Chapter 19: The Speech in the Common Room
Passing through the hidden entrance behind the damp stone wall, the Slytherin common room unfolded before them.
It was a long, narrow basement deep beneath the Black Lake. Rough stone formed the walls and ceiling. Round green lamps hung overhead, casting a dim, underwater glow across exquisitely carved ebony tables and chairs arranged near the fire.
Through the windows, the lake pressed close, murky and slow. Every so often, a fish drifted past, or the shadow of a giant squid's tentacle slid by, painting ripples of dark green across the room.
For most eleven year old wizards, the cold, eerie atmosphere might have been unsettling. Some might even have worried, with childish seriousness, about getting rheumatism before they had even learned a single proper hex.
For Tamara Riddle, the old scent in the air, damp stone mixed with latent magic, felt like coming home.
"Welcome to the Slytherin common room."
Prefect Gemma Farley, an older girl with sharp features and a tired look behind her eyes, stood near the fireplace and tried to quiet the chatter of the newly Sorted first years.
"The password is 'Pure blood.' It changes every two weeks, so do not forget to check the noticeboard."
She lifted her voice, pushing through the noise.
"In here, we are a family. No matter what the other Houses think of us, within Slytherin we must stand united…"
It did not do much good.
The first years were still buzzing with the excitement of the Sorting. No prefect could stamp that out in a single speech. The room stayed chaotic. Gemma called "Quiet" several times, but it barely made a dent.
She clearly did not have the authority to command the room, especially with troublemakers like Malfoy in it.
Tamara stood a little behind the crowd, the firelight reflecting faintly off her pale face.
She was watching.
Her past life had taught her Slytherin's rules with brutal clarity. This House valued power and order. If you looked weak, you were stepped on. If you looked too distant, you were isolated.
Her earlier coldness had established authority, yes, but it had also built a wall.
That would not do.
A true Dark Lord needed more than the power to make enemies tremble. She needed the charisma to make followers burn for her.
She needed these young witches and wizards.
They were the future reserves of Death Eaters. The foundation of her return to the wizarding world.
Putting on a mask everyone loved was what she did best.
Tamara let out a quiet laugh inside her head, and her cold black eyes changed in an instant.
The frost vanished.
In its place was a deep, gentle light, captivating and warm in a way that made people want to step closer.
She smoothed her skirt and moved towards the centre by the fire.
Tamara walked up beside Prefect Gemma Farley.
Gemma startled, and at the sight of this unusually beautiful first year, she shifted aside on instinct, giving her space.
"Just as the prefect said," Tamara began.
Her voice no longer carried that sharp chill from before. It was soft, elegant, and it travelled cleanly across the room.
"We are a family."
She turned to face the first years. An impeccable smile appeared, not mocking, not contemptuous, only confident and composed, as though she could hold the whole room in her hands without effort.
Draco Malfoy stared.
Pansy Parkinson went still, eyes fixed on Tamara as if she had forgotten how blinking worked.
Even the few noisy half bloods fell silent.
"I know what you're worried about," Tamara continued, pacing slowly. Her gentle gaze swept over every face. "People outside say Slytherin is the cradle of Dark wizards. That we are cunning, devious, and evil."
Her tone stayed calm, but each word slid into place like a blade.
"Just now at the Sorting, when Potter was placed in Gryffindor, they cheered. When we were placed in Slytherin, they whispered."
She paused, letting it sink in.
"That feels unfair, doesn't it?"
The first years stirred at once.
"That's right," Goyle blurted indignantly. "That Weasley was glaring at me."
"They're jealous," Draco shouted, loud and eager. "Jealous we're pure bloods."
Tamara did not scold him for interrupting. Instead, she gave him a small nod, as if rewarding him for speaking up.
"Malfoy is right," she said.
A beat.
"But it's not only blood."
Her voice lifted slightly, catching a spark of energy that spread through the room.
"It is also because we are excellent."
She took another slow step.
"Salazar Slytherin chose students for their shrewdness, ambition, and thirst for power. We are not satisfied with mediocrity. We do not aspire to be as unremarkable as Hufflepuff, nor do we live on nothing but the reckless bravado of Gryffindor."
Her hand rose, pointing towards the green tapestry embroidered with a silver snake.
"We pursue excellence."
Her eyes shone.
"Because we are excellent, we are envied. Because we are powerful, we are misunderstood."
She lowered her hand.
"This is the fate of Slytherin."
The common room became so quiet it felt as though even the lake outside had stilled.
Everyone was caught by her words. Even older students who had been reading nearby lowered their books, staring openly at this first year who spoke like a leader.
