Chapter 51: The Invisibility Cloak and Uncontrollable Ambition
Ever since she had handed out those wretched, heartfelt wooden amulets, Tamara's popularity across the castle had exploded to a nauseating degree.
It did not matter where she went. Even a simple trip to the girls'lavatory guaranteed an ambush by a handful of students who had stayed behind for the holidays. They would corner her, their faces shining with cloying gratitude, and attempt to shove return gifts into her hands—usually sticky, sickly-sweet candies that she would not even feed to a stray Kneazle.'A bunch of easily bought fools,' Tamara thought.
She sat in a deserted, dust-moted corner of the Hogwarts Library, idly turning the heavy parchment pages of a reference text. A cold sneer twisted her thoughts, safely hidden behind a mask of serene academic focus.
'A few pieces of junk wood and a little carved sunlight, and I win their undying loyalty? It seems ruling the world in this era is going to be even easier than I initially imagined.'
Just as she was luxuriating in the dark, quiet pleasure unique to a master conspirator, a series of hurried, entirely unsubtle footsteps shattered the silence.
"Tamara! You're here!"
It was Harry Potter. He came jogging down the aisle, looking utterly ridiculous in a lumpy, hand-knitted sweater courtesy of Mrs. Weasley. The garish green yarn made him resemble a hyperactive parrot. His face was flushed with uncontained excitement.
Ron Weasley trailed a few steps behind him, crumbs clinging to his chin as he gripped half of a mangled corned beef sandwich.
Tamara snapped her book shut. Her jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before she smoothed her features into a look of mild, gentle reproach.
"No noise in the library, Potter," she whispered, her tone carrying the perfect blend of prefect-like authority and soft concern.
Her gaze drifted downward, landing on the rough wooden amulet hanging prominently against the garish green wool of Harry's chest. The carved Sun Rune rose and fell slightly with his erratic breathing.
A complicated knot of emotion tightened in Tamara's chest. She had carved that piece of junk on a whim, purely to farm System points, and this idiot child was actually wearing it right over his heart? Was he entirely devoid of self-preservation? Did it never cross his mind that she might have stuffed a couple of nasty, flesh-rotting jinxes inside the wood?
"Sorry, but... I have something to show you!"
Harry lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. He craned his neck, peering around the towering bookshelves to ensure Madam Pince's vulture-like silhouette was nowhere in sight and that the surrounding tables were empty.
Satisfied, he leaned over Tamara's desk. With dramatic flair, he pulled a bundle of fabric from the depths of his robes.
"Look at this."
Harry let the material pool onto the polished wood of the table. His bright green eyes shone with the pure, unadulterated joy of a child showing off a secret treasure.
"This is a gift I received for Christmas... I thought you might be interested."
Tamara cast a nonchalant glance at the pile.
Then, her breath hitched. Her pupils contracted into tiny, dark pinpricks.
The texture of it. The way the silvery-grey material flowed like liquid water, seeming to actively swallow the ambient candlelight around it. She didn't even need to reach out and touch it. The sheer, ancient magic radiating from the weave triggered an instinctual recognition from the deepest, darkest recesses of her soul.
This was no ordinary invisibility cloak woven from Demiguise hair.
This was one of the legendary Deathly Hallows.
The cloak passed down from Ignotus Peverell. The artifact forged to evade Death itself!
And it had somehow fallen into the hands of the savior right now.
"...Who gave this to you?"
Tamara kept her voice perfectly level, soft and curious. But beneath the surface, a microscopic tremor vibrated through her vocal cords.
It was pure, unadulterated greed. The Dark Lord's eternal, gnawing hunger for supreme, absolute power.
"I don't know." Harry shook his head, completely oblivious to the predator sitting across from him. "There was no signature. The note just said, 'This was something your father left with me before he died, and now it is returned to you'."
"I've tried it, it's really amazing!"
Before she could stop him, Harry snatched up the silvery fabric and threw it over his shoulders.
