Hogwarts, The Great Hall.
This was no longer a school; it was a massive livestreaming arena.
A giant banner hung from the enchanted ceiling: "Hogwarts Tax Audit Season 1: Who's the Broke Dummy Trying to Evade?"
The Muggle Prime Minister stood on a stage erected in the center of the hall, clutching a microphone and speaking passionately to a dozen hovering camera lenses.
He wasn't wearing his usual suit today. Instead, he was dressed in a sequined "Pop Idol Trainee" outfit, and for some reason, he was dribbling a basketball.
"I'm an aspiring solo idol, training for two and a half years! I'm the Prime Minister, and I love singing, dancing, rapping, and... collecting taxes!"
Fudge was huddled in the corner, holding a towel and a bottle of water, looking utterly subservient. "Mr. Prime Minister, that 'between-the-legs' dribble move was a bit dangerous. Maybe take a hydration break?"
"Back off, Cornelius!" The Prime Minister shoved Fudge aside and flipped the bird at the camera (mistakenly thinking it was a 'finger heart' gesture). "Today, we are digging deep into Hogwarts' 'Revenue Potential'! I heard there's a Professor Snape here hoarding a patent for 'Hair Growth Tonic'? That is a national asset! It must be auctioned!"
Snape stood in the shadows of the Staff Table. His face couldn't simply be described as "dark"—it was fifty shades of pure murder.
His hand gripped the bottle of hair tonic—the root of all this chaos—so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Potter," Snape hissed through clenched teeth, "if that Muggle dares to touch my formula, I will make him taste the Cruciatus Curse."
Ivan sat next to him, checking real-time stock prices on a tablet (Hair Tonic futures were skyrocketing). He didn't even look up.
"Professor, chill. Violence doesn't solve problems, but 'clout' does. Look, the livestream already has over five million concurrent viewers. Just do as I say, and not only do you keep the formula, but the Prime Minister will be working for you."
"Do what?" Snape asked warily.
"Dance." Ivan pointed at the stage. "The Prime Minister just threw down the gauntlet. He said if anyone at Hogwarts can out-dance him, he'll waive the entire school's 'Intelligence Tax.' I've crunched the numbers, and only your 'Potion Dance' can dominate this room."
"Me? Dance?" Snape looked like he'd just swallowed a blast-ended skrewt. "I am the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor! Not some hip-swiveling—"
"Plus, you get to wear this." Ivan snapped his fingers.
Hagrid and Lucius wheeled out a garment rack from the back.
Hanging on it was a... black, lace-trimmed, wide-hooped... Gothic Lolita dress? And it was a modified version, featuring a giant skull embroidered on the chest.
"This was custom-made to match your vibe," Ivan said sincerely. "Plus, the fabric is fireproof, waterproof, and hex-proof. Totally safe."
Snape looked at the dress. Then he looked at the Prime Minister on stage, who was currently doing a cringey TikTok dance, and finally at the global audience spamming the chat.
Chat Comments:
[User_Muggle1]: Who's the hottie in the black robes? So cool! Make him dance!
[User_Draco]: THAT'S MY HEAD OF HOUSE! NOOOO!!
[User_SnapeFanClub]: Professor Snape! Blink twice if you're being held hostage!
Snape took a deep breath, a look of grim determination flashing in his eyes.
To protect the secret of the Hair Growth Tonic... and to prevent these foolish Muggles from looking down on the dignity of Slytherin...
He grabbed the Gothic Lolita dress, turned around, and marched into the changing room.
"Cue the BGM," Snape's voice drifted back coldly. "Something with a rhythm that makes you want to commit suicide."
Three minutes later.
The lights cut out.
A single spotlight hit the center of the stage.
The Muggle Prime Minister had just finished a dramatic pose and was preparing to bow.
Suddenly, an incredibly addictive beat dropped—a mix of heavy electronic bass and the sound of exploding cauldrons.
"Check it out! Check it out! Dark Magic herbs, check it out!"
The smoke cleared.
Snape walked out.
He was wearing the black Gothic Lolita dress. The massive hoop skirt made him look like a walking black mushroom.
But his expression was still that signature "the whole world owes me five million Galleons" deadpan face.
He held two wands in his hands instead of glow sticks.
The music hit the climax.
Snape began to move.
But he wasn't doing a normal dance. He was performing... Potion Brewing Motions!
Left hand: "Slice the Dittany Root!" (A sharp spin, flaring the skirt, precisely chopping an imaginary radish).
Right hand: "Stir the Murky Water!" (A deep lunge, wand pointing at the floor, drawing circles with movements as elegant as a dark ritual).
Chest Pop: "Exploding Pumpkin!" (Hands formed a heart shape over his chest, then violently burst outward to simulate an explosion).
The entire hall went dead silent.
Everyone's jaws hit the floor.
Snape danced faster and faster, getting more into it.
Maybe it was because he had been repressed for too long, or maybe the dress was just really well-tailored.
He was actually pulling off a weirdly powerful, intense, and... slightly sexy mechanical "pop-and-lock" style!
Combined with his icy, handsome face, this "Gap Moe" (contrast charm) instantly crashed the livestream server.
> [System Alert: Viewer count exceeded 10 million! Server Overload!]
> [Donation Effects: Screen filled with Rockets and Super Chats!]
The basketball dropped from the Muggle Prime Minister's hands.
He watched Snape's perfect rhythm, watched the giant black skirt bloom like a flower, and trembled. "This... this isn't scientific! How is he hitting every beat even with the stirring motion? And... and why is he handsomer than me?"
The song ended.
