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"You wouldn't believe it!"
"Those pharaohs were absolutely mental..."
Ron was going on about the Weasley family's Egyptian adventure, showing off his new wand while he was at it.
Tiger listened with genuine interest.
Thinking of that fake Egyptian fraud Tiamat—who knew less about modern Egypt's magical customs than Ron—made his blood boil.
"Oh, right."
"Harry!"
"I heard about Sirius. Don't worry, mate. That rotten git will get caught..."
Ron suddenly remembered, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders to comfort his best friend.
But Harry was unexpectedly calm. He patted Ron's hand, lips quirking into a slight smile.
"It's nothing, Ron."
"Actually, I'd rather he didn't get caught..."
Ron: "???"
Outside the window, rain hammered harder. Drops drummed against the glass like a lullaby.
Tiger's light snoring filled the compartment.
Ron wisely shut up and flipped through a picture book from Egypt.
When he reached the page on Cleopatra, his face went bright red. He slammed the book shut.
Glancing around—no one watching—he reopened it. Stared at the moving images. Swallowed hard.
At his collar, a mangy rat poked its head out, eyes fixed on the pictures.
Harry quietly cleaned the revolver in his lap.
Gun oil filled his lungs. His green eyes darkened.
A Christmas gift from Tiger. He'd never dared use it before—kept it buried at the bottom of his trunk, terrified someone would find it.
Until Minister Fudge visited the Copper Oak again. Told him about Sirius Black.
Harry's eyes had burned red. That's when he noticed the revolver. The black barrel radiated something unsettling. The brass bullets gleamed, almost inviting.
He'd picked it up slowly.
The deafening gunshot still echoed in his ears. Dobby's hot blood still seemed to run down his cheek.
Malfoy's cold eyes. The smoke curling from the barrel. Like a slideshow in his mind.
Right. It works better than a wand. And my gun's bigger than Malfoy's...
Harry put away the cleaning cloth. Pulled bullets from his pocket. Loaded them one by one. His lips curled into a cold smile.
You'd better survive. I'll be waiting at Hogwarts, Sirius.
The gloomy sky darkened.
The compartment grew colder.
Ron huddled in his robes, asleep. Harry closed his eyes. Everything quiet.
Raindrops traced winding paths down the window glass.
Outside, the world blurred into soft shapes behind the curtain of rain.
Tiger's wool coat bulged high. Hermione slept peacefully in its warmth.
Like a cat seeking heat, she'd curled into Tiger's arms without even realizing it.
Her soft cheek pressed against his chest. Long lashes trembled slightly. A faint smile touched her lips. Tiny murmurs escaped her.
The kind of sweetness and contentment that only comes when you feel completely safe...
Gunpowder, squeezed out of the embrace, shook his head in confusion. Round blue eyes unfocused, trying to remember how he'd ended up on the floor.
When he noticed Hermione had stolen his spot, his fur exploded.
He'd had ENOUGH of this woman!!
Just as Gunpowder tensed to teach Hermione a "lesson," the luggage rack trembled.
An Acromantula dropped silently to the floor. Powerful legs flexed.
Bowl-sized body blocked Gunpowder completely. Pincers clicked, glowing sickly purple.
Multiple black eyes gleamed with warning: Don't even think about it.
As a Shelby cat, Gunpowder didn't take threats.
Even an Acromantula was just a cooked crab to him. Venom fed him plenty!
His blue eyes blazed.
A piercing, mournful yowl. Seven or eight pitch-black cats burst from Gunpowder's body like ghosts.
Pink pads. Claws shot out. Lunged straight at the spider...
Sharp hisses and angry meows jolted everyone awake.
Gunpowder's teeth tearing into the spider's body sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The Acromantula fought back—fuzzy legs like blades, piercing straight through one black cat's body.
The two pets tangled together.
Like Gunpowder had suddenly grown eight legs.
"Oh my God!"
"Gunpowder, stop!"
"Julius, no!"
Hermione stared, bewildered and shocked.
Hair a mess, she reached out to intervene but didn't know how.
Until Venom's tendrils shot out. Bound Gunpowder and the Acromantula named Julius like trussed crabs.
"He's gotten that big?"
"Give him another six months, he'll be ready to eat."
Tiger lifted the spider curiously. Venom's tendrils retracted slowly, almost reluctantly.
The remaining Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest weren't nearly as plump as Julius. Who knew when the buffet would reopen...
Sensing something, the spider trembled violently. Its sharp hairs went limp.
"Tiger, don't scare Julius."
"He's very good!"
"The day we ran into the Basilisk, he warned me. I just didn't understand. Later he led Harry and the others to me..."
Still half-asleep, Hermione's voice carried a hint of pleading. She carefully took Julius back, soothing her pet.
Julius gradually calmed. Stopped shaking. Found peace in his owner's arms.
"Ahem..."
Harry's awkward voice cut in.
"Hermione, if you could... maybe put Julius away?"
"Including this time."
"Ron's passed out twice now."
"Oh! Sorry!"
Hermione gasped apologetically.
Fumbled to put Julius back in the luggage rack.
That's when Tiger noticed—Ron had collapsed on the seat, unconscious. Face white as a sheet.
"Actually..."
"For Ron's condition, I have a solution. You could call it desensitization therapy."
Tiger held the struggling Gunpowder, looking at Harry with complete seriousness.
"Please, Tiger."
"Leave Ron alone."
Harry rubbed his forehead.
If he hadn't spent half the holiday at the Copper Oak, he might've fallen for it.
The Boy Who Lived had learned to recognize that rotten gleam in the Shelby brothers' eyes.
"Oh, fine..."
Tiger looked genuinely disappointed as he stroked his cat.
Not a trace of guilt for being caught.
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