Instantly, his body vanished. Where a boy in a green sweater had stood a second ago, there was now only empty air. Only his head remained, floating eerily in the dim library light like a macabre, grinning executioner's trophy.
"Look! Completely invisible!" the disembodied head whispered excitedly. "Ron says this is a very rare thing."
"Indeed... very rare."
Tamara stared fixedly at the floating head. Beneath the desk, her hands clenched into fists. Her neatly trimmed nails dug so deeply into her palms that they threatened to draw blood.
'That is a Deathly Hallow!'
In her previous life, she had obsessed solely over the Elder Wand, dismissing the rest of the children's tale. If a wizard possessed all three artifacts simultaneously, they could conquer the grave. They would become the Master of Death.
She had sneered at the Hallows back then because she possessed the genius to craft Horcruxes—a far more practical, tangible method of anchoring her soul than chasing ethereal fairy tales.
But now? Now she was shackled to this infernal Virtue System. She couldn't casually slaughter a village to split her soul anymore. The only remaining avenues to true immortality were the Philosopher's Stone and the Deathly Hallows.
And Tamara Riddle never believed there were too many paths to eternal life. She wanted the Stone. She wanted the Hallows. She wanted it all.
Right now, the Elder Wand was locked in Dumbledore's grip. The Resurrection Stone was lost to the wind. And the third Hallow was sitting right here, brazenly flaunted by an eleven-year-old brat who treated it like a novel toy from Zonko's!
'What a sickening waste of a divine treasure...'Tamara roared frantically in the confines of her mind.'...That is mine!'
Murderous intent flooded her chest, thick and suffocating.
If she just hit Potter with a silent Stupefy right now. Or simply snatched the fabric and ran. The treasure would be hers. With it, she would take a massive leap toward her ultimate dream of ruling the Wizarding World.
Her fingers twitched. Her hand began a slow, deliberate slide toward the wand holstered at her side.
[Ding! Warning! Extremely strong intent to steal and rob detected from the host.]
The perky, mechanical voice chimed in her brain like a bucket of ice water dumped directly over her head, instantly extinguishing the dark fire she had just stoked.
[According to Article 2 of the "Virtue System Core Code": Do not covet the property of others.]
[This item is the legal inheritance of Harry Potter. The host may not deprive him of it through violence, theft, or deception.]
[Violators will suffer a level-five lightning strike punishment and be forced to return the item.]
'Damn it!'
Tamara cursed viciously, her hand freezing mid-air, inches from her wand.
A level-five lightning strike? That wouldn't just make her look weak and pitiful; it would roast her internal organs and turn her into a smoking pile of charcoal!
She glared at Harry's floating, grinning head, her chest tight with suffocating resentment.
Was she really supposed to just sit here and watch a legendary Deathly Hallow rot in the clumsy hands of a Potter?
No.
Absolutely not.
She was a Slytherin. If she couldn't take it by brute force, she would extract it with venomous wit.
Tamara's dark eyes darted toward the bookshelves, a brilliant, twisted idea forming in her mind.
'System,'she called out internally, her mental voice dripping with calm, calculated innocence.'If... and I am purely speaking in hypotheticals here.''If Harry Potter gives this cloak to me voluntarily. Or, say, he lends it to me for an indefinite period because he simply likes me too much, trusts me too much, or wishes to repay my boundless kindness...''That wouldn't count as theft or robbery, would it?'
The System fell silent. A faint hum echoed in her mind, as if the magical AI was processing complex logical algorithms.
[System judging...]
[Gifting is a beautiful interaction in human society, representing friendship and trust.]
[Conclusion: If it is a gift or loan initiated by the target person while they are fully conscious, voluntary, and not under the control of an Unforgivable Curse...]
[Compliant.]
A chilling, predatory curve hooked the corner of Tamara's mouth.
'Then this is going to be incredibly easy.'
She blinked, and the ravenous greed in her eyes melted away, instantly replaced by a warm, liquid gaze of deep gentleness.
"It is truly a remarkable treasure, Harry," Tamara praised softly. She reached out, letting her pale fingertips brush reverently against the edge of the fluid, silvery fabric.