The speech was dangerously effective.
With a few carefully chosen lines, she turned Slytherin's isolation into proof of superiority. The whispers of other Houses became fear of excellence. Unease became pride. Doubt became unity.
As for why they were whispered about in the first place, best not to ask.
"So, my friends," Tamara said, her gaze softening while remaining unshakable.
"Do not pay attention to their finger pointing. That is only the bluster of the weak."
She let the silence stretch, then tightened it again with her next words.
"In the next seven years, we have only one thing to do."
She paused.
"Prove our superiority."
A ripple ran through the room.
"We will take the House Cup. We will excel in every subject. We will use our strength to show everyone why Slytherin is the greatest House at Hogwarts."
Then she looked directly at Draco, and her smile returned, bright and deliberate.
"Draco, are you willing to prove the excellence of the House of Malfoy for the glory of Slytherin?"
Being singled out made Draco's blood surge. His face flushed, and his voice cracked with excitement.
"Of course," Draco shouted. "I'll show them. I'll show Potter what a real wizard is."
"Very good," Tamara said, pleased.
Her eyes swept the room again. Wherever she looked, the first years stared back with something close to devotion.
"Then let us do it for Slytherin," she said softly.
"For Slytherin."
Someone shouted first.
Then the entire common room erupted, the chant catching and strengthening, rhythmic and fierce.
"For Slytherin."
[Ding! Highly inflammatory speech detected.]
[Achievement Triggered: Junior Leadership Charisma.]
[System Evaluation: Although your rhetoric is full of brainwashing techniques from pyramid schemes, it is undeniable that you have successfully united your classmates, eliminated the first years' fear, and motivated their ambition.]
[This is Positive Energy. This is the spirit of collectivism.]
[Rewards: Charisma +3, wisdom +2.]
[Current Attributes: Love 10, life 7, wisdom 17, Courage 5.]
As the system praised itself in her head, the smile on Tamara's face became even gentler, more moving.
"Positive Energy?" she sneered inwardly.
"This is called the art of manipulation, you idiot."
After the speech, Tamara's popularity in Slytherin rose instantly to its peak.
Students who had been intimidated by her earlier coldness crowded around her, eager to introduce themselves. Tamara handled them with patient grace.
She memorised every name. Even the half bloods who faded into the background received a warm nod and a compliment.
"Your robes are very neat."
"Your gaze is very focused."
That approachable manner left the little snakes, who were used to ranking one another by family, almost dizzy with the feeling of being favoured.
"She's perfect, isn't she?" Pansy Parkinson said, blushing as she whispered to Daphne Greengrass beside her. "Powerful, elegant, and so… gentle."
Eventually, the crowd thinned. One by one, students drifted off to their dormitories.
Tamara walked down the corridor to the girls' dorm.
When she pushed the door open, she found a spacious circular room with five four poster beds, each draped with green velvet curtains.
Besides Tamara, the room belonged to Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, and a girl named Tracy.
The girls had been chatting. The moment Tamara entered, they went quiet and looked at her, stiff and uncertain.
"Good night, everyone," Tamara said, smiling lightly, the perfect mask still in place.
"I hope we can spend a pleasant seven years together."
"Good night, Tamara," Pansy replied, stumbling slightly over the words.
Tamara walked to the innermost bed by the window.
It was the best spot, clearly saved for her.
Her luggage waited neatly beside it, and the stupid cat named Nagini was sprawled on the pillow, fast asleep.
Tamara flicked her wand. The heavy green curtains drew shut.
At last, the world became quiet.
In that small private space, the gentle smile vanished as if it had never existed.
Like wax melting away.
In its place was deep exhaustion, and a gloom that sat behind her eyes where no one could see it.
"A bunch of easily manipulated fools," she murmured.
She let herself fall into the soft blankets.
Acting was exhausting.
Especially when she had to play a bright, wholesome girl filled with Positive Energy, all under the watchful eye of that damned system.
She turned her head to look at the black cat sleeping beside her pillow, utterly defenceless.
Nagini the Second seemed to sense her presence. Half asleep, it blinked, reached out a paw, and caught Tamara's finger. It rubbed its furry head against her hand and let out a small, drowsy sound.
"Meow."
Tamara's finger stiffened.
She had meant to pull away.
But there was warmth there, faint but real, and in the end she did not move.
"At least you don't have to act," she said quietly.
She stared at the cat, and a thin thread of envy flickered in her eyes before she could stop it.
"Good night, Nagini."
The Dark Lord closed her eyes.
And in her dreams, there was no Hogwarts, no system, only a flash of green light and herself lying in a pool of blood.
.....
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