Chapter 166: Interrogation
The debriefing was mostly finished. All that remained was a warm moment for the Weasley family.
"I've taught you better than this, Ginny!"
Arthur Weasley let out a long sigh. He bent down, gripping his daughter's shoulders tightly as he spoke with earnest concern.
"Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain!"
"Oh, Arthur, stop pestering her!"
Molly Weasley pulled Ginny firmly into her broad embrace.
She kissed her daughter's forehead, sobbing as she comforted her.
"Mum isn't blaming you, dear. We were just so worried about you... Thank Merlin you're back with us safe and sound..."
It was a family portrait filled with tears, hugs, and the relief of surviving a disaster.
Harry stood quietly at the foot of the bed, his eyes shimmering with undisguised envy and a faint bitterness.
Having grown up in that cupboard at the Dursleys', he had never experienced this kind of unconditional parental love. The kind where, even after making a catastrophic mistake, someone would still hold you tightly.
He watched the Weasley family, and a sour longing bloomed in his heart.
He wished so much that there were people in this world who would cry for his safety, lose their tempers because of him, and then give him a hug so tight it left him breathless.
Sitting on the hospital bed, Tamara felt her stomach churn with a nausea worse than drinking undercooked Polyjuice Potion.
These so called emotions were useless, serving only to make people dull, weak, and riddled with fatal flaws.
The truly powerful were born to be alone.
Fortunately, someone else reached their limit with this noisy environment before she did.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen!"
Madam Pomfrey finally could not take it anymore. She rushed over like a mother hen protecting her chicks, waving her arms to shoo everyone out.
"Visiting hours are over! The patients need absolute peace and rest! Everyone out, except for the injured who must stay in bed!"
The Weasleys thanked Dumbledore profusely, gave Ginny one last lingering look, and were finally ushered out the door by Madam Pomfrey.
The hospital wing finally fell quiet.
But Tamara did not want to stay in this room filled with warmth and tears for even another second.
Especially with Ginny staring at her from the adjacent bed as if trying to bore a hole through her. That gaze gave her the creeps.
"I'm going for a walk."
Tamara threw back the covers and forced herself out of bed, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's exclamation.
"Miss Riddle! Your body still needs..."
"I've already taken three bottles of Pepperup Potion and two bottles of Blood Replenishing Potion, Madam Pomfrey."
Tamara threw on her slightly dishevelled black robes, her tone cold and allowing no argument.
"The smell in here makes me sick. I need fresh air."
Seeing the girl's determined attitude, Madam Pomfrey finally relented.
"Fine, but only in the corridor! Do not go far!"
Tamara pushed open the doors of the hospital wing, and the cold draft of the corridor struck her face.
She let out a small sigh of relief.
But before she could even catch her breath, a messy head of black hair emerged from around the corner of the corridor, blocking her path.
"Tamara."
Harry Potter stood in the middle of the hallway, his eyes appearing exceptionally bright and sharp in the shadows.
Clearly, he had not listened to Madam Pomfrey and gone back to his dormitory. He had been waiting for her here.
"That diary. Did you know something about it all along?"
Harry stared at Tamara, his voice carrying an urgency he had not even noticed himself.
"That day in the girls' bathroom, the thing you were looking for was the diary Ginny threw away, wasn't it?"
Faced with this direct interrogation, Tamara did not panic. Instead, she let out a mocking sneer.
"Is this how you repay your saviour? By interrogating me with your ridiculous deductions?"
She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the diary, which now looked perfectly ordinary.
To keep up appearances, Tamara had even written some notes inside it.
She unceremoniously shoved the black book into Harry's arms.
"This is just my private diary, Potter."
Tamara tilted her chin slightly, her gaze arrogant and icy.
"If you think this is the evil Dark Arts object that opened the Chamber of Secrets and nearly killed your friend's sister, then you can take it right now and claim credit with your beloved Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Tell him the Heir of Slytherin is right here and have him lock me up in Azkaban."
