Chapter 71: Suspicion
The next day, a thick smell of garlic hung over the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
The moment the bell rang, the students poured out of the room as if escaping a gas chamber.
Professor Quirrell stood at the podium, trembling as he gathered his books. Every few moments, his eyes flicked toward the door, as though he were waiting for something, or dreading it.
Ever since the battle in the Forbidden Forest, his fear of Tamara had seeped into his bones.
"Professor Quirrell."
A cold, clear voice sounded behind him like a spell.
Quirrell stiffened so hard that the book in his hand slipped from his grasp and hit the floor with a thud.
He turned and saw Tamara Riddle standing in the middle of the empty classroom, holding her holly wand and wearing the sort of smile that had already become one of his nightmares.
"M Miss Riddle?" Quirrell stammered, shrinking back involuntarily. "Is there... something I can help you with?"
"No need to be so nervous, Professor."
Tamara walked toward him slowly, each step seeming to land on the beat of his panicked heart.
"I merely have a few academic questions I would like to ask."
"Another day, perhaps." Quirrell tried to edge past her in alarm. "I have urgent business..."
"Urgent business finding a Unicorn for your master?"
Tamara's voice dropped at once, turning cold and dangerous.
Quirrell's face drained of colour. His hand jerked instinctively toward the back of his head, only to snatch itself away as if burned.
"I d don't know what you're talking about..."
"Stop pretending, Quirrell."
Tamara halted in front of him and fixed him with her black eyes.
"He is dormant now, isn't he?"
Quirrell's pupils shrank violently.
After being badly injured by Tamara in the Forbidden Forest, the main soul had fallen into a deep sleep to preserve what little strength remained.
At least for the moment, Quirrell was no longer merely a puppet. He was still a slave, but a slave with a sliver of temporary freedom.
"What do you want?" Quirrell asked at last. His voice no longer stammered, but it was thick with fear and caution.
"I want to save you."
Tamara spoke softly, her tone rich with temptation.
"Save me?" Quirrell gave a hollow laugh. "You?"
"I know what you are enduring."
Tamara began to circle him at an unhurried pace, her voice brushing against the taut nerves in his body.
"Being parasitised every day. Having your life drained away. Being forced to drink that cursed blood. How much longer do you think your body can last? One month? Two?"
"When he gets the Philosopher's Stone and returns completely, do you truly think he will still need a broken shell like yours?"
"You will die, Quirrell. Thrown away like refuse."
Quirrell's body shook.
That was the fear he could never escape.
He wanted power, but he did not want to die.
"I have a way."
Tamara stopped and dropped the bait in front of him.
"I can help you get rid of him. I can even teach you true Dark Magic without demanding your life in return."
"As long as you listen to me."
Quirrell lifted his head, his eyes full of struggle.
On one side stood a cruel master.
On the other stood this unfathomable girl.
It was not a choice between good and evil. It was a choice between two devils.
"What... what would you have me do?" he asked, voice trembling.
"It is simple."
Tamara leaned close to his ear and whispered.
"I want to know everything he is planning. The Philosopher's Stone. The traps. Every detail."
"And when he wakes, you will tell me at once."
Quirrell was silent for a long time.
"I... I need time to think."
He did not dare agree at once.
The price of betraying Lord Voldemort was too great, and he lacked the courage for it.
"Of course."
Tamara smiled and stepped back.
"Take your time, Professor. But you do not have much left."
"Look at your hand."
Quirrell lowered his eyes and saw black, corpse like blotches spreading across the back of his hand.
"That is your countdown to death."
With that, Tamara turned and walked toward the door.
The seed had already been planted.
Fear and the desire to survive would ensure that it took root.
Tamara was not worried that Quirrell would betray this conversation to anyone else, unless he wished to march straight into Azkaban.
However, just as she pushed open the classroom door, a tall figure blocked her way.
Silver white beard.
Half moon spectacles.
And those bright blue eyes that seemed to see through everything.
Albus Dumbledore.
Tamara's heart gave a violent jolt.
Damn it.
When had this old wasp arrived? How much had he heard?
"Ah, Miss Riddle."
Dumbledore smiled at her, kindly and pleasantly.
"What a coincidence. I was just coming to speak with Professor Quirrell about the final examinations. It seems you have both finished your conversation?"
"Yes, Headmaster."
Tamara adjusted her expression in an instant. Even before the system prompted her, she had already slipped into the perfect honour student mask.
"I had a few questions about Defence Against the Dark Arts theory, and Professor Quirrell was very helpful in answering them."
"Was he?"
Dumbledore's gaze passed over Tamara and drifted to Quirrell, who was standing inside the classroom, pale and slick with sweat.
