"Haha!"
Hearty laughter exploded like thunder, slicing through the Shelby pub's clamor and heat.
Big brother Arthur strode across the threshold with commanding presence, instantly magnetizing every gaze.
"Look who's decided to grace us!"
Pride laced his voice with theatrical mockery.
As Tiger's fierce, muscular silhouette slowly entered the pub, the original cacophony seemed seized by invisible hands—sudden, profound silence descended.
Then incredulous gasps and shock erupted like a tsunami.
"Christ almighty, where'd this beast crawl from!"
"Haha, another bastard bound for hell!"
"Don't tell me that's Tiger?!"
"Bloody fucking hell, what happened?!"
Recognizing those familiar features beneath the transformation, Shelby family members rose as one, staring with exaggerated expressions, eyes brimming with disbelief.
"Damn little bastard! Look at all that muscle! Better pray my girls don't spot you!"
Third brother John stepped forward, tentatively punching Tiger's chest, then burst into raucous laughter while embracing him.
"Hahahaha!"
"Don't worry, John. If they dare approach, I'll definitely cave their skulls in."
Tiger promised with solemn sincerity.
John paused momentarily, patting his brother's arm with peculiar tone:
"That's... not entirely necessary..."
He'd forgotten—this kid was merely eleven, completely oblivious. One punch from him would genuinely enlighten those girls.
"Little bastard, you properly terrified me."
Second brother Tommy approached Tiger carrying whiskey, shock still lingering in his eyes despite learning of Tiger's transformation through correspondence.
Honestly, he desperately wanted pouring Tiger whiskey in celebration. This little guy's coming-of-age ceremony had haunted his dreams countless times.
Unfortunately, his own skull wasn't nearly as resilient as Arthur's.
Sensing razor-sharp scrutiny from behind, Tommy punched Tiger's solid chest.
"Go see Polly immediately."
"Mum's been worried sick..."
Tiger broke into radiant grins, unprecedented brilliance radiating as he strode toward Mother Polly.
At the bar, Mother Polly leisurely smoked her cigar while pouring Thunder bourbon.
Though appearing serene, the bottle's trembling betrayed her inner turmoil.
Confronting Tiger's "menacing and fierce" appearance, Mother Polly surveyed him with theatrical disdain.
"Looks like from now on..."
"I'll need stuffing you in the rubbish bin."
"Boy, you better..."
"Haha, missed me, Mum?"
Before Mother Polly could finish, Tiger swept her up, spinning her around in circles.
Irresistible force overwhelmed her, followed by dizzying rotations. Mother Polly gasped, slapping at Tiger.
"Oh my God! Put me down this instant!"
"Little bastard! You want dying..."
Unprecedented screams echoed throughout the pub as every Shelby family member erupted in laughter.
Only after Tiger carefully lowered Mother Polly did "vicious" fists follow immediately.
Tiger smiled innocently, rubbing his abs.
Mother Polly shook her swollen fist, slightly breathless, her immaculate coiffure completely disheveled.
She glared at the little bastard before her, yet the subtle curve gracing her lips couldn't be suppressed.
"You've grown up, Tiger..."
Tobacco-scented fingertips tenderly caressed Tiger's cheek. Tiger lowered his head slightly, eyes overflowing with gentleness.
"I can protect you now, Mum."
Scalding tears slid across her fingertips.
When Professor Sprout had revealed his mother once served as Hufflepuff's most outstanding prefect, he'd finally understood what Mother Polly had sacrificed for the Shelbys.
He knew those little Badgers intimately.
That girl who'd once loved cooking, cherished plants, harbored romance, and yearned for peace had perished eleven years ago—died the day her husband departed...
Tiger slowly straightened his spine.
The tenderness in his eyes vanished completely, replaced by the Shelbys' signature arrogance and wildness.
"Irish whiskey!"
"Today I'm buying—for my mother, for the queen of the Shelby family!"
"For Polly! For the queen!"
Thunderous cheers nearly lifted the roof entirely.
Third brother John leaped onto tables, raising whiskey high while roaring toasts with family members.
"Let those who oppose us"
"Fend for themselves!!!"
"Son of a bitch, look who's graced us?"
"Tiger's friends?"
"Haha, may God claim you only after you've reveled in hell thirty minutes!"
"Lad, welcome to the Shelbys!"
Within the raucous, bustling pub, savage profanity filled every corner—yet surveying the sources revealed elegantly suited gentlemen.
They embodied pride and fearlessness, rebellion and untamed spirit.
They danced wildly between freedom's edge and restraint's boundary, performing madness with absolute perfection.
They treated rules as worthless yet firmly maintained their principles, preserving ordinary people's order while firing into darkness.
"The law sentences me to death!"
"Morality proves my innocence!"
The passionate toast rang with resounding power.
"Cheers!!!"
Deafening roars, clashing glasses rising and falling like thunderous war drums.
"Great Osiris..." Ramos Tiamat had never witnessed such spectacle.
His typically composed, elegant demeanor vanished entirely.
Replacing it: irrepressible heartbeats and madly burning blood.
"Dying to slaughter some Muggle?"
"Prove you're also a Shelby?"
As if penetrating his thoughts, Theodore Nott delivered only mocking laughter before approaching Tiger at the bar.
Like ice water cascading over his head, the fervor in Ramos Tiamat's eyes gradually dissipated, trembling hair slowly settling.
Sweat cascaded like rainfall, soaking his back. He couldn't suppress bitter laughter.
The Shelby family's toasts were pure war songs.
Slytherin's gloom and frigidity stood almost diametrically opposed to this atmosphere—no wonder Father couldn't tolerate it...
"Motherfucker!"
"Uncle Martin went to Nicolas Flamel's?"
Hearing Tommy's letter-mentioned surprise, Tiger couldn't restrain profanity, laughter reaching his eyes.
The ancestor's teacher instructing Shelbys again—this would undoubtedly represent the Shelbys' opportunity for wizarding world ascension.
"Dumbledore personally escorted him, along with Michael, Teresa, and others..."
Tommy drained his whiskey completely, rare relaxation illuminating his deep-set eyes.
"Actually, Uncle Martin possesses considerable talent. These years he's been excessively harsh on himself."
"Those knuckledusters he gifted you—he forged them personally, immediately following his third magical outburst."
"The enchantments upon them represent triple enchantments even our ancestor couldn't achieve, yet he accomplished it..."
At this point, Tommy exhaled lightly, seemingly calming inner excitement.
"Tiger, your specialty."
Steaming milk glided along the bar surface, landing steadily in Tiger's grasp.
The interior bartender winked mockingly at Tiger, who responded with an irritated middle finger. "Fuck off, Evan!"
"Tiger, no alcohol before legal age."
"You'd better not let me discover..."
Mother Polly's voice suddenly materialized.
Tiger's scalp tightened as he obediently raised hot milk like performing sacred ritual.
"For Uncle Martin, cheers."
"Hahaha, cheers!"
Tommy laughed heartily, raising his whiskey.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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