HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

The silvery-green ocean erupted in deafening cheers as Kevin and his teammates hugged and celebrated, grinning like idiots.

Ian stood up as well, joining the applause of the crowd, but his gaze swept across the jubilant stadium and met James Potter's angry and frustrated eyes on the Gryffindor bench.

Ian's lips curled slightly, cold and devoid of warmth.

He turned around, patted Severus on the shoulder, and nodded to Kevin, who was waving excitedly at them.

"Let's go," he said calmly to Severus and Aris, "there's no rush to celebrate."

Back in the cellar, the common room was already packed with students celebrating their victory, the foam of butterbeer and laughter almost overflowing.

Kevin was surrounded by his teammates, receiving congratulations and good-natured teasing.

Ian and his companions avoided the most crowded center and sat down in a relatively quiet corner near the fireplace.

The flames crackled in the stone fireplace, illuminating Ian's expressionless face.

"Potter is only suspended for one game." Ian picked up a cup of hot cocoa that the house-elf had just brought. "It's not a big loss for Gryffindor, and it won't bother him much."

Aris's tone was calm, but it did not hide the coldness in his voice: "The school rules do not have a high upper limit on the punishment for serious horseplay or 'accidents,' especially when the perpetrator's family has a certain influence and no irreversible damage has been caused. If we go through the formal channels, we are at a disadvantage."

"So we're not going through the formal channels," Ian said, turning his gaze to Severus, who had remained silent.

"They enjoy 'pranks,' enjoy seeing others make fools of themselves, and enjoy the feeling of being superior and in control, right?"

Severus's voice was calm and even: "An eye for an eye, but make sure they know exactly why and by whom."

"And," Ian added, "it takes care of four at once. They always act together, so they all get caught. There's a term called 'collateral damage,' or to put it more bluntly—accomplices."

The plan will gradually take shape over the next few days.

The core is simple: a lure, a "gift," and a public, undeniable display of ugliness.

The bait was Ian himself, or rather, a secret that he deliberately let the raiders "discover".

Ian began to "accidentally" take out the ebony box he bought from Knockturn Alley in the library and in the corner of the corridor, playing with the "little gadgets" inside thoughtfully, and then quickly putting them away, making a cautious and defensive appearance.

He even "inadvertently" let Severus see them talking in hushed tones. Severus frowned and shook his head, while Ian insisted on something. In the end, he seemed to be persuaded and put the box away with a slightly frustrated expression.

All of this naturally fell into the eyes of those who were watching them at certain times—especially the plunderers who were watching them.

"See that? That Burke guy, acting all secretive." One afternoon, James whispered to the other three, who were hiding behind a suit of armor near a moving staircase.

"They're definitely not good people, probably from some back alley, right? They're all no good." Sirius curled his lip, his gray eyes filled with disgust and a hint of curiosity.

"Should we...?" Peter Pettigrew rubbed his hands together, both scared and excited.

"Let's see," Lupin said cautiously, his face paler than usual. "But it's best not to touch it; the stuff in Knockturn Alley is dangerous."

"Danger is what makes things interesting, Remus." James's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Besides, if we can 'get' it from Burke, maybe we can catch them ripping off for dealing with dark magic items!"

The timing was chosen during Potions class.

Professor Slughorn had everyone practice a rather complicated branch of the swelling potion recipe this week, and the classroom was filled with all sorts of strange smells, with everyone scrambling around.

Ian and Severus were in a group, and their consoles "just happened" to be not far from the raiders' group.

Halfway through the cooking process, a rare tree root powder stored deep in a cabinet is needed.

Professor Slughorn sent Severus to fetch it—he always liked to have the best-performing students do these things.

Ian stood alone guarding the two crucibles, seemingly completely absorbed. His backpack lay on the ground at his feet, the lid not fully closed, revealing a corner of the box.

James gave Sirius a wink. Sirius pretended to stir too vigorously, splashing a few drops of the potion onto the robe of a Gryffindor girl nearby, causing a small commotion and a gasp from the girl.

Just as Professor Slughorn turned to look and most of the students' attention was drawn, in the era before the Marauder's Map was invented, the pillagers had their own little tricks.

A line silently slid along the ground, deftly slipped to Ian's feet, wrapped around a corner of the wooden box, and quickly retracted.

The whole process took less than three seconds. Ian seemed completely oblivious, still looking down at the bubbles in the crucible.

Jaime suppressed his smugness, stuffed the wooden box into the inner pocket of his robe, and raised an eyebrow at Sirius.

Sirius responded with a knowing, cold laugh. Lupin frowned, hesitating to speak.

Peter nervously swallowed.

Severus returned quickly with the root powder. Ian took it, exchanged a few words with him in hushed tones about the cooking time, and everything seemed normal.

The bottling began in the last ten minutes of the lesson.

Professor Slughorn paced around the classroom, drawing out his praises of Severus's potion, which was a veritable specimen, and gave Slytherin a ten-point bonus.

Just then—

"Pfft..."

A strange, muffled sound, like a fart, came from the direction of James Potter.

Immediately afterward, Sirius Black shuddered violently, his arm swinging uncontrollably upward, nearly knocking over his own cauldron.

"Hey! Children, you should pay attention!" Professor Slughorn turned around and said with a hint of reproach.

However, things started to get out of control.

James began to stomp his left foot rhythmically, tap, tap, tap, followed by his right foot.

Sirius's shoulders began to shrug, then his entire upper body.

Lupin tried to press his knees down in alarm, only to find that they had begun to bend and straighten, as if performing some kind of comical curtsy.

Peter Pettigrew suffered the most; he was suddenly lifted up by an invisible string, his feet a few inches off the ground, and then he began to kick wildly and haphazardly, like a broken marionette.

"Merlin's beard! What's going on?" Professor Slughorn exclaimed in surprise.

The whole class looked over, initially taken aback, then someone couldn't hold back and burst out laughing. Soon after, the suppressed giggles turned into a roar of laughter.

The four raiders were dancing and gesturing wildly in the middle of the potions classroom, unable to stop.

James was dancing a kind of tap dance, but with his steps off-center, and his face was flushed red.

Sirius seemed to be convulsing, or perhaps performing some kind of wild tribal war dance.

Lupin stiffly repeated the bowing and leg-raising motions, his face filled with despair, while Peter kicked wildly in the air, tears welling in his eyes, making muffled noises.

"Stop! I order you to stop!" Professor Slughorn waved his fat hands, but to no avail. He tried several dispelling spells, all to no avail.

"Teach, Professor... I can't stop!" James shouted with difficulty between spins, his voice broken and filled with shame and indignation due to the movements.