Everyone knew Theodore Nott's mother had died years ago, his father was imprisoned in Azkaban, and the entire Nott family fortune had been seized by relatives...
Mom?
Where did this Mom come from?
Blaise Zabini's face turned iron-gray as he asked through gritted teeth: "Did those bastards find you a foster mother?!"
Draco Malfoy also stood up with fury, saying incredulously in hateful tones: "Has the Nott family become a nest of vermin now?"
Though his parents protected him well, the sordidness and disputes among pureblood nobility weren't uncommon—he knew this perfectly.
He simply hadn't expected the Nott family parasites to completely tear away their fig leaf!
Once upon a time, the Nott family had sworn solemnly they would return all family property when Theodore came of age.
Did they think that by making Theodore acknowledge a foster mother, they could brazenly claim the Nott family as their own?!
"This is blasphemy against pureblood nobility!" Pansy Parkinson clenched her fists tightly, trembling with rage.
The proud, willful young lady—no matter what misdeeds she committed, she always displayed her status and position with dignified bearing.
What she despised and found most disgusting was exactly this kind of sneaky, underhanded behavior—it was simply defiling pureblood nobility's glory!
"Heh..."
An extremely unfamiliar laugh rang out.
The anger on everyone's faces suddenly froze, turning to regard Theodore with bewilderment.
"Don't worry, everyone. No one can force me to do anything I don't wish to do. Never..."
With faint coldness and mockery flickering in his eyes, Theodore caressed the gold pocket watch at his waist, saying quietly:
"The Nott family will disappear soon."
"Now, my surname is Shelby."
Facing his companions' gradually opening mouths, the thin-lipped boy's corners curved slightly—that barely perceptible arc no longer as stiff as before.
"Theodore Shelby."
He spoke with complete seriousness.
Malfoy and others: "..."
(?д?)(?д?)(?д?)(?д?)
"So..."
"I have another brother?"
With a soft click, the pocket watch opened, revealing gilded cursive "Shelby" engraved beneath the cover.
In the Head Boy's dormitory, Tiger caressed Theodore's pocket watch and couldn't help laughing.
Why wasn't he surprised at all?
Mother Polly's hatred for Death Eaters hadn't extended to Theodore.
On the contrary, she'd accepted the lonely, cold Theodore with compassion and tolerance.
Like warm sunlight piercing through darkness and gloom, illuminating the boy's desolate life.
Such pocket watches—each of the four brothers possessed one, and Theodore was the fifth.
It held no special meaning beyond representing Mother Polly's love.
Theodore lowered his head slightly, saying quite solemnly: "I will forever be your most loyal follower..."
"No, you have only one identity."
Tiger interrupted the boy's devotion, then returned the pocket watch, patting his shoulder gently:
"Shelby children never miss Christmas each year. You won't disappoint Mom, will you?"
"I swear on my life!"
Theodore stiffly pulled his mouth into a smile. Though still ugly, it truly came from his heart.
He still remembered last night, when receiving the gold pocket watch, facing Mother Polly's shock and panic.
"Madam..." His slightly trembling voice drew the woman's displeasure.
Mother Polly put down the selected suit, frowning at the helpless Theodore, turning her head sternly.
"Hmm?"
The maternal pressure made Theodore shiver involuntarily. He hastily corrected himself:
"Mom..."
"Mmm~"
Mother Polly nodded satisfactorily, helping Theodore organize his new clothes, packing the suitcase full.
After a while, Theodore asked somewhat hesitantly: "Mom, what is Shelby?"
He would rather die than disappoint this trust.
Gently closing the suitcase, Mother Polly walked before Theodore, tenderly stroking his head.
"Face opportunities by fighting for them, face danger by struggling against it, face hardship without fleeing, face temptation without hiding."
"We're not beasts—it's just that no one is worth making us wear that hypocritical mask."
"Don't wrong yourself, child."
"Remember, all people are born equal."
Here, Mother Polly's tone paused slightly, a trace of ruthlessness appearing in her gentle, kind eyes.
"Theodore, no one is worth you doing this—unless they have two lives..."
Night fell deep. Theodore carried his heavy suitcase, walking out of Mother Polly's bedroom.
"Mom, I promise you."
"I will never surrender. Even if I die, I'll fall while shouting and laughing."
"I will become a true Shelby!"
Watching Theodore's departing figure, Mother Polly lit the cigar in her hand, smiling with relief.
"You already are, my son."
The holidays ended, and weather grew increasingly bitter.
Except for upper-year students using Warming Charms, many had changed into thick winter clothing.
Theodore's outfit, almost identical to Tiger's, along with the gold pocket watch often hanging at his waist, quickly drew certain people's attention.
Seeing Father said nothing, Atlantch Bursted regarded him with increased solemnity.
As for Ramos Timaart, his eyes turned green with jealousy, like sacred beetles.
Others might not know, but didn't he?
That gold pocket watch—he'd only seen it on Father and the Shelby brothers.
Damn, what had he missed!
Observing Theodore's gold pocket watch, then the revolver received for Christmas, many little snakes felt theirs weren't so appealing anymore.
In their view, that gold pocket watch symbolized status—the glory Father bestowed upon those he trusted.
However, there were also bold ones.
After ordering clothes from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, they donned three-piece suits similar to Theodore's and approached Tiger to offer New Year's greetings.
Seeing Tiger said nothing and even raised his eyebrows satisfactorily, more and more followed suit.
Slytherin's last traces of decadence and gloom completely vanished under this collective attire, replaced by refreshing new spirit.
"Very good, Mr. Malfoy."
"One point to Slytherin..."
Witnessing the little snakes' crispness and elegance, Professor McGonagall rarely showed a trace of envy.
Honestly, she desperately wanted the little lions to become like this too—clean, tidy, brimming with spirit.
However, seeing Seamus's once-again blackened face and Ron's grease-stained wizard robes, she could only sigh helplessly and silently hand over new Transfiguration materials.
So be it—she was exhausted...
How many years had it been? In all of Gryffindor, only Sirius had ever met her standards for dress and bearing, but unfortunately...
"Putting on airs—how disgusting."
After class, watching Malfoy raise his chin and lead the little snakes away, Ron snorted coldly with indignation, while Harry hurriedly departed the classroom with his books.
"Ron, I'm leaving first..."
Recently, Quidditch training had grown extraordinarily frequent.
Wood and Marcus constantly clashed over use of the Quidditch pitch. If not for Angelina's intervention, both sides would probably have fought already.
Gryffindor never feared challenges.
But the problem was Slytherin's morning training showed remarkable results, especially the Quidditch players doing extra practice—they were almost developing toward troll-level strength.
The visible outcome: they definitely couldn't win.
In the end, amid the two captains' heated arguments, they had to temporarily establish a first-come-first-served rule.
At dinner time, Ron was still chattering endlessly to Harry, complaining about Slytherin's recent changes.
Especially Draco Malfoy—that way of looking at people through his nostrils was genuinely annoying.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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