"Filthy vermin!"
"He's destroyed Slytherin!"
"Vile, despicable troll—you should expel him! Dumbledore! Look what he's done!"
Deep into the night, the portraits adorning the headmaster's office erupted in particularly raucous discord.
Especially the Slytherin portraits—they gesticulated with frantic indignation, as though desperate to leap from their gilded frames and seize Dumbledore by the throat in righteous fury.
In stark contrast, Dumbledore's smile deepened with profound amusement.
Even the typically militant Phineas Nigellus Black had lapsed into ominous silence—though moments earlier, he'd been cursing with the most colorful and vicious vocabulary...
Just then, Professor Snape burst through the entrance with thunderous expression, striding purposefully to the mahogany desk before demanding in arctic tones:
"What exactly are you attempting to accomplish, Dumbledore? Are you simply permitting Shelby to run amok?"
"Observe tonight's carnage—screams echoing throughout the castle. Tell me, great and benevolent Lord of Light Magic, have you developed a taste for suffering?"
"Perhaps your pitiful Potions professor should prostrate himself and kiss your feet while begging you to visit Azkaban?"
Heaven knew, he was perpetually the one dispensing acidic venom upon others—yet tonight, two elderly witches in the hospital wing had verbally eviscerated him until he could barely maintain consciousness.
He was Slytherin's Head of House!
A Potions Master of international renown!
Not some house-elf tasked with cleaning up messes!
Confronted by Professor Snape's words dripping with sarcasm and molten rage, Dumbledore displayed zero offense, instead offering gentle reassurance:
"Peace, Severus. You must understand—children invariably mature through trials and tribulations."
"Perhaps some lemon tea would help?"
"Trials and tribulations?!" Professor Snape nearly erupted in bitter laughter. "What absolute drivel are you spouting?"
For the first time in his existence, he witnessed the perfect embodiment of maddening unreasonableness—emanating from an ancient wizard, no less.
"I don't care what grand scheme you're orchestrating, Dumbledore. Remove this savage—he doesn't belong in Slytherin."
Snape despised chaos above all else, and Tiger represented pure chaos incarnate infiltrating his domain.
Damn the trials and tribulations.
If these pure-blood imbeciles possessed courage to wield Dark Magic, they'd already be scattered across the dungeons in unrecognizable fragments.
"Shelby's brain consists of muscle tissue wrapped in slug slime—he lacks sufficient wisdom and capability to fulfill your grandiose aspirations!"
Fury amplified gradually, constricting Professor Snape's throat with hissing intensity, like a genuine serpent king spraying lethal toxins.
Dumbledore shook his head with quiet certainty, his eyes behind half-moon spectacles radiating unwavering resolve:
"Severus, don't underestimate Tiger. He comprehends exactly what he's doing..."
Observing Professor Snape's increasingly livid complexion, he released a profound sigh—though this exhalation carried inexplicable relief.
"Severus."
"When facts favor Slytherin, they emphasize facts. When regulations favor Slytherin, they emphasize regulations."
"You consider this cleverness. You believe these represent necessary tactics within ordered society..."
Dumbledore's voice paused meaningfully as he sighed again, helplessness blooming within his ancient gaze.
Professor Snape's eyes narrowed with disbelief—because this seemed more like weakness than wisdom.
Yet in his experience, this honey-brained old bee was never weak, much less likely to display vulnerability before others.
Unless...
This damned fossil is scheming again!
At this realization, Professor Snape retreated half a step with calculated wariness, his already hollow eyes becoming utterly vacant.
Dumbledore glanced sideways at this fool corrupted by Slytherin ideology, continuing his contemplative explanation:
"Such thinking appears antiquated even to me—a moldy confection past his prime."
"You see, when regulations and facts oppose Tiger, he overturns the negotiating table entirely, seizes throats, and compels obedience. They possess no alternative but compliance."
"You must understand—regardless of governmental structure, all authority originates from violence..."
"Indeed?" Professor Snape's tone carried glacial disdain. "Apparently our Lord of Light Magic has grown too comfortable and seeks to cultivate another Dark Lord?"
"Severus..."
Dumbledore shook his head with paternal exasperation.
"The world's fundamental mechanics remain unchanged, but the era has evolved. Pure-blood methodologies no longer function effectively."
"The time has arrived to pursue different paths."
"These children's mentalities cannot remain trapped in bygone centuries—such stagnation will destroy them."
In Dumbledore's perception, Slytherin differed fundamentally from the other three Houses.
Their status, their accumulated wealth—they served as the weathervane for Britain's entire magical community.
They occupied tremendous heights, which made their position equally precarious.
"Violence or barbarism—irrelevant."
"Provided it forces them to abandon their unstable floating thrones prematurely, it represents positive progress."
"Let them plant feet firmly upon solid ground and observe—truly see this world, comprehend their actual future..."
Within this labyrinthine world, goodness existed alongside evil.
Dumbledore felt no concern regarding what manner of individuals Slytherin students might become.
His vision encompassed broader horizons, extended further into tomorrow.
As time's inexorable current surged forward, the world's magnificence expanded before his eyes—ordinary human intelligence ascending continuously toward unprecedented heights.
The wizarding and Muggle realms—these two formerly parallel, non-intersecting trajectories now approached each other through subtle yet determined steps.
But beneath this seemingly harmonious convergence lurked undeniable contradictions and explosive conflicts.
How should they be resolved?
Even he possessed no answers.
He understood only that figures like Grindelwald and Voldemort wouldn't alter Muggle civilization's developmental trajectory—they would inflict catastrophic devastation upon the magical world, creating endless suffering.
He knew only that before contradictions erupted into open warfare, Slytherin students required survival wisdom and inner fortitude.
The courage and freedom to shine with magical brilliance amid tempestuous storms.
Not become hollow puppets adorning pure-blood aristocratic thrones, subsequently nailed by history's merciless hammer to pillars of shame that Muggles would despise—melancholy footnotes in civilization's inexorable transformation...
Professor Snape maintained silence momentarily, then pivoted and strode directly from the headmaster's office.
"I hope you won't regret this decision."
The stone gargoyle's grinding rotation rendered these words somewhat indistinct.
"I've transcended the age of regret."
Dumbledore murmured with serene amusement. Whether Tiger might evolve into a new Dark Lord was irrelevant—he maintained transcendent indifference toward such possibilities.
What he detested wasn't the power and malevolence behind that title, but the reckless, unrestrained madness and pathological obsessions.
The jungle law Tiger embraced was undeniably brutal, yet it represented the inevitable principle governing all growth, elimination, and renewal.
Moreover, this thoroughly corrupted young man had declared multiple times that he was fundamentally good...
Dumbledore felt inexplicably anticipatory regarding this claim.
"Forgive my perverse sense of humor, Severus. I've grown ancient enough to lose my teeth—occasionally I wonder what those pure-blood nobles will consume when they've lost theirs..."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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