HP: What, You've Never Seen a Symbiote at Hogwarts?

Under the intervention and persuasion of numerous Shelby relatives, Mother Polly walked aside with gritted teeth.

That cream-covered revolver wasn't shoved down Tiger's throat after all.

Amid John's gleeful laughter, Tiger clutched his mouth with lingering terror.

Even Venom, in its weakened state, trembled and curled into a ball—despite Tiger having nearly shouted himself hoarse moments earlier.

It was absolutely certain: if it dared appear, Polly would unhesitatingly swap the revolver for a crate of grenades...

The birthday celebration proved quite lively, though Tiger couldn't see how it was meant for him.

Watching people around him raise whiskey glasses in celebration, envious tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Tiger, my nephew."

"I'm terribly sorry—The Shelby Family has been absent from the magical world far too long. We cannot offer much assistance."

"Take this with you."

"It will serve you well."

A gaunt man approached Tiger slowly, clutching an ornament crafted from shells and wooden plaques, his weak voice carrying an ethereal quality.

"Bloody hell! Uncle Martin!?"

Tiger appeared genuinely surprised.

In his memory, Martin Shelby represented The Shelby Family's most peripheral figure.

Not only did he confine himself to his house year-round, but he rarely participated in family gatherings.

Tiger last remembered seeing Martin Shelby four years ago—the day of Tiger's magical outburst.

Even then, merely a fleeting glimpse.

Seeing Tiger was unharmed, Martin Shelby had retreated back into his dwelling.

"What is this?"

Tiger accepted the remarkably plain ornament from Uncle Martin's slightly trembling hands.

He examined it with puzzled curiosity.

The characters carved upon the wooden plaques and shells resembled ancient totems, emanating mysterious aura that lent unusual charm to the otherwise crude appearance.

"Protective charms..."

"Each one... contains Protego... can help you resist one magical attack..."

Perhaps due to years of insufficient exercise, Martin Shelby spoke breathlessly.

Thick spectacles were buried beneath disheveled hair, his somewhat vacant eyes revealing profound fatigue and decay, dark circles beneath suggesting sleepless nights.

Witnessing this, Tiger's heart clenched. He quickly extended the hot milk from his hands.

Martin Shelby accepted the milk, sipping gently. Warm liquid instantly spread through his mouth, bringing traces of comfort.

His nearly transparent pallor regained some color in that brief moment.

However, his expression remained dejected.

"Forgive me, Tiger. Perhaps it's talent's limitation—I cannot reach our ancestors' heights."

"The family expended its final resources triggering my magical awakening's second stage."

"But I seem..."

"I can only reach this far."

Sensing the disappointment and guilt in Uncle Martin's tone, Tiger patted his shoulder, remaining wordless.

This truly wasn't his fault.

Yet Tiger couldn't summon comforting words. Fortunately, masculine comfort was precisely that simple...

Through previous conversations with his father Lawrence's portrait, Tiger had learned considerable past history.

Including how Lawrence and other Shelby elders' deaths weren't actually due to gang warfare, but because a powerful wizard named Voldemort had targeted them.

Perhaps for The Shelby Family's wealth.

Or perhaps for The Shelby Family's affordable enchantment methods.

Regardless, to ensure the family's women and children could escape safely, Lawrence, as family patriarch, stepped forward with fellow elders to fight Voldemort to the death...

The Shelby Family's magical awakening essentially represented Blood Magic's deepening and advancement.

This process comprised six stages, each advancement accompanied by dramatic expansion of resources and magical power.

For the former Shelby Family, accumulating such resources might not have proved difficult—but now it had become an insurmountable chasm.

The auxiliary tools Nicolas Flamel had crafted for the Shelbys a century prior, including magical sources capable of storing vast magical power, had all been lost or destroyed in that war.

Martin Shelby—youngest among his generation—was The Shelby Family's final enchanter.

Everyone in the family, including current patriarch Tommy, avoided placing excessive pressure upon him.

But Martin, having witnessed his father's generation and peers' deaths, would rather die than watch The Shelby Family vanish from magical history...

"Tiger..."

"You can absolutely achieve it."

"I believe in you."

"But be cautious... those damned pure-blood nobles despise the Shelbys... yet simultaneously fear the Shelbys..."

"They're like venomous serpents... I'll continue crafting protective charms... until I witness that day..."

Martin Shelby forced a wan smile, faint light flickering in his exhausted eyes. Before Tiger could request he remain, he stumbled from the pub.

"Is Martin alright?"

"He's been avoiding me."

At some point, Tommy had approached. Tiger gazed toward the door with shadowed eyes, his tone grave:

"Terrible, Tommy."

"He's in dreadful condition."

"You must use your authority as family head to force Uncle Martin to rest. Our progress will be swift, but I fear he'll die even faster."

"I want him to see that day."

"Naturally..."

Tommy didn't hesitate momentarily. After discarding his glass, he departed the pub with Arthur...

Despite the birthday being several days past, Mother Polly still hadn't granted Tiger a pleasant expression.

Even though today marked departure for Hogwarts, she merely took responsibility for hurling Tiger from bed to outside the bedroom door.

"Get out quickly, stop being an eyesore."

With Mother Polly's roar, Tiger fled the pub in disheveled form, clutching his case.

The little black cat named "Gunpowder" also shrank into Tiger's embrace, not daring to emerge.

The Granger family already awaited roadside.

"Good morning, Tiger."

Hermione's dark brown eyes sparkled brilliantly. The instant she spotted Tiger, she eagerly waved.

"Sorry, Tiger."

Arthur stopped the car roadside while Tommy leaned against the window, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

"You understand—Martin requires our presence. I'll trouble Dr. Granger to escort you to school."

"Remember to heed your friend's counsel, baby~"

Under Tiger's bewildered gaze, Arthur pressed the accelerator. The car swiftly departed, leaving the brothers' mocking laughter lingering in the air...

In Dr. Granger's vehicle, excitement and anticipation on Hermione's face nearly overflowed.

Her chattering voice tormented Tiger's skull, and even Gunpowder couldn't resist covering its ears.

When she glimpsed the little black cat squirming in Tiger's arms, Hermione's noisy voice ceased abruptly.

Her dark brown eyes became completely captivated by those twitching furry ears.

Hermione stared directly at Tiger's collar, unable to avert her gaze.

"Tiger..."

"May I hold it?"

As a devoted cat enthusiast, she possessed absolutely no resistance to that fluffy little head.

Tiger glanced at Hermione, then observed Gunpowder clinging tightly to his garments. He remained silent momentarily, seemingly weighing options.

"If you can keep your bloody mouth shut."

Though somewhat reluctant, nothing surpassed quiet's importance presently.

"What—"

Hermione glared indignantly.

However, witnessing Tiger embrace the black cat with blissful expression while whispering to it, her expression instantly softened.

"Of course... I merely—"

The Shelby Family always honored contractual spirit.

Before Hermione could finish, Tiger extended Gunpowder, whose eyes remained ice-cold.

As fluffy sensation swept over Hermione like a tide, she swallowed remaining words, her small face displaying greedy contentment while petting the cat.

Purring sounds arose.

Both Tiger and the initially reluctant Gunpowder simultaneously relaxed.

How bloody wonderful...

A quiet journey...

The story isn't over...

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