Chapter 222: A Good Deal
Teaching Draco Malfoy was a walk in the park compared to dragging that air-headed idiot, Harry Potter, through the mud of basic magical theory.
As the heir to the pure-blood House of Malfoy, Draco had been steeped in hypocritical social etiquette since he was in diapers. Masking his true emotions and burying his thoughts behind a veneer of polite arrogance was practically an instinct carved into his very bones. Although the mental defenses he built were still like wet paper against Tamara's intrusion, they were leaps and bounds ahead of Potter's initial state, which had essentially been a wide-open gate inviting anyone to stroll through his memories.
"Not bad."
Tamara severed the Legilimency connection with a sharp flick of her mind. She looked down at Draco, who was currently slumped on the stone floor, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. Coming from her, those two words were a rare evaluation that bordered on the highest praise.
Hearing it, Draco immediately puffed up like a peacock displaying its feathers. He scrambled to his feet, half of his exhaustion swept away by the sheer validation.
During their brief rest period, Draco straightened his rumpled robes, entirely unable to stop himself from incessantly chattering about his plans for the upcoming summer vacation.
"The quadrennial Quidditch World Cup is being held right here in Britain this year. When you come to stay at the Manor for a while during the summer, we can go watch the final match together in the top box!"
At this point, Draco deliberately lowered his voice, leaning in close with the distinct superiority of someone showing off highly classified information.
"also, my father recently heard some rumors circulating at the Ministry of Magic. He said Hogwarts is going to host a massive international event next year. A lot of very important figures will be coming to the school..."
Draco was still excitedly rambling, but Tamara's eyes turned dark and bottomless the moment those two events registered in her mind.
Since the Chamber of Secrets incident of the previous academic year had ultimately ended without any concrete resolution, Lucius Malfoy had not only retained his position as a Hogwarts Governor, but he was still flourishing within the core political circles of the Ministry of Magic. With his level of influence, it was hardly surprising that he would learn about next year's Triwizard Tournament well in advance.
A crystal-clear timeline snapped into place within Tamara's mind.
The 1994 Quidditch World Cup, followed directly by the 1994-1995 academic year's Triwizard Tournament.
In her previous life, it was precisely during the summer of 1995 that she had manipulated the Triwizard Tournament to reshape her physical body and announce the return of the Dark Lord to the entire Wizarding world.
'No wonder...'
Tamara sneered inwardly, a sharp look of realization flashing across her dark pupils.
No wonder that old fox Dumbledore had been surprisingly quiet lately. Whether it was the blatant abnormality she had displayed in front of the Boggart, or her daily routine of mentally tormenting the savior in the Room of Requirement, the old man actually hadn't come sniffing around to find trouble with her.
It turned out he was currently buried in paperwork, busy haggling with the Ministry of Magic and the headmasters of foreign magic schools, carefully planning the tedious restart process of the Triwizard Tournament.
In her previous life, the only reason she had been able to smoothly orchestrate her resurrection was because she had intercepted and tortured that talkative Ministry witch, Bertha Jorkins, thereby extracting the highly confidential information about the Tournament.
But the landscape of this life was already completely different.
The most crucial piece of the puzzle, Peter Pettigrew, was currently being held firmly by her in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, chained up like a stray dog. Without Wormtail's sacrifice and desperate search, that pathetic main soul—currently hiding and barely surviving in the remote forests of Albania—could not possibly drag itself out of that damp swamp independently, let alone plot any grand resurrection conspiracy.
'This world only needs one Voldemort.'
Tamara narrowed her eyes slightly. Pure, unadulterated killing intent surged within those pitch-black pupils.
She would never allow a second version of herself to exist in this world, nor would she ever allow a pathetic, wandering parasite without even a physical form to dictate the future of her throne. Even if that wandering soul was her former self.
Tamara's slender fingers gently stroked the smooth wood of her wand, a cold decision settling heavily in her chest.
