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Truth was, the night before, Dumbledore had wanted a deep talk with Tiger.
Unfortunately—
Tiger didn't understand his hints at all. Or rather, Shelbys never read the room.
After sending Professor Trelawney away—
Dumbledore rubbed his nose bridge. Tried to ease his throbbing temples.
His failure educating Voldemort was regrettable. But Tiger's shameless honesty was even more distressing.
Kidnapper. Thug...
A naked bastard.
Did Hogwarts rules even exist anymore?
Was Slytherin's Head the Dark Lord?
Since when did Azkaban's dark wizards skip the learning stage!
Why not expel him!
Regarding Professor Trelawney's near-hysterical questioning, Dumbledore somewhat agreed. But as Headmaster, he didn't take a clear stance.
Educating Tiger wasn't difficult for Hogwarts. Professors were willing to invest effort. But if they sent him to Durmstrang—
He'd suffer for it.
Future consequences were obvious. Just look at Slytherin...
No. More accurately—
Not him suffering.
The Savior suffering.
Voldemort's return was troublesome enough.
No one wanted to see a Dark Lord more reckless and insane than Voldemort appear.
No one wanted to see—
Behind this Dark Lord, Killing Curse green light falling like torrential rain. Overwhelming.
Actually—
Regarding Igor Karkaroff, Durmstrang's headmaster who advocated teaching Dark Arts—
Dumbledore never had major objections. Just a pathetic, pitiful Death Eater.
But thinking Tiger might learn Dark Arts at Durmstrang—this White Wizard wanted to rush over now. Hit that bastard with a Killing Curse.
Magic was idealistic. Its power came from strong conviction and will. And Dark Arts would drag people into darkness and abyss. Not just empty talk...
Helpless sighs echoed in the Headmaster's office.
Then Dumbledore picked up his quill. Tip touched parchment. Made scratching sounds.
Too busy to attend this meeting. Deeply apologize. Letter me the results.
Compared to this afternoon's Wizengamot annual meeting, he worried more about Remus Lupin's life.
Some things couldn't be delayed.
After gently drying the ink, Dumbledore wrote another invitation.
The moment he put back the quill, his wise, deep eyes looked at the dozing Fawkes.
"Fawkes."
"I need you to deliver a letter..."
Before he finished—
Fawkes grabbed the Wizengamot letter. Flew out of the office without hesitation.
Though this meeting was in Finland, it could distinguish between distant journeys and life's shortcuts.
After rain, the Forbidden Forest filled with fresh scents of earth and plants washed by water. Carried a hint of coolness.
Branches and leaves washed greener by rain. Sparkled with crystalline light. Sunlight pierced through clouds. Fell mottled on damp ground. Formed patches of light.
Breeze brushed faces. Brought drowsiness.
Tiger couldn't help yawning. If he could set up a hammock, this would be an excellent nap spot.
"Very sorry, Tiger."
"Disturbing your lunch break."
Just then, Dumbledore walked slowly from behind. Face still wearing a gentle smile.
Tiger turned around somewhat surprised. He and Venom hadn't detected Dumbledore's approach at all.
But it was lunch break now.
He just wanted to go back and nap with his big cat. Too lazy for small talk. So he directly stretched out his hand. Tone slightly impatient:
"Hand it over. I can't feel its temptation anymore. You can completely relax."
"Of course. I can see that."
"You've made great progress, child..."
Dumbledore nodded slightly. Pulled out the glowing Philosopher's Stone from his sleeve.
Tiger slowed his breathing. Expression wary.
The Stone's temptation hadn't disappeared.
But for him and Venom now, it was within control. Wouldn't spiral out of control like before.
However, just as the Stone was about to fall into Tiger's palm—Dumbledore seemed to remember something. The Stone suspended in midair slowly retracted.
Tiger's hand grabbed empty air.
His fierce eyes flashed with bewilderment.
Not because Dumbledore seemed to be playing him. But because the feeling just now was very strange.
After all, with his superhuman neural reaction speed, catching a moving object should be easy.
But just that instant—
Time and space around him seemed to experience some distortion. Made the Stone's withdrawal both slow and swift. Both near and far.
"You want to go back on your word?"
Tiger's eyes narrowed. Oppressive, heavy aura gradually spread. Shadows in the forest swayed and danced. Like evil spirits secretly watching everything.
"No, Tiger."
"I don't need it."
Dumbledore shook his head with a light laugh.
Unease and fear from deep in his soul—instantly dispelled by warm, powerful magic.
Breeze brushed gently.
The forest's oppressive atmosphere quietly receded. Gradually darkening mottled light and shadow brightened again.
"I just want to make a deal with you."
Azure eyes blinked gently.
Sparkled with wisdom and kindness. Revealed a mischievousness and humor unique to the elderly.
But this disgusted Tiger thoroughly.
"You mean..."
"You're holding my stuff and making deals with me?"
Tiger's brow furrowed. But his lips involuntarily curved up. Almost laughed at this absurd situation.
Who the hell was the gangster here?
"The strong always have a little privilege."
"Don't they, Tiger?"
Dumbledore shook the Stone in his hand. His seemingly gentle smile overflowed with cunning.
But he didn't say everything.
In recent decades—
Tiger was the only person who made him use this privilege.
"Interesting..."
Tiger didn't deny Dumbledore's words. Instead unbuttoned his collar. Revealed a fierce grin.
"Don't blame me if you die!"
Deal?
Screw the deal!
The Shelby dictionary had no compromise!
Even that son-of-a-bitch Lawrence could do it.
Much less him!
Thick, pungent sulfur smell filled the forest.
Watching flames shoot skyward before him, Dumbledore froze slightly. Lips involuntarily showed a bitter smile.
He was getting senile.
Actually tried to make deals with Polly's child.
A hideous, terrifying skull walked out from the flames. Its pale jaw spewing hellfire opened and closed slightly.
"I'm really curious sometimes."
"How do skeletons piss?"
"What about you, old man?"
A low, hoarse voice came.
Like metal roaring during forging in flames. Carried a primitive wildness and defiance.
Seeing the skull before him unbuckle his belt, ready for a vicious frontal assault—
Dumbledore's face darkened instantly.
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