Escaping death was indeed a rare occurrence, but for Lord Voldemort, it was an absolute humiliation.
Tamara only took one glance before quickly shifting her gaze away; she was not yet capable of making a move against the savior.
The rear carriage of the Hogwarts Express was relatively quiet.
Avoiding the swarm of buzzing new students, Tamara chose an empty compartment, pushed open the sliding door, and stepped inside.
She struggled to shove the heavy leather trunk under the seat; Nagini, who was supposed to be checked in, had entered the compartment with her.
The platform was still playing out scenes of parting, which seemed utterly meaningless to her.
Just as she was watching with cold indifference, the sliding door of the compartment was pushed open with a clatter.
"Sorry, I was wondering..."
A slightly breathless voice reached her.
Tamara turned her head with displeasure, her brow furrowing slightly, a flicker of annoyance at being disturbed flashing in her cold black eyes.
Standing at the door was a scrawny boy.
He wore oversized old clothes that clearly didn't fit, making him look like a cloth bag hanging on a coat rack.
His messy black hair stuck up stubbornly, and a pair of battered round-framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.
Although this appearance was even worse than that of Silly Billy back at the orphanage, Tamara would never mistake this face.
Even if he were turned to ash, she would recognize this person.
The culprit who, ten years ago, had caused her to lose not only her physical body but all of her dignity.
The Boy Who Lived.
Harry Potter.
At this very moment, he stood there, looking at Tamara with an awkward expression.
"Um... the other compartments are all full."
Harry stammered slightly, pointing behind him. "Can I sit here?"
The air seemed to freeze in that instant.
Tamara's hands resting on her knees tightened abruptly, her nails sinking deep into the flesh of her palms.
Although reason told her she couldn't strike the savior now, the instinctive urge to face her enemy made Tamara's breathing quicken involuntarily.
Kill him.
If she just killed him, the prophecy that had been hanging over her head would finally end!
She stared fixedly at Harry, her gaze like a venomous snake preparing to strike, slowly moving upward until it settled on the messy fringe of hair on the boy's forehead.
As Harry raised his hand to wipe away sweat, the lightning-shaped scar was exposed to the air.
In that instant, painful memories of her death in her previous life flooded back like a tide.
The flash of green light, the agonizing pain of her soul being torn apart, and the final moments of resentment and humiliation.
Endless killing intent erupted in Tamara's chest, causing the surrounding temperature to drop several degrees.
If she drank that Basic Magic Potion, she could easily chant that curse and take the life of the person before her!
"Avada..."
She silently recited the most familiar curse in her mind, magic surging wildly at her fingertips.
However, arriving faster than the curse was the outrageously cheerful system notification.
[Warning! High-level Red Alert!]
[Detected that the host has generated intense killing intent toward the Child of Destiny, Harry Potter!]
[This behavior seriously violates the "virtue system Core Rule #1: Love and Peace."]
[Initiating Special Intervention Procedure: Level 3 Electric Shock—]
"Bzzzt—!!!"
This time, the punishment wasn't a mild tingling sensation, but a powerful shock that surged through her spine like a current.
"Ugh!"
Tamara let out a short, muffled groan.
The killing intent that had gathered at her fingertips instantly dissipated.
She felt as if the bones in her body had been sucked out in an instant; the sense of power that wanted to destroy everything vanished without a trace, replaced by a shameful, aching weakness.
Her face turned deathly pale in an instant, and then an unnatural flush quickly climbed up her cheeks and the tips of her ears.
Her breathing became rapid and erratic, as if she were suffering from some severe heart condition.
Tamara slumped back against the seat, one hand clutching her chest as she gasped for air, her once murderous eyes now shimmering with physiological tears.
"Are... are you okay?!"
Harry, at the door, was terrified by this scene.
He had initially thought the girl was as beautiful and aloof as a porcelain doll, only for her to collapse clutching her chest the next second, looking as if she were about to stop breathing.
"Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"
Harry panicked, forgetting all about politeness. He hurriedly tossed his cart aside and rushed in to support her, but didn't dare touch her, standing there helplessly.
"Don't... don't touch me..."
Tamara wanted to shout at this filthy savior to get lost.
But in reality, the sound that left her mouth was a thin, weak whisper.
Damn it!
Damn this system!
Tamara felt like her lungs were going to burst with rage, but the more furious she became, the stronger the current making her body go soft.
[System Tip: Please control your emotions, host. The stronger the killing intent, the softer your body will become.]
"I need... water..."
Tamara was forced to compromise; she struggled to suppress her murderous impulse and tried to distract herself.
"Water? Oh, right! But I don't have any water..."
Harry paced frantically, then suddenly remembered something and turned to rush out of the compartment: "I'll go get someone! Hang in there!"
Watching Harry's panicked back, Tamara finally breathed a sigh of relief as the suffocating sensation of the electric current slowly weakened.
She slumped on the seat and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief, feeling as if she had just undergone a session of torture.
The great Dark Lord, showing such a state in front of her mortal enemy?
A moment later, disorganized footsteps sounded in the corridor.
"She's right inside! It looks like she's having some kind of attack!" It was Harry's voice.
Following closely, the red-haired Ron Weasley also came running over.
By now, Tamara had managed to sit upright. Although her face was still pale, she at least didn't look like she was about to die at any moment.
She swept a cold glance over the two of them.
"I'm fine."
She spoke in a tone as cold as she could manage, trying to reclaim some dignity. "Just a bit of... low blood sugar."
"You scared me to death." Harry let out a long breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "You looked really serious just now."
Now Tamara had no reason to refuse Harry sitting in front of her. She consciously leaned further into the compartment. "Sit down."
Only then did Harry have a chance to observe the girl up close.
She wore an exquisitely made dark green robe with subtle patterns embroidered on the cuffs and collar, looking very expensive at a glance.
Though her pale little face looked sickly, her features were so delicate they seemed unreal, especially those black eyes, which were so deep one didn't dare look directly into them.
"Um... I'm Harry Potter."
Harry awkwardly extended his hand, trying to ease the tension.
Tamara looked at the hand extended toward her.
This hand, in a few years, would hold a wand and kill her.
Tamara tapped Harry's hand extremely perfunctorily and spoke quickly.
"Tamara Riddle."
The moment her words fell, something moved inside Ron's pocket.
A fat rat crawled out and sniffed around Ron's leg.
"This is Scabbers," Ron introduced quickly. "He's very old, doesn't do anything but sleep and eat, he's really useless."
Tamara's gaze fell upon the rat.
"Interesting."
A genuine smile finally curved the corners of Tamara's mouth.
How could she possibly fail to recognize her own servant?
Peter Pettigrew.