Reminder: this is a translation of an almost 20 year old German fanfiction, written before the release of the Half-Blood Prince. It may make some assumptions that have since been proven false.
The next morning, Tigris woke among the soft pillows of his comfortable bed. For a moment, he was confused, then, he remembered. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up. He felt the familiar numbness of a sleeping potion slowly fading away. When he looked around, he saw his brother, sleeping in a bed next to him. His back still ached, but the pain was dull.
"The young master is awake!" Squealed an excited voice next to him. "How can Dilly help the young master?"
Tigris looked down to the house-elf.
"Quiet, Dilly. Master Draco is still asleep." The house-elf's eyes widened and she nodded fiercely. Tigris smiled at her.
"Open the drapes a little and give me one of the books over there."
"At once, Master." She offered him a book on etiquette that would probably be mind-numbingly boring, but Tigris didn't feel like correcting her.
"Should Dilly get the young master breakfast as well?"
"Master Lucius will want us to have breakfast in the dining room."
"Oh, no, young master. Misses was very firm. The young masters are to stay in the room. No running, no. Eat in the room."
Tigris pulled up his eyebrows. "I suppose we owe Mother our thanks. Very well, then get me breakfast. And Dilly…"
"Yes, young master?"
"Call me Tigris."
"Yes, young master Tigris."
Tigris sighed and shook his head, but didn't correct her. Instead, he made himself comfortable on his bed and opened the book. Instead of reading it, he stared at the pages and thought about the choice he made. He was surprised at how cold he suddenly felt. All his emotions from before had vanished. He felt apathetic. He now realized that he had to accept the situation as it was. Even in the unlikely case of everyone believing who he was instead of casting him out - Lucius Malfoy was still his father and guardian. From the books Tigris had read, he knew enough to conclude that the laws of the wizarding world differed from those in the muggle world. The rights that parents had over their children - especially when it came to heirs - took priority over most other laws.
Even if that wasn't the case, Dumbledore had never done anything to stop the Dursleys, why would that suddenly change? It would be dangerous to let any more people know who he was. It was probably best if they thought him dead. Safer for his friends, safer for his family, safer for himself. Tigris had no other choice than to adjust and wait. He may not like it, but that didn't really matter. It was the only logical conclusion.
Tigris stood to get washed and dressed. Dilly brought him breakfast alongside a few potions, surely from his mother. He accepted them obediently before leaning back and starting on the book. It was boring but mostly unknown territory to him and possibly important. He struggled through the pages and had gotten through a quarter of the book by the time Draco woke up.
Draco was surprised not to be in his room but didn't seem upset about it. After breakfast, he got dressed, helping himself to Tigris' closet, and grimaced when he saw his back in the mirror. Most of the welts had faded, leaving only a few red marks.
"This is going to scar! How does he expect me to explain this?"
"Didn't you say Mother was a capable healer?"
"Yes. She does what she can. But it's never been this bad. If she had taken care of it immediately, maybe she could have done something."
Tigris shrugged. "Say you were in an accident. We could claim that we were taking a walk in the forest and ran into a wild kneazle mother that was protecting her young. Surely there are some in that forest over there. We were too far from the house so we couldn't properly take care of the wounds and they didn't heal right."
His brother sneered. "That is… an impressive lie for a Gryffindor. Never thought you had it in you."
Tigris grinned humorlessly. "I'm well-practiced."
Draco met his eyes and nodded seriously. "Those damned muggles. They got what they deserved."
Tigris stayed silent. While he didn't agree, he wasn't as sure about it as he had been two weeks ago. Back then, he would have claimed that no one deserved what had happened to them. But he noticed that when he thought of his father – that bastard would definitely deserve it. And what about Bellatrix Lestrange? Hadn't he wished her death, at least for a few minutes in the Department of Mystery?
Tigris remembered Vernon's grin when he hit him. Dudley's constant insults and torture. Petunia's ignorance. Then again… You could say a lot about the Dursleys, but they weren't murderers like Lucius and Bellatrix. They deserved every punishment, but not death. But then why was a part of him satisfied with Draco's words? Tigris angrily shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts.
"Did you know that Father gifted me the signet ring for my birthday?" He changed subjects. He had just reached the section of his book that talked about heirlooms. Draco nodded with a bitter smile that quickly vanished.
