In fact, Venom didn't possess magical abilities. More accurately, Venom itself had no magic power.
It wasn't a product of this world.
Gene sequences from various magical creatures only allowed it to replicate different magical organs. Without magic power to drive them, it couldn't cast magical creature spells.
Fortunately, Tiger had magic power.
However, simulating abilities like Augurey screeching, Demiguise invisibility, or Runespoor silence was quite taxing for Tiger.
Just those few seconds had drained nearly half his magic...
"Mr. Shelby!"
The slippery, sticky tongue slid across his cheek. Grotesque, terrifying fangs slowly opened. Seeing that gaping maw getting closer, Professor Flitwick couldn't hide his terror as he shouted.
Though he'd been suppressing his instincts these past few minutes, the closer he got to Venom, the more he could feel this creature's horror.
It wasn't just a wizard's nemesis. It was every living being's nemesis!
His goblin hybrid's keen senses made every hair on Professor Flitwick's body stand up...
[Venom—]
Hearing Tiger's annoyed restraint, Venom's movements suddenly froze.
With a regretful grunt, the black twisted tentacles placed Professor Flitwick back on the ground, then patted the professor's head in what seemed both farewell and comfort.
"Goodbye, my sweet..."
As the massive, muscle-bound body slowly receded, revealing Tiger's form, that oppressive presence that made everyone tremble and afraid to breathe also dissipated invisibly.
Below the dueling platform, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students finally gasped for air like drowning victims reaching shore...
"Filius, are you alright?"
Professor McGonagall emerged from the crowd, looking worriedly at Professor Flitwick as she pulled out a Pepper-Up Potion from her robes.
"I'm fine. Just... a bit weak in the knees."
Professor Flitwick wiped the fine sweat from his forehead, took the potion, and drank it down.
He'd expected this to be an unconventional duel, but hadn't anticipated it being this "unconventional."
Will, stamina, magic power. Even instinct. All had endured tremendous trials and oppression.
The moment Venom released him, his magic power had been nearly drained...
[What a terrifying monster.]
As his strength and magic gradually recovered, warmth flowed through his body. He finally exhaled in relief, a trace of ease appearing in his eyes.
"Oh, thank you, Minerva. You've been a great help..."
With that, Professor Flitwick turned to look at Tiger, a relieved yet helpless smile crossing his face.
"And you, Mr. Shelby. Twenty points to Slytherin for this spectacular duel and Mr. Venom's restraint..."
"My pleasure, Professor."
Tiger gracefully performed a hat-tipping bow, then walked down from the dueling platform, taking the basilisk staff from Tiamat and gathering Gunpowder back into his arms.
Looking at the Slytherins in the crowd, Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall sighed simultaneously.
No wonder Slytherin students had changed so dramatically these past two years.
Walking with wolves and tigers, becoming beasts was only a matter of time.
Just then, on the other side of the Great Hall, the previously noisy Gryffindor-Slytherin dueling platform erupted in surprised cries before falling into eerie silence...
"Parseltongue?"
"That's right. Only Slytherin's heir would be a Parselmouth. Damn it, how is he worthy!"
In the Slytherin common room, a strange and heavy atmosphere pervaded. The young snakes looked at each other, their eyes full of confusion and unease.
Facing Tiger's question, Draco's expression looked rather uncomfortable, his gritted teeth full of indignation.
Just when that pauper Weasley was running with his head covered from Draco's attacks, Scarhead Potter could actually command the black snake he'd summoned to turn around and attack him instead.
What the hell.
That hissing sound made his scalp crawl. He admitted he was scared, but everyone knew—the last Parselmouth was Voldemort!
"Alright, it's nothing. Just Parseltongue. Venom can do it too."
Sensing the unease and shock among the young Slytherins, Tiger yawned boredly.
At the same time, Venom poked out its head, making eerie, cold hissing sounds at the crowd.
Many Slytherin students kept snakes. When they discovered their snakes uncontrollably slithering toward Venom, surprised exclamations immediately arose.
"It's getting late. Go rest. You can call Harry stupid, but not evil..."
Hearing Tiger's teasing, light laughter rippled through the crowd, and the tense atmosphere gradually dissipated.
Tiamat then raised the golden cobra pendant on her wrist, saying in an unconcerned tone:
"Don't worry. Maybe it's just coincidence. Every Egyptian priest knows a few words of snake language. Don't let preconceptions affect you."
"Hiss~~"
At the end, Tiamat playfully stuck out her tongue at everyone, earning disgusted looks.
Theodore expressionlessly surveyed the group.
"Just Voldemort. Humans die."
He understood clearly that the unease in everyone's hearts wasn't from Harry Potter's Parseltongue, but remembering another man who spoke it—one who'd brought equally painful shadows to pureblood nobility.
Head Boy Bersted walked to Tiger's side, drawing the young snakes' attention to him.
"Remember, the last Parselmouth was just a mad rat who only knew how to hide. He wasn't worthy to command pureblood nobility, much less become Slytherin's leader."
"Father said true pureblood nobility would rather die standing than live kneeling!"
"Think about your fathers. They had ideals, ability, ambition, status, but died worthlessly. All to build one rat's prestige."
Head Boy Bersted's tone paused slightly, as if remembering something. He shook his head and sneered.
"Don't you find it familiar? This isn't a leader. This is a slavemaster."
The moment his words fell, the crowd fell into eerie silence, then suddenly erupted in roaring laughter that echoed throughout the common room.
"Slytherin never fears death."
"My father! Still don't know where he died."
"My mother's family was abandoned!"
"My uncle was treated as a pawn, died unclear and worthless."
The laughter gradually turned sorrowful.
Thinking of their fathers—dead or fled—the young snakes' eyes reddened.
Their fathers weren't remembered. They were treated as shame by the wizarding world. They were thrown into Azkaban. Their sacrifices were worthless. Their leader didn't even dare face Dumbledore.
How could this be called victory?!
Head Boy Bersted's voice suddenly rose. He looked at everyone with excitement.
"But our leader! Sits right here! No one can make him hide! Not even Dumbledore!"
"You know his character! He's a true tough guy! A true godfather!"
"He never deigns to use us helpless wastes to achieve his ambitions..."
"Alright, stop the flattery, Bersted."
Tiger frowned slightly, interrupting Head Boy Bersted's passionate speech. His fierce, ruthless eyes rarely showed traces of stiffness and embarrassment.
His robust, intimidating figure slowly stood.
"I'll say three things."
"First, I'm a gangster. When I want something, I take it. Of course, I take from others, not my own people."
"Second, from my first day at Hogwarts, I wanted to punch Dumbledore twice. He talks too much."
Laughter arose from the crowd. This was indeed every Slytherin's dream.
Tiger tugged at his slightly tight collar, continuing expressionlessly:
"Until now, Dumbledore and I have fought twice. Unfortunately, I didn't achieve my goal of punching him twice."
"I lost. That old guy is really tough."
Going to fight the White Wizard?!
Hearing this, the Slytherins' eyes widened in disbelief, gasping in shock.
Amazed exclamations spread through the crowd.
But they knew Father's character well—this man never bothered lying.
Admiring gazes gradually spread.
"Third... Recently I went looking for him twice more."
Tiger grinned, his smile grotesquely terrifying.
"That old guy is avoiding me!"
The crowd's discussion suddenly froze. The next moment, deafening cheers exploded.
"Long live Father!"
"Long live Slytherin!!!"
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