Chapter 181: Different Stances
A faint bitterness lingered in the air of the single guest room on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron.
Tamara Riddle sat at the wooden table, absentmindedly swirling a small vial of potion between her fingers.
Before her, the translucent System panel visible only to her emitted a faint blue glow.
Thanks to her exhilarating spree of "punishing evil" throughout the forests of Albania during the summer holiday, along with the generous rewards from the final settlement of her second year, Tamara's current attributes had undergone a tremendous transformation.
[Host's Current Core Attributes:]
[Wisdom: 44]
[Courage: 56]
[Life: 36]
[Love: 35]
Tamara's gaze lingered on the four steadily rising values.
The System had once warned her that if all four attributes reached 100, her soul would be completely purified and she would become a truly good person.
"Purification?"
A cold sneer curled Tamara's lips as she set the potion vial heavily on the table with a crisp thud.
"Foolish."
As a Dark Lord who had once split her soul seven times and wandered through the deepest reaches of death and the Dark Arts, the very essence of her soul had long since been steeped in the purest darkness.
How could arrogance rooted in her very being, along with her absolute hunger for power, possibly be washed away by a few ridiculous numbers and some hypocritical halo?
"Even if these values really reach 100..."
A chilling crimson light flickered within Tamara's eyes.
"They will be nothing more than nourishment for my return to the throne."
Only one thing mattered to her now.
She would exploit every loophole in the System and reclaim her former power by any means necessary.
Tamara waved her wand and cleaned the cauldron resting on the table.
She had spent the past several days living comfortably at the Leaky Cauldron.
Not only were her room and meals being paid for under the personal approval of Cornelius Fudge, but the arrangement also allowed her to perfectly maintain the image of an obedient and well behaved girl.
More importantly, staying here gave her a legitimate excuse to remain shut inside her room brewing potions.
She had even arranged for that stupid cat of hers to be delivered.
"I need to restock my belladonna essence today."
Tamara put on a hooded cloak and left the room.
The sunlight over Diagon Alley remained bright, but with Sirius Black still at large, the witches and wizards moving through the street seemed noticeably more hurried than usual.
Tamara had just finished purchasing the materials she needed when she stepped out of a shop and encountered two familiar figures.
"Tamara!"
Hermione's eyes lit up.
She hurried over with a thick stack of books held against her chest.
"I'm so glad you're all right! If you'd gone any longer without replying to my letters, I really would have written to Dumbledore and asked him to come and rescue you!"
Tamara barely paid attention to her words.
Her gaze had already shifted toward the creature in Hermione's arms.
It looked rather like an enormous ginger pig.
Noticing where Tamara was looking, Hermione brightened further.
"This is Crookshanks! My new pet."
The moment Crookshanks saw Tamara, his squashed face immediately became wary.
He arched his back and hissed.
With Kneazle blood running through him, Crookshanks instinctively sensed the darkness and malice buried deep within the girl's soul.
Unfortunately, in the very next moment, Tamara's [Magical Creature Affinity +20%] passive ability and the [Holy Halo] forcibly bestowed upon her by the System activated at the same time.
Darkness and holy light seemed to clash violently around her.
The contradictory presence left Crookshanks utterly confused.
His yellow eyes nearly crossed.
The threatening growl caught in his throat and emerged as an absurd sound instead.
"Haa... meow?"
Crookshanks shook his head as though dizzy, then curled into a confused ball in Hermione's arms and seemingly gave up trying to understand anything.
At that moment, Ron came running breathlessly from the other end of the street.
Both hands were clamped protectively over the breast pocket of his robes, where a rat missing one toe was trembling with its head buried inside.
"Don't even get me started. That cat is completely mad!"
Ron glared resentfully at Crookshanks.
"Back in the Magical Menagerie, it tried to eat my rat like it had lost its mind!"
Tamara's gaze slowly moved toward the pocket.
Peter Pettigrew.
Although she still did not know exactly why that mad dog Sirius Black had suddenly escaped from Azkaban, Tamara was certain of one thing.
After regaining his freedom, Black would never spare the traitor who had framed him and left him rotting in Azkaban for twelve years.
The corner of Tamara's mouth lifted slightly.
She gave Ron's pocket a knowing look.
"Cats aren't the only creatures that eat rats..."
Her voice was calm, as though she were merely stating some ordinary law of nature.
"Dogs eat them too."
The instant Scabbers heard those words and felt that gaze seemingly pierce straight through him, his entire body froze.
Peter knew perfectly well that Sirius had escaped.
More importantly, he knew exactly whom Black would be hunting.
But what terrified him even more was Tamara's condescending gaze and that slow, chilling tone.
During their previous encounters, Peter had sensed something from this girl more than once.