"The ring and the brooch, yes. But you can't wear them."
"I know. Won't people be surprised?"
Draco shook his head. "I'm not seventeen yet. Then… Well, that's for Father to decide. He could still adopt you as his heir. Of course, this would also have people asking questions, but I don't think he'd care."
Tigris nodded tersely. He could imagine what that would mean for Draco. Of course, people would wonder why Lucius Malfoy didn't consider his current heir suitable. It would be a public humiliation. But if their father decided on something, he'd go through with it, no matter the consequences for his younger son. Tigris frowned.
"I just don't understand why he'd prefer me in the first place. I rejected him, which you never did. He knows you and can judge you. He may think that he can control me, but that can change."
Draco threw him a critical glance but shook his head and sat back down on his bed. "Obviously there are advantages that make up for it. There are reasons why blood lines are so important to people."
Tigris glanced over in confusion. "What reason?"
Draco shrugged and leaned back. He grimaced a little when his back touched the pillows. "There are rumors circulating among the old families. They say that certain abilities propagate with the old blood lines, some of which are only passed down to the firstborn. If that's true, then they are well protected secrets, even within the family. I was always excited to find out about ours once I'd come of age. Naturally, this won't happen now. Ancient magic can't be fooled by official records."
Tigris considered the family tree in that underground cave and nodded. Then, he looked at the book. "Abilities as in magical abilities or general ones?"
"I don't know. But someone once told me that the Snapes are famous for their dexterity and ability to concentrate - talents that certainly mark great brewmasters and alchemists - so I assume it's true for general abilities."
Tigris nodded thoughtfully. "I'm just wondering…" Then, he shook his head. "No, this is silly."
"What?" Asked Draco curiously.
Tigris considered him thoughtfully. "I feel like I've been reading a lot more since I got here. But that doesn't make any sense since it started since I drank that potion."
Draco grinned. "Reading more, huh? Yeah, I remember how you and that wease- Weasley had to be dragged into the library by that… Granger."
The way Draco fought with the names was amusing. Tigris was surprised he tried in the first place.
"It's possible," added Draco thoughtfully. "Something like that wouldn't be affected by potions that change your appearance. Maybe it was the proximity of your close relatives that strengthened that aptitude, or something else triggered it. They say that the Malfoys are descendants of Ravenclaw. I always thought that was a myth, but who knows? I don't know anyone in our family who's averse to books, and I've always envied Father for his photographic memory."
Tigris stared at Draco. Then, he laughed. "Ravenclaw? The Malfoys are descendants of Ravenclaw?"
Draco crossed his arms, glaring at him. "Yes. What's so funny about it?"
Tigris shook his head, taking a deep breath. "Nothing, really. I just wouldn't have expected it, is all. Morgana maybe, or Slytherin. But Ravenclaw?"
"Ravenclaw and Aclepios, to be precise. Besides, everyone knows that the Snapes are Slytherin's descendants."
Tigris stared at Draco in shock. Draco laughed.
"Oh, sure. Of course," said Tigris sarcastically, then. "You're enjoying watching me make a fool of myself, aren't you?"
Draco suggested a mocking bow in his direction. "Of course, dear brother. But apart from that, it's not a complete lie. The old families have mingled so much that you can surely find a connection to the founders within any of them. Our family is one of the few that can directly trace back their origins. As for how far this applies to the Snapes… who knows?"
They spent a relaxing day, mainly reading. They talked about trivial things and were both surprised how little they knew about each other. Tigris noticed that it was just as easy to talk to Draco as it was talking to Ron, as long as they bypassed certain topics. Easier, even, since Draco wasn't as hotheaded and thoughtless as Ron often was. He understood things that Ron never would, since his life was so different from Tigris'. Ron had grown up with a loving family, many siblings, and parents that cared for him. He was a great friend and his spontaneous, carefree attitude was great, but Tigris couldn't talk to him about some things.
Draco knew what it was like to be lonely and feel worthless, not to have anyone to talk to. He knew what it was like not wanting to show weakness, for fear of someone using it against him. Never to trust anyone. They didn't admit it to each other, but there was a subtle understanding between them, slowly forming a bond.
