Chapter 41: Keyword Search
In the days after the Quidditch match, the atmosphere in the Slytherin common room was so heavy it felt as though it could be wrung out by hand.
Ever since Harry had won with that absurd stunt of catching the Snitch in his mouth, Marcus Flint had turned the common room into his personal chamber of outrage.
"That was a foul. An absolute foul!"
Marcus kicked over an elegantly carved footstool with enough force to send it skidding across the floor. His broad, trollish face had gone bright red, and he was spraying spittle in every direction.
In the corner, Draco joined in, though his voice had grown hoarse from several days of uninterrupted complaining.
"I told you, Dumbledore favours Gryffindor. If I had caught the Snitch like that, I would have been banned for life."
Tamara sat in a high backed armchair well away from the fire, a heavy volume of Advanced Rune Analysis resting open in her hands.
She turned a page with faint irritation. The baboonish howling in her ears made concentration impossible.
A pack of sore losers.
Tamara's judgement was as cold as ever.
If this had been decades earlier, any Death Eater who dared to bellow in public over the result of a silly ball game would have earned a Cruciatus Curse as a lesson in silence.
Unfortunately, with the system shackled around her neck, all Tamara could do was close the book and rise in one smooth, elegant motion.
"Where are you going, Tamara?" Pansy asked cautiously, trying to mend the shattered footstool Marcus had kicked apart.
"To the library."
Tamara smoothed the hem of her robes and spoke in a tone of perfect indifference.
"The air in here reeks of fermented failure. I require somewhere cleaner to breathe."
Before Marcus could quite process whether he had just been insulted, Tamara had already disappeared through the passage behind the stone wall.
Apart from the Room of Requirement, the Hogwarts library was Tamara's favourite place in the school.
It was quiet.
It was spacious.
Most importantly, it smelled of old parchment and ink, which was to say knowledge, and therefore power.
She moved easily between the towering shelves, her fingertips trailing over the book spines.
Recently, Potter and his little Gryffindor pack had been blundering about like half weaned puppies, even pestering Hagrid for scraps of information, all in an effort to discover who Nicolas Flamel was.
Tamara found this deeply amusing.
She, of course, knew perfectly well who Nicolas Flamel was.
A six hundred year old relic, Albus Dumbledore's partner in alchemy, and the maker of the Philosopher's Stone.
Tamara selected a book on ancient alchemy at random, settled into a secluded seat by the window, and prepared to enjoy a rare peaceful afternoon.
Naturally, Merlin had other ideas.
The moment she opened the book, the silence was shredded by the frantic sound of pages being turned nearby.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
It was loud, desperate, and full of mounting panic.
Tamara looked up in annoyance.
Through the gap between two shelves, she saw an unmistakable mass of brown hair.
Hermione Granger.
The little Gryffindor know it all was currently buried beneath a mountain of books. Her hair was even more unruly than usual, and faint shadows lay under her eyes from lack of sleep.
She was flipping through Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century as though sheer violence might make the answer appear.
"Not here... not here either... honestly, who is he? Why can't I find him even in A History of Modern Magic?"
Hermione looked ready to collapse.
She had spent three full days searching every possible book on modern witches and wizards and had come up with nothing. For her, that kind of failure was nearly intolerable.
Tamara watched for a moment, contempt flickering through her eyes.
Idiot.
She sneered inwardly.
Nicolas Flamel might still be alive, but he had made his name in the fourteenth century. Looking for a living fossil in twentieth century history books made about as much sense as looking for a phoenix in a fish market.
Tamara had no intention of helping.
Watching Gryffindor's supposed brightest witch stumble about like a headless chicken had its entertainment value.
Still, Hermione was making far too much noise.
Tamara was just about to leave when the cheerful mechanical voice chirped in her mind.
[Ding! A classmate is detected to be on the verge of an academic breakdown.]
Of course.
[Daily Quest Triggered: Top Student's Guidance.]
[Quest Background: As Hogwarts' recognised genius, how can you tolerate someone using such an inefficient and fundamentally incorrect search method in front of you? This is an insult to the library.]