It seemed that during this year's summer vacation, she would have to take a personal trip to the forests of Albania. She would completely devour that pathetic main soul and absorb its power for herself.
The weekend at Hogwarts brought the first severe rainstorm of the year.
Because the Slytherin Quidditch team captain, Marcus Flint, currently had three broken ribs and a snapped finger—injuries graciously provided by Tamara under the flawless guise of 'self-defense'—the match originally scheduled for today between Slytherin and Gryffindor had to be temporarily changed to Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.
Tamara had absolutely zero interest in watching a barbaric sport where fools rode broken broomsticks to chase a ball through a freezing downpour.
Instead, she stayed alone in the quiet solitude of the Room of Requirement.
In the furthest corner of the room, an ancient, exquisite piece of jewelry rested quietly on a dusty table. Ravenclaw's Diadem. This was the Horcrux she had hidden here decades ago.
Tamara held her wand loosely at her side, her footsteps completely silent as she slowly paced around the diadem.
Currently, Dumbledore's attention was clearly focused elsewhere. If she went out and cast the Confundus Charm on all the surrounding portraits in the corridor right now, would she be able to quietly retrieve her soul fragment from the diadem without raising any alarms?
Just as she raised her wand to act.
The system in her mind, which had been blissfully quiet for a long time, suddenly erupted with a piercing, high-pitched alarm.
[Ding! Alarm! Target character Harry Potter has encountered a large-scale Dementor attack on the Quidditch Pitch! Life signs are dropping rapidly!]
[Triggered emergency rescue mission: Protector of the Light! Please proceed to the pitch immediately and cast the Patronus Charm to rescue the savior!]
[Reward: Courage +5, Unlock Spell: Muffliato.]
Tamara didn't even blink at the flashing alarm, letting out a biting, ice-cold laugh that echoed in the empty room.
If the target had been any other insignificant fool, Tamara wouldn't actually mind putting on her hypocritical skin to bestow a bit of trivial kindness. After all, this kind of business transaction—which could simultaneously consolidate her flawless disguise as a saint and extract highly practical magical benefits from the system—was something the great Dark Lord had always been well-versed in.
But this was Harry Potter.
He was her destined enemy, the absolute idiot who had looked at her with those disgusting, infatuated eyes in this very room just two days ago. Tamara didn't want to have the slightest connection with this so-called savior right now.
'System, do you have some fundamental misunderstanding about the great savior of the Wizarding world, The Boy Who Lived?'She mocked mercilessly in her mind, her tone dripping with venom.'Potter isn't some helpless princess in a fairy tale, and I am certainly not his fairy godmother. If he can't even handle a group of brainless Dementors while parading around with the title of savior, then he might as well just hurry up and fall from the sky to his death. It would save us all a lot of trouble.'
The system seemed to be completely silenced by the Dark Lord's vicious yet impeccable logic.
After two full seconds of dead air, that perky electronic voice actually did something incredibly rare. It gave up its persistence.
[You are right.]
The blaring alarm stopped abruptly.
However.
Less than five minutes later, the system's cheerful voice suddenly rang out again, entirely unbothered by the previous rejection.
[Ding! Triggered daily hospital visit mission: Harry Potter has fallen from a great height and is currently being resuscitated in the hospital wing.]
[Please go and visit to show the deep, heartwarming friendship between classmates!]
Tamara stood frozen, completely speechless.
Why did this useless waste of space have to have a near-death accident every single time he participated in this stupid broom-riding competition?!
'Not going.'
Tamara replied decisively, turning her back on the door.
Unexpectedly, the system remained very quiet this time. It rarely threw out any electric shock warnings or punishment threats, simply fading away into silent compliance.
But the moment Tamara finally left the Room of Requirement and stepped into the main corridor, reality proved to be far more annoying than the system. Every single person she met, from first-years to ghosts, would rush over to talk to her.
And the content was universally uniform. Harry is in the infirmary. He wants to see you.
Finally, even Professor McGonagall called out to her at a busy corridor corner, her stern face lined with concern.