"Keep it safe. Please, do not lose it."
Harry hastily pulled the cloak off, his messy black hair reappearing. His cheeks flushed a deep red under her intense, focused praise.
"I know! I'll be very careful," he stammered, his excitement bubbling over again. "I actually plan to wear it to the Restricted Section tonight to look for information on Nicolas Flamel."
"Nicolas Flamel?"
Tamara's brow furrowed in genuine surprise. Had the Granger girl really not spoon-fed these two idiots the truth about Flamel yet?
Harry nodded eagerly. "Although Hermione told us a bit about the Philosopher's Stone, I'm still curious to find out more..."
Tamara deepened her frown, her performance of a deeply concerned older sister utterly flawless.
"It is terribly dangerous in the Restricted Section, Harry." She let a heavy, worried silence hang in the air for a second before softening her expression. "But... since you have this cloak, you will indeed be much safer."
She leaned forward, closing the distance between them. The faint, cold fragrance of her soap drifted over the desk, wrapping around the boy. She looked deeply into his green eyes, her voice dropping to a soft, intimate whisper.
"You know, Harry, the value of this cloak is far beyond what you can currently imagine."
"The fact that you are willing to show it to me, to share your deepest secrets... it shows that you truly trust me."
Harry blinked, momentarily stunned by the raw earnestness in her tone. Then, he nodded vigorously, his eyes as clear and shallow as a sunlit puddle.
"Of course! You're my friend, Tamara. You gave me that amulet to protect me... I think that's exactly what friends do."
'Friend...'
Tamara chewed on the sickening word, a vicious sneer echoing in the dark void of her mind.
But outwardly, her lips parted in a stunning, deeply moved smile.
"Thank you for your trust, Harry."
She leaned just a fraction closer, her voice taking on the hypnotic, honeyed cadence of a demon whispering sweet promises in the dark.
"If, in the future... you ever encounter any difficulties. Or if you feel that keeping this cloak safe has become too heavy a burden..."
She held his gaze, unblinking.
"Remember to tell me. I will help you keep it safe. Or I can help you use it... for your own protection, and for the greater good."
Harry, of course, had absolutely no idea what the phrase 'the greater good' truly entailed. He didn't hear the echoes of Grindelwald or the subtle threat veiled in her soft tone. He only felt the warmth of a beautiful, powerful girl who genuinely cared about him, a girl willing to shoulder his burdens.
"Okay!" Harry agreed without a single ounce of hesitation. "If I don't need it, I'll lend it to you! You can use it to go wherever you want!"
Standing off to the side, Ron paused mid-chew. He opened his mouth, a faint flicker of unease crossing his freckled face. Something felt slightly off about promising away such a rare, magical heirloom so easily.
But as he looked at the warm, glowing atmosphere between Harry and the angelic Tamara, he swallowed his words along with his corned beef.
"Then it is a deal."
Tamara straightened her posture, her mood soaring higher than it had in months.
She couldn't sink her claws into the Hallow tonight, but the seed was planted deep in the boy's mind. As long as she continued to farm his favorability, playing the flawless role of his tragic confidante and guardian angel... sooner or later, this Deathly Hallow would obediently fall right into her lap.
And the savior himself would offer it up on a silver platter.
"Well," Tamara said, her dark eyes gleaming with hidden calculation as she looked at Harry. "Since we have such excellent equipment at our disposal, it would be a terrible pity not to put it to good use."
"Tonight, I also need to visit the Restricted Section."
She tilted her head, offering a conspiratorial smile. "Since we are heading the same way... perhaps we should cooperate?"
Harry's eyes lit up like Lumos charms.
"Really? That's great! I'll feel so much more at ease with you there!"
Tamara watched the Boy Who Lived practically vibrating with joy, eagerly volunteering to act as a tour guide for the Dark Lord who had murdered his parents.
'Truly...'Tamara sneered in the blackest depths of her heart.'Adorably naive.'
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