Chapter 37: The Troll in the Bathroom
Even after learning where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden, Tamara Riddle did not move at once.
As a Dark Lord who had once come close to conquering the entire wizarding world, she understood patience better than anyone.
Those protections might not stop her, but passing through them without leaving a trace would be difficult.
More importantly, she needed someone else to take the first risk.
Let Quirrell and that idiotic main soul test the path first.
Tamara calculated coldly to herself. Based on what she knew of her own nature, she would never let the Philosopher's Stone slip away.
When they triggered the alarm or were trapped by Dumbledore's protections, that would be when the real hunter struck.
During those days of lying low, life at Hogwarts seemed unusually peaceful.
Ever since the visit to Hagrid's hut, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's attitude toward Tamara had changed dramatically.
"Morning, Tamara!"
Whenever they met in the corridor, Harry greeted her with cheerful sincerity, and even Ron offered an awkward little wave.
As for this friendship from the Boy Who Lived, Tamara felt nothing at all inside. Still, she maintained a polished Slytherin courtesy on the surface and occasionally nodded in reply.
This drove Draco Malfoy nearly mad with jealousy, but he did not dare challenge Tamara's diplomatic policy. He could only direct his irritation at Potter through his nose every day.
October 31, Halloween Eve.
The air smelled sweetly of roasted pumpkin.
At the end of Charms in the afternoon, Tamara was walking behind the crowd when she overheard an argument ahead of her.
"No wonder nobody can stand her!"
Ron Weasley was complaining loudly to Harry, his tone harsh. "She is a nightmare. Honestly, if she had even one friend, it would be a miracle."
A bushy haired brown figure rushed past Tamara with her head lowered, and she could hear muffled sobs.
Hermione Granger.
Tamara paused and watched the direction Hermione disappeared, then glanced at Ron, who was still talking.
Childish.
That was Tamara's cold verdict.
These little quarrels and exclusions among children were as dull to her as ants scrapping in dust.
She had no interest in defending Ron, and even less in comforting a fragile girl she barely knew.
Tamara rarely felt much emotion. Most of her dissatisfaction came from anger at her own limitations, so empathy for such things did not come naturally to her.
She straightened her robes and walked away.
That evening, the Halloween feast began.
The Great Hall was magnificently decorated. Thousands of live bats swept along the walls and ceiling, and dark clouds hung low overhead, flashing with staged lightning.
Tamara sat at the Slytherin table, watching students eat and laugh while she considered other matters.
This was a perfect chance.
Every teacher and student was here in the Great Hall. Dumbledore was here too.
The forbidden corridor on the third floor must be unattended.
She did not need to steal the Philosopher's Stone tonight, but she could inspect the magic on the trapdoor and prepare for future action.
"I am going to the bathroom."
Tamara gave Draco a casual excuse, then slipped quietly out of the noisy Great Hall under his concerned stare.
The castle corridors were empty and wonderfully quiet.
She avoided the portraits' eyes and made her way upstairs with practised ease.
But as she passed the girls' bathroom on the first floor, she heard intermittent crying inside. Suppressed, uneven, and unmistakably miserable.
Tamara slowed.
That Granger girl again?
She frowned inwardly.
Had the girl truly spent the whole afternoon hiding here and crying?
So fragile.
Tamara shook her head. She had no intention of stopping. Other people's tears had nothing to do with her.
She had more important things to do.
Yet the moment she took her first step away, the familiar mechanical voice rang out in her mind.
[Ding! Detected a key character nearby in an extremely negative emotional state.]
[Mission: Soothe the Wounded Soul.]
[Mission Description: As a model student with all around development in morals, intelligence, physical health, and aesthetics, how can you bear to hear a classmate crying alone and remain indifferent? This is an extreme lack of empathy!]
[Mission Requirement: Enter the bathroom and comfort Hermione Granger until she stops crying.]
[Mission Reward: Love +2]
[Failure Penalty: For the next 24 hours, every sentence spoken by the host will automatically become hymn like in tone.]
Tamara's foot froze in midair.
Hymn like tone?
As in some idiot praising the beauty of all things?
"...Damn system."
She took a breath through clenched teeth, set her foot down, turned around, and headed into the blasted girls' bathroom.
When she pushed open the door, damp air hit her face.
Hermione was hiding in the furthest cubicle, crying as though her heart were breaking.
Tamara stopped before the sinks, looked at her own reflection in the mirror, and adjusted her expression so she looked less like she was about to kill someone.
"Miss Granger?"
She knocked lightly on the cubicle door, her voice cool.
The crying stopped at once.
A few seconds later, Hermione's voice came through, thick with tears. "Go away. I do not want anyone to see me."
"I have no interest in seeing your tear stained face either."
Tamara folded her arms and leaned against a sink.
"I was passing by and heard the racket. I thought a Mandrake had somehow come to life."