Snape froze in an extremely provocative pose: standing on one leg, body arched back, wands pointing at the ceiling, the skirt spread out on the floor like a black lotus.
He expressionlessly fixed his bangs and shot a cold look at the Prime Minister.
"You're welcome."
The Great Hall erupted in the loudest applause since the founding of Hogwarts.
Even the Gryffindor students were screaming for him.
"SNAPE! SNAPE! HAVE MY BABIES!"
The tips of Snape's ears were red enough to bleed, but he forcibly maintained his aloof persona as he walked back to the Staff Table.
"Ivan," Snape sat down, the dress letting out a sharp crack (probably a broken hoop bone), "if you dare leak that footage, I will kill you."
"Relax, Professor." Ivan was counting money, grinning from ear to ear. "That is exclusive pay-per-view content. Besides... we have bigger business to attend to."
Just moments ago, during Snape's intense dancing, the precious bottle of Hair Growth Tonic in his pocket had been flung out due to the centrifugal force.
Splat.
The bottle smashed on the floor.
Golden liquid pooled everywhere.
Everyone's eyes locked onto the puddle.
That was Snape's blood, sweat, and tears! That was his hair! That was his dignity!
However, Ivan reacted instantly.
He dashed forward, scooped up the remaining few drops into a beaker, and shouted at the camera:
"Fam! Did you see that? This is the sweat shed by Professor Snape himself during the 'Dark Potion Dance'! This is the 'Limited Edition · Stage Memorial' Hair Tonic, infused with the essence of Dark Magic! This is the only bit left in the world! Starting bid: 1,000 Galleons!"
"I bid 2,000!" a balding wizard screamed.
"I bid 5,000! I need it for shampoo!" a female Troll shouted.
"It's Lucius! I bid ten thousand! Nobody touch it!" Lucius Malfoy charged forward with red eyes. He had been mesmerized by Snape's dance, and now seeing the hair tonic, he had completely lost his mind.
Ivan looked at the crowd bidding frantically, then at Snape, whose face said 'I want to commit murder.'
"Professor," Ivan whispered, "how about... you dance another one? The Prime Minister looks unconvinced; I think he wants a dance-off."
Snape looked at the mess on the floor, then at the beaker of "bathwater" in Ivan's hand that had just sold for an astronomical price.
He suddenly felt that dignity wasn't all that important after all.
"I'll do an encore," Snape said coldly. "Appearance fee is a 50-50 split. Also, burn that pink dress immediately."
---
Just as Ivan and Snape were preparing to count their loot, the Muggle Prime Minister, who had been watching from the side, walked over.
His eyes were glazed over, seemingly traumatized—or enlightened—by Snape's moves.
"Um..." The Prime Minister rubbed his hands together, looking at Snape bashfully. "Professor Snape, that move... the 'Slice the Dittany Root'... could you teach me that? I feel like if I add that to my basketball routine, I could definitely make it onto America's Got Talent."
Snape: ???
Ivan: ???
"Get out." Snape said only two words.
The Prime Minister wasn't angry; instead, he looked thrilled. "So much attitude! I like it! Since I can't collect the tax, let's switch strategies—I'll rebrand Hogwarts as the 'World's Largest Immersive LARP Theme Park.' We split the ticket sales 70-30!"
Fudge whispered from the side, "Mr. Prime Minister, we are the Ministry of Magic, not the Tourism Board..."
"Shut up!" The Prime Minister glared at Fudge, then turned back to Ivan. "And where is that Voldemort guy? Get him out here! The chat is demanding to see the 'Dark Lord in Lolita Fashion'! If he agrees to wear it, I'll grant Hogwarts a ten-year tax exemption!"
Ivan and Snape exchanged a look.
A strange, eerie light flashed in both their eyes simultaneously.
"Tom is in the Forbidden Forest," Ivan revealed a smile that radiated 'nuclear' kindness. "But he might not fit into Professor Snape's size. No worries, Hagrid has some Blast-Ended Skrewt hide; we can sew him a custom outfit on the spot."
Snape nodded, even voluntarily offering, "I can provide the hair tonic to glue it to his scalp, so the wig doesn't fall off."
Just then, Dobby's holographic projection popped up again. This time, his eyes were bleeding red.
> [WARNING! WARNING! New Taxable Activity Detected: Professor Snape's "Dance Performance" counts as "Entertainment Income." Personal Income Tax rate: 45%!]
> [Detected Ivan Potter's "Illegal Auction." VAT payment required!]
> [Detected Muggle Prime Minister's "Cross-Border Business." Tax required...]
Dobby's mechanical voice suddenly glitched, then shifted into Dumbledore's voice:
"Oh my, looks like I have to pay taxes too. In that case, how about we mortgage the deed to Hogwarts to Gringotts? I heard they recently launched a 'Snowballing Compound Interest' loan scheme."
Ivan watched this scene and covered his face in despair.
After all this hustling, we're just working for the banks?
"Wait!"
A silent Voldemort suddenly crawled out of the Metaverse portal (because reality was too loud).
"You people..." Voldemort's voice trembled. "You have completely disgraced the name of the Dark Lord!"
"Then you do it?" Ivan tossed a pink, lace-trimmed outfit made of Skrewt hide at Voldemort. "Put this on. Go dance 'Baby, You're a Firework' with the Prime Minister, and the tax is waived."
Voldemort looked at the outfit. Then he looked at the expectant gaze of the ten million viewers in the livestream.
His hands shaking, he took the dress.
"For... For the Greater Good..."
Voldemort walked into the changing room, tears streaming down his face.
Read advance chapter in my Pat****
ilham20
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