"Don't worry, Miss Granger."
"This is a perfectly normal phenonon of half-blood magical creature bloodline awakening. It typically lasts around seventy-two hours."
Under Hermione's grateful gaze, Professor McGonagall crossed her arms and lifted her chin, speaking in asured tones:
"However, the most pressing matter at hand isn't this little fellow, wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, sorry Professor."
Hermione and the others imdiately snapped to attention. She hastily pulled Tiger toward their seats, with Harry and Ron following close behind.
However, as Tiger settled into his seat, the classroom atmosphere grew increasingly tense.
The Slytherin students watched Tiger's back with icy stares, Malfoy and his cronies' displeasure practically radiating from their eyes.
The Gryffindor students looked equally bewildered, wearing expressions that scread surely there's been so mistake.
The seating arrangents between the two houses had always been rigidly segregated.
Seeing Tiger's dark green robes planted squarely among the lions felt jarringly wrong to everyone present.
This bloke...
Couldn't he just bugger off to Azkaban?
"Very well, gentlen and ladies, please set aside your wands for the mont."
"Before we begin today's lesson, we must first understand Gamp's Law of Elental Transfiguration."
Professor McGonagall seed rather pleased by this turn of events. After her lips curved upward by the faintest margin, she retrieved her textbook and comnced the first lesson.
"Now then, who can tell what Gamp's Law of Elental Transfiguration encompasses..."
Hermione's hand shot up eagerly, her brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"Miss Granger, please proceed."
Professor McGonagall appeared genuinely appreciative of Hermione's keenness—she had a soft spot for dedicated students.
Tiger listened with rapt attention as well.
Though the lesson's focus was Transfiguration theory, Professor McGonagall wove in nurous cautionary tales, including harrowing examples of magical mishaps and their grueso consequences.
Admittedly, he found these accounts of wizards accidentally offing themselves rather entertaining, but he understood Professor McGonagall's underlying concern.
Children's boundless curiosity often led them to ignore potentially fatal consequences—especially when magic itself was inherently dangerous.
"Gentlen and ladies."
"Above all else, maintain the utmost respect for magic—if you value your lives."
Midway through the lesson, witnessing Professor McGonagall's stern and solemn expression, the young wizards swallowed nervously.
"Now then!"
The sharp rap of wand against blackboard echoed through the room.
"Please retrieve your wands and attempt to transform the match before you into a needle."
This was precisely the mont Tiger had been anticipating.
Despite the Shelby family's docunted spellcasting limitations, nothing could dampen his excitent.
However, when Professor McGonagall's gaze fell upon the weapon-like wand in Tiger's grip, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Mr. Shelby, please considerably reduce the amplitude of your wand movents."
Her serious tone carried unmistakable notes of exasperation and worry.
"Of course, Professor."
Tiger nodded with mild confusion, while only Hermione smiled knowingly.
Indeed, Tiger already possessed the sort of face that warned strangers to maintain their distance. Combined with his nacing wand, he appeared ready to transform into a homicidal maniac at any mont.
Unlike his classmates, Tiger needed to physically touch the match with his wand tip after incanting the spell.
This precision-demanding technique proved particularly challenging for soone with his explosive temperant.
"Excellent work, Miss Granger."
"Five points to Gryffindor."
"Well done, Mr. Malfoy. Continue practicing—three points to Slytherin..."
By lesson's end, Tiger had failed to transform his match into anything remotely needle-like, while every other student had achieved so degree of success.
Hermione had even managed to etch delicate patterns onto her needle, filling the clever girl with quiet pride.
"Oh, how fascinating..."
"It appears our Mr. Shelby's magical talent ranks just above a Squib's..."
Amid the approaching chorus of mockery, Malfoy smirked with malicious satisfaction, preparing to deliver so cutting remarks.
Before he could finish his taunt, however, he witnessed the furious Tiger drive his wand straight through the desktop.
"Bloody hell! Damn this sodding match!"
The laughter died instantly.
Blaise Zabini looked absolutely terrified as he shielded the younger Slytherins behind him, while Malfoy's face drained of all color—nobody fancied testing whether their neck was harder than solid oak.
"rlin's beard, that's genuinely terrifying."
"Harry, we should scarper. Now."
Ron muttered in stunned disbelief.
He might harbor prejudices against Slytherin, but he wasn't prejudiced against staying alive.
"Right, absolutely."
Rembering the Shelbys' reputation for ruthless violence, Harry jolted back to awareness and began herding his nearby classmates.
"Co on then, quickly now..."
"Grab everything."
"Next is Potions. My brother says that greasy git's a right nightmare."
"Move, move, move..."
"Actually... Tiger..."
Neville seed desperate to offer so explanation on Tiger's behalf, but his tongue-tied nature left him speechless. Eventually, his companions hustled him from the Transfiguration classroom.
The previously noisy room fell into oppressive silence, save for the cluster of trembling Slytherins behind Tiger.
"Tiger..."
Hermione gathered her textbook and tugged gently at Tiger's sleeve, her expression resigned.
"This is actually quite straightforward. You simply need patience. Shall I help you practice this afternoon?"
"We should head to our next class."
Unlike the others, Hermione understood Tiger far better. Though his veins bulged with rage, this wasn't a predator's attack posture.
Besides, the Shelby family never hard children—that was their unwavering code.
In her estimation, Malfoy and his cronies' terror was completely unfounded.
Not that she intended to clarify matters. Watching these little snakes quake with fear was rather amusing.
"I bloody hate turning things into needles."
Tiger extracted his wand with a disgruntled grunt, then collected his textbook and departed with Hermione. The gaping hole in the desk remained as shocking evidence of his frustration.
As for Gunpowder, Professor McGonagall had already whisked the multiplying cats away.
Though the stern professor claid to possess stabilizing potions that could curtail Gunpowder's uncontrolled duplication, Tiger harbored serious suspicions.
As a fellow feline enthusiast, he strongly suspected Professor McGonagall simply craved the euphoric experience of being overwheld by adorable cats.
That sensation was absolutely divine—pure bliss radiating from toes to scalp.
Watching Tiger's figure vanish through the doorway, the Slytherin students collectively exhaled in relief, the phantom constriction around their throats gradually easing.
Blaise Zabini cast a pointed look at Draco Malfoy, his expression laden with warning.
"Draco, mind your tongue."
"Don't mistake Shelby for Potter. You need to grasp exactly how dangerous he is. Nearly every Obscurial is an emotionally unstable dark wizard."
"Rember the Sorting Hat!"
"Slytherin wasn't his first bloody choice!"
Hearing the near-scolding tone, Draco Malfoy's face flushed crimson with indignation.
Blaise Zabini sighed with mounting frustration—he knew this fool all too well.
Even if certain truths were unwelco, their childhood bond compelled him to voice them, preventing potential catastrophe.
"Draco..."
"When a savage beast mauls you, don't foolishly believe a simple apology will quell its bloodlust."
"Think of the Shelby na!"
Behind the Slytherin group, Theodore Nott—whose perpetually gloomy features rarely showed emotion—suddenly smiled with unmistakable anticipation.
A tiger among serpents...
Perhaps he doesn't stand out so awkwardly after all...
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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