Chapter 125: A Little Help
After the commotion in the bathroom, Tamara's mood had been far from good.
Although she had successfully humiliated her sixteen year old self and temporarily stopped the diary from taking further action, the feeling of being shackled by the system left her deeply frustrated.
As for Ginny Weasley...
The poor little girl had taken a solid blow from the iron helmet. Her shoulder was most likely fractured.
Madam Pomfrey's Skele-Gro could heal her, but the incident itself was far too bizarre.
A first year witch had been found unconscious in a corridor, her shoulder injured by something that looked very much like a blunt weapon.
When she woke, Ginny could only offer a pale, stammering explanation about sleepwalking and falling down the stairs.
The excuse was so flimsy that even Filch's cat would not have believed it.
Considering Ginny had been in a daze for half the term, this strange accident naturally terrified the Weasleys, who were fiercely protective of their daughter.
They rushed to the school overnight and, despite Madam Pomfrey's protests, insisted on applying for Ginny to leave early. They wanted to take her back to The Burrow for Christmas so her frightened mind could properly rest.
For this, they even abandoned their plan to visit their eldest son, Bill Weasley, in Egypt.
Looking at her parents' worried faces, Ginny opened her mouth several times.
She wanted to tell her mother about the black diary.
She wanted to tell her father about that friend named Tom.
She wanted to tell them that every time she woke up, something strange and inexplicable had happened at school.
But each time the words reached her lips, Arthur's stern warning echoed in her ears.
Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.
If her parents found out she had broken that rule, if they found out all the misfortunes at school might even be connected to her...
Her parents would blame her.
Hogwarts would expel her.
Dumbledore would cast her out.
Even that gentle yet powerful older sister figure, Tamara, would look at her with disgust.
This was not merely Ginny's imagination.
Deep within her fragmented, blurry memories, she seemed to have truly seen such a scene.
That night, the moment the agonising pain of her shattered shoulder struck her, her consciousness had surfaced for a few brief seconds.
Ginny had seen Tamara.
The usually elegant and gentle Slytherin senior had been standing in the shadows of the corridor, looking down at her.
Those dark eyes had held no concern.
Only undisguised, heart wrenching coldness and revulsion.
She must have sensed it too, Ginny thought despairingly. She must have sensed the monster hiding inside me. That's why she looked at me that way.
The immense terror of losing everything completely sealed the lips of this eleven year old girl.
She could only clutch her old schoolbag desperately.
The diary was hidden deep inside.
Ginny did not dare throw the diary away, fearing it would come back for revenge. Nor could she tell anyone, terrified that she would become the culprit.
For Tamara, this was not good news either.
Ginny leaving school meant she had temporarily lost the chance to retrieve the diary.
That damned system, perhaps sensing its host's foul mood, chose that exact moment to make its presence known.
[Ding! Detected that the host successfully repelled the evil diary man, demonstrating exceptional Courage!]
[Courage +5!]
[Current Courage: 39]
Tamara looked at the cheerfully bouncing number before her and gave a cold snort.
"Courage?"
"Only fools care about that. What I want is power, authorisation to unseal the Dark Arts, not these useless numbers."
Perhaps sensing that this reward was rather paltry, the system immediately produced a new mission window. It even carried a faintly ingratiating tone.
[Ding! Side Mission Triggered: Imparting Knowledge and Dispelling Doubts.]
[Mission Description: Your admirer, Hermione Granger, is facing a significant academic dilemma. As a perfect top student, please lend her a hand and help her solve her problem.]
[Mission Reward: Unlock second year Charms, Engorgio and Rictusempra.]
[Wisdom +1]
Tamara had originally intended to ignore it outright.
What use were these ridiculous sounding joke charms?
Could they kill?
Could they torture?
But just as she was about to refuse, she paused.
Wait.
Wasn't Professor Flitwick's Charms practical examination next week?
If she remembered correctly, these two spells were precisely on the required list.
For a Dark Lord devoted to maintaining the disguise of a perfect top student, failing an exam because she did not know such low level spells would be a disgrace even greater than being defeated by Harry Potter.
"...Tch."
Reluctantly, Tamara closed the Dark Arts book in her hand and stood.
For the sake of that damned perfect O grade report card.
She would endure it.
...
In the Library.
Hermione was staring dejectedly at a thick copy of Moste Potente Potions, her hair frizzed into something resembling a bird's nest on the verge of collapse.
"How is that possible... a full month?"
The little bookworm stared at the recipe in despair.
"The fluxweed has to be picked at the full moon. The bicorn horn has to be ground into powder. And the worst part is the lacewing flies... they have to be stewed for a full twenty one days?"
Twenty one days!
By the time the potion was ready, Hogwarts might already have been wiped out by Malfoy, the Heir.
Hermione's eyes reddened with frustration.
Just as she was about to give up, a slender finger suddenly entered her field of vision and lightly tapped the desk before her.
"Miss Granger."
That familiar, cool voice made Hermione jolt.
She snapped her head up and saw Tamara standing behind her, looking down slightly, those dark eyes calmly observing her.
"...Tamara?"
Flustered, Hermione tried to close the forbidden book, terrified that this Slytherin top student would catch her studying such dangerous material.
But Tamara merely glanced at the cover, her face betraying neither surprise nor condemnation.
"Moste Potente Potions?"
Tamara raised an eyebrow, her tone even carrying a hint of casual approval.
"An ambitious choice. Has the second year curriculum already failed to satisfy your voracious appetite for knowledge?"
"I... I was only..."
Hermione stammered, unsure how to explain.
"Come with me."
Tamara had no interest in listening to her explanations. She turned and walked away.
"The air here is too stifling. It is unsuitable for... advanced academic discussion."
.....
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