"You..." Hermione choked, then burst into louder sobs. "Even you came to mock me. Ron was right. I am just a friendless freak..."
Tamara pressed her fingers to her temple.
"Only you would take that idiot Weasley's words seriously."
Her tone stayed cold.
"In this world, people who lack ability are the ones most eager to spit malice at others."
"If you hide here crying or try to please them because of a few jealous words, you are only wasting your own talent."
Silence filled the cubicle.
Then came a small click.
Hermione opened the door and stepped out.
Her eyes were swollen like peaches. Her hair was a mess. She looked utterly miserable.
"Do you... really think I am... a genius?" Hermione asked between shaky breaths, staring at Tamara with fragile hope.
Seeing the state of her, Tamara sighed, took a clean white handkerchief from her pocket, and held it out.
"At least when it comes to memorising books, you are better than most."
Hermione had just taken the handkerchief and looked ready to say thank you when it happened.
Boom!
A violent crash shook the room as if something enormous had struck the floor. The tiles trembled beneath their feet.
Then a revolting stench flooded the bathroom. Old socks, rotting cabbage, and a blocked sewer all mixed together.
Tamara's expression changed instantly, and she covered her nose.
A huge creature filled the entrance.
It stood nearly twelve feet tall, with rough grey skin like badly cut stone, a bald lumpy head, and a hulking body. In one hand it dragged a massive wooden club.
Its tiny cloudy eyes fixed on the two girls.
A troll.
"Ahh!"
Hermione screamed and collapsed to the floor in terror, shaking so badly she could not move.
The scream stirred the troll. It roared and lifted the club like a tree trunk, charging forward in heavy steps and smashing a sink apart under one foot.
Pipes burst. Water sprayed everywhere.
"Damn it. How did that thing get here?"
Tamara cursed under her breath. Quirrell had been too quiet lately. Of course he was plotting something.
In her previous life, although Voldemort had spent a long time attached to the back of Quirrell's head, Tom did not actually remember much from that period.
She had been too weak then and conscious only when necessary.
Small details like this were blurry.
The troll's club whistled downward toward Hermione's head.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in despair.
For an instant, time seemed to stop.
No pain came.
No death.
Instead, Hermione felt herself yanked sharply at the waist.
A faint cool fragrance cut through the sickening stink.
She opened her eyes.
A pale, exquisite profile was right beside her.
Tamara Riddle had one arm around Hermione's waist, holding her firmly against her, while her other hand raised the holly wand toward the descending club.
The cold arrogant Slytherin girl now looked terrifyingly sharp.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Tamara's voice was not loud, but it carried absolute authority.
The club, heavy enough to crush a person flat, stopped in midair less than half a metre above their heads.
The troll roared in confusion and tried to force it down with all its strength, but the club did not move at all. It was as though invisible iron clamps held it fast.
"Get lost, you ugly thing."
Tamara growled in disgust and flicked her wand hard to one side.
The club tore free from the troll's grip and shot backward like a cannonball, smashing into the troll's bald forehead.
Thump.
A dull impact echoed through the bathroom.
The troll did not even whimper. Its eyes rolled back, and the giant body crashed to the floor, making the room tremble again.
Silence returned, broken only by the hiss of broken pipes.
Hermione remained in Tamara's arms, dazed. She could hear the steady beat of Tamara's heart through her robes.
Her own heart, meanwhile, was hammering wildly.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was not fear.
It was something else. The shock of survival. Relief. Awe.
She looked up at Tamara, whose wand was still raised.
Through the mist and spray, the Slytherin girl looked impossibly tall and strangely reassuring.
Tamara frowned, let Hermione go, and looked around with open disgust at the flooded floor and the stinking troll.
"Are you all right?"
She looked down at Hermione, who was still staring at her in silence. Her tone was impatient as ever, but to Hermione it sounded unbelievably gentle.
"Next time, find a safer place to cry, Granger."
Tamara put away her wand and brushed some dust from Hermione's shoulder with a light pat.
Hermione's face turned scarlet at once.
The rush of emotion hit its peak.
She stared at Tamara, unable to say a single word, feeling as though her heart might leap out of her chest.
[Ding! Mission Complete: Soothe the Wounded Soul.]
[Detected that the target character Hermione Granger has developed an extremely high level of favorability toward the host.]
[Evaluation: A perfect hero saves beauty scenario. Congratulations, host. Honestly, she almost fell in love with you.]
[Mission Rating: S. Troll incident resolved perfectly. Extra reward granted: Courage +5]
[Current Courage: 12]
[Unlocked Spell: Petrificus Totalus]
Tamara was quite satisfied with the rewards, but she had no time to think about them now.
She only wanted to get out of this stinking place and take a bath.
"Can you stand?"
Seeing Hermione still in a daze, Tamara sighed and offered her hand again.
"Up. If we stay here any longer, I am going to smell like this thing too."
.....
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