Rumors about the Chamber spread like wildfire. Panic filled Hogwarts, while the Weasley twins' protective charm business boomed.
Students walked together in groups of three or five. The looks directed at Slytherins gradually flickered with unease and suspicion.
However, the Slytherins didn't care at all.
Many little snakes would even let out meaningful, sinister laughs in an almost provocative manner.
As expected, such behavior always stirred up quite a commotion. Feeling the intimidation in those laughs, surrounding students either retreated in horror or screamed in alarm.
The corridors were in chaos.
Professor McGonagall's angry point deductions rang out frequently, but the little Slytherin snakes remained enthusiastic, their proud, disdainful lips curling with amusement.
Influenced by Tiger, they'd developed severe stupidity-phobia, but simultaneously enjoyed seeing such ignorant foolishness.
If the wizarding world lacked such idiots, how could pureblood nobles remain superior?
"This is your plan? Cultivating a bunch of tyrannical thugs?"
Watching the corridor chaos, Professor Snape's usually steady breathing gradually became erratic. He'd never imagined Slytherin would become like this.
Seeing several little badgers panic and crash into each other, Dumbledore's eyes couldn't hide his amusement.
"Severus. Don't you find them humorous? Think about it—past Slytherins never had this quality of finding humor in adversity..."
You call this finding humor in adversity?
Professor Snape turned to look at Dumbledore, his gloomy, hollow eyes showing a hint of absurdity.
Back when Voldemort ran rampant, when that damned Potter and others feuded with him constantly—why didn't they laugh themselves to death then!
"Dumbledore, you should reserve a bed at St. Mungo's. I can treat your tooth decay, but I can't stop worms from crawling into your brain..."
Before he finished speaking, Professor Snape turned and left the corridor, his heavy footsteps carrying a hint of exasperation.
"Sigh, Severus..."
Dumbledore shook his head helplessly.
In fact, he had many things he wanted to discuss with Snape, but Snape never wanted to talk deeply with him.
Those little snakes mired in mud had grasped life-saving thorns. Though their hands were bloody, they saw flowers on distant mountains, stars in the night sky.
Only this Slytherin Head of House remained trapped in his self-made quagmire, eyes locked on past shadows, unwilling to leave.
Severus, how can I pull you back...
Though equally wary of Slytherin, unlike Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Gryffindor remained calmer facing this chaos, handling surrounding disturbances more steadily.
The professors keenly caught this and attributed it to the previous survival competition.
Obviously, when danger arrived, practice beat teaching. The usually rash, impulsive Gryffindors had gained some composure.
So at Professor Flitwick's suggestion, the Dueling Club announcement was posted on the Great Hall bulletin board Monday morning.
However, the little Slytherin snakes showed little interest. Such activities were clearly meant to train Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students.
Until Percy Weasley resolutely approached Head Boy Bersted, proposing to move their survival competition's final showdown to the Dueling Club stage.
Only then did the little snakes perk up.
Though on the surface Gryffindor's situation looked grim, seemingly doomed to defeat, the stupid lions had their pride too.
They vowed to prove to their juniors that facing Slytherin, Gryffindor was no lamb for slaughter. Their glory and beliefs were equally great.
"Percy Weasley..." Looking at the serious-faced "blood traitor" before him, Head Boy Bersted's lips curved slightly. "You are a true pureblood noble. I agree to your request..."
Night fell. Hogwarts students gathered in the Great Hall. The lively, bustling atmosphere quietly dispelled the day's lingering unease, familiar smiles returning to students' faces.
When they saw Professor Flitwick enter the Great Hall, the little snakes' eyes filled with eagerness.
The new sword-wand combat concept had given them repeated advantages against Gryffindor. But compared to this revolutionary concept's creator, the techniques the little snakes mastered remained immature.
Precisely because of this, they especially yearned to absorb more experience and skills from this eight-time consecutive dueling champion professor.
However, Professor Flitwick walked directly toward the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff dueling platform.
Standing before them was actually Gilderoy Lockhart, that fraud. Disappointed sighs rose everywhere.
"Come, come, gather round, look this way. Can you all hear me?"
Professor Lockhart, dressed in exquisite finery, flashed brilliant white teeth at everyone, his proud, charming smile overflowing with narcissistic smugness.
"Boring..."
Hermione shook her head in disgust, then carried Gunpowder toward the Slytherin crowd.
Recently, Gunpowder had been living with her, showing no intention of returning to Slytherin.
During meals, it would even act coquettish toward her right in front of Tiger, looking both affectionate and indignant—utterly bizarre.
You had to know, Gunpowder's dislike for her was second only to her dislike for Professor Lockhart. How could it possibly throw itself at her?
Regarding this phenomenon so abnormal it was unbelievable, Hermione's heart was full of confusion...
"Tiger..."
As she squeezed through the crowd to Tiger's side, a black panther suddenly leaped into her vision.
Its long, athletic body carried a hint of laziness. Its seemingly aggressive appearance displayed an indescribable elegance and composure.
This temperament, almost identical to Tiger's, made Hermione's eyes widen instantly.
Gunpowder huffily buried its head in her arms, its fine purring full of annoyance.
Tiger sat squarely in his chair, virtually gripping the basilisk staff, smiling as he watched Professor Lockhart's somewhat exaggerated performance and boasting.
Theodore and others surrounded him, while the black panther lay quietly at his feet.
Its fluffy head rested on Tiger's leg, enjoying the delicate caresses from Tiger's fingertips, its emerald beast eyes showing comfort and contentment.
Its long, soft tail would occasionally slap Tiger's knee in dissatisfaction when its ears itched.
Honestly, seeing this scene, forget Gunpowder being uncomfortable—even Hermione felt somewhat blocked up.
For some reason, she felt this black panther looked very familiar. Not familiar from seeing it before, but when those emerald beast eyes looked at her, she saw genuine mockery.
Sharp, proud, disdainful...
"Tiger, don't you want Gunpowder anymore?"
Hermione touched Tiger's shoulder, her slightly puffed cheeks looking like she was viewing a fickle scumbag.
"Look more carefully. Who doesn't want whom?"
Tiger glanced at Gunpowder somewhat helplessly.
Its fluffy little tail swished loudly. Except for ears slightly pulled back, its whole body was written with disgust.
"Then hug it! Gunpowder's easy to coax. You must have neglected it recently."
Girls' thoughts were more delicate after all. How could Hermione not see Gunpowder's meaning? She pushed the Gunpowder in her arms toward Tiger.
The originally swishing tail immediately stopped, as if waiting for something, ears perked high.
Until Tiger, quite amused, grabbed Gunpowder by the scruff and pulled it into his arms.
The dissatisfied purring continued. But that fluffy little head couldn't stop nuzzling into Tiger's embrace. Its seemingly soft tail, as if in revenge, swished toward the panther's head...
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