"How do you feel about Father now?" Asked Draco in the afternoon. He had just lost a game of backgammon against Tigris and had tried to convince him to play a game of chess without success. Tigris already constantly lost against Ron. He didn't need a reminder of how hopelessly untalented he was at it.
"I have reached the decision that it's best if I come to terms with my situation," answered Tigris, suppressing the uneasy feeling within.
Draco laughed without any humor. "You have reached the decision? Excellent, brother."
Tigris threw him an angry glare and sank into his pillow. "I don't see what you're laughing about."
"Come on, admit it," said Draco, getting more serious. "You're just as scared of him as I am."
"Just because you're scared of him doesn't mean I am, too!" Shouted Tigris angrily.
"Really? Keep telling yourself that, maybe it'll be true one day."
"You know nothing," hissed Tigris, grabbed a book, and stared stubbornly at the pages, ignoring anything else.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw how Draco was smiling sadly while taking a book of his own. Tigris wanted to yell at him, throw something at him, but did neither. A part of him knew that Draco was right.
Their mother came to see them the next morning. She frowned at the sight of Draco's back, and even more so at Tigris', but didn't say anything. She only gave them more potions and cast a few healing spells. Tigris felt significantly better. His back still ached on occasion when he moved, but it wasn't worse than a bit of tension.
"How are you doing?" Asked Narcissa once she was done.
"Better," answered Draco.
"Much better," agreed Tigris. "Thank you, Mother."
"Good." She got up. "I did what I could. Feel free to eat up here for today if you want. You can go to your room now, Draco. I want to talk to Tigris, but that can wait until this afternoon. I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."
They nodded at that.
"Do you want me to leave?" Asked Draco after she was gone.
"Do you want to leave?" Countered Tigris, unsure. "You can stay if you want to. I'm starting to enjoy your company."
"Oh thanks," Draco scoffed. "What a gracious invitation. I mean, I'll stay, if that's what you want. Being alone is boring. I've had sixteen years to get used to it. Fancy a game of backgammon?"
"Sure."
They spent the rest of their morning playing games and talking. Then, they ate lunch together and Draco left for his own room. His mother came shortly after, shutting the door behind her.
"Did you have a pleasant morning?"
"Yes, thank you. What did you want to talk about?"
She pulled her wand and muttered a few spells towards the door. "Your father wants me to teach you Occlumency for obvious reasons."
Tigris groaned. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm horrible at that."
She raised her eyebrows. "You've tried it before?"
"Dumbledore thought I'd need it due to my connection to V… to the Dark Lord."
"Ah, yes. I remember. Severus mentioned it."
Tigris was shortly overcome by a wave of anger at Snape. His loyalties were fairly obvious.
"Don't worry about that. You couldn't have expected him to properly teach you. He may be a great Occlumens, but he has his weaknesses."
"Why won't Father teach me himself?" The fact that his father was missing out on an opportunity to dig through his mind perplexed Tigris.
She smiled at him. "It may surprise you, but there are a few things that your father is simply not talented at. Healing magic is one of them. And then there are other subjects where he's quite passable, but my abilities far surpass his, like Occlumency."
Tigris stared at her and blinked. He had to admit that he had never expected for her to simply be more talented than his father. Sure, by now he knew that she was a healer, still…the part of the lethargic housewife seemed to fit her so well.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
"It's alright. I know what sort of impression I leave behind. After all, it took years to perfect it." She grinned briefly. "But that's not why I'm here. I want to talk to you about something that your father doesn't know about."
Tigris frowned in concern.
"It's something he'd accept if he knew," she added swiftly.
She sat down in a chair opposite Tigris. "See, he knows I'm a good Occlumens and Legilimens. What he doesn't know is that the talent for it lies with the Black family. Have you ever heard about the old family's abilities?"
"Draco told me about it yesterday. It sounded like a myth."
"Well, it isn't. This is one of these talents. But that's not all. The family secret of the Black family is the knowledge of how to cultivate, use, and strengthen this ability. Normally, it gets passed to the oldest son of the family, but I received it in a very roundabout way.