Harry instinctively caught the book.
It was light, carrying a hint of Tamara's body heat. It was just an ordinary, worn out diary.
Harry did not even open it. He did not even give it a second glance before immediately handing it back.
"I never suspected you were the culprit!"
Harry's voice rose sharply, filled with frustration and an agitation he could not explain.
"I know it wasn't you! I know you're the one who saved everyone!"
He looked at Tamara's face, which always kept people at a distance, and at the horrific scar hidden by her high collar. A mix of anger and heartache finally boiled over.
"But you clearly knew everything, yet you always keep the danger hidden from us!"
"Why can't you tell us when you're in trouble? Why do you have to face those deadly things alone every single time?"
Harry's chest heaved as he stared at her without blinking.
"Aren't we friends? Do you really distrust me that much?"
This confession, full of foolish passion and sincerity, made Tamara pause for a moment.
Friends?
Trust?
Such absurd concepts did not exist in the Dark Lord's dictionary.
Moreover, these two words were coming from Harry Potter. Her fated nemesis. The saviour destined by prophecy to be her mortal enemy.
The irony almost made Tamara want to laugh.
But seeing Potter's face flushed with worry, Tamara found herself momentarily unable to find words vicious enough to strike back.
It was not because she had gone soft.
It was because she realised that over the past two years, she had already exhausted every mean word and sarcastic remark on this idiot.
Yet no matter how she wounded him with words or drove him away with arrogance, Potter always came back with that same foolish, hot blooded face, as if nothing had happened.
Even when she did nothing, his Favorability had once surged to eighty and even showed signs of rising further.
This gave the Dark Lord an unprecedented sense of powerlessness.
Before she could open her mouth to mock him further, a voice interjected from the side.
"This is none of your business, Potter."
Draco, who had been waiting in the shadows outside the hospital wing, stepped forward.
He stepped unhesitatingly in front of Tamara, blocking Harry's view.
Draco tilted his chin arrogantly, his eyes full of contempt for the Gryffindor.
"Put away that self righteous saviour act. How we Slytherins do things is not for a Gryffindor to dictate."
"The House of Malfoy will handle Tamara's affairs. We don't need your hypocritical concern."
This protective and aggressive speech caused Harry's expression to darken instantly.
He clenched his fists, about to argue back.
But from behind Draco, Tamara let out a very faint chuckle.
She looked at Draco, feeling quite satisfied with her follower's timely intervention.
Compared to Potter's nauseating sincerity, she much preferred Draco's absolute defence based on interest, admiration, and shared allegiance.
"Well said, Draco."
Tamara looked past Draco's shoulder and gave Harry a cold glance, as if he were a complete stranger.
Then she nodded in approval.
"Let's go. Let's not waste any more time here."
The two walked away together, leaving Harry standing alone in the corridor.
Watching their departing figures, Harry felt a tightness in his chest from being completely excluded.
He stared at his hand. His fingertips seemed to still hold the texture and warmth of the diary from moments ago.
Harry irritably ran a hand through his already messy hair and kicked a stray stone in the corner.
"So frustrating..."
Meanwhile.
Once they turned the corner and were completely out of Potter's sight, the tension in Tamara's back relaxed slightly, and a cold smile of relief touched her lips.
After all her sarcasm and distancing lately, she must have left a terrible impression on the saviour's heart.
"Well?"
With certainty and a hint of vengeful pleasure, Tamara asked the damned system in her mind.
"Now, that idiot saviour's Favorability toward me should have finally dropped, right?"
The electronic voice in her head, usually so talkative, fell into a rare, deathly silence.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Just as Tamara frowned, thinking the broken machine had crashed again from the Dark Arts backlash...
The system finally spoke.
Its cheerful, swaying tone sounded like pure horror to Tamara's ears.
[Sorry, Host, but no.]
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