[Quest Description: Without directly giving the answer, guide Hermione Granger to the correct book.]
[Quest Reward: Wisdom +1. Hermione Granger favourability increased.]
[Failure Penalty: The host will be forced to sing the school song in the Slytherin common room with deep emotion.]
"You wretched broken system."
Tamara gritted her teeth, drew a slow breath, and suppressed the urge to slam her book into Hermione's head.
Then she closed the book, rose, and rounded the shelf with deliberate elegance.
"You are making too much noise, Granger."
Her voice cut through the silence above Hermione like a blade.
Hermione jumped so badly she nearly dropped the book in her hands.
When she looked up and saw Tamara, panic and frustration shifted at once into embarrassment.
"Ta... Tamara?"
She hurried to straighten the books on the table, cheeks turning red.
"Sorry, I... I was in a hurry. I was looking for..."
"A name. I know."
Tamara cut her off.
Her gaze drifted disdainfully over the pile of books spread across the table, including A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry and Notable Magical Names of Our Time.
With one pale finger, she pushed the stack aside.
"But you are searching in entirely the wrong direction."
"Wrong?" Hermione blinked. "But Harry said he saw it on a Chocolate Frog card..."
"The card mentioned he was Dumbledore's partner, did it not?"
Tamara looked down at her, disappointment plain in her tone.
"Use your brain, Granger. Dumbledore is more than a hundred years old. If someone was his partner in alchemy and yet barely appears in modern historical records..."
She paused and let the silence do the work.
"What does that suggest?"
Hermione stared at her.
For a moment there was only confusion.
Then her eyes began to brighten.
"It suggests... he may be much older than Dumbledore?"
"Not entirely hopeless."
Tamara turned and strode toward one of the back shelves, where the truly ancient volumes sat gathering dust.
Hermione rose instinctively and followed.
Tamara let her finger travel across the faded gold lettering until it stopped on a massive black leather tome.
Alchemy: Ancient Art and Science.
She did not take it down and hand it over. That would have been far too direct, and far too generous.
Instead, she pulled it halfway from the shelf as if checking it at random, then released it as though she had lost interest.
"If you wish to know a person, do not stare only at the name."
Tamara spoke lightly, with her back still turned, as if she were commenting to herself rather than instructing Hermione.
"What matters more than the name of an alchemist is the work they leave behind."
Without another glance, she walked straight toward the library doors.
Hermione remained rooted to the spot, staring first at Tamara's retreating figure, then at the half withdrawn book.
Alchemy?
A sharp thrill went through her.
She lunged for the book and wrestled the massive volume free with both hands.
Flipping straight to the index, she ran her finger down the entries.
There was no entry under Nicolas Flamel.
But under Philosopher's Stone she found a line of print.
The famous maker of the Philosopher's Stone, the only known owner of the Philosopher's Stone: Nicolas Flamel.
"I found it!"
Hermione almost shrieked. She clapped both hands over her mouth and shook with excitement.
Three whole days.
She had wasted three entire days.
And Tamara had taken one glance and led her straight to the answer.
Hermione hugged the heavy book to her chest and looked back toward the library door, though Tamara was already gone.
To Hermione, Tamara's behaviour no longer looked arrogant.
It looked profound.
Deliberate.
Almost mysterious.
She had known what Hermione was searching for all along.
She had even guided her without simply handing over the answer.
"She told me not to focus on the name, but on the achievement..."
Hermione murmured to herself, cheeks flushed with excitement.
A strange warmth rose in her chest.
"Thank you, Tamara."
She hugged the book tighter, eyes shining with determination.
"I will not waste your guidance."
[Ding! Quest Completed: Academic Guidance.]
[Reward: Wisdom +1.]
[Current Wisdom: 23.]
[Detection: Hermione Granger's admiration has increased significantly. Favourability status updated to: Confidante.]
Walking back down the corridor toward the dungeons, Tamara heard the notification and almost stumbled.
"Confidante?"
Her lip twitched.
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
Who is a confidante with that Mudblood?
She brushed at her robes in disgust, as though she might physically shake off the bond.
"I am only doing this for more power. Nothing else."
.....
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