Chapter 182: Superfluous Insights
Evening.
When Tamara returned to the main hall on the first floor of the Leaky Cauldron, she immediately encountered a large group of redheads.
The Weasley family was gathered around a long table, noisily discussing the beginning of the new school year.
"Oh! My dear!"
The sharp eyed Molly Weasley spotted Tamara at once.
"We missed you so much while we were in Egypt! It's wonderful to see you safe and sound!"
Without another word, Molly opened her arms and pulled Tamara into a hug tight enough to nearly crack her ribs.
Tamara's entire body stiffened.
In the past, she would have shoved this blood traitor away without hesitation, even if doing so risked punishment from the System.
Today, however, although a flash of disgust crossed her pitch black eyes, she made no move to resist.
After all, Tamara was in a good mood.
She could even manage to produce a flawless false smile.
"Thank you for your concern, Mrs Weasley. I've been doing very well."
Her voice was so gentle that no one could have found fault with it.
"Come and sit down, Tamara! Have some pie," Arthur Weasley greeted her warmly. "We were just talking about our trip to Egypt. Bill's work over there is absolutely fascinating..."
The atmosphere around the table had been cheerful.
Before long, however, the conversation inevitably shifted from a small souvenir brought back from Egypt to the escaped prisoner whose face had dominated the front page of the Daily Prophet in recent days.
The mood immediately changed.
Arthur and Molly lowered their voices almost at the same time, deliberately speaking in vague terms while occasionally glancing toward Harry, who sat at the other end of the long table.
"...The Ministry is in complete chaos at the moment. In any case, you must all be especially careful at school this year," Arthur said vaguely, clearly afraid Harry might overhear too much.
Tamara found the entire discussion unbearably dull.
A group of fools talking about a mad dog.
What was there worth listening to?
"Forgive me, Mr Weasley. I'm rather tired after buying supplies today, so I'd like to return to my room and rest."
Tamara politely excused herself and headed toward the stairs.
However, just as she reached the second floor corridor and prepared to take out her key, she heard a faint set of footsteps following from the stairwell.
"Tamara..."
Ginny Weasley stood in the shadows.
She looked far healthier and more energetic than she had the previous term, but there was something uncomfortably intense in the brown eyes fixed upon Tamara.
"To see that you're safe and well... it really is wonderful."
Ginny slowly approached.
Her gaze did not meet Tamara's eyes.
Instead, it remained fixed upon Tamara's neck.
The strangulation mark left behind from the time Ginny had been possessed had already faded until it was barely visible.
Yet to Ginny, it seemed almost like the most beautiful mark in the world.
As though under the Imperius Curse, Ginny raised one hand almost involuntarily, her cool fingertips reaching toward the healed scar.
"Does it... still hurt here?" she asked softly.
Slap!
Tamara knocked her hand away without mercy.
"Stop acting like a lunatic, Weasley."
Tamara's expression darkened completely, her eyes filled with undisguised disgust and warning.
"Your family is downstairs. Act normally and stop causing trouble for me."
Ginny stared at her reddened hand for a moment.
Yet instead of showing fear or hurt as she once might have, she simply blinked her large brown eyes.
Then the corners of her mouth curved into a smile that was innocent on the surface, yet faintly touched with madness.
"I'm only worried about your health..."
Ginny tilted her head.
Her voice carried an almost obsessive sense of entitlement.
"What's wrong with caring about the person I care about most?"
"I don't have time for your madness. I'm going to rest."
Tamara's face turned cold as she turned toward the door.
But the instant her back was exposed, Ginny moved.
Like an agile little beast, she lunged forward and wrapped both arms tightly around Tamara's waist.
She pressed her face firmly against Tamara's back and took a deep breath, inhaling the cool, crisp scent clinging to her robes.
It was a forceful embrace, almost as though Ginny were declaring ownership.
A fraction of a second before Tamara's surging murderous intent could erupt and she retaliated with a curse, Ginny released her.
She sprang backward as quickly as though she had touched an electric fence.
Standing in the dim corridor, Ginny looked at Tamara's face, made even more striking by her rage, and broke into a dazzling smile.
"Goodnight, Tamara."
Then, like a cat that had successfully stolen a treat, she turned and hurried lightly down the stairs.
Tamara remained alone in the empty corridor.
Her hand tightened around the doorknob.
Red light flickered violently in her eyes through the darkness.
"...Lunatic."
September 1st.
Cold autumn rain beat continuously against the windows as the Hogwarts Express rumbled steadily along the tracks.
Inside a private Slytherin compartment, the atmosphere was somewhat heavy.
"Thank goodness that annoying Scarhead Potter has finally stopped buzzing around you like a headless fly."
Draco leaned back in his seat, idly turning his wand between his fingers.
His voice carried undisguised satisfaction, along with a trace of relief he tried to conceal.
Across from him, Tamara sat with her head lowered, reading a thick ancient volume on the Dark Arts.
Draco finally gave voice to the resentment he had been holding back.
"Tamara, I told you ages ago. You were far too lenient with those Gryffindors."
"If you ask me, we should have made them clear off long ago."
Tamara's fingers stopped turning the page.
