Chapter 183: Times Have Changed
The temperature in the corridor continued to plunge at an alarming rate.
A thick layer of frost spread across the windows, while every breath instantly turned into a cloud of white mist.
At the far end of the dimly flickering corridor, the creature draped in a tattered black cloak slowly glided forward. No face could be seen beneath its hood. Only a dreadful, rattling hiss escaped from within.
Screams and sobs rose from the compartments on either side.
Fear seemed to spread through the carriage like something tangible.
Yet Tamara Riddle remained standing calmly where she was.
Her pitch black eyes stared at the approaching Dementor, and a bold, almost terrifying thought suddenly entered her mind.
According to common knowledge in the wizarding world, Dementors were Dark creatures that fed on happiness, hope, and every other positive emotion.
They drained the light from their victims, leaving behind only their deepest despair.
"System."
Tamara spoke coldly in her mind, her tone carrying a trace of curiosity.
"If all those emotions this body has developed lately, the ones that disgust me, are classified by you as happiness and positive feelings..."
"Does that mean that if I allow this Dementor to feed on me, it can strip those nauseating scraps of emotion from my soul along with that ridiculous human weakness?"
After a brief silence, the mechanical voice sounded inside her head.
[Ding! The System is performing a logical analysis...]
[Theoretically, yes, Host. Dementors prioritise feeding upon and stripping away positive emotions and pleasant memories from their targets.]
[But! This System strongly advises against attempting something so dangerous!]
The System's perpetually cheerful voice suddenly became unusually earnest, almost as if it were watching a misguided child walk toward disaster.
[Love and happiness are among the most precious treasures in life! If those warm emotions disappear, the entire world will become a grey wasteland in your eyes! That would be a very, very terrible thing! Please cherish the hard won light within your heart!]
"Is that so?"
A cruel, expectant smile appeared on Tamara's lips.
"That sounds... wonderful."
To the great Dark Lord, the world was supposed to be a wasteland.
Those so called feelings of warmth and attachment were nothing more than parasites clinging to her noble soul. They dulled her killing intent and created cracks in the coldness she had once possessed.
If this Dementor could drain those lights completely and restore her to the absolutely rational, absolutely merciless Lord Voldemort she had once been...
Then she ought to thank the creature.
Without the slightest hesitation, Tamara stepped forward rather than retreating, moving directly into the Dementor's reach.
She completely lowered the defences around her soul.
Or perhaps, according to the Dark Lord's deeply ingrained instincts, there had never been any need to defend herself against such a lowly Dark creature in the first place.
In her previous life, when she had been the terrifying Lord Voldemort, Dementors had been her allies.
They had greedily fed upon the fear and despair she spread throughout the wizarding world and willingly bowed before her.
"Hiss..."
The abyss beneath the Dementor's hood drew in a greedy breath.
A bone chilling current instantly swept through Tamara's body.
At first, the sensation was wonderful.
Tamara could clearly feel those strange, irritating emotions being drawn from her, strand by strand, as though something were pulling silk from a cocoon.
A long absent sense of coldness and emptiness returned to her.
It was intoxicating.
Yes...
This was how it should feel.
This was the absolute rationality befitting the Dark Lord, untouched by unnecessary impurities and driven only by a pure desire for power.
However, Tamara had forgotten one fatal detail.
The former Lord Voldemort had never feared Dementors because her soul had already been torn apart into scattered fragments.
There had been very little left within the remaining main soul, and almost no positive emotions for Dementors to consume.
To them, she had been little more than a withered skeleton with nothing worth feeding upon.
The current Tamara was different.
After devouring the sixteen year old remnant soul within the diary, her damaged soul had been restored considerably.
More importantly, she now inhabited a fresh, young body.
And once those so called joyful emotions were drained away...
What followed was not the absolute rationality and coldness she had expected.
It was pure emptiness.
Pure despair.
"Ugh..."
The smile on Tamara's lips suddenly froze.
If pain was bitter medicine and happiness was honey, then this emptiness was an abyss containing absolutely nothing.
No desire.
No love.
No hatred.
Not even enough of a self left to glimpse one's own reflection.
Within that deathly void, Tamara's pitch black pupils suddenly contracted.
For the first time, she realised in horror that the foundations of her very existence were collapsing.
Her hunger for power.
Her obsession with immortality.
Her endless greed for strength.
Those desires had driven her from the orphanage all the way to the altar, compelling her to split her soul seven times in pursuit of what she wanted.
Yet now, beneath the Dementor's terrifying pull, even those obsessions were fading.
Cracking.
Disintegrating.
Turning into meaningless dust.
What was the point of ruling the wizarding world?
What was the point of trampling those fools beneath her feet?
And...
Why continue living?
As those terrifying thoughts flooded uncontrollably into her mind, Tamara experienced the deepest fear she had felt since her rebirth.
If even those desires were stripped away...
Would she still be Lord Voldemort?
No.
She would be nothing.
"Hah... hah..."
Tamara's pupils contracted sharply.
Her breathing became rapid and uneven.
Her hand closed around the wand at her side.
Logic told her that she had to do something.
Anything.
To preserve the identity that was crumbling within her, an utterly absurd thought burst from the depths of Tamara's subconscious.
She wanted to use that spell.
The ridiculous Patronus Charm she had once despised.
A spell she had always believed was studied only by weak fools who indulged themselves in comforting illusions.
"Expecto..."
Before the incantation could fully leave her lips, the compartment door opposite her was thrown open.
A hoarse yet steady adult voice rang through the corridor.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Brilliant silver light erupted from the tip of a wand and slammed into the Dementor.
The creature released an unwilling hiss.
Driven back by the powerful surge of positive magic, it fled toward the far end of the carriage like a mass of black mist scattered by the wind.
The frost coating the windows began to melt.
The pale corridor lamps flickered back to life.
The wizard standing in the open compartment doorway wore old, patched robes, and grey had already begun to show in his hair.
Remus Lupin.
He lowered his wand and was about to step forward to inspect the situation.
But at that moment, another figure stumbled into the doorway behind him.
Harry Potter caught himself against the frame.
His face was white as paper, his forehead covered in cold sweat, and he struggled desperately for breath.
He had clearly been affected by the Dementor inside the compartment as well, and the experience had nearly overwhelmed him.
With what little strength he had left, Harry forced himself out into the corridor to see what had happened.
Then he looked up.
And froze.
Less than two metres away, Tamara, who had been at odds with him only days earlier, was slumped against the cold floor.
Harry's breath caught.
Her pale, delicate face remained expressionless, still wearing that familiar coldness and emptiness that kept everyone at a distance.
But...
From those deathly black eyes, tears were silently streaming down her cheeks.
There were no sobs.
No whimpers.
Not even the slightest furrow of her brow.
Only an expressionless face...
And an endless flow of tears.