Chapter 180: The Substitute
Having said this, Fudge wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and let out a lingering sigh of relief.
"I truly have no idea what sort of monster that was. In any case, until Hogwarts reopens, neither of you is to leave the protection of the Leaky Cauldron under any circumstances."
Tamara raised her teacup, using the motion of taking a sip to conceal the flash of mockery in her eyes.
A terrifying monster from Albania?
She would very much like to see whether the Minister would fall straight out of his chair if he discovered that the "evil existence" which had thrown the underworld of Eastern Europe into chaos was currently sitting obediently in front of him, sipping black tea.
"Thank you for the warning, Minister. I'll be careful."
Tamara set down her teacup with impeccable elegance, her smile flawless.
As for Sirius Black, the man who had escaped from Azkaban?
Tamara dismissed him with little interest.
When she had first heard that someone had broken out of Azkaban, she had indeed felt a flicker of excitement, wondering whether one of her former loyal followers had somehow escaped.
In the end, however, the fugitive turned out to be nothing more than a fool who had been framed and sent to prison because of a rat.
That brainless mad dog naturally held no value as a potential recruit.
However...
Tamara lifted her teacup again and discreetly glanced at Harry, who sat opposite her.
Sirius Black was Harry Potter's rightful godfather.
Given the saviour's almost pathological longing for a family after growing up under someone else's roof, the moment he learned the truth about what had happened all those years ago, Sirius Black would immediately become his greatest emotional weakness.
That was an excellent development.
Once Black appeared, Potter's aimless emotional dependence would naturally shift elsewhere, like a stray dog finally finding a bone.
Not only would Tamara be rid of the complicated looks the saviour occasionally directed at her, she would also gain a perfect means of suppressing the System's dangerous and uncontrollable Favorability.
Let the fool indulge in his pathetic dream of family.
After all, the higher one climbed, the harder the fall would hurt.
In the future, as long as Sirius Black's life and death remained in her hands, crushing the saviour's will would be as effortless as turning over her palm.
Once Fudge had finished delivering all his warnings, he finally left the Leaky Cauldron with his mind at ease.
Old Tom arranged two adjoining rooms for Harry and Tamara.
In the dim corridor on the second floor, Tamara carried her suitcase to her door and stopped.
She was just about to take out her key when she sharply sensed someone staring at her back.
Tamara turned.
Harry stood in front of his own door with both hands in his pockets, looking at her with a complicated expression.
There still seemed to be some absurd trace of softness lingering in his eyes.
Tamara's brow tightened almost imperceptibly.
That familiar sense of irritation and disgust rose within her once more.
For the past two years, she had been walking a tightrope because of this absurd System.
Reason told her that exploiting the debt created by saving Harry's life, while using false warmth to control and influence him, was the most efficient strategy.
Yet whenever Harry genuinely looked at her with gratitude and dependence, an intense revulsion always rose from the deepest part of the Dark Lord's soul.
After all, the boy standing before her was the nemesis who had killed her twice.
In the past, reason had forced her to maintain a false warmth in order to stabilise the saviour's Favorability while carefully controlling the distance between them.
Now, however, things were different.
Sirius Black would soon become the perfect collar with which to restrain Harry.
Tamara no longer needed to waste even the slightest amount of patience or pretence on this nemesis who had killed her twice.
Moreover...
For someone as narcissistic and possessive as the Dark Lord, no matter how much disgust and rejection she felt toward the boy before her, Harry was still prey that belonged within her grasp.
The thought that her place in Potter's heart was about to be replaced by some mad Gryffindor dog caused an uncontrollable flicker of irritation to rise within her.
It felt as though something she considered her territory was being trespassed upon.
To bury and crush that unnecessary emotion, Tamara needed to prove to herself, in the cruellest way possible, that she did not care in the slightest.
"Blowing up your Muggle relative like a balloon?"
Tamara leaned one hand against the doorframe, her lips curling with open mockery.
"Not bad, Potter. You finally look a little like a wizard."
Before Harry could respond, her tone shifted, becoming lazy and disdainful.
"Still, you'd better be careful for the next few days. Try not to get yourself killed before school begins. I have no intention of spending a perfectly good holiday collecting your corpse."
Based on Tamara's understanding of that idiotic System, if Harry truly encountered danger outside, it would undoubtedly lose its mind and force her into some revolting task involving the rescue of a classmate.
Harry's hand tightened around the wand hidden in his pocket.
So that was it.
As expected, she had always regarded him as nothing more than a nuisance she was forced to deal with.
But this time, Harry did not lower his head weakly as he once had.
He took a deep breath and raised his eyes.
The admiration that had once filled them was gone, replaced by something sharper.
"That's none of your concern."
Harry's voice was cold.
"You should save your energy for lying to other people, Riddle."
A trace of undisguised sarcasm entered his expression.
"Pretending to be a frightened little goody two shoes in front of Fudge just now must have been exhausting."
He looked directly at her.
"You should be careful not to overdo the act. Last time, in the Chamber of Secrets, you claimed you were perfectly fine one moment and collapsed the next..."
Harry's gaze moved toward the faint scar on Tamara's neck, now faded until it was barely visible.
Then he curled his lips and threw her own words back at her.
"When that happens again, I won't be collecting your corpse either."
The corridor seemed to freeze.
Following Harry's gaze, Tamara's deep, dark eyes immediately turned colder.
Her fingers unconsciously rose to touch the mark on her neck.
For a brief moment, the ferocity belonging to Lord Voldemort roared violently through her blood.
She nearly drew her holly wand on the spot and cast the Cruciatus Curse on the nemesis who had dared to bring up that humiliating memory to her face, if only to silence that irritating mouth forever.
But almost immediately, Tamara forced the violent killing intent back down.
Calm.
She was the Dark Lord who had only recently cleansed her spirit in the blood of countless Dark wizards within Albania's Black Forest and reclaimed her sense of absolute dominance.
If a few harmless words from a thirteen year old brat were enough to make her lose control, then the title of Dark Lord would be worth very little indeed.
Why should she be angered by the desperate bravado of prey before its death?
Besides, along with the murderous impulse came the faint sensation of electricity tingling at her fingertips and the System's warning echoing within her mind.
Tamara slowly lowered her hand from her neck.
"Not collect my corpse?"
She gave a soft laugh.
Tamara pushed open the door to her room, her voice filled with condescending disdain.
"Then you'd better pray to Merlin every day, Potter."
She glanced back at him.
"Pray that your ridiculous luck continues, and that you live long enough to see the day you're actually qualified to look upon my corpse."
.....
[Check Out My Patreon For Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/Eldryx]