"My cousin Sirius was disinherited and banished, so he was out of the question. His brother Regulus may have known about it, but he died very young. I don't have any brothers. My older sister Bellatrix is infertile, which is why my parents skipped her. My other sister, Andromeda, married a muggle, which led to her banishment. My parents went through a lot of trouble to magically ensure that her children would never inherit the talents of the Blacks. This only left me. My father divulged the secrets after I had married your father. This knowledge is meant to be passed down in the Black family only. Since I'm the last of the Blacks with this knowledge, I'll pass it on to you, so you can give it to your children. You can use it to your advantage, but you need to make sure that no one ever finds out about it."
Tigris nodded slowly, processing what she had said. "But wouldn't I know if I had a talent for it? I mean, Professor Snape certainly didn't help, but I really hated it when he used Legilimens on me."
She sighed. "I have my suspicions that he did more harm than good, unwittingly at that. Memory crafting, as the old texts call it, is a complex art that needs to be handled delicately. We shall see."
She dug through her bag and pulled out a glass ball, the size of a child's fist.
"This, son, is the Black-Keystone. The human mind is a complex network of diverse elements forming a fragile equilibrium that represents a personality. This magical object can serve as a compass, a guide to map this network and manipulate it. Be careful, because it's a dangerous object that can cause great harm if misused. Once you've used it, you'll quickly find out how intoxicating it is to see and to understand. Don't be overwhelmed. The web of a mind is complex and any rash changes could have fatal consequences. Even something small that you may disregard as unimportant may have connections that you aren't aware of. Don't do anything unless you're certain or you could destroy a personality forever."
Tigris nodded earnestly. He didn't quite understand what she said, but had a feeling that he would as soon as he used the stone.
"Think about it," she explained. "A single event in the life of a person can change the rest of their development without their knowledge. It's like that allegory about snowflakes. A snowflake alone can never break a branch, but together with others, it may be the decisive one. Let's assume you remove a memory from the mind of another person. It may seem unimportant to you, but maybe this one memory has turned them into the person they currently are. Without it, they're incomplete. Acts in their past lose sense for them. They forget who they are and are inevitably led to insanity."
"I'll be careful," promised Tigris.
"Don't forget about this. Shall we begin?"
Tigris nodded hesitantly. She offered him an encouraging smile. She motioned for him to sit down on the floor with her. He took his place opposite her.
"Good," she said. "Relax. Now close your eyes and take deep and regular breaths. Concentrate on your body, your breath, until you cease thinking of anything else." She paused. "Now, slowly return to your thoughts. Think of yourself as an observer. Watch as thoughts emerge from your mind, as you continue them or discard them, as they relate to other thoughts, grow into pictures, visions, and ideas. Get a feeling for how your mind works. When you have a good grip on this feeling, open your eyes and look into the keystone."
Tigris listened to her calm, even voice, and finally felt like he had achieved what she wanted. He opened his eyes and looked into the stone.
He held his breath involuntarily. It was indescribable. He felt like he'd spent all this time in a small, dark room, and suddenly someone had kicked open the door, letting him see the world around him. The world of his mind was exposed to him with all its wonders. He saw thoughts, memories, decisions… an endless web, alive, constantly changing. He watched it move and shape itself, how influence from inside and outside modified it, while it stayed stable and constant. Like an ocean full of life and activity. And he understood why it was the way it was. He understood what effect and what sense every little part had. It was easy to find his way, a disorienting maze had been turned into something neat and tidy. He could decide what others saw and what not. He could control everything. It was pure and limitless power. Tigris felt himself laugh. He was overcome with joy and filled with energy and eagerness. He knew he could achieve whatever he wanted to. Nothing was important. He saw his own unlimited potential in front of him, the endless resources of this miracle that was him.
"Tigris… come back, Tigris…"
Tigris made a frustrated noise. He felt like he was floating, and the voice pulled him back to the ground, into the limitations of his body. For a moment, he was enlightened. Everything made sense and he knew everything he had always wanted to know. Then, this voice interrupted him and he was forced back into being his regular, limited self.
"Tigris… Come, Tigris, look at me."
He groaned and stared at his mother in disappointment and anger. He felt as if he had lost something wonderful and unique. As if he had reached towards the grail and someone had pulled him back right before he could grasp it. He slowly regained awareness of his surroundings and stared at the stone in her hand. She had wrapped it back into a cloth.
"It won't work a second time," she said immediately. "If you try looking at it again, you'll simply feel dizzy and sick, so don't even try."
"What was it good for, then?" Hissed Tigris.
