(This chapter is recommended to be enjoyed with "Bad Romance - Jay Smith" for double the effect.)
Indeed...
These Slytherin serpents had never resembled decent folk to begin with. According to their traditional methods, they'd skulk behind scenes orchestrating conspiracies, leveraging bloodline privileges to manipulate undercurrents.
But now, under Tiger's influence, this nest of vipers had shed their former restraints—emerging with brazen, direct audacity that bordered on theatrical menace.
No longer content with subtle backstage manipulation, they adopted an almost provocative stance, openly flaunting the distinctive flair of pureblood "criminal enterprise."
Hagrid regarded Norbert as his offspring, yet they brazenly discussed fashioning his "child" into luxury accessories—right before the "parent's" face. Such callous cruelty would test anyone's sanity.
Considering Hagrid was a half-blood giant, his restraint in not immediately decapitating these Slytherins represented an extraordinary testament to Dumbledore's educational influence.
"Erm..." Hermione pressed her lips together, glancing toward Tiger with helpless resignation flickering in her eyes.
Before Tiger could respond, Harry seemed to remember something crucial, speaking with urgent haste:
"Hagrid!"
"You could give Norbert to Charlie—he's working as a dragon trainer in Romania. Perhaps he could take Norbert..."
Mid-sentence, he clamped his mouth shut while restraining Ron from continuing.
He'd caught Hermione's anxious warning glance—and more importantly, witnessed the glacial coldness descending over Tiger's features.
Harry had spent his childhood in Surrey.
Perhaps he didn't understand Tiger as thoroughly as Hermione did, but he understood the Shelby family reputation well enough...
"Private dragon ownership violates Ministry regulations."
"Slytherin can arrange proper documentation—housing Norbert deep within the Forbidden Forest under educational research pretenses."
"Hagrid, provided you remain mobile, daily visits are entirely feasible. Regarding your concerns about harm..."
Observing Hagrid clutching the young dragon with obvious distress and anxiety, Tiger's predatory expression softened marginally.
"Nobody would injure a child before its parents—wouldn't you agree?"
Hearing Tiger's words, Hagrid's sobbing gradually subsided, disbelief flickering through his dark eyes.
He glanced hesitantly toward Harry before focusing on Tiger, his voice trembling with barely contained excitement:
"Truly?"
"You genuinely won't harm Norbert?"
Compared to permanent separation from his child, cohabitation—even at modest distance—represented infinitely preferable arrangements.
The Slytherins exchanged disgusted eye-rolls.
What was his status exactly?
How dare he question Father's word?
Beyond Tiger's position within Slytherin hierarchy, his personal conduct embodied masculine honor incarnate.
This was universally acknowledged.
Tiger raised an eyebrow with meaningful inflection:
"Naturally. However, should the child prove rebellious beyond your control, don't expect others to indulge such behavior."
"Oh, absolutely correct..."
Hagrid stared with reddened eyes, excitement rendering him almost flustered. He lifted Norbert overhead, proudly displaying the creature to everyone:
"Don't worry!"
"I'll definitely educate Norbert properly—he's such a good, good child. Look..."
"ROAAAAAR!!!"
The instant it glimpsed Tiger, the young dragon instinctively thrashed in terror. Despite Hagrid's incredible strength preventing escape, internal fear transformed into scorching heat rushing toward its throat.
Thick smoke billowed from tiny nostrils as suffocatingly hot flames erupted from the dragon's maw, engulfing Hagrid's hair and beard entirely.
"Oh! Merlin's beard!"
"HOT, HOT, HOT!"
With panicked cries, the flame-crowned Hagrid rushed toward the water trough beside his hut, still clutching Norbert...
The Slytherins maintained pointed silence.
"He's completely mental, isn't he?" Tiamat observed with profound exasperation, hearing the iron-quenching hiss from nearby.
Any ordinary person would have perished instantly from such burns.
"No need to state the obvious," Theodore replied with arctic disdain.
"Ladies, Crazy Friday has arrived!"
The moment they returned to the Slytherin common room, Venom burst eagerly from Tiger's body.
Greeted by feminine adoration and ecstatic cheers, Venom laughed like a trend-setting superstar, donning pure gold necklaces and crowns before charging into the dance studio.
"I want your love, and I want your revenge—you and me could write a bad romance."
