Under night's protective veil, Hogwarts castle inevitably harbored rustling figures—scurrying and hiding like mice through shadows. Filch despised this nocturnal activity with every fiber of his being.
However, he'd developed certain patterns for targeting those little miscreants who showed him no daytime respect.
Gryffindor night wandering pursued adventure. They'd emerge near legendary secret chambers and passages, or create disturbances specifically to provoke Mrs. Norris.
Ravenclaw night wandering sought knowledge. They frequented the library's hidden corridors or conversed with wall portraits, absorbing historical wisdom.
Hufflepuff night wandering satisfied culinary cravings. Simply guard the kitchens to catch these gluttonous badgers red-handed.
Only Slytherin remained different.
They'd never shown interest in nocturnal expeditions, never championed freedom or adventure, never ventured into unknown territories through momentary impulse or curiosity.
Of course, that was before...
As the Slytherin contingent materialized ghost-like from shadowy dungeons, Filch's eyes widened with disbelief, expression instantly petrifying while his hunched spine curved even lower.
"What are you doing..."
Tiger ignored Filch entirely, striding directly to the castle's side entrance and kicking it open with brutal efficiency.
Heavy scraping sounds echoed.
As doors slowly parted, damp, fresh night air flooded the castle interior. Tiger cradled Gunpowder, eyes squinting with contentment.
Behind him, Gemma Farley turned toward Filch, placing one pale, elegant finger against her lips in universal silence.
Rosy lips curved into graceful arcs—like winter plum blossoms beneath fresh snow, simultaneously alluring and radiating undeniable authority.
Remaining Slytherin members observed with expressionless intensity.
Like venomous serpents lurking within darkness, slowly raising their heads while emerald eyes flickered with ghostly luminescence, issuing hissing warnings.
Corman Avery, perpetually arrogant, broke formation with imperious strides, approaching Filch directly. His malicious smile accompanied a raised thumb—slowly drawn across his throat.
Perfect Shelby-style execution gesture.
This undisguised silent threat descended like oppressive storm clouds, nearly suffocating in its intensity.
Chill racing up his spine made Filch close his mouth with trembling compliance. His dim lantern flickered urgently several times before extinguishing entirely.
When Filch managed to relight his beacon, the Slytherins had vanished completely...
"You're permitting Shelby such brazen behavior?"
From stairway corridors, Professor Snape observed with darkening expression.
However, Dumbledore displayed traces of nostalgia. "Severus, how long since you've gone camping?"
"..."
As if recalling something painful, Snape's profound, cold eyes flashed with anguish and hatred.
"You'll regret this decision."
He glared with disgust at the elderly wizard beside him before departing abruptly.
"Youth is truly wonderful..."
Sighing voices gradually faded.
Observing the open entrance and Filch's hasty retreat, Dumbledore muttered with considerable dissatisfaction.
"Selfish little scoundrels."
"Why wasn't I invited along?"
(ಠ╭╮ಠ)
Harry and Ron, concealed beneath the Invisibility Cloak, followed the Slytherin procession from the castle.
Having merely agreed upon meeting times and locations, they hadn't anticipated encountering Tiger.
Even more surprising—every Slytherin student had emerged, their departure both arrogant and unrestrained.
"Cowardly bully!"
Remembering Filch's pathetic display, Ron lowered his voice while cursing through gritted teeth.
Typically, he and Harry endured embarrassing pursuits, yet this time Filch hadn't dared speak.
"That's Shelby for you."
Harry sighed with complex emotions.
Moonlight dimmed while starlight scattered sparsely.
Along pasture fencing, only several wan lanterns provided meager illumination for nighttime paths.
Evening breezes carried threads of coolness.
As Tiger's figure approached with leisurely confidence, Hermione—who'd been standing with crossed arms gazing into the distance before Hagrid's hut—unconsciously smiled, revealing her prominent front teeth.
"Hagrid, they've arrived!"
She called back into the dwelling before running joyfully toward that familiar silhouette.
"Tiger!"
"You all..."
Witnessing the Slytherin crowd following behind Tiger, Hermione halted abruptly, eyes widening with surprise.
"How... how did everyone come..."
(⊙_⊙)
"Camping expedition, Miss Granger."
"Care to join us?"
Ramos Tiamat brandished his golden revolver, elegant smile carrying hints of mockery.
Only then did Hermione notice most Slytherin serpents wielded firearms.
Particularly Draco Malfoy.
The platinum heir caressed his pocket revolver with indescribable excitement and anticipation radiating from his features.
"Good Lord..."
"Are you marching to war?" Hermione's mouth opened slightly, completely forgetting to close it.
"Why are you dressed so inadequately again?"
Observing Hermione's cold-reddened nose and trembling skirt hem, Tiger frowned with concern.
He removed his suit jacket, draping it across Hermione's shoulders while simultaneously transferring Gunpowder to her care.
The oversized garment transformed into an extremely baggy dress upon Hermione's frame.
Feeling comfortable warmth beneath the jacket, Hermione squinted contentedly, lips unconsciously curving upward.
"Thank you, Tiger."
"I hadn't anticipated such nighttime cold."
"Otherwise I wouldn't have remained here..."
Just then, Harry's helpless shouts echoed outside the hut as he gestured within.
"Hermione, Tiger..."
"Please, help convince Hagrid."
Inside the dwelling, Hagrid clutched the slumbering Norbert, weeping inconsolably. Despite Ron's persistent persuasion, he refused releasing the young dragon from his embrace.
Across the floor lay scattered wine bottles and furniture fragments torn to shreds.
Within the fireplace cauldron, remnants of Hermione's potent Draught of Living Death still lingered...
Watching Tiger and Hermione's figures departing side by side, Gemma Farley's eyes darkened while fingers unconsciously clenched fabric corners as inexplicable irritation began overwhelming rationality.
Detecting her close friend's distress, Rui Li Shafiq quickly grasped her arm, whispering urgent reminders:
"Compose yourself, Farley!"
"These aren't genuine emotions—it's the love potion's influence. Suppress it immediately!"
"..."
After several moments, Gemma Farley exhaled slowly. She patted the restraining hand while shaking her head gently:
"No, Rui Li—I cannot suppress these feelings. I must adapt to them, adapt to Tiger's presence."
"Only then will I avoid greater influence."
Rui Li Shafiq's expression froze before regarding her friend's nearly drowning gaze with disbelief.
"You've lost your mind!"
She hissed through clenched teeth:
"You're dancing upon blade edges! Can't you see your feet are already bleeding profusely?"
"What happens when the potion's effects conclude!"
Violent crashing erupted as Hagrid's massive form burst through the window, impacting the ground heavily.
Immediately afterward, Tiger brutally seized the young dragon by its neck—carrying it like an oversized goose while exiting the hut.
Amid startled exclamations, Harry followed in panic with Hermione and Ron close behind.
Witnessing this scene, Gemma Farley bit her lip lightly while a trace of sickly amusement flickered through her cold, proud eyes.
"Then let him sever my hands and feet."
"That way, I'll be unable to flee..."
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