"Miss Riddle, Mr. Potter is currently resting in the hospital wing, but... he stubbornly stated that he has a few words he urgently wants to say to you privately. If you have the time, please go see him."
Tamara took a slow, deep breath, forcing her facial muscles to remain perfectly neutral while desperately trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to murder everyone in the castle.
In her mind, the system's cheeky voice rang out again, practically vibrating with smugness.
[Oh my, how touching! This is the true magic of classmate friendship at Hogwarts! Even when seriously injured and bedridden, he only wants to see his dearest friend!]
'Shut up.'
Tamara rubbed her temples irritably.
To avoid this idiot causing her even more public trouble and drawing Dumbledore's gaze, she had no choice but to turn her heavy steps toward the hospital wing.
Hospital wing.
Tamara pushed open the heavy oak doors and walked straight past the rows of empty beds, heading directly to the furthest corner.
Harry was propped up against a stack of pillows. His face was entirely devoid of color, looking as terrible as a fresh corpse. Word in the corridors was that his beloved Nimbus 2000 had been blown away by the wind and smashed into splinters by the Whomping Willow.
"I heard you were thrown off your broom by Dementors like a piece of discarded trash?"
Tamara stood by the edge of the bed, looking down at him. Her opening words were laced with merciless sarcasm, her voice cold enough to freeze the water in his bedside glass.
"Did your Occlumency training go to the dogs? You can't even manage the most basic emotional isolation to shield your mind?"
Facing Tamara's biting mockery, Harry not only didn't get angry, but he actually reached up and scratched the back of his messy hair, looking somewhat sheepish.
"It's not like that... I really tried."
Harry's green eyes flickered away from hers. His voice was very low, seemingly terrified of being overheard by Madam Pomfrey, who was organizing potions in her distant office.
"I tried using the Patronus Charm Professor Lupin taught me to fight them off, but... there were just too many Dementors swarming the pitch."
He looked back up at her, a strange light in his eyes. "Although I still fell off the broom in the end, I actually successfully blocked the first few Dementors."
Harry's tone was exactly like that of an eager apprentice desperately seeking credit and praise from a strict mentor.
Tamara raised her delicate eyebrows slightly, a genuine flash of surprise cutting through the disdain in her pitch-black eyes.
"You blocked the Dementors?"
She knew all too well the sheer difficulty and magical requirement of the Patronus Charm. Just a few days ago in the Room of Requirement, this idiot could only puff out a pathetic, wispy cloud of white mist. Being able to physically block a swarm of Dementors meant that Harry had managed to condense a significantly more powerful, corporeal force.
And that required a foundation of intense, overwhelming happiness to support it.
Tamara narrowed her eyes, her gaze turning sharp and highly suspicious.
"Then when you were freezing in mid-air, surrounded by soul-sucking monsters, what exactly was the happy memory you thought of? It couldn't possibly be the thrill of riding that broken broom again, could it?"
As soon as those words left her lips.
Harry's pale face instantly flooded with color, turning completely scarlet from his neck to the tips of his ears. He abruptly looked away, staring flusteredly at the stark white bedsheets, his fingers gripping the fabric tight.
"Nothing! It was... it was just some ordinary things!" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.
Looking at Harry's extremely guilty, panic-stricken appearance.
Tamara suddenly remembered the exact look in his eyes during their close proximity in the Room of Requirement that day.
She suddenly felt her stomach churning violently. The urge to draw her wand and strangle the savior of the Wizarding world right here on his sickbed was unprecedentedly strong.
"You had better really be thinking about some 'ordinary things', Potter."
Tamara squeezed the words out through perfectly gritted teeth. The killing intent radiating from her eyes almost condensed into a physical substance, dropping the temperature around the bed by several degrees.
"Now tell me, you mobilized half the school to find me. What exactly is this urgent matter?"
She leaned in just a fraction, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If your answer doesn't satisfy me, I promise I will immediately throw you out of this window and let you experience the joy of free fall once more. Without Dumbledore to catch you this time."