She closed the book.
Then she slowly raised her head.
Her eyes were as black as an abyss, utterly devoid of warmth as they settled upon Draco.
The temperature inside the compartment seemed to drop instantly.
Pansy froze beside him.
Across the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle shrank back, barely daring to breathe.
"Draco."
Tamara's voice was very soft.
Yet the pressure within it sent a chill through the compartment.
"You seem to have developed quite a few unnecessary opinions about how I manage my own relationships."
The smugness vanished from Draco's face.
He swallowed and instinctively straightened his back.
"I didn't mean it like that. I just thought..."
"What you think is irrelevant."
Tamara cut him off coldly.
Her gaze swept across his face.
"I acknowledge that the House of Malfoy holds an unshakable position in my eyes, and the honour of Slytherin is something I will not compromise."
"But that does not mean I intend to behave like a brainless troll and display all my hostility openly."
Tamara leaned forward slightly.
The pressure she gave off became almost suffocating.
"I've told you before. Being civil with them is nothing more than an act."
"A true Slytherin understands how to turn every living thing into a piece on the board."
"So long as someone can serve my purposes, I will extract every last bit of value from them."
She stared directly into Draco's eyes.
Then she delivered her final warning, each word cold and distinct.
"Never attempt to interfere with my decisions."
"No one is qualified to dictate my actions. Do I make myself clear?"
Draco was overwhelmed by a fear that seemed carved into his bones.
He took a breath and lowered his head, avoiding Tamara's gaze.
"I understand..." he muttered.
Yet there was still a trace of stubborn resentment in his voice.
"I just... I just don't like seeing you constantly around Potter and the others."
Tamara felt her temples throb.
She rubbed her brow, inwardly sneering in complete bewilderment.
She truly could not understand it.
When she had dealt with Abraxas and Lucius in the past, she had almost never encountered problems like this.
Especially Lucius.
That opportunistic hypocrite's fear and loyalty toward her had always been wonderfully simple.
Pure self interest.
Pure ambition.
And pure terror of overwhelming power.
Give him a taste of authority, apply the Cruciatus Curse when necessary, and he became the most obedient hound imaginable, requiring hardly another word of persuasion.
As for his father, Abraxas...
He had never possessed Lucius's absolute fear or submission, but Tamara had always considered that perfectly understandable.
At the time, she had not yet completely seized power.
Their relationship had been closer to two partners taking what they needed from one another than that of master and subordinate.
Naturally, his loyalty had been less pure.
So why was communicating with Draco so difficult?
This was clearly a matter of interests, strategy, and power.
Yet this fool constantly obsessed over meaningless questions of social distance.
The young Malfoy had inherited neither his father's fear driven loyalty nor his grandfather's calculating understanding of mutual benefit.
Instead, his head seemed filled with some cloying, awkward, and inexplicably resentful emotion.
Tamara could only attribute it to the immaturity of her subordinate, which had somehow caused his loyalty to develop in an incomprehensible direction.
Just as Tamara was becoming increasingly irritated by this tedious and low level interpersonal nonsense, the light outside the window began to fade.
Heavy black clouds rolled across the gloomy sky, swallowing the last traces of daylight.
At the same time, the steady roar of the Hogwarts Express began to diminish.
The train was slowing down.
The already oppressive atmosphere became even more suffocating.
"I'm going into the corridor for some air."
Tamara stood and pulled open the compartment door without ceremony, using the excuse as a convenient way to escape from Draco.
"Wait, it's pitch black out there. I'll come with you..."
Draco had already begun to rise.
"Stay here. Don't bother me."
Tamara slammed the compartment door shut, cutting off the rest of his words.
She had barely taken a few steps down the corridor when the train gave a violent jolt.
Then it stopped completely.
A moment later, the lamps along the ceiling flickered twice.
They went out.
The entire corridor plunged into absolute darkness.
Then came the cold.
It was an intense chill that seemed capable of freezing blood itself.
Within seconds, the temperature dropped drastically.
A thick layer of white frost spread across the train windows before Tamara's eyes, and every breath she exhaled emerged as a cloud of pale mist.
Tamara narrowed her eyes.
This was no natural change in the weather.
The cold carried the unmistakable presence of death and decay.
She raised her head and followed the spreading frost toward the far end of the corridor.
Within the faint, intermittent light, an enormous dark figure slowly drifted through the air like a ghost, so tall that it nearly brushed the ceiling.
Its entire body was concealed beneath a tattered black cloak.
There was no visible face.
Only a chilling, rasping breath came from beneath the hood.
From the compartments lining the corridor came the frightened screams and cries of students.
Tamara, standing directly in the path of the approaching cold, did not retreat even a single step.
Instead, within the darkness, an eerie crimson light slowly ignited in her deep black eyes.
Compared with the foolish, noisy, vividly alive children packed into the train, the creature before her, a being that embodied pure death and despair, stirred an almost forgotten sense of familiarity within her.
As the deathly aura drew closer, the corners of Tamara's mouth slowly curved into a cold, satisfied smile.
"Heh..."
Her voice was soft, almost like a lover's whisper as it drifted through the silent corridor.
"Dementor."