After HP shared the dream, Lao Fu was conquered by me

"Why, Miss Nocturne can't even protect herself?" Tom squeezed Lamia's hand hard, leaving a red mark on the pale surface of her hand.

"It was just an accident." The wound did not heal quickly, and the red marks even became more obvious.

"Yes, Miss Nocturne always has an excuse, whether it's food or an accident." Tom looked up, his deep blue eyes full of sarcasm.

"No, Tom, can't you speak properly?" Lamia wanted to pull her hand free, but Tom held it tightly in her hand and she couldn't break free at all. Lamia wished her magic power would go out of control.

"Sure, but can you tell me the truth, Lamia?" Tom gently left a kiss on Lamia's hand, pious and restrained.

Lamia felt her hands burning uncomfortably. The uncomfortable burning sensation made her frantically want to escape. "That's enough, Tom. You're really inexplicable."

"Harry wouldn't be like this, right? Do you like him? Answer me!" Tom grabbed Lamia's flailing arms tightly, held her in his arms, pressed her chin against his, and forced her to look at him.

"Maybe my magic power will be back tomorrow. Just wait, Tom, I won't let you go." Lamia only had time to leave this sentence before her consciousness was dragged out of the dream.

Lamia found herself still lying on Harry's chest, his violent heartbeat making her body numb. Lamia quickly slipped out through the window gap, her dark wings soon blending into the night.

The next day, the first thing Harry did when he woke up was to touch his chest, but there was nothing. He sat up in disappointment. Ron on the bed next to him was still sleeping soundly. Harry was immersed in loss and had no idea that time was passing by every second.

"Merlin's bald white hair, Harry, look at the time now, the first period is Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class!" Ron quickly jumped out of the bed, "Brother, don't just stand there, do you want to be deducted points in the first class? I guarantee Percy will kill me!" He put on his coat in seconds and pulled the stunned Harry down.

When the two arrived at the classroom, there was no Professor McGonagall on the podium, only a pair of cat eyes staring at them without blinking.

The students of Slytherin and Gryffindor sat on both sides. A touch of green was particularly eye-catching in the red. It was Lamia. She sat on the dividing line between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"Fortunately, Professor McGonagall didn't come, otherwise I don't know how to explain it to Percy. You don't know how much he cares about that..." Ron breathed a sigh of relief and turned his back to Harry to complain.

"Maybe I should turn one of you into a pocket watch, so that at least one of you won't be late." Professor McGonagall turned back into human form and stood behind Ron, frightening him so much that he stammered, unable to utter a single word. "One point deduction from Gryffindor. Now, both of you, go find a seat."

Without thinking, Harry pulled Ron over and sat next to Lamia.

"Hello, Harry." Lamia greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, Lamia." Harry blushed and twisted his fingers helplessly. "Brother, can't you be more natural?" Ron said angrily.

Harry's face turned even redder after hearing this. He faltered and asked, "Lamia, did you sleep well last night?"

"Very good, thank you for your concern, Harry." Lamia still responded to him politely, but turned her head back - Draco was holding the quill tightly, and his eyes were like rays, almost penetrating Harry and her.

Lamia turned her head nonchalantly and performed Transfiguration on the handkerchief on the table as Professor McGonagall had instructed. A burst of light emanated from the tip of the wand, and the handkerchief turned into a cushion with exquisite embroidery patterns, as soft as a cloud.

In fact, Lamia felt that she didn't use the magic wand at all. The magic seemed to be transmitted through her fingers, and the magic wand was more like a conductor.

"Great! Miss Nocturne, you are the first one to succeed. 5 points for Slytherin. Your pillow has become perfect!" Professor McGonagall came to Lamia's desk. Her wrinkled face was full of surprise. She picked up the pillow and looked at it again and again.

But things changed in the second class. In Potions class, no one in Slytherin wanted to be in the same group with her. Draco kept looking back, expecting Lamia to take the initiative to ask him to team up with her, but Lamia would rather be alone than bow to Draco.

They, the vampires, are not completely immune to illness. Sometimes they also need to make their own medicine. Lamia has a certain foundation. God knows how upset she is when she sees the clear and stupid eyes and messy operations of the freshmen. She can understand the professor with a scary dark face in front of her.

Lamia became even more determined. She would never team up with them, at least she would not burn a hole in the crucible.

Therefore, when faced with Harry's invitation to form a team, Lamia was about to decline, "Harry Potter, look, he is our famous big shot," his eyes were empty and indifferent, as vicious and cold as a snake's pupils.

Harry blushed at Snape's words, "No, sir."

"Not what? You're not Harry? Or have you already learned the abstruse contents of potions without taking my class?" Snape walked up to Harry. "Then let me ask you, what will you get if you add powdered narcissus root to wormwood infusion?"

"I don't know, sir." Harry hadn't heard at all.

Snape curled his lips, "Tsk, it seems your confidence far exceeds your potion level."

The class erupted in laughter, and Harry stood there, bewildered.

Lamia raised her hand, but Snape ignored her and still held Harry, "Sir, I wonder if I can answer for him?" Lamia couldn't stand it anymore and stood up. Harry was her food without complaint. As a master, how could he watch his servant being bullied?

"Miss, hasn't anyone taught you that you are not allowed to talk privately in class?" Snape looked at her, and Lamia instantly felt like she was being stared at by a poisonous snake.

"I'm sorry, sir, I just thought it would save time," Lamia said calmly, while Draco nearly broke his quill behind him.

"Harry, it looks like you've wasted everyone's time. Gryffindor will lose one point for this." Snape flicked his sleeves and walked back to the podium.

The Potions class continued, and Snape assigned them the task of making scabies potion. Lamia skillfully operated the crucible and materials by herself. The wizards in this world made potions in almost the same way as them, except for the materials and order.

Snape walked around the classroom like a ghost, wearing a black cloak that dragged on the ground, and made sarcastic remarks about every student's operation. Only Draco was spared. Lamia glanced at Draco's desk. It seemed that Snape had a preference for Draco.

"Miss Nocturne, are you throwing all the knowledge your poor old professor taught you into the crucible?" Snape's mocking voice sounded behind Lamia. "I've never seen such a creative operation. I think you can apply for the Muggle Creative Competition. Your old professor will come to support you."

Snape sneered, "Potter, why didn't you warn Miss Nocturne? Did you want her to make a mistake and regret not teaming up with you? Gryffindor will lose another point because of you."

Harry was right next to Lamia. He was about to make an excuse when Ron stopped him, "Stop it, he won't believe it." Harry was in a low mood. He hated Potions class.

But Lamia ignored Snape and Harry. She concentrated on brewing the potion according to her own ideas.

"Sir, maybe I can really participate in the creative competition, but it's in the wizarding world." Lamia placed a bottle of excellent potion in front of Snape.

"Ah!" There was a scream, and suddenly a thick acidic green smoke emerged from the underground classroom.