"It seems your question was a rather profound one. Professor Quirrell looks quite exhausted."
"Research into the Dark Arts is always chilling, is it not?"
Tamara replied calmly.
Dumbledore looked back at her.
His gaze became thoughtful.
"Indeed," he said softly. "Especially for those who possess a particular talent for it."
"Sometimes, Miss Riddle, delving too deeply is not a wise thing."
"Curiosity does not only kill the cat. It can also lead young witches and wizards astray."
It was a warning.
He was telling her that he had noticed something.
Perhaps it was the Forbidden Forest. Perhaps her resemblance to Voldemort. Perhaps the crude dragon transport. Perhaps all of it.
Tamara felt an invisible pressure gathering around her.
So this was the weight of the greatest white wizard alive.
He did not need to raise his wand. He did not even need to harden his tone. A single look from him was enough to make the air feel thin.
She could not meet that force head on.
[Ding! Extremely dangerous trust crisis detected.]
[Recommendation: immediately activate skill: Harmless.]
Tamara cursed inwardly, but her body moved with perfect honesty and did exactly as the system advised.
She blinked, and the cold, shadowed look in her eyes vanished at once.
In its place appeared something clear, innocent, and faintly lost.
She looked like a real first year girl facing the stern Headmaster for the first time.
"I am sorry, Headmaster..."
She lowered her head, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her robes. Her voice softened and turned small and wounded.
"I just... want to become a little stronger."
"Because in the Forbidden Forest... I was frightened."
"I do not want to see my friends hurt again."
"Did I... do something wrong?"
The effect was devastating.
Dumbledore paused.
He had indeed suspected that Tamara might be scheming, or that she had already been lured too far toward the Dark Arts.
But now he was looking at a girl with clear eyes, a child studying hard because she wanted to protect her friends, and who now looked anxious and aggrieved at the thought of being scolded.
The hard edge in his heart softened.
Perhaps she truly did only want to protect people.
Perhaps, despite the shadow of that old enemy clinging to her, there was goodness in her after all.
Even if Dumbledore could sometimes glimpse an old familiar shape in her manner, she was still only eleven years old.
The sharpness in his gaze faded.
He stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"No, child."
His voice was warm now, almost fatherly.
"Wanting to protect your friends is a virtue. It is one form that love can take."
"You have done nothing wrong. You need only be careful with the path you choose, and not place yourself in danger."
"Run along now. Go and have your lunch. I imagine your friends are waiting for you."
"Thank you, Headmaster!"
Tamara looked up and offered him a sweet, innocent smile.
Then she skipped away like a cheerful little bird.
It was not until she turned the corner and was certain Dumbledore could no longer see her that the smile vanished completely.
Tamara leaned against the wall and let out a slow breath. Cold sweat had already soaked her back.
"Old fox..."
She wiped the moisture from her forehead, and her eyes turned cold again.
"I nearly exposed myself."
"But friendship and love truly are the best weapons against Dumbledore."
[Ding! Crisis resolved.]
[System evaluation: Perfect acting! You successfully used your superb performance to dispel Dumbledore's suspicion.]
[Reward: Dumbledore's suspicion level decreased by 5%.]
Tamara froze for a moment, then asked, "What is it now?"
[Current suspicion level: 55%.]
Tamara stared blankly.
She had not done anything!
"On what grounds is he suspicious of me?!"
Her outrage exploded inwardly, mixed with genuine fear and the fury of someone who felt utterly wronged.
"For more than half a year, I have gone to bed early and risen early. I listen in class. I behave better than a Hufflepuff."
"I have saved that damned saviour several times. I even fought a Dark Wizard to protect my classmates!"
[Host, you seem to have forgotten one thing.]
The system's tone turned almost meaningful.
[He is Albus Dumbledore.]
[He does not require evidence. He only needs to know that your surname is Riddle, and to see those rare moments of brilliance and arrogance that slip out no matter how well you hide them.]
[Your existence alone is reason enough for suspicion.]
Tamara went still.
A chill unlike anything before crept up her spine.
So for the past half year, what she had thought of as a flawless disguise had, in that old man's eyes, been nothing more than a clumsy stage performance.
He had been watching her.
In every class.
At every meal.
Every time they had crossed paths.
With 60 percent suspicion, he had been observing her all along.
"Heh."
After a long silence, Tamara let out a soft, cold laugh, but there was none of her usual composure in it.
"It seems... I have still underestimated the greatest white wizard."
Her hands clenched slowly, nails biting deep into her palms.
"Good. Very good."
"If you are so determined not to believe I am a good person..."
"Then I shall perform for you."
"I shall perform until the day you die, and you will never catch me."
.....
[Check Out My Patreon For Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/Eldryx]