She smiled. "Oh, a lot. Can't you feel it? The access you obtained?"
Tigris snorted derisively, but closed his eyes and concentrated. She was right. There was something there. An echo of his earlier experiences. He could feel the structure of his own mind, even if the detail and overarching comprehension were lacking. It was like a black and white sketch of the beautiful painting he had seen before. It disappointed him and his mother chuckled quietly.
"Ah, I remember that feeling. Feels lousy, doesn't it? Don't worry, it'll pass. That's why it's dark magic, my boy, not just some easy way to learn Occlumency. I'll let you think about it quietly. Tomorrow, we can start the actual training."
"Whatever," muttered Tigris sullenly, still glancing at the wrapped up stone. She laughed quietly and left. Tigris stood up and gave his bedpost an irritated kick. He didn't want to do nothing but at the same time didn't feel like doing anything. Thus, he paced up and down in front of the window. The senselessness of his actions irritated him even more.
The door opened and his brother entered the room.
"What do you want?" Tigris snarled.
Draco's brows rose.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing!" He hissed. "If you came by to taunt me, then you better leave again. I'm not in the mood."
Draco blinked, shocked. "Ohhhkay," he answered, stretching the word. "I assume I don't really want to know what Mother told you to put you into this mood. I'd better leave you alone. Have a nice evening." He closed the door behind him.
Tigris huffed towards the closed door. "Idiot."
The next morning, he woke to severe headaches and was thankful for the potion next to his bed. He didn't remember any nightmares, but he still hadn't slept well. It was like a bitter aftertaste of something he couldn't quite grasp. Tigris leaned back in his pillow and concentrated on that new awareness he had of his mind. Ever since his father had removed the scar from his forehead, that fleeting yet familiar presence of Vol… of the Dark Lord had vanished. Tigris hadn't realized before how much he had gotten used to it. It had been like white noise in the background. Now that he concentrated on it, it was strange how he noticed its absence. Sure, he had visions and the occasional seizure when Vol… the Dark Lord… Tigris cursed inwardly. Why the hell did he suddenly struggle to speak the Dark Lord's name? He should at least be able to do so in his own mind! It wasn't like his father could read his thoughts. Tigris shuddered involuntarily and hid his face in his hands, stifling tears of anger. It was as if a part of himself had turned against him. Draco was right, and he hated that thought. He feared him like he never feared anyone before. It was an elusive feeling, completely evading his control. What made him so helpless was that he didn't understand why. Sure, he had whipped him, but hadn't he gone through worse? It was nothing compared to the Cruciatus curse, or was it? Tigris squeezed his eyes shut, loathing the two tears that made their way down his cheeks. How he hated that man. How he hated himself for his own weakness. But he couldn't do anything. He simply had to adjust. He laughed bitterly and angrily wiped the tears from his face. How could Draco see through him so easily? He instantly saw lies that Tigris wasn't even ready to admit to himself. Maybe because he knew them from experience. Tigris rubbed his aching throat and shook his head. He needed to push his feelings to the back of his mind. He couldn't deal with them. He had an inkling that he'd collapse under their weight - something he couldn't allow. He had always pressed forward, no matter what had happened in his life. He simply didn't know how not to. He'd suppress these feelings, no matter the cost.
Finally, Tigris stood, showered, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast. As soon as he entered the dining room, his inner emptiness returned. He took a seat next to his father and ate silently.
"Did your Occlumency lesson with your mother go well?"
Tigris looked up and met his father's eyes. To his surprise, he sensed his presence reaching for his thoughts. On instinct, he pushed them to the back of his mind, blocking him.
"We have made a start, Sir."
His father grinned briefly. "Good. From now on, you'll meet up with her every afternoon at four to improve your abilities."
"Yes, Father."
He leaned back and observed Tigris. "The new school year will start in roughly three weeks. I've let Dumbledore know that you are transferring from a small private school. We'll visit London two days prior to buy your school supplies. Until then, you'll need to adopt several elementary skills appropriate to your status.
"I noted how you already read a lot. While that's good, you can't learn everything from books. You are a Malfoy and you have to maintain a certain appearance. They will excuse a lot due to your past, but you will not exploit that."
"My apologies, Sir, but what exactly is my past?"