An aura that made his very soul tremble.
And now, that seemingly casual remark shattered the last trace of hope in his heart.
She had not only seen through his Animagus disguise at a glance.
She also knew exactly what Sirius Black intended to do.
In this world, apart from the supreme Dark Lord whose memory had haunted Peter's dreams for twelve years, who else could possess such terrifying perception and inspire such overwhelming despair?
The Master... had returned?
Countless horrifying possibilities raced through Peter's mind.
He even began to suspect that his Master had taken this form in preparation for settling accounts with the coward who had spent twelve years without searching for him.
Fear completely stripped Peter of the courage to flee.
He knew better than anyone that before the Dark Lord, any attempt to resist or escape would only earn him the most agonising Cruciatus Curse imaginable.
Peter could do nothing but curl deeper into Ron's pocket, completely rigid, almost like a corpse.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Poor Scabbers. He's really been frightened out of his wits today. Why is he stiff as a board?"
Ron patted his robes sympathetically before covering the pocket protectively with one hand, trying to comfort his completely paralysed pet.
Tamara gave a pleased, cold snort inwardly and casually withdrew her gaze.
"What are you doing here?" she asked flatly.
"We're waiting for Harry," Hermione explained. "He went to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to..."
Before she could finish, a boy with messy black hair came running toward them from across the street, several ice creams in his hands.
The moment Harry's eyes met Tamara's, the relaxed smile on his face froze.
He did not awkwardly approach her to say hello as he usually would.
Instead, he stiffly turned his gaze away.
At the same time, the faint indifference on Tamara's face disappeared.
She showed neither open disgust nor provocation.
Her gaze simply passed over Harry as though he were nothing more than empty air.
An eerie silence settled between them.
Standing directly in the middle, Hermione immediately sensed the strange tension.
She looked between the two of them in confusion, her quick mind racing.
What had happened?
As far as Hermione knew, Harry and Tamara had never been particularly close.
But their relationship had certainly never reached this level of hostility.
"Did you two have a row?" Ron asked bluntly, glancing between Harry and Tamara.
"No."
They answered at exactly the same time.
Both Harry and Tamara frowned immediately at the coincidence.
The atmosphere somehow became even worse.
Harry walked forward stiffly and pushed the melting ice creams into Ron and Hermione's hands.
His voice was remarkably steady, as though there were no fourth person standing beside them at all.
"Here. Chocolate and raspberry."
Tamara's gaze swept across Harry's empty hands.
She sneered faintly and turned to leave.
"It's good to eat more sweets."
Her lazy voice drifted back toward Harry.
"I hope that cheap sugar is enough to soothe those fragile nerves of yours after all the frightening news lately."
Harry's fingers tightened around the wand in his trouser pocket, but his expression remained calm.
"Thanks for the advice."
His voice was cold and unhurried, almost mirroring Tamara's own tone.
"I'll make sure I keep plenty of sugar around."
He paused.
"After all, if I ever run into someone again who gets completely paralysed by potion backlash, or someone who insists they're perfectly fine in the Chamber of Secrets and then immediately collapses... I'll need something sweet to settle my nerves."
Tamara's footsteps stopped.
The surrounding air seemed to freeze.
Slowly, she turned her head.
A faint red light flashed through her dark eyes.
If a look alone could kill, Harry would already have been struck by ten Avada Kedavras.
"It seems the Ministry's leniency has given you the illusion that you're untouchable, Potter."
Tamara's voice was soft and completely devoid of emotion.
"Blowing up a Muggle like a balloon after losing control of your magic... if you weren't carrying that precious title of yours, do you really think the Dementors of Azkaban would have ignored you?"
Neither of them reached for the wands concealed in their pockets.
Yet to everyone watching, it felt as though one more word would be enough to make the two of them start hurling curses at each other in the middle of Diagon Alley.
"Stop!"
Hermione finally lost patience.
She raised her voice sharply, breaking the suffocating silence.
Then she grabbed Tamara by the cloak.
"Um... Tamara! I just remembered that I don't think I've bought all my Arithmancy textbooks yet!"
Hermione's usually quick mind raced as she desperately produced an excuse.
"You... you should come with me to Flourish and Blotts and have a look. Please!"
Without giving Tamara any chance to refuse, Hermione half dragged her toward the other end of the street.
Tamara merely withdrew her gaze from Harry and allowed Hermione to lead her away without sparing him another glance.
Harry remained where he was, watching their retreating backs.
His chest rose and fell slightly as he suppressed the emotion churning within him.
Beside him, Ron stood holding a steadily dripping chocolate ice cream, looking blankly between Harry and the two departing girls.
"So..."
Ron swallowed.
"This is what you call not having a row?"