Chapter 30: Justifiable
The Great Hall echoed with the clatter of silverware and the morning chatter of hundreds of students. Everything was unfolding exactly as Tamara Riddle had predicted. High above, the enchanted ceiling mirrored a crisp Friday morning sky. Six screech owls swooped down in perfect formation, carrying a long, slender package wrapped in brown paper, and dropped it unceremoniously right in front of Harry Potter's plate.
Even though Professor McGonagall had attached a strict note warning him not to open it at the table, the distinct, sweeping silhouette of the package gave it away instantly. Whispers ignited down the Gryffindor table, spreading like wildfire until the entire Great Hall buzzed with scandalized excitement.
"A Nimbus 2000."
Draco Malfoy stared fixedly at the Gryffindor table. The silver fork in his hand trembled, the metal groaning as his knuckles turned stark white. "This is impossible. First-years aren't even allowed to own broomsticks! Let alone a Nimbus 2000! It is the absolute latest model!"
"That is what you call privilege, Draco."
Tamara did not even bother to look up. She elegantly sliced the sunny-side-up egg on her porcelain plate, her movements precise and unhurried. "I told you before. Professor McGonagall does not look at Potter and see a rule-breaking student. She sees a convenient little savior who can help Gryffindor finally win back the House Cup."
"It is completely unfair!" Pansy Parkinson chimed in from the side, her face flushed with indignation as she glared across the hall.
"Fairness is merely an excuse the weak use to beg for charity," Tamara replied, her tone entirely flat.
In truth, Tamara felt absolutely no stirrings of anger. She did not view this blatant favoritism as a negative trait. Quite the opposite. As a former Dark Lord, she adored privilege more than anyone breathing. The masses only ever hated privilege because they were not the ones wielding it. 'Hypocrites, the lot of them,' she mused silently, taking a delicate bite of her egg.
Draco continued to glare at the Gryffindor table for a long moment. Slowly, the raw jealousy and anger contorting his pale features began to melt away, replaced by a slow, calculating smirk.
"You are right, Tamara."
He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. An irrepressible smugness dripped from his words. "Since the school insists on giving people like him special privileges, I will just have to deal with him the Slytherin way."
"Oh?" Tamara raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "And what exactly do you plan to do?"
"Just now in the corridor, I stopped Potter and challenged him." Draco swirled the silver goblet in his hand. The pumpkin juice inside rippled, catching the morning light in golden waves. "A Wizard's Duel. Tonight at midnight, in the Trophy Room."
Tamara paused her meal. She turned her dark, scrutinizing gaze upon the blonde boy. "Do you honestly believe you can beat their precious savior in a duel?"
"Ha! Who said I was actually going to fight him?"
Draco let out a sharp sneer. A thoroughly cunning expression settled over his features. "I am not going anywhere near that godforsaken room. I have already made up my mind. Right after dinner, I am going to casually inform Argus Filch that someone is planning to break into the Trophy Room at midnight."
He leaned back, thoroughly pleased with himself. "Just think about it. While Potter and that blood-traitor Weasley are standing around waiting for me like absolute idiots, they will not be greeted by my wand. They will be greeted by Filch, his moldy old cat, and a stack of detention slips."
Finishing his grand reveal, Draco looked at Tamara with wide, expectant eyes, practically begging for praise. "Well? Is it not a brilliant plan?"
Tamara set her silver cutlery down on the pristine white tablecloth. She studied the smirking young master sitting beside her. For once, the usual veiled contempt was entirely absent from her dark eyes. Instead, a genuine hint of admiration flickered in her gaze.
"While the method is not exactly sophisticated, it is certainly effective."
Tamara gave a slow, approving nod. A satisfied curve touched the corners of her mouth. "Knowing how to manipulate the rules and use the Caretaker to strike at your enemies, rather than just charging in with your fists like a brainless Gryffindor... Draco, you are finally starting to act like a true Slytherin."
Having successfully secured Tamara's approval, Draco's smile widened until it nearly reached his ears. "Just wait for the show. I can already imagine Professor McGonagall's face tomorrow morning. She will be absolutely twisted with rage!"
Tamara watched Draco practically vibrate with excitement as he turned back to his breakfast. The smile in her eyes deepened, though it carried a far colder, more calculating edge than the boy could ever comprehend.
'It is indeed going to be a good show,'she whispered in her heart.'Thank you for the perfect cover, Draco. Since Filch and that wretched, annoying cat will be thoroughly occupied staking out the Trophy Room...'She picked up her goblet, taking a slow sip of water.'...then the forbidden corridor on the third floor will be an unguarded, empty fortress tonight.'
Eleven-thirty at night.
Hogwarts Castle had long since fallen into a deep, heavy slumber. The torches along the stone walls burned low, casting long, flickering shadows across the ancient tapestries. Yet, beneath the quiet surface, undercurrents were rapidly surging.
Tamara had shed her cumbersome first-year school robes, swapping them for a set of sleek, lightweight black casual clothes that allowed her to blend smoothly into the darkness. Moving with the silent, practiced grace of a predator, she easily bypassed the usual patrol routes. Madam Norris was nowhere to be seen—likely already prowling near the Trophy Room. Like a ghost drifting through the physical realm, Tamara arrived at the forbidden third-floor corridor.
She had absolutely no intention of waiting around for Harry Potter and his foolish little entourage to arrive. As a Dark Lord who vastly preferred holding the initiative, she decided it was time to inspect whatever Dumbledore was hiding first.
