Night fell slowly.
Brilliant fireworks blood across the sky.
The banquet officially began. The vast Avery Manor buzzed with voices, laughter weaving through the crowd. Under blazing lights, it looked like dayti.
Classical, elegant dance lodies drifted through the air, floating to every corner of the manor...
Selwyn walked onto the terrace holding his glass. His sharp gaze inadvertently fixed on a dim corner. Seeing Corman Avery staring blankly at a letter, he asked with so confusion:
"Corman, why are you hiding here?"
Today wasn't just a banquet celebrating their Hogwarts graduation—it was Corman Avery's coming-of-age ceremony. Yet the guest of honor had disappeared since the opening.
Hearing the familiar voice behind him, Corman Avery's eyes paused slightly. He gradually ca back to himself.
He turned to face Selwyn. His young face still showed traces of excitent.
"I'm waiting for the summons, Selwyn."
"What?"
Seeing Corman Avery aningfully shake the letter in his hand, Selwyn frowned slightly, showing confusion.
But the next second, a figure flashed through his mind. He couldn't help taking several quick steps forward, trying to grab the letter and see its contents with his own eyes.
"Let see!"
"Oh, not now..."
Corman Avery decisively stepped back, dodging Selwyn's fingertips. His eyes held a trace of mockery. Especially seeing his friend's slightly irritated expression, the pride and satisfaction in his heart grew harder to contain.
"Selwyn, my dear friend, I need you to get Olram, Rosier, and the others."
Seeing this bastard actually dare to raise his chin and give him orders in an unquestionable tone, Selwyn couldn't help laughing in exasperation.
However, as Corman Avery's last words ca out, his expression instantly turned serious.
"This is an order from the Shelbys!"
After receiving Selwyn's notice, the Slytherin graduates scattered throughout the manor gathered on the terrace in batches, like a secret eting.
Everyone's eyes looked excitedly at Corman Avery, quietly waiting for orders from the Shelbys.
Soon, another series of light footsteps sounded. Male Prefect Burstrode arrived with last year's graduates, looking at Corman Avery with so scrutiny.
Compared to Selwyn and the others, these Slytherins had either entered their family businesses or steadily joined Ministry departnts. Their movents carried more maturity and composure.
"Centaur Liaison Office... Auror Headquarters... Goblin Financial Control Departnt... Accident and Disaster Ergency Squad... Dangerous Creatures Disposal Committee..."
"And the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?!"
As Corman Avery read the letter's contents, everyone's expressions grew subtle.
Especially the Slytherins already at the Ministry—their calm, deep eyes flickered with surprise, confusion, even disbelief.
"Burstrode, these are all marginal departnts."
"Fudge is even considering cutting the Centaur Liaison Office and Goblin Financial Control Departnt..."
Slightly worried voices murmured.
"Cutting," they said.
But anyone with eyes could see—Fudge planned to eliminate so seemingly useless small departnts to erase forr Minister Millicent Bagnold's influence.
Especially the Goblin Financial Control Departnt.
During Voldemort's reign, Millicent Bagnold was extrely wary of goblins. However, Gringotts never descended into the chaos she'd imagined.
So to outsiders, Fudge seed to trust those goblins greatly. He even believed those creatures—often criticized for greed—managed Gringotts perfectly well, needing no supervision or intervention from the Goblin Financial Control Departnt.
But the Pure-bloods weren't idle, incompetent fools living off their inheritance. They understood the various transactions and undercurrents almost instinctively. So Fudge faced considerable resistance.
"I know your concerns."
"But this is an order from Father. If anyone doesn't want to participate..."
Male Prefect Burstrode's cold gaze swept over everyone present, his tone indifferent:
"You can leave."
Regarding Voldemort's reappearance at Hogwarts, Dumbledore and the professors remained low-key and cautious, not spreading panic.
But Slytherin always knew.
Voldemort was coming back!
Especially in Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets—that unfamiliar black-haired young man in Slytherin robes had been recognized by Burstrode and the others.
The chambers of the Sacred Twenty-Eight all secretly held portraits of young Voldemort. That forr leader's unique charisma made everyone who saw the portraits spontaneously admire him...
They worried. Worried that when Voldemort returned, the wizarding world's structure would change completely.
By then, Pure-bloods without key positions wouldn't even have value for recruitnt, let alone self-preservation.
At Hogwarts, they'd naturally follow Tiger unconditionally.
But from the mont they entered the Ministry, faced social reality, took over family businesses, participated in decisions—they carried a mountain on their backs that left them breathless.
They truly understood Tiger's so-called power. They understood their fathers' difficulties and dangers. They only hated that their own strength was too small...
Just then, Corman Avery walked to the center of the crowd. He crossed his arms over his chest, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing where Tiger had once crushed his arm. His eyes flickered with fervor.
"Rember what Father said."
"The Shelbys are a gang, not Death Eaters, and definitely not that madman's slaves. Our goal isn't just the Ministry—that's too narrow..."
Looking at the varied expressions around him, Corman Avery slowly raised the letter overhead, as if holding up supre honor and mission.
"For Pure-blood interests?"
"No!"
"For nobler interests?"
"No!"
At this point, Corman Avery took a deep breath, as if channeling all his excitent and determination into this instant.
Then ca a nearly insane roar.
Every word seed to burst from his soul, filled with unquestionable power.
"We're bloody gangsters!"
"Pure-blood gangsters! Go plunder!"
"Slytherin gangsters! Go tear and bite!"
"Shelby gangsters! Go trample!"
"We're bastard gangsters!"
"Chasing vaster interests!"
The mont his words fell, the crowd was swept by an invisible wave of heat. The oppressive silence shattered in an instant.
As images flashed through their minds, finally freezing on Tiger's blazing figure, fervent passion ignited like flas shooting skyward. Every Slytherin's eyes glead scarlet and defiant. Roars rose and fell. Middle fingers shot up.
"Screw you, Burstrode!"
"Go to hell, Avery!"
"No one's leaving!"
"These are Shelby orders."
"I don't want Father greeting my whole family."
"Live or die—the Sacred Twenty-Eight won't crawl around like bugs anymore."
"Our leader's a real man. He won't abandon us. That madman? Just a pathetic slavemaster. Nothing to fear."
"Rosier's right—that slavemaster's crazy, but we're not exactly normal either!"
"Exactly!"
"Let everyone who stands against us..."
"Pray for themselves!!!"
Wild, insane roars swept the night sky.
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