Hogwarts Great Hall.
The rubble had been cleared away, but an absurd atmosphere still hung thick in the air.
Dobby's holographic projection dominated the entire ceiling, broadcasting live to the entire wizarding network.
> [EXCLUSIVE BREAKING NEWS: The Dark Lord's "Homecoming" Ceremony! The Pure-Blood Families' "New King" Coronation!]
In the center of the hall, the Blast-Ended Skrewt was sprawled across Dumbledore's lap (who was currently in a wheelchair), enjoying a massage from Hagrid.
And Voldemort?
He was wearing a pink bib made from the shed skin of a Blast-Ended Skrewt.
Written on the bib in large, bold letters were three words: "Daddy's Good Boy."
"Father!"
Voldemort held a cup of tea billowing with green smoke (Snape's Special Blend Hair Tonic) high above his head with both hands. He knelt on both knees, his voice booming and his gaze reverent.
"Please enjoy your tea! This is the 'Ginger & He Shou Wu · Supreme Edition' your son specially brewed for you! One cup, and your carapace will be shinier, your tail more powerful!"
Dead silence filled the hall.
The chicken leg in Ron's hand dropped to the floor. "Did... did he actually call it that?"
Hermione pushed up her glasses, her expression complicated. "Sociologically speaking, this is a distorted attachment relationship based on power structures. But biologically speaking... Tom has lost his mind."
The Skrewt looked down at Voldemort, then at the tea.
It seemed to remember something (Imprinting Effect). It extended its massive tongue and gave Voldemort's shiny green scalp a giant lick.
"Good boy..."
The Skrewt let out a satisfied sigh, and then—
PFFT.
It let out a massive, sulfur-scented fart.
This gas blast hit Voldemort point-blank, knocking him over backward.
Voldemort scrambled up. Instead of being angry, he took a deep, intoxicated breath.
"Thank you, Father, for the blessing! This scent... it is full of dark power! Quirrell! Quick, get a bottle! Capture this air! This is 'Dark Mark · Limited Edition Perfume'!"
Quirrell trembled as he waved a glass jar in the air. "Y-Yes, Master. This bottle of 'fart'... no, this 'spiritual aura,' starting bid 500 Galleons?"
Livestream Chat:
[User_DeathEater]: Master... blink twice if you're being held hostage. This is too humiliating!
[User_Lucius]: NO! This is strategy! This is enduring humiliation for a greater cause! I must emulate this!
While Voldemort was busy bonding with his "Father"...
Snape walked coldly up to Grindelwald.
He held a roll of parchment that dragged on the floor in one hand and a quill in the other.
"Mr. Grindelwald," Snape's voice was like crushed ice. "Since we are all out, it is time to settle the bill from earlier."
Grindelwald was trying to lift the Skrewt off Dumbledore's wheelchair. He turned back impatiently.
"Settle the bill? Severus, you petty Slytherin. We just survived a life-and-death excavation together! That is camaraderie!"
"That was unilateral harassment on your part." Snape shook the parchment.
"According to the 'Hogwarts Underground Rescue Labor & Mental Damage Fee Schedule':
Item 1: Medical fees for lumbar disc herniation caused by your knee pressing into my spine — 500 Galleons.
Item 2: Cleaning fees for dirt splattered on my robes while you were digging — 200 Galleons.
Item 3: Lost wages due to migraines caused by your noise pollution — 1,000 Galleons.
Item 4: The most important point—"
Snape pointed to his voluminous "Cloud Strife" hair (which was now flattened into a bird's nest from being crushed).
"Your excavation shockwaves damaged my hairstyle. I need to purchase new setting lotion. You are liable for this cost. Total: 3,000 Galleons."
Grindelwald's eyes widened. "3,000 Galleons? Is your hair made of gold?"
"More precious than gold," Snape said expressionlessly. "That is the 'Snape Special · Black & Shiny · Never-Collapse' style. I'll round it down. 3,000 flat. Cash or card? Or will you use that tank as collateral?"
Grindelwald laughed in anger.
He pulled a handful of Galleons from his pocket and slammed them into Snape's hand.
"Take it! Go buy your glue! And don't think I didn't see you using strands of my gold wig to polish your shoes in the ruins!"
Snape froze for a second.
He had indeed used a few fallen strands of the gold wig to add gold trim to his boots.
"That was... spoils of war." Snape calmly pocketed the coins in his sleeve. "We're even."
Just then, Lucius Malfoy came crawling and stumbling in.
He was holding a brand new, gleaming plaque covered by a cloth.