"Great question. We will discuss the answer in my study after breakfast. Afterwards, you will meet Draco in our training room upstairs."
Tigris stared at him in mild surprise but nodded. His father frowned slightly.
"Yes, Sir," he said hastily. "My apologies, Sir."
His father smiled almost benevolently. "No problem, Tigris. You will learn with time. Shall we?" He motioned for Tigris to get up and follow him, which he did.
In his study, his father set a few sheets of parchment down on the table in front of Tigris. Tigris sat down and looked at him expectantly. He took one of the parchments and held it up.
"This is your birth certificate with the name 'Tigris Billard'. It's dated June 29th, 1980. As you know, my sister was married to a muggle named Lance Billard. However, you are not his child even though the muggles never found out. You are the child of an unknown, pureblooded wizard with which she purportedly had an affair. Agrippinilla died during your birth. You were raised by the muggle and his new wife, Dorene. She had her own son, Norman, who was one year younger than you. They didn't like wizards. Fill in the blanks with as many memories you have of those disgusting creatures you used to live with as you wish. This is what they looked like."
He pushed a couple of pictures towards Tigris. They showed a big-boned, haggard man with dark blond hair, a squat brunette woman, and a boy that was a mix of both of them. He was in different pictures at different ages. "This is the house you lived in. Saltdean Lane No.12, Sussex." It was a regular row house with a front yard, similar to that of the Dursleys. "Your foster father worked as an electrician with the company Barkley Electrics. You visited a small school of wizardry the next town over, Ginevra's Institute for Magic. They take kids from ages ten and up, which is why you never got your letter from Hogwarts. This is what it looks like." The picture showed an older manor, kids heading in and out. "There's a book on Ginevra's in our library. I suggest you read it. This is the headmaster, Madam Rosier. She is an old friend of the family and will confirm your story if necessary. You should, however, talk as little about your old school as possible, to avoid mistakes." He showed Tigris a picture of an older witch with gray hair and glasses who didn't look very friendly. It fits, thought Tigris dryly. His father pushed over another parchment. "These are your OWL results. They mirror the ones you took in Hogwarts except for Divination, which isn't in Ginevra's curriculum. Instead, you took Muggle Studies. You had exceptional grades, so try your best to keep up the image. O in Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, and Herbology. E in everything else."
Tigris stared at him, slack-mouthed. "But I've never been that good! I mean, I'm pretty good at DADA and charms but never Potions! Certainly not in History and Astronomy."
"Well, I guess you'll have to try harder in the future. I'd hate to tell Eleanora that her school is considered substandard."
Tigris blinked in disbelief and gulped. "Yes, Father."
"Marvelous. The muggles perished in a house fire this year while you were still in school. Ginevra's school year lasts until the 20th of July and starts on October first. The fire was on the 17th of July. Madame Rosier tried to find surviving relatives of yours, found out about Agrippinilla, and contacted me. We tested your ancestry and found out about your father. Thus, I decided to adopt you. This is the document through which you now hold the name 'Malfoy'." His father pushed the last parchment towards Tigris. "This is only an adoption by name. Draco is still considered the oldest son of the family and my heir. I'm considering a full adoption, but it's better to wait with that for a bit. You may call me Father in public. What Draco and you call each other is between the two of you."
Tigris nodded. This was a lot of information to receive at once, especially since it was all fake. He'd love to know how many people his father had bribed to make it all look real. "What if someone asks about the Billard's, Sir? Isn't it possible that someone knows them?"
His father grinned, self-satisfied. "Don't worry about that. All they'll find out is that he died in a house fire, as I said."
Tigris stared at the photos in shock, then at his father. The man gave him a slightly indignant look. "Don't make such a fuss, Tigris. They were just a bunch of worthless muggles."
"But…"
"But?" He interrupted Tigris with a dangerous undertone. Tigris flinched and looked at the floor.
"Nothing, Sir."
"I sure hope so. I expect you to remember these things. I hate to repeat myself. Any further questions?"
"Should I hold on to the documents?"
"No, I'll keep them here but you can always find them on that shelf over there if you need them."
Tigris nodded. "Then I don't have any further questions."
"Good, then you're dismissed. Draco will surely be waiting for you."
"Yes, Father." Tigris stood up. "See you later."
"See you later, Tigris." His father's grey eyes followed him out the door.