The corridor was dead silent, save for the soft rustle of her boots against the stone. Tamara approached the heavy mahogany door at the very end of the hall. She reached out, her pale fingers wrapping around the brass handle. With a firm push, the door creaked open. She slipped inside the pitch-black room, pulling the heavy wood shut behind her, leaving only the narrowest crack for a sliver of moonlight to bleed through.
Instantly, a rank, foul stench assaulted her senses. It smelled of hot, wet fur, old blood, and decaying meat. The sound of heavy, rhythmic breathing vibrated through the floorboards.
There, occupying nearly the entire center of the room, lay a massive Cerberus. Its monstrous, muscular body was a mountain of dark fur, and its three colossal heads rested heavily on massive paws, taking up an absurd amount of space.
Tamara stepped out from the shadows, standing calmly just inside the doorway.
"Hagrid's taste in pets..."
She pinched the bridge of her nose, her perfectly sculpted features twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated disgust. "It has been decades, and that oaf's preferences are still just as utterly terrible."
The soft sound of her voice was enough. The behemoth woke instantly. Six massive yellow eyes snapped open in the gloom, glowing with feral malice.
"ROAR—!"
The middle head threw itself upward, unleashing a thunderous, deafening roar that shook the very dust from the ceiling rafters. The other two heads flanked it, lips peeling back to expose rows of jagged, yellowed fangs dripping with thick strands of acidic saliva. Giant muscles coiled beneath its dark coat, ready to lunge forward and tear this tiny, fragile intruder to bloody pieces.
However, Tamara did not so much as flinch.
She simply stood there, her hands resting casually at her sides. She tilted her chin up slightly. The polite, gentle facade of the perfect Slytherin first-year vanished in a heartbeat. Her pitch-black eyes instantly dilated, becoming incredibly deep, cold, and bottomless.
A suffocating, pure murderous intent exploded from her small frame. It was a blood-soaked aura—a heavy, crushing pressure that could only be possessed by someone who had slaughtered countless souls without a shred of remorse. The temperature in the room plummeted. The air itself seemed to curdle around her.
The giant beast, operating entirely on primal animal instinct, suddenly felt a paralyzing terror grip its heart.
The Cerberus, which had been a fraction of a second away from pouncing, froze mid-snarl.
"Whimper..."
The thunderous roar choked off into a high-pitched, pitiful whine. The mountain of muscle collapsed in on itself. The three massive heads lowered in absolute submission. Tucking its giant tail firmly between its hind legs, the Cerberus scrambled backward, its claws scraping frantically against the stone floor until it was pressed tightly into the farthest corner of the room. All six eyes stared at the tiny, dark-haired girl in absolute, unadulterated terror.
[Ding! High-risk creature detected!]
The perky, overly enthusiastic voice of the Virtue System chimed directly into her brain, shattering the dark atmosphere.
[Trial Quest Triggered: Gaze into the Abyss.]
[Quest Objective: Establish a good relationship with the doggy without being bitten to death!]
Tamara's eye twitched. She stared at the towering, three-headed monstrosity cowering in the corner, drooling over the floorboards. If this idiotic system could genuinely interpret a Cerberus as a 'doggy'to build a friendly relationship with, then its programming was fundamentally, irreparably defective.'Shut up,' she mentally snapped, thoroughly ignoring the system's cheerful nonsense.
She shifted her gaze away from the trembling beast and looked down at the floor where the creature had been resting. There, set into the stone, was a heavy wooden trapdoor with a brass ring. A satisfied, chilling smile touched her lips.
Just then, the heavy silence of the corridor outside was shattered. A series of hurried, frantic footsteps echoed against the stone walls, rapidly approaching the mahogany door.
"Hurry up!"
The sound was accompanied by Hermione Granger's panicked gasps and Ron Weasley's heavy, ragged panting.
"This way! The door's open! Get in, quick!" Harry Potter's desperate voice rang out through the narrow crack Tamara had left.
BANG!
The heavy mahogany door was violently shoved open, slamming hard against the stone wall.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and poor, trembling Neville Longbottom—the four of them stumbled into the dark room like a chaotic, tangled mess of limbs and robes. They immediately spun around, throwing their combined weight against the heavy wood, frantically pushing the door shut and leaning heavily against it to keep the pursuing Caretaker out.
"Merlin," Hermione gasped, clutching her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. "I think we are actually going to be expelled..."
"Shh! Listen..." Harry whispered. Suddenly, the blood drained entirely from his face. His green eyes widened behind his glasses as he slowly raised a trembling finger, pointing into the gloom behind them.
Moving as if underwater, the four Gryffindors slowly turned around.
Instantly, their expressions froze in absolute horror.
They saw the massive Cerberus. Even huddled pathetically in the far corner, the three-headed beast still loomed like a small, terrifying mountain of muscle and fangs in the shadows.
But what caused their entire worldview to violently crumble was not just the monster.
It was the fact that someone was actually standing directly in front of the beast.
A delicate-looking Slytherin girl, dressed entirely in sleek black casual clothes, standing with her hands resting lightly at her sides, looking completely and utterly unperturbed by the nightmare creature cowering before her.
"Ri... Riddle?!" Ron shrieked, his voice cracking in sheer terror as his knees knocked together. "What are you doing here?!"
Tamara slowly turned around.
She looked at the four terrified, panting Gryffindors pressed against the door. The suffocating, murderous aura vanished as if it had never existed. A perfectly timed, flawless flicker of innocent surprise crossed her dark eyes, quickly melting into a look of weary resignation.
"Why am I here?"
Tamara let out a long, heavy sigh. She crossed her arms, speaking in a tone of deeply disappointed, almost sisterly frustration.
"It is because of you idiots."
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