"Dumbledore..."
After identifying the intruder, Mother Polly's pupils contracted to pinpricks, her deep-seated wariness intensifying like a wildfire.
Even the tip of her trembling wand began to emit an ominous green glow.
"Polly, trust me..." Dumbledore sighed with weary guilt:
"I harbor no ill intentions whatsoever."
"Polly, please don't—"
Even Lawrence in the portrait began pleading. "Dumbledore won't harm us."
"Shut it! You son of a bitch!" Mother Polly roared with volcanic fury: "You're just a bloody portrait!"
"Don't you dare command me!"
"You never truly understood Dumbledore! Don't forget how you died!"
"Don't forget..."
Her usually fierce eyes slowly misted over, beneath which simmered decades of concentrated hatred.
Regarding her husband Lawrence's death, Polly had never truly healed.
That once gentle, timid Hufflepuff girl who'd yearned for a simple, happy life had been forged into a fierce, savage, blood-soaked gang matriarch after her husband's death—all because of Dumbledore's negligence.
The twisted path between those two points couldn't be explained in mere words.
Sensing Mother Polly's naked hostility, Tiger, as her son, naturally harbored zero goodwill toward this mysterious old bastard who'd materialized uninvited.
"Venom!"
With a thunderous battle cry, Venom's nightmarish form erupted across Tiger's body like liquid shadow made flesh.
His corded black arms whipped forward, instantly morphing into wickedly sharp, exaggeratedly massive curved blades.
"Die!"
The savage roar shook dust from the rafters.
"Child, remain calm."
"We are not enemies."
Witnessing such a transformation, genuine confusion and gravity flickered behind Dumbledore's usually serene demeanor.
Tiger bore no resemblance to any Obscurial in his extensive experience—not to mention this utterly unique Obscurus.
Unlike before, the instant Tiger and Venom merged, both entities clearly perceived the subtle yet unmistakable magical oppression radiating from Dumbledore like heat from a forge.
The usually arrogant, unrestrained Venom inexplicably sensed mortal danger and frantically restrained Tiger, who was poised to attack.
The maddening frustration of having prey within reach yet being unable to tear it apart made Tiger respond with bitter sarcasm.
[What's the meaning of this, Venom? Did I mishear that "die" from earlier?]
[We! Idiot!]
[I mean we're absolutely fucked! This moldy chocolate bean is no ordinary threat!]
Under this hovering specter of death, Venom grew increasingly agitated.
Universal survival laws made symbiotes' perception infinitely more acute than human senses.
Physical size meant nothing—it trusted its instincts above all else.
The attack posture was merely survival instinct in action.
[What are our chances?]
Tiger glanced toward Mother Polly and big brother Arthur without betraying emotion. He planned to evacuate them both the instant combat erupted.
[Rounding up...] Venom hesitated. [Equals zero...]
Tiger silently raised his middle finger.
"Death it is, then."
"Don't expect me to grovel."
"No one!"
Tiger's gaze turned arctic as he dropped into a crouch, several tentacles unfurling from his back like predatory serpents.
Though appearing aggressive, he was actually positioning himself to shield Mother Polly and big brother Arthur.
Dumbledore naturally observed this protective instinct, and genuine relief mixed with surprise crossed his weathered features.
The room's atmosphere crystallized into brittle tension.
Just as Mother Polly prepared to strike first, Lawrence, who'd remained silent in his portrait, suddenly spoke with desperate urgency.
"Polly, I know you've never believed I possessed genuine feelings for you all."
"You needn't trust me, but please—think of Tiger! Think of your youngest son!"
"Obscurials in magical history rarely survive past ten years old. Tiger faces constant mortal danger. Only Dumbledore possesses methods to save him!"
"I beg you... please don't..."
The portrait's voice cracked with emotion, carrying notes of choking desperation and raw pleading.
"Fine..."
Mother Polly's eyes trembled as she finally lowered her wand, shaking her head in bitter self-mockery.
"Arthur. Tiger."
"Stand down. He's not our enemy..."
She knew she couldn't defeat Dumbledore. Her display had been calculated—using Dumbledore's guilt over Lawrence to pressure this dangerous figure, who'd spent his entire life at the center of magical storms, into leaving her family alone.
Noticing Venom's tentacles still creeping toward her, Mother Polly bellowed with renewed authority:
"Tiger! Don't test my patience!"
"Fine..."
Tiger straightened with visible reluctance.
Venom's tentacles and enhanced form receded like black tide, slowly withdrawing into his host's body.
"Polly, Lawrence—regarding the past, I am deeply sorry. I don't expect forgiveness."
"But please allow an old man to attempt amends with whatever strength remains to him."
"Perhaps Merlin's will brought me here at this precise moment. Tiger will surely—"
Faced with Dumbledore's guilt-laden rambling, Mother Polly's expression grew thunderous with impatience.
She cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"Enough, Dumbledore. For Lawrence's sake, examine my child quickly."
"Your greatest amends would be staying the hell away from The Shelby Family."
"Both Lawrence and I would find comfort in that."
She refused to revisit the past, and certainly wouldn't endure Dumbledore's endless self-flagellation. Such conversations only darkened her mood further.
"Oh, naturally."
Perhaps sensing Polly's thoughts, a trace of relieved understanding flickered behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles.
"Actually, I was quite surprised to see Tiger's name appear in the Book of Admittance, so I came specifically to investigate."
Dumbledore winked at Tiger with grandfatherly warmth.
"Forgive the intrusion. I'm simply curious—why doesn't The Shelby Bar permit patrons over ninety?"
The seemingly casual question efficiently explained his unexpected presence.
Seeing Mother Polly and Tiger's stony silence creating awkward tension, big brother Arthur shrugged and offered explanation:
"Because recently, some dying white-bearded old bastard got pissed and took a massive shit in Tiger's milk cup."
"And then?"
Dumbledore approached Tiger while maintaining curious interest in Arthur's account.
"Then we escorted him out..." Tiger interrupted with growing irritation.
"The Shelby Family eliminates any fool stupid enough to provoke us, but we don't harm children or elderly folks."
"Just life's final celebration. We appreciated his bollocks, but we refuse to appreciate them twice."
In truth, without his brothers' intervention, Tiger would have stuffed the old git's head up his own arse and delivered him to a stable full of drugged horses.
"Life is precious, isn't it?"
Dumbledore crouched with benevolent smile, gently placing his finger against Tiger's forehead.
"However, I do hope you might share some of The Shelbys' kindness with others."
The Shelbys' kindness?
Tiger raised a skeptical eyebrow, instinctively glancing toward Mother Polly, whose brow had furrowed ominously.
We possess such a thing?
Apparently reading Tiger's thoughts, Mother Polly spoke with sharp impatience:
"Lawrence died because of that sort of bullshit philosophy. You'd best ignore it, unless you fancy being hung on the wall yourself."
Tiger grinned wickedly, then fixed Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes with an expression both playful and deadly serious.
"Headmaster, I'm a mama's boy."
Dumbledore sighed with profound resignation. "Mr. Shelby, you really should learn independence..."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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