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

This sudden turn of events made Hermione's face drain of color. Clutching Gunpowder, she stumbled back two steps, staring at Tiger with panicked eyes.

"Tiger, they're dead!"

"Perfect! Now I can devour them!"

"While they're still warm..."

Venom leaned slightly toward Hermione, its hideous maw curving into an exaggerated grin. Its hoarse laughter resembled whispers squeezed from the abyss—utterly bone-chilling.

Hermione stared wide-eyed, not daring to move a muscle. Her innocent, terrified eyes nearly overflowed with tears.

Gunpowder in her arms instantly bristled, its normally sleek tail now resembling a feather duster as it arched defensively.

"Enough. Don't frighten the child."

"Do what you're meant to do, Venom. They're dying, and you know The Shelby Family doesn't kill children."

"As you command, my master."

Upon hearing Tiger's order, the malicious grin on Venom's face gradually faded. Its sinister pale eyes gazed eerily at Hermione.

"Delighted to meet you, little girl."

"I must say—you smell absolutely divine."

The moment those words fell, Venom transformed into thick, petroleum-like black liquid, enveloping Marcus and his companions' limbs and torsos.

Hermione instinctively covered her eyes, terrified of witnessing some bloody, brutal scene.

Her body involuntarily retreated several steps, nearly stumbling over Neville sprawled on the floor.

Yet even with eyes squeezed shut, imagined horrors still plagued her mind.

Terrifying sounds of rending flesh pierced Hermione's heart like needles, making her already pallid face even whiter.

But overwhelming curiosity forced Hermione to grit her teeth and crack open the tiniest sliver of vision.

Her eyes immediately widened in shock.

She witnessed Marcus and his companions' twisted, mangled limbs and blood-soaked wounds healing at visible speed beneath Venom's tentacle embrace...

"Dear God... what exactly is it?"

"A mutated Obscurus."

Tiger fell silent momentarily, then employed Dumbledore's provided excuse. After all, Venom's true nature proved genuinely difficult explaining—and he couldn't be bothered attempting it.

"Obscurus? Mutated?"

Hermione frowned in bewilderment.

She hadn't encountered such knowledge yet and remained ignorant about Obscuri.

"Right then, let's return."

Seeing Marcus and his companions' injuries had sufficiently healed, Tiger grabbed Neville by his shirt collar and guided the somewhat shell-shocked Hermione from the compartment.

Truthfully, he'd have preferred remaining—but the acrid stench of urine proved unbearably pungent. No choice but returning to Hermione's compartment.

"Tiger, violence can't solve problems. We could've found better approaches."

Back in their compartment, recalling recent events, Hermione still appeared deeply shaken.

She didn't want Tiger expelled from Hogwarts.

Moreover, this wasn't Surrey—certainly not Shelby territory. Facing wizards' bizarre and varied spells, nobody could protect Tiger.

"You violated our agreement."

Tiger didn't address Hermione's concern.

Instead, he once again retrieved Gunpowder from Hermione's arms and closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

Gunpowder lazily nestled into Tiger's embrace, stretching contentedly. This furnace-like warmth provided perfect feline comfort.

Hermione remained silent, simply staring intently at Tiger—like some wordless battle of wills, refusing to yield an inch.

Previously, she'd probably have avoided Tiger entirely. But now she was a friend Tiger had acknowledged, and Tiger represented her first genuine friendship.

She couldn't watch Tiger continue down this destructive path.

"D'you reckon I genuinely enjoy violence?"

After enduring her relentless stare until his scalp itched, Tiger somewhat helplessly abandoned his pretense of sleep.

"Um... perhaps?"

Perhaps driven by newfound friendship loyalty, Hermione awkwardly averted her gaze—though she indeed harbored such thoughts.

Tiger snorted derisively.

"Actually, I despise violence. Detest killing even more."

"Tiger, I'm not having you on."

Hermione looked utterly exasperated, pressing her forehead. Her tone even carried pleading undertones.

"Neither am I." Tiger gently stroked Gunpowder's head, affecting seriousness. "Hermione, I'm different from you. Though The Shelby Family represents an ancient wizarding lineage, we can't cast spells properly. It's hereditary—utterly unchangeable."

"If I don't employ violence to intimidate certain lowlifes, endless troubles will come knocking."

"Strike decisively once to avoid a hundred future conflicts."

"You're still young. The wizarding world isn't nearly as straightforward as you imagine. Pure-blood nobility harbors profound malice toward The Shelby Family."

With that, Tiger closed his eyes as if somewhat weary. Venom's grating laughter proved too shrill, triggering his headache.

He wasn't lying.

He was merely stating objective facts—but from a subjective perspective...

He absolutely adored violence!

That method of permanently silencing enemies without wasted words remained The Shelby Family's perpetual first choice.

He'd have relished twisting off Marcus and the others' heads entirely—but such actions wouldn't serve The Shelby Family's broader interests.

Tommy required assistance.

The Shelby Family also needed loyal hounds.

Those three blokes' brain matter hadn't been spilled for nothing, and Venom's biomimetic healing abilities certainly weren't complimentary...

Can't cast spells properly?!

Hearing Tiger's revelation, Hermione appeared genuinely saddened. She sympathetically grasped Tiger's hand.

Dear God, this world perpetually forces good people into unwanted actions.

"Actually, it's nothing terrible."

Hermione offered gentle comfort. "For us, magic isn't life's entirety. The Hogwarts acceptance letter was merely fortuitous coincidence."

This seemed remarkably reasonable sentiment.

Absolute bollocks...

Due to guilt over deceiving the little girl, Tiger refrained from his customary emphatic middle finger gesture.

Fortunately, Neville regained consciousness then. His bewildered eyes retained traces of confusion and trembling as he surveyed their surroundings.

Through blurred vision, no silver-green decorations appeared—allowing Neville some relief.

But as Tiger's figure entered view, Neville's face went deathly pale. As if witnessing phantoms, he bolted upright—not daring vocalize anything, merely curling upon the leather seat in violent trembling.

"Neville, Neville?"

"Can you hear me speaking?"

Hermione quickly approached Neville, gently grasping his shaking hands with concerned tones.

"Try relaxing. Take deep breaths."

"Tiger won't harm you."

Hermione's gaze radiated trust in Tiger. She firmly believed Tiger possessed fundamental goodness.

What?

Tension and terror gradually vanished from Neville's features, replaced by incredulous bewilderment.

Hermione, are you quite alright?

Hermione perfectly understood Neville's emotional state. She steeled herself, explaining on Tiger's behalf:

"Trust me, Neville."

"Tiger and I've known each other for years. He's genuinely good—I absolutely guarantee it..."

"A-alright..."

"Hermione... I trust you..."

Though utterly absurd, Neville—already considering Hermione a friend—ultimately chose trusting his companion. Under her continuous reassurance, his emotions gradually stabilized.

Neville stealthily glanced at the seemingly sleeping Tiger, then immediately withdrew his gaze as if electrocuted.

This bloke... remains terrifying in himself... even with closed eyes...

"Oh, Neville."

After resuming her seat, seemingly remembering something, Hermione regarded Neville with puzzled expression.

Neville returned her gaze.

"D'you know what an Obscurus is?" Hermione cast worried glances toward Tiger.

However, this single look made Neville instantly comprehend why Hermione posed such questions.

His round, chubby face immediately turned corpse-white. His previously calmed heartbeat accelerated dramatically as Neville stared at Tiger in absolute terror, shaking like a leaf.

"Her-Her-Her..."

"R-run... run..."

Why must it always be me...

Perpetually unlucky Neville suspected this might represent his final stroke of misfortune...

~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~ 

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