The sunset transformed the Quidditch pitch into a masterpiece, painting the sky in brilliant strokes of amber and deep violet.
Tiger sat alone in the stadium stands, leaning back against the weathered stone steps, watching the spectacular display unfold across the horizon.
Several figures soaring above the pitch caught sight of his imposing silhouette.
Oliver Wood tensed immediately, guiding Harry Potter back to earth with obvious urgency before they both retreated from the field entirely.
Harry was Gryffindor's secret weapon—Wood couldn't afford to let anyone study his techniques, especially not Slytherin.
Tiger paid no attention to their wariness, too consumed with envy at their effortless grace in the air. If only he possessed even a fraction of their talent...
"Fuck Merlin!"
"Fuck flying!" Venom's mocking laughter echoed in his mind as Tiger unleashed a string of colorful curses.
The temperature began its evening descent.
Dewdrops scattered across the grass caught the dying light like thousands of microscopic diamonds, each one gleaming with ethereal beauty.
Until darkness claimed the sky entirely.
In the Quidditch pitch now shrouded by night, only a single flame remained—blazing from Tiger's outstretched palm with supernatural intensity.
Tiger studied his hand with dark fascination. Within the scorching flames, stark white bones gleamed even brighter—completely stripped of flesh yet moving with fluid precision.
Perhaps the magic-suppressing potion was working; the flames hadn't spread beyond his palm to consume his forearm.
He clenched his fist suddenly.
With focused intent, the flames vanished instantly.
Flesh and sinew rushed back over the bones like water filling a mold, restoring his hand to perfect condition within seconds.
Tiger hadn't drawn upon Venom's regenerative abilities.
Which meant this seemingly horrific burning caused him absolutely no permanent damage...
"Damn."
Tiger rose and began walking toward the castle, shaking his head in bitter frustration.
"I shouldn't have consumed so much of that bloody potion."
He wasn't expressing regret—merely recognizing his own cowardice. A man shouldn't surrender to mere physical discomfort.
[Tiger...]
Venom wanted to offer comfort to its partner and host, but struggled for words before finally mumbling:
[You're not technically a man yet.]
Tiger's expression darkened like a thundercloud. Through gritted teeth, he snarled:
"I'm not a man yet?"
"What exactly gave you that impression? Do I need to demonstrate otherwise?!"
"Because right now I'll—"
[NO NO NO NO!]
Venom shrieked in genuine terror.
It didn't question Tiger's... orientation, but it absolutely wouldn't underestimate his explosive temperament either.
To defend his masculine pride, this deranged Shelby bastard genuinely might follow through on such threats.
[Hey! Listen, you maniac!]
[What I meant was—yes, your soul is fully mature, but don't forget that human behavior and emotions aren't controlled solely by consciousness! Hormones and biological instincts play massive roles too!]
[Your physical age, your hormonal development—neither has reached adult levels yet.]
[It's completely normal for children to fear pain!]
Remembering the opening feast incident, then witnessing Tiger's hands already working at his belt buckle—what rational adult would resort to that as proof?!
To prevent Tiger from making good on his threat, Venom rattled off explanations at machine-gun pace.
"Hmm..."
Tiger's murderous glare softened slightly as he considered this perspective, then nodded slowly. "You make an excellent point."
He didn't despise childish impulses—honestly, experiencing adolescence again was a rare and fascinating opportunity. He simply refused to let juvenile reactions compromise important decisions.
Seeing Tiger refasten his belt and regain composure, Venom's panic gradually subsided.
Tiger wasn't merely its host—he was the most perfectly compatible partner the symbiote species had ever encountered.
Over time, Venom's thought patterns naturally began aligning with Tiger's through their constant mental connection.
Venom now considered itself definitively male.
It began secretly calculating whether to possess a human female temporarily, studying feminine genetic codes and behavioral patterns for... research purposes.
That way, if Tiger ever did attempt something inappropriate, it might be more... receptive...