"Master! Lord Gellert! Professor Snape!" Lucius shouted. "To celebrate Lord Skrewt's ascension to the throne of 'Supreme Emperor of the Wizarding World,' the Malfoy family presents this token of our sincerity!"
He ripped off the cloth.
It was the Malfoy family crest.
But the proud serpent was gone.
In its place was a Chibi version of a Blast-Ended Skrewt, sticking its tongue out, surrounded by gold Galleons.
The family motto below had also been changed:
"Always Pure, Always Loyal, Always... Handing a Towel to Lord Skrewt."
"Lucius..." Voldemort looked at the crest, his eyes complicated. "You..."
Voldemort felt exhausted.
He just wanted to suck up to the pet; why were his subordinates defecting to it too?
"Very well..." Voldemort gritted his teeth. "Since you are so sincere, the position of 'Poop Scooper' for the Skrewt is yours."
Lucius was overjoyed. "Thank you for your grace, Master! Thank you, Supreme Emperor!"
He immediately crawled behind the Skrewt, ready to catch... the goods with his bare hands.
"ENOUGH!"
Dumbledore (sitting in the wheelchair, waist wrapped in bandages) couldn't watch anymore.
"You have utterly disgraced Hogwarts! Where is Ivan? Get him out here to take charge! Turn off this chaotic livestream!"
"Ivan?" Snape looked around. "Where is that unfilial brat?"
At that moment, Ivan was facing the biggest crisis of his life.
In the corner of the Great Hall, he was wearing Dobby's newly developed "Full-Immersion VR Goggles," preparing to demo his new game—"Ruins Survival: Snape's Rage."
But he hadn't anticipated that the "Toxic Tongue AI" in the tattoo on his back had too much computing power—it burned out the game server.
Inside the VR View:
Ivan found himself trapped in an infinitely looping black corridor.
The corridor was lined with mirrors, but they didn't reflect him. Instead, they reflected countless 3D surround-sound Snapes.
Every Snape was pointing at him and cursing:
"Potter! Is your brain filled with Troll snot? This is the game you made? 15 FPS? The modeling looks like a pile of dung!"
"Potter! Why does my model have no stubble? Why is my hair so greasy? Are you implying I have poor hygiene?"
"Potter! Pay me my image rights fee! 100 Galleons per second! You already owe me five hundred million!"
In Reality:
Snape frowned as he watched Ivan standing motionless in the corner, twitching all over and muttering "Mercy, Professor."
"What is he doing?"
Dobby checked the equipment and gasped in horror:
> [Bad news! Professor Snape! Master Ivan's consciousness has been captured by your 'Toxic Tongue Tattoo'! The tattoo decided Master Ivan's game was too trash and damaged your reputation, so it dragged him into 'Snape's Mental World' for special training!]
"Special training?" Snape's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Good. Let him stay in there a while longer. Remember to set the difficulty to 'Hell Mode.' Make him recite the Potion Ingredients Table ten thousand times. One wrong word, and lightning strikes him."
"Professor!" Ron shouted in terror. "Ivan's eyes are rolling back! He's dying!"
"He won't die." Snape said coldly, snatching a Rock Cake from a passing Hagrid. "Once he pays off the hair tonic advertising fees he owes me inside, the tattoo will release him."
Just then.
The Blast-Ended Skrewt seemed to take an interest in the VR goggles on Ivan's head.
It wobbled over, extended its tongue, and wrapped it around the goggles' data cable.
"Yum... my..."
"Don't! That's the main switch to the Metaverse!" Ivan (in reality) let out a final scream. "Skrewt! That's my brain-computer interface! Don't chew! That's fiber optic! AH!!"
Crunch.
The Skrewt bit through the cable.
Ivan's eyes rolled back, and he fainted completely.
However, the tattoo on his back lit up with a blinding red light. A giant holographic projection of Snape floated out from Ivan's back, holding a pointer and aiming it at everyone present.
"Since the host body has fainted," Hologram Snape said coldly, "I will collect the debts in his place. Everyone here—including the Dark Lord in diapers and the old lunatic with blonde hair—owes me one 'Hair Tonic Livestream Sale Session'! Start streaming now! Immediately!"
Voldemort: ???
Grindelwald: ???
Lucius: (Already pulling out his phone) "Me first! Me first! Godfather Skrewt, does this filter look good on you?"
Snape looked at this chaotic dance of monsters and sighed deeply.
He just wanted to know if selling this entire group to a Muggle circus would earn him enough for a bottle of real, glass-shard-free hair tonic.