teacher's podium. "Harry, how about we sit further back instead?"
"What's wrong, Ian?" Harry scratched his head. "Don't you love studying? Isn't sitting here the best spot?"
Ian looked into Harry's innocent green eyes and sighed. "It is a good spot, but… this class is taught by our Head of House, and he doesn't particularly like Gryffindor students."
Harry immediately understood what Ian meant. "Oh, you mean Professor Snape always likes to pick on Gryffindor?"
"Exactly," Ian nodded. "Trust me, Harry. Sitting further back will make things easier for everyone."
Harry couldn't help but laugh at Ian's earnest expression.
"Alright, Ian, I'll listen to you."
As he spoke, Harry began gathering his things and followed Ian to the back. Ron and Hermione quickly got up and joined them as well.
The four of them settled in the third row. The moment Ian sat down, he let out a long sigh of relief.
"Ian, are you afraid of your Head of House?" Harry asked curiously.
"It's called respect," Ian replied, giving an awkward yet polite smile.
"Alright," Harry said with a half-understanding nod. "I guess.. You're respecting your teacher in your own way, Ian."
Ian silently glanced at Harry's perpetually messy black hair and thought to himself, Let's see if you can stay this calm when Snape starts questioning you later.
At that moment, the classroom door was suddenly flung open. Draped in a billowing black robe, Snape strode in briskly.
His black robes flared dramatically as he walked, and combined with his lifeless, fish-like eyes, he looked like a bat that had taken human form.
Snape made his way to the podium in just a few steps. His cold, predatory gaze swept over the room like he was searching for prey.
Finally, his eyes landed on Ian, seated among the Gryffindors. More specifically, they locked onto Ian's green eyes, red hair, and the face that bore a striking resemblance to a certain late mother.
Snape's gaze then shifted to Hermione, seated to Ian's right. Upon noticing the unmistakable red emblem of Gryffindor on the bright young witch, Snape's expression softened momentarily.
A Muggle-born Gryffindor witch sitting with a Slytherin half-blood wizard? It wasn't so bad, he supposed. Perhaps it might even foster some academic progress.
But a Gryffindor wizard sitting with Ian? That was a different story entirely!
Snape's gaze shifted to Harry, seated to Ian's left, and his brow furrowed deeply. He stared at those green eyes for a moment before his expression morphed into one of pure disgust and loathing, as if he had just swallowed a dead fly.
That messy black hair, those dreadful glasses—such a person would undoubtedly corrupt their fine Slytherin students!
"Ian Potter, Granger, Malfoy, Vole—you four, move to the first row on the left," Snape suddenly announced.
The Vole mentioned was Miss Vole, a promising Slytherin from a good family. She seemed well-behaved and, in Snape's eyes, unlikely to influence Ian poorly.
The four students whose names were called froze for a moment in surprise, with Ian feeling his heart sink. He glanced at Harry beside him, his mind filled with pity.
Brother, you're on your own now.
The four had no choice but to quietly gather their things and move to the front row as instructed.
As he watched the four of them sit down in the first row, Snape's mood noticeably improved.
Excellent!
Snape nodded to himself with satisfaction.
On Ian's right was Granger—a smart, pretty young witch from a Muggle background. Surely, she wouldn't be a bad influence on Ian either.
Draco... Draco was his godson. Though he had a sharp tongue that sometimes begged for a slap, Snape knew Ian had appointed him as the boys' vice-prefect, and their relationship seemed decent.
A friend Ian chose himself surely wouldn't be a bad influence. How could someone like that lead Ian astray?
The only problem was James—ehm—Harry Potter!
When Snape thought about this boy's identity, his expression darkened again.
Other than those clear, striking green eyes, what part of him resembled Lily's child? On the contrary, he was the spitting image of his detestable father, James Potter!
Especially that messy black hair—it immediately reminded Snape of his humiliating experiences at the hands of the Marauders.
Every time he looked at Harry, his eyes burned with anger, and even his nose seemed to twitch with irritation.
Snape took a deep breath, reminding himself that Harry was also Lily's child, and he had a duty to protect him. He had to care for him for Lily's sake.
But—!
Snape's gaze shifted back to Harry, and for a brief moment, his expression twisted.
Ugh..
He really looked too much like James Potter!
Just staring at that face made Snape feel like his patience was being stretched to its absolute limit.
Resolutely, he averted his eyes and turned his attention to Ian, seated beside Harry.
When Snape's gaze landed on Ian's striking red hair, green eyes, and handsome features, his expression softened instantly. It was like the warm, gentle breeze of spring in March.
"Very good. From now on, your seats in Potions class will be permanently fixed in the first row," Snape said warmly. However, as he finished his sentence, he deliberately cast a cold glance at Harry, his tone turning icy. "I do not want certain individuals disturbing the excellent students in the front row."
Harry: "???"
Harry looked up in confusion and turned to Ian on his left.
Ian shrugged at him, his eyes full of helplessness.
Harry then looked at Hermione, who returned a smile that said, I wish I could help, but I can't~
Finally, Harry turned to Ron beside him. Ron gave him a look that clearly said, You're on your own, mate.
Harry: "...…"
He got the message loud and clear.
Professor Snape was obviously referring to him—he just didn't bother to call him out by name.
Well, at least the subtext wasn't subtle.
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