"Invitation?"
Prefect's dorm. Gunpowder wrestled an owl several times its size, kicking and biting brutally.
They rolled together.
Feathers scattered. Helpless screeches echoed, piercing.
Afternoon nap was too short. Thanks to big cat's sleep service, Tiger overslept—until the owl's knocking woke him.
"Stop playing, Gunpowder."
"Someone prepared better food. Trust me, Scottish round-faced chickens are all feathers. Not tasty."
Mother Polly's old friend. Tiger wouldn't refuse. He took it seriously.
Besides, he was curious about Mother Polly's past. This Defense professor seemed to know plenty.
Remembering Mother Polly's strange expression, Tiger chuckled.
After a beast-like yawn, he tossed Lockhart's invitation aside. Grabbed Gunpowder by the scruff. Headed to the bathroom.
The invitation and fleeing bald owl reeked of perfume. Tiger frowned.
"You need a bath too."
"Or I'll pluck your fur!"
Hearing Gunpowder's whimpers, Tiger lifted the cat and shook it. Tone carried threat.
Gunpowder was covered in owl feathers. Perfume wouldn't fade.
"Meow..."
Gunpowder drooped its tail and limbs reluctantly.
(?_?)
The cat knew wizards' cleaning magic—one wand wave, fresh.
Hermione cast it every night.
Unfortunately, Tiger wasn't skilled.
That sharp alder wand had one-in-three chance of skewering Gunpowder...
---
"Lisa, are you sure this will work?"
"Of course~"
Facing Riley Shafiq's gritted questioning, Lisa's response carried playfulness.
"Trust me, darling~"
"I have the most experience with boys Shelby's age."
Lisa looked at the sisters around her. Seasoned confidence in her eyes.
"Ready, sisters?"
"Of course~ darling!"
Seventh-year Slytherin girls raised glasses, bright smiles. Eyes held cunning and anticipation.
Fitted dresses outlined graceful figures. Gemstones sparkled like stars.
Just keep Shelby in the common room for Christmas—they were confident.
Though Shelby was special, boys his age were easy to handle.
"Lisa, I'm not talking about them..." Riley sighed, holding her forehead. Voice strained.
If she could think of any way to keep Shelby here, she'd never have come to Lisa Rosier, this erratic pervert.
"Oh, of course!"
"Keeping Shelby here is difficult. No one dares stop him!"
"So I made complete preparations~"
Lisa nodded solemnly, then looked toward Slytherin boys at the bar.
Well-tailored robes outlined pure-blood elegance.
She'd styled each boy's hair—slicked back, messy over foreheads, exotic braids.
This was Britain. Girls weren't the only ones eyeing Shelby.
"Trust me, Riley."
"Even Avery's goblin bar doesn't have such variety..."
Lisa snapped her fingers. Eyes gleamed smugly.
"Premium quality~"
By the liquor cabinet, cats wearing bows walked out meowing. Movements seductive.
"Merlin!"
Preparations were thorough, but Riley suddenly felt dizzy.
She didn't know if she could complete Gemma Farley's task, but she was certain—if these boys made misleading moves, Shelby would throw them into the Black Lake.
"Lisa, listen..."
Just as Riley planned to stop this, the boys' dorm opened. Tiger's fierce figure stepped out.
Surprisingly, Tiger wore dress robes and held the basilisk staff. Like attending a grand banquet.
Dark green fabric embroidered with magical patterns glowed faintly under lake light. Wizarding honor.
Double-breasted design outlined Tiger's robust figure. Imposing.
Most eye-catching—the shoulder section. Soft velvet embroidered with a bleeding werewolf head that twisted with Tiger's movements, seeming to wail. Unsettling.
Tiger represented not just Mother Polly, but the Shelby family. Father Lawrence.
"Ah..."
Like a beast transforming into ancient wizarding noble.
Seventh-year Slytherin girls let out intoxicated sighs.
"That damn little man..."
"Love and hate him."
"Exactly..."
*[Damn...]*
Riley's expression changed. She realized—uncontrollable variable.
Shelby dressed so formally. He wouldn't stay because of a few words.
She couldn't imagine two Shelbys at the Great Hall feast.
"Shelby, where are you going?"
Lisa seemed calm.
She realized—just the feast wouldn't make Shelby dress this formally.
"We're throwing a party here."
"Want to join?"
"We've prepared..."
The girl approached Tiger, bright smile. Eyes full of admiration. She patted his solid chest.
But that scorching feedback felt like electric shock, freezing her. She couldn't help patting twice more.
Other girls' eyes turned red. Boys at the bar smacked their lips enviously.
"No thanks..."
Noticing Lisa's patting turning to squeezing, Tiger's expression grew strange. He stepped back.
"Professor Lockhart invited me to his office for private dinner. I might be back late."
Hearing this, Riley relaxed. Pale fingertips regained color.
Defense office was third floor. Much safer than dungeons. Two Shelbys meeting was nearly impossible.
"Huh?" Lisa's eyes widened, carrying regret. "But I prepared so much..."
"Alright, Lisa!"
"Don't disturb Shelby."
Riley stepped forward, covering Lisa's mouth and dragging her aside.
To avoid revealing anything, she kept her face tense. Tone dry:
"We won't keep you."
"Enjoy your meal, Shelby."
She dragged struggling Lisa toward girls' dorm, practically fleeing.
"Hm?"
Watching Lisa's unwilling struggles, Tiger raised an eyebrow, confused. Then looked at other Slytherins.
"Did something happen?"
"No..."
"Nothing..."
"Merry Christmas, Father..."
"Enjoy your meal. We won't wait..."
Everyone dispersed. But unwillingness and regret in their eyes resembled Lisa's.
"Alright, Merry Christmas."
Tiger frowned slightly, holding Gunpowder as he left, face full of confusion...
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