After Professor Snape's continuous half-month of detentions, the thoroughly exasperated Tiger finally demanded that other House Quidditch teams cast Shield Charms on their respective players.
The requirement: when the Shield Charm dissipated, they'd automatically be injured and leave the field. The Slytherin team, however, wouldn't use Shield Charms.
The originally terrified little Badgers immediately regarded Tiger with profound gratitude.
The little Eagles, who had researched various tactical approaches, also exhaled relief upon receiving this news.
Only Oliver Wood found this deeply infuriating.
He considered it contempt for Gryffindor, especially witnessing Marcus Flint's mocking expression.
The proud Captain Wood would never acknowledge Gryffindor as weaker than Slytherin.
However, the Weasley twins couldn't care less about this fool—the brothers rarely practiced Shield Charms within their dormitory.
This consequently resulted in Gryffindor's points finally displaying a declining trajectory this month.
Percy Weasley felt immense relief regarding this development.
Unfortunately, those who walk riverbanks inevitably wet their shoes. Frequent nighttime wandering increases finally led to Harry and Ron being caught red-handed by Professor Snape...
"Good Lord, this is freezing..."
Approaching Christmas, temperatures plummeted. Bone-chilling corridor drafts proved unbearable.
Combined with several days of heavy snowfall, the Potions classroom in the dungeon had practically transformed into a freezer.
The unfortunate pair being punished with cleaning duties couldn't stop their teeth chattering.
Even with cauldron fires still burning behind them.
Fortunately, Hermione rushed in carrying two coats, scolding with exasperated disappointment:
"Percy's furious—thirty whole points."
"You'd better consider how to apologize."
"He finally managed organizing students to surpass Slytherin's score, and now everything's ruined."
She pressed her lips tightly together. For these two idiots, she'd endured countless arguments.
If Lavender Brown hadn't restrained her, she'd definitely have donned her brass knuckles and shattered these jerks' teeth.
"Hey, this isn't our fault..."
Observing Hermione's slightly frigid expression, Ron closed his mouth with wounded dignity, lowering his head to wipe tables.
They'd merely debated several sentences—who knew Snape would continue deducting points?
"We'll work diligently to compensate."
"Last night we were simply curious about Snape's fourth-floor activities, you understand..."
To prevent Hermione from donning brass knuckles, Harry promptly bowed apologetically, his attitude genuinely contrite.
Hermione naturally understood.
Encountering Snape, regardless of identity, never ended favorably. They could only blame misfortune.
Moreover, Snape's furtive behavior always generated inexplicable unease.
Only after both promised recovering points before Christmas did the lioness depart the Potions classroom satisfied.
"Merlin's stinking socks..."
"How did she become like this?"
Ron spoke mournfully, voice saturated with helplessness. He no longer dared argue with Hermione.
"Actually, it's quite beneficial."
"Hermione's always correct."
Harry sighed helplessly.
He vaguely remembered that seemingly arrogant bookworm who could be reduced to tears by roommates' casual remarks.
When exactly had she transformed into a lioness? Terrifying...
"Brilliant work!!!"
"Marcus! Crush them!"
"Some bastard sprouted six arms!"
"Who's that?"
"It's Tiamat!"
"Damn it, Tiamat! No using scarab beetles!"
Beyond the castle, snow blanketed everything in pristine white—a silver-wrapped world where deep accumulation reached past calves.
Beneath hazy gray skies, snowflakes drifted sparsely downward. The once-sparkling Black Lake surface had frozen completely solid.
Though bitter cold permeated everywhere, Black Lake shores pulsed with entirely different heated atmosphere...
Under Gemma Farley's day-and-night pleading, Tiger finally couldn't resist love potion effects.
Morning exercises in bitter winds were finally canceled.
But before Lisa could celebrate, Tiger led the little snakes from the castle, organizing snow rugby matches...
Snow sprayed, roars erupted.
Excited, high-pitched shouts nearly reached the castle. Students from other Houses, hearing such sounds, couldn't help emerging curiously.
Dull physical collision sounds echoed through cold air—far from heart-stopping, they resembled winter war drums, stirring every observer's heartstrings.
Six muscular arms desperately blocked Tiger's advance, but his feet carved lengthy snow trails. Tiamat roared frantically:
"Marcus, what are you standing around for!"
"Selwyn! Bole!"
"Motherfucker, if you don't get over here, I'll return and drown you in toilets!"
The usually refined Egyptian youth now displayed forehead veins, flushed cheeks.
Beneath steaming mist came Egyptian-accented Shelby-style profanity, practically applicable.
Facing surrounding opponents, Tiger's body sank slightly.
Muscles surged throughout like a bulldozer, pushing Marcus and company straight into the scoring zone.
"Touchdown!!!" Referee Atlantic Bursde raised his flag.
Students from other Houses, though unable to comprehend rugby rules, found this devastating scene sufficient to ignite blood—thunderous cheers erupted.
"Special teams, take the field!"
Draco Malfoy, serving as kicker, led first-years into field range. Observing goalposts flickering like fireworks, his smile reached peak excitement.
"By Osiris..."
"Such strength simply isn't human."
Ramos Tiamat and others walked exhaustedly sideline-ward, gasping heavily.
Though bodies felt somewhat sore, that exhilarating release sensation proved absolutely addictive...
Inside the castle.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood behind windows, overlooking this snow rugby match.
The sudden snow event had transformed this silver-wrapped, cold, lonely scenery into vibrant life.
"Minerva, guess what I'm contemplating?"
"During our American visit, Muggle streets were plastered with Chicago Bears promotional posters everywhere. I must say, quite mad."
"I actually wanted attending."
Dumbledore's eyes brimmed with amusement.
Seemingly infected by this scene, Professor McGonagall's typically stern lips quietly curved upward.
"What a pity."
"You seemed busy saving the world then?"
Dumbledore shook his head with gratified smile.
"I'm not that great. I simply wanted saving one foolish fellow, but unfortunately..."
Past regrets could no longer change.
But witnessing these little snakes' transformations, the weight in Dumbledore's heart seemed lightening somewhat.
"Excellent kick!"
"Malfoy family talent isn't poor at all."
Amid rising and falling cheers, Draco Malfoy excitedly departed the field, showing off before Blaise Zabini and others.
"Defense, take the field!"
Observing Selwyn's legs so weakened walking proved difficult, Lisa viciously bit her cookie, kicking him aside.
"Get lost! Watch me!"
[A bunch of useless idiots—took forever and still couldn't tear Shelby's shirt off. We were dying of anticipation.]
Witnessing Lisa take the field, Slytherin girls' screams intensified excitedly—pairs of thrilled, curious eyes fixed upon Tiger's muscle-taut shirt.
Gemma Farley quietly slipped the recently delivered camera to Rhaella Shafiq...
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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