"I want your love, and all your lover's revenge—you and me could write a bad romance."
"Oh oh oh oh oh..."
"Caught in a bad romance..."
Deep, husky vocals merged with explosive bass lines and wildly uninhibited choreography, igniting every corner of the dance studio until the very air seemed to boil.
For perpetually refined and elegant serpents, this represented nothing short of spiritual feast.
They surrendered completely to intoxicating abandon, every cellular fiber craving this unprecedented liberation and revelry.
Tiger couldn't be bothered managing Venom.
He collected textbooks from his dormitory, then accompanied Hermione—who waited outside the common room—toward the library.
Only eight weeks remained until examinations, creating considerable anxiety for Hermione that infected Tiger with matching urgency.
This week's assignments were substantial, plus he intended memorizing History of Magic key points—advance completion was essential...
Within the common room:
Draco Malfoy stood with chest thrust forward and chin elevated, surveying everyone seated on plush sofas. His lips curved unconsciously upward, radiating undisguised smugness.
"Ahem..."
He cleared his throat with paternal mimicry.
However, excluding Crabbe and Goyle, friends like Pansy seemed disinclined toward deference—pouring tea with openly amused expressions.
"Sugar, young Mr. Shelby?" Pansy's voice carried barely concealed laughter.
"No thank you, Pansy."
Theodore bowed gracefully while accepting the offered cup, fingertips brushing porcelain rim with perfect gentlemanly precision.
Hollow eyes filled with indescribable satisfaction—the formal address clearly pleased him immensely.
"AHEM!" More violent coughing disrupted the tranquil atmosphere.
Tiamat finally emerged from contemplation, lifting the sacred beetle crawling across his knuckles while smiling with predatory amusement.
"Throat troubles, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Trust me—simply swallow my beetle..."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
The platinum heir frantically covered his mouth, facial flush vanishing into unnatural pallor as terror and revulsion flooded his expression.
Witnessing this spectacle, Daphne finally succumbed to laughter—melodic as spring leaves rustling—shattering the room's delicate equilibrium.
Only then did Draco Malfoy realize everyone had been suppressing mirth while he performed like a complete fool.
"Right! I have arrangements to make!"
Young Master Malfoy glared with indignant fury.
"Understood, understood, noble young master." Blaise Zabini lounged languidly against sofa cushions, raising his teacup with theatrical flourish.
"Sit down for refreshments—Uncle Lucius never delivers opinions while standing."
"Ahem, naturally..."
Recalling his distinguished father, Draco Malfoy straightened his posture, maintaining stern composure as he assumed central position. Goyle diligently served tea.
"First point."
"Regarding the board proposal—only four families need participate. Excessive numbers would attract unwanted attention."
"Therefore, I'll spearhead the initiative."
"The remaining three families: Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Shafiq. For Shafiq negotiations, I'll dispatch Prefect Bulstrode. With Father's influence, that woman wouldn't dare refuse."
"Concerning professorial support..."
Though Young Master Malfoy possessed certain naive and theatrical tendencies, his organizational skills proved surprisingly methodical. Combined with his friends' supplementary input, everyone took comprehensive notes.
At Hagrid's hut, Tiger had designated the young dragon's ownership under Malfoy family authority.
Regarding potential turbulence between the board and Dumbledore—he couldn't care less.
This matter was therefore entrusted to Draco Malfoy. The platinum heir had nearly levitated with excitement.
Not merely because this "crucial assignment" would demonstrate his value and enhance his group standing, but because he was about to possess the dragon companion of his dreams!
This task actually presented minimal difficulty.
Though clandestine dragon ownership violated regulations, fundamentally it warranted only several years' ordinary imprisonment.
However, secretly harboring dragons at Hogwarts represented entirely different circumstances—endangering student lives. The avalanche of Howlers alone would compel Dumbledore to personally deliver Hagrid to Azkaban.
For that filthy half-blood giant, Dumbledore would be forced to approve this proposal.
Besides, his family operated dragon reserves—Father could simply designate the young dragon as educational donation.
The board's joint signatures and Godfather Snape's agreement merely provided double insurance.
He must demonstrate his capabilities to Father.
As for original owner Hagrid—in Young Master Malfoy's estimation, he was nothing more than a keeper for the family pet.
Hardly worth consideration.
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