[The second half of this chapter is recomnded to be enjoyed with RitmoBomba (Beat Bomb) for double the effect.]
Moonlight hung dim and brooding.
The Forbidden Forest at night wrapped itself in wisping mist—a mysterious veil draped across ancient secrets.
Silent and profound.
Leaves swayed gently in evening breezes, accompanied by rustling whispers. Small creatures darted between undergrowth shadows, vanishing into darkness...
Just then, approaching laughter and dense footsteps shattered this deceptively peaceful tranquility.
"It's so dark—I've never been to the Forbidden Forest before."
"Aren't there supposed to be centaurs?"
"Theodore, let see your gun."
"I've never used one. You have to teach us."
Under his friends' eager urging, Theodore expressionlessly withdrew his revolver.
Smith & Wesson Model 45 revolver.
Big brother Arthur's beloved weapon, but compared to his newly acknowledged little brother, this ant nothing.
Even under dim, amber moonlight, the gun's body glead with rciless tallic luster.
Ivory-carved grip, marked by ti's passage, had beco smooth as polished jade.
Intricate, ornate relief patterns embodied the extravagance and romance of English nobility...
Examining the Colt pocket revolver in his hands, Draco felt deflated—suddenly finding it far less impressive.
"This isn't a toy."
"For you, it's dangerous. Rember to wear protective charms, otherwise..."
Theodore skillfully flicked open the cylinder with practiced ease, demonstrating loading procedures for his friends while his cold tone carried unmistakable seriousness.
"Rember—no matter what!"
"Never point the barrel at yourself. Consider it a wand capable of continuously casting Killing Curses."
"Protective charms might save you once, but never twice. I've yet to see charms that can continuously cast Shield Charms—if you value your lives."
"What?!"
"You're joking!"
Exclamations burst forth as tension suddenly saturated the atmosphere.
rely hearing "Killing Curse" made Pansy and others shiver involuntarily.
Draco's complexion drained to alabaster.
The pocket revolver in his grasp suddenly felt impossibly heavy, nearly slipping to the ground.
Amber-colored bullets appeared between Theodore's fingertips, filling the obsidian cylinder thodically.
Click—the cylinder snapped closed.
chanical rotation sounds—dense and subtle—seed to carry hypnotic allure.
But in everyone's ears, they beca low, powerful rumbles like pre-battle roars.
"Watch carefully..."
Theodore's gaze swept around before pointing the barrel toward a dark shadow in the treetops, then squeezed the trigger.
"BANG!"
Violent flas erupted from the muzzle.
Within the silent forest, the gunshot proved deafening. Birds scattered in terror while the group's laughter ceased abruptly.
The dark shadow plumted earthward.
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the owl missing half its skull, hearts hamring uncontrollably.
"Tiger, they..."
The sudden gunshot made Hermione instinctively grasp Tiger's hand, panic rising in her eyes.
Anyone possessed innate fear toward such deadly weapons saturated with violence.
Gemma Farley's eyelid twitched before she turned away with darkening expression—out of sight, out of mind.
"Want to try?"
Tiger paid no attention to Hermione's emotions, instead offering his Winchester.
"No, no, no..."
Hermione waved her hands frantically.
She gazed up at Tiger with concern. "I just think they're being too dangerous."
Gryffindors were indeed adventurous, but these Slytherins clearly didn't embody adventure.
More accurately—they seed suicidal.
Watching Lisa snatch the revolver from Malfoy's hands while squinting down the barrel, Hermione couldn't suppress facial twitching.
"Let them be—it's rely a ga." Tiger glanced back with amusent dancing in his eyes.
Theodore and over a dozen half-blood serpents were sternly preventing certain individuals' death-seeking behaviors.
After brief chaos, the Slytherins regarded the revolvers with newfound reverence.
Life's equality displayed itself completely here.
In Tiger's perspective, many little serpents' thinking patterns remained bound by pureblood nobility's arrogance and prejudice.
Rather than waste breath, better to provide firsthand witness.
Whether wizard or Muggle—any unreasonable arrogance and contempt would exact heavy prices...
"Hagrid, are you alright?"
At the group's front, Hagrid carried an enormous wooden crate while heading toward the Forbidden Forest's depths.
Observing the towering figure still sniffling beside him, Harry's brow furrowed with worry and helplessness.
"It's nothing, Harry. I'm just..."
Halfway through speaking, Hagrid tucked his lantern under one arm, freeing hands to fish a handkerchief from his pocket. He blew his nose forcefully—sound resembling a steam whistle.
"I just can't bear parting with Norbert. He's still so small—what if he encounters other forest creatures..."
At this point, Hagrid's sobbing intensified while bean-sized tears stread unstoppably.
By dim lamplight, Harry finally discerned Hagrid's cheeks covered in mottled bruises—red fist marks clearly visible, becoming increasingly swollen under tears' irritation.
This reminded him of Uncle Vernon after wisdom tooth extraction—simultaneously pitiful and sowhat amusing.
"Right, this is far enough."
After traversing a winding path, Hagrid suddenly halted.
Harry and Ron observed an open clearing featuring a crude rain shelter.
"You cannot venture further."
Hagrid removed the spade from his waist while clearing dead grass around bonfire ruins, explaining:
"Beyond lies centaur tribal territory, plus other dangerous creatures. Even I must avoid them."
"This represents the safest location."
Witnessing Tiger approaching with the little serpents, Hagrid's originally resolute, stubborn tone suddenly carried hints of negotiation and pleading.
"You all..."
"Just camp here. Many small animals inhabit the vicinity. I'll continue deeper."
"There's a quiet valley deep within the Forbidden Forest where I can settle Norbert. I'll return imdiately."
"Approximately two hours..."
The bruises marking his face weren't Venom's handiwork.
They ca from Tiger.
When Norbert was seized by the neck and confiscated, Hagrid instinctively saw crimson—violence from his giant heritage instantly flooding his consciousness.
However, he sobered faster—precisely, he regained awareness while airborne.
The oppressive sensation of encountering apex predators made every body hair stand erect.
That cannonball-like fist—Hagrid would probably never forget it.
Even his own mother lacked Tiger's fierce, savage strength...
"Certainly."
Tiger waved dismissively.
Then he turned toward Bostede and others behind him, grinning broadly:
"We've arrived!"
"How about a bonfire dance party!"
"Bon, Bon, Bon!"
"Bomba!"
"You know this madness, holding my sexy waist, following the explosive rhythm together..."
"Bon, Bon, Bon!"
"Bomba!"
Deafening bass thundered through night skies.
Raven Bork had utilized Extension Charm trunks to transport all instrunts and liquor from the common room.
Summoned by Venom, Selwyn and others endured forced "overti" with speechless expressions.
Yet even so, laughter in their eyes proved impossible to conceal.
Rhythmic drumbeats—dense and intense—instantly rushed toward everyone's hearts, stirring wild tremors and resonance.
Little serpents followed Venom, dancing wildly around the bonfire while laughter and cheers rose and fell in waves.
Lisa led her girlfriends, establishing grills nearby as household magic's brilliance danced at wand tips.
Rich aromas gradually saturated the clearing.
Tiger took Hermione, Gemma Farley, Theodore, Malfoy and others into the woods for ga hunting. Intense gunshots rang intermittently as forest creatures fled in panic.
Beyond this unrestrained, liberated carnival, Harry and Ron stared dumbfounded—eyes overflowing with shock at the wild revelry before them.
This was Slytherin?!
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