But Venom had no intention of sharing these thoughts—this would remain a covert operation.
It understood perfectly that if Tiger discovered its current mental wanderings, he'd literally beat it into extinction...
(?n?)
————————
Night descended over Hogwarts. The Great Hall during dinner buzzed with even more energy than during daylight hours.
Laughter and animated conversation echoed through the vaulted chamber as students from every house lingered over their meals, sharing the day's adventures and gossip.
Even the professors engaged in casual chatter at the high table—though Professor Snape's expression remained as welcoming as a funeral shroud.
The moment Tiger claimed his seat, all Slytherin conversation ceased abruptly, as if someone had cast a silencing charm. Only the occasional clink of silverware broke the oppressive quiet.
An ominous atmosphere settled over the serpent table like fog.
Anticipation, contempt, mockery, barely concealed malice—dozens of calculating gazes flickered toward Tiger with predatory intensity.
Head Girl Gemma Farley tapped her crystal goblet delicately with a silver spoon. The crystalline chime rippled outward, and immediately the younger Slytherins began eating with obvious haste.
Within minutes, the serpent table emptied as students filed out in deliberate procession, leaving Tiger completely isolated.
Draco Malfoy's mouth opened as if to speak, but he ultimately just released a frustrated sigh and hurried after his housemates.
Witnessing this bizarre exodus, students from other houses exchanged bewildered glances, clearly sensing something momentous brewing.
Hermione watched Tiger with obvious concern, but he continued methodically working through his dinner as if nothing unusual had occurred—calmly slicing into his beef ribs with surgical precision.
Only the sound of bones splintering between his teeth sent involuntary shivers down nearby spines.
"Poppy..." Dumbledore sighed wearily, turning toward Madam Pomfrey with unmistakable pleading in his ancient eyes.
"If it's not too much trouble... might you consider working late tonight?"
Madam Pomfrey stared at him in complete bewilderment: "???"
————————
"Bursted, as Head Boy, you cannot ignore legitimate Slytherin concerns any longer."
"Your previous negligence has been... disappointing."
"This situation is now your responsibility to resolve."
"Regardless of methods employed, I trust you won't allow Slytherin's reputation to suffer further disgrace."
The Slytherin common room overflowed with students, their collective fury barely contained beneath layers of aristocratic composure and practiced dignity.
"Naturally..." Atlante Bursted replied, though his voice carried a nervous tremor.
Observing his obvious anxiety, Head Girl Gemma Farley's brow furrowed with displeasure.
But as the unmistakable aroma of love potion drifted through the air, her expression shifted to something far more calculating.
Without another word, she drew her wand and aimed it at the medieval tapestry adorning the wall—a masterwork depicting the shadowy silhouettes of Hogwarts' four founders.
Silvery mist erupted from her wand tip. The ancient tapestry shimmered and became translucent, revealing the hidden doorway behind it.
Stone mechanisms groaned as the concealed entrance swung open, exposing a vast training chamber that few students had ever seen.
"Remember who you are," Gemma declared, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of Slytherin tradition.
"Remember what we represent."
She turned to face the assembled crowd, her gaze burning with fierce pride and dangerous ambition.
Every young serpent straightened, their expressions hardening into masks of solemn determination.
"Glory above all!" they responded in perfect unison.
Gemma nodded approvingly and led the procession into the hidden training grounds.
In the shadows where no one was watching, Gemma's devoted follower Riley Shafiq slipped quietly into the boys' dormitories.
To Riley's surprise, the Head Boy's private chambers bore no protective enchantments whatsoever—the door stood completely unguarded.
She crept inside and, following Gemma's precise instructions, located the cauldron concealed within the washroom.
The flames beneath had long since died out, leaving only the completed love potion cooling in the copper vessel. Pearl-pink luminescence spiraled upward with the dissipating steam, creating an almost hypnotic display.
"Pathetic fool..." Riley's lips curved in a cold, predatory smile.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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