Although Harry clearly wanted to admire the intense, dark fire in Tamara's eyes a bit longer, the threat of defenestration quickly brought him back to his business.
Harry looked around nervously, ensuring the ward was empty, and pleaded in a very low, desperate voice.
"Could you please... help me tie some food to Hedwig's leg and send it to Sirius?"
Seeing Tamara staring at him as if he had just sprouted a second head, Harry quickly scrambled to explain.
"The weather outside is freezing, and there's a massive rainstorm. It must be incredibly difficult for Sirius to find any food out there in the wild. If I have an owl send a large package of food with a big fanfare right here in the hospital wing, it will definitely be discovered by Madam Pomfrey or one of the patrolling Professors."
After listening to this absurd request, Tamara almost wanted to roll her eyes into the back of her skull.
"Do you honestly think I look like a charity nanny for you reckless Gryffindors?"
She crossed her arms, looking down at him with pure disdain. "Can't that stupid dog just catch some rats in the forest to gnaw on? Before you were around to baby him, didn't that mad dog live perfectly fine outside on his own?"
She took a step back, her patience entirely exhausted. "I don't have the time or the inclination to help you show off your boundless compassion. Find a way to feed your mutt yourself."
After delivering her rejection, Tamara turned around without a second of lingering, ready to leave this suffocating room that made her feel so deeply irritable.
However.
The very moment her robes swished as she turned, Tamara's movements suddenly paused. Her mind raced, connecting a vital piece of information.
Potter needed a stealthy helper right now.
And currently sitting in his possession, likely tucked away in his dormitory trunk, was something she had coveted for a very, very long time. The ancient relic of Ignotus Peverell. One of the three legendary Deathly Hallows.
The Invisibility Cloak.
Mere invisibility was nothing to the great Dark Lord. Even without the Disillusionment Charm, avoiding the eyes and ears of ordinary wizards was a ridiculously easy task for her.
What she truly wanted to study were the ancient, primordial laws of magic hidden beneath that layer of silken, silvery fabric—magic so absolute it could supposedly deceive Death itself.
Legend had it that the person who gathered all three Hallows would become the Master of Death. Even if it was just a children's fable, conquering death and obtaining true, unbreakable eternal life was Tamara's ultimate, driving goal.
Tamara slowly turned back around. The cold impatience on her face instantly melted away like ice under the morning sun, smoothly replaced by a breathtakingly gentle, understanding smile.
"However..."
Tamara walked back to the bedside unhurriedly, her footsteps light. Her voice was now incredibly soft, carrying the hypnotic cadence of a demon tempting a mortal to fall.
"Seeing as you care so deeply for your godfather, it's not like I can't help with this small favor."
Harry's green eyes lit up instantly, completely disarmed by her sudden warmth. "Really? Tamara, thank you so much—"
"Don't be so quick to thank me, Potter." Tamara interrupted him smoothly, her tone entirely unceremonious despite the smile. "Slytherins never provide free kindness."
She leaned down slightly, resting her hands on the edge of his mattress. Her long, silky black hair fell forward, brushing against Harry's pillow. That distinct, intoxicating scent of cold cedar wrapped around Harry once again, making his breath hitch.
"As an equivalent exchange—" Tamara stared directly into his wide eyes, declaring her demand word by word, leaving no room for negotiation.
"I want that Invisibility Cloak of yours."
Harry was completely stunned, blinking in confusion. "My Invisibility Cloak? But..."
"Don't misunderstand, I have absolutely no interest in wearing it to sneak into the kitchens to steal midnight snacks like you and your little friends." Tamara straightened up, her posture regal, her tone brooking no refusal.
"Lend it to me for a period of time, and I can guarantee your dear godfather lives a very comfortable, well-fed life out there in the rain."
Tamara watched Harry, who was still hesitating on the bed, with absolute leisure. A determined, calculating smile curled at the corner of her mouth. She already knew she had won.
"A very profitable deal, isn't it, Harry?"
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