"Uncle Borgin..."
The moment Tiger appeared, Raven Borgin drew the old wand he'd prepared, looking up with a light smile.
"You'll protect me, won't you?"
"Young master?!"
"There are over fifty mutts out there!"
Under Borgin's trembling gaze, Raven walked toward the shop door without hesitation.
As he pushed it open, he suddenly turned back to Draco Malfoy, tone serious.
"Want to come along, Draco?"
Under Lucius's expression of shock and fury, Draco drew his wand, looking up at his father with gleaming eyes.
"Father, you'll protect me, won't you?"
"You think you can kill us?!"
Wild, mad roars erupted.
The werewolf pinning Candice Shelby was punched away by Tiger, bone-cracking sounds following.
The impact runes on his knuckle-dusters doubled the devastating force.
The plump Shelby woman pushed herself up, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Thanks, Tiger."
"Candice, you should lose some weight..."
Before he finished, the knocked-away werewolf pounced back. Five gaping holes tore through his twisted shoulder, flesh curled back—but he seemed to feel no pain.
Tiger's arm veins bulged as he smashed into the approaching chest. Punch after punch.
Like a hammer striking drums—dull, shocking impacts erupted. The air itself rippled with shockwaves.
Bone-cracking sounds rose and fell, canine shrieks mixed in, until the werewolf was pounded into the ground. The fur and flesh of his chest turned to pulp. Only then did Tiger stop.
John's urgent cry came over.
"Tiger, you little bastard!"
"Get over here—I can't keep running!"
Watching Tiger's departing figure, Candice snorted coldly.
"No taste. This is called voluptuous!"
She grabbed the giant hammer beside her and swung viciously at the werewolf attacking from behind.
Frenzied roars exploded from her chest. "Die! You deformed mutt!"
Unlike the other werewolves who'd lost reason, werewolf leader York saw that several swift Shelbys were tipping the scales.
Knocked away by Tiger, he shook his dizzy head. No longer chasing the elusive Tommy, he pounced toward John instead.
Facing York—whose speed matched his own—John dodged left and right but was eventually pinned down.
His Protego protection shattered layer by layer under fangs. His claw-blades couldn't penetrate the tough fur.
The Shelbys coming to help were all entangled by werewolves.
"Tiger..."
Hearing John's helpless cry, York let out a piercing howl.
Three werewolves surrounded Tiger from the melee.
"Motherfucker!"
Tiger was completely caught in the tangle.
With breaking wind, steel-clamp hands grabbed a werewolf's head. The werewolf didn't dodge.
His crimson eyes held no fear—only determination to slow Tiger's steps.
"Damn it!"
Leaving these mutts breathing was only so Venom could absorb their magic to repair his body.
If he was in a bad mood, he could chew a few wolf heads to improve his spirits.
But compared to John's safety? None of that mattered.
Surging flames suddenly erupted. The wolf head Tiger was pounding into the ground let out bone-chilling screams.
In an instant, the twisted skull turned to crumbling stone dust.
"What the fuck!"
"What the hell is that!"
"Tiger, are you okay!"
Suddenly seeing Tiger's arm turn to gleaming white bone—wrapped in terrifying, scorching flames—the surrounding Shelbys stared in horror, trying to break free from their entangled werewolves.
"Don't worry, I'm fine!"
As flames rose, Tiger saw Tommy in the midst of battle, wrestling with a werewolf. His face grave as he slowly shook his head.
In the wizarding world, your spellcasting could be strange and varied. But you couldn't be so varied as to become strange.
About this, Dumbledore had already spoken with Tiger.
At least for now, Tiger wasn't suitable for exposing this ability in broad daylight.
"So when would be suitable?" Tiger had asked.
Dumbledore placed the Philosopher's Stone in the Elder Wand's drawer, tone serious.
"Tiger, it's not about timing."
"When you're no longer tempted by it, and can take it with your own hands—who would dare question you then?"
Tiger was silent for a moment. "Polly!"
Dumbledore: (?_?)...
At his will, the flames died. Flesh reformed. The gleaming bone seemed like an illusion.
The surging power of judgment was forcibly suppressed back into Tiger's chest.
Facing the bloody maw lunging at him, Tiger's eyes blazed with fury as he grabbed the werewolf's jaws.
In frenzied roars, the elongated mouth was torn apart.
Tiger slammed the werewolf to the ground.
One stomp down—the piercing shriek cut off abruptly, intimidating the remaining werewolves.
"Confringo!"
"Diffindo!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Stygian Sandstorm!"
Just then, green light struck. The werewolf trying to attack Tiger from behind instantly dropped dead.
Tiger looked back to see Atlantic Burstrode bowing from not far away.
Beside the noble young master, a white-haired butler's wand still glowed green.
"Father, how was your holiday?"
In front of the Nott shop, Ramos Timaeus's voice came over. The golden tablet in his hands blew forth waves of yellow sand—werewolves swept by it instantly became mummified corpses.
"Not bad..."
Tiger looked somewhat enviously at his magic. That golden tablet would be handy even for smashing people.
York—pinning John—was blown away by successive explosions.
"Good afternoon, Father..."
Raven waved his wand, gracefully performing a wizard's bow to Tiger.
Under his command, Borgin chased York, continuously casting curses.
Angry wolf howls rang out.
"Father..."
Draco looked at his father, not to be outdone.
Lucius's mouth twitched. He raised his wand, pointing at the werewolf closest to his son.
"Crucio!"
He didn't bother with the werewolf writhing on the ground, instead looking into the distance.
In his astonished gaze, many young Slytherins were emerging from shops with their guardians.
Among them—quite a few pure-blood nobles.
Curses fell like rain into the wolf pack. Vicious Unforgivables mixed among them.
"Rask?"
"What are you all doing here?!"
After driving off several werewolves, Lucius approached familiar faces with his son.
Rask Flint glanced at his nephew Marcus beside him, tone puzzled.
"Burstrode, Avery, Borgin, Shafiq, Selwyn, Rosier—joint letter supporting the Nott family."
"You didn't know?"
"Then what are you doing here?"
"What?!"
Lucius's heart lurched violently. A familiar, chilling sensation surged up his spine.
The last time something similar happened was over thirty years ago.
That stormy night.
His father Abraxas Malfoy had taken him to Azkaban for a rescue.
That was the first time he'd seen young people from various pure-blood families gathered together...
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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