The April rain fell without pause, thin streams sliding down the tall windows of the dungeons. Outside, the waters of the Black Lake had risen high enough to lap softly against the lower stones, the surface rippling beneath the restless wind.
Tamara Riddle sat alone in the Slytherin common room, a thick, age-darkened volume open across her lap—Moste Potente Potions, borrowed from the Restricted Section through means no professor had officially approved.
Her pale fingers traced a passage discussing soul-binding elixirs. She was searching for something far more ambitious than what the book intended to teach.
A method to dissolve the main soul completely.
A flicker of movement interrupted her concentration.
A folded paper crane fluttered down from nowhere and landed gently atop the open page.
Tamara raised an eyebrow.
She unfolded it.
Only one hurried line was written inside:
"Hagrid's hut, emergency! Only you can help us! —Harry"
"Only I can help?" she murmured softly.
A faint sneer curved her lips.
What disaster had the Gryffindors managed to cause this time? Had they set fire to the Forbidden Forest? Transfigured Hagrid's beard into serpents? Or accidentally unleashed something with too many legs and not enough restraint?
Still, she closed the book.
A familiar mechanical chime echoed within her mind.
[Ding! Triggered Quest: The Giant's Secret.]
[Quest Description: The simple-minded half-giant appears to be raising something he should not. As a Hogwarts student, you bear responsibility for handling this potential danger.]
[Quest Reward: Unlock Passive Skill — Magical Creature Affinity +20%.]
"Magical Creature Affinity…"
Her eyes gleamed.
For an ordinary wizard, that might mean being adored by Kneazles or tolerated by Hippogriffs.
For her, it meant something else entirely.
Control.
Domination.
Basilisks. Dementors. Giants. Dragons.
The foundations of an army.
"It seems," she murmured, rising gracefully, "this system is not entirely useless."
She donned her cloak, picked up her wand, and left the castle in silence.
Hagrid's hut was stifling.
The curtains were drawn tightly shut, trapping the heat from the roaring fireplace. The air smelled of smoke, damp wool, and something metallic.
On the table sat several strange items: chicken brandy, an enormous slab of raw meat, and—
A small, black, winged creature.
Freshly hatched.
It was a dragon.
A Norwegian Ridgeback.
The tiny beast lay curled on the wooden surface, releasing occasional sparks from its nostrils. Harry winced as it snapped playfully at his finger, leaving a thin red mark.
"Oh, look!" Hagrid beamed, eyes glistening. "He recognizes his mummy!"
"Hagrid!" Hermione shrieked. "It almost burned Harry's finger! You can't keep it—it's illegal!"
"But it's Norbert!" Hagrid protested, shielding the dragon with surprising gentleness. "He's only a baby!"
A knock sounded at the door.
Everyone froze.
Hagrid hastily covered the dragon with a tattered cloth.
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
The door opened before he could object. A gust of cool night air swept in as Tamara stepped inside, lowering her hood.
Her gaze went immediately to the shifting cloth.
"Riddle?" Ron blurted. "What are you doing here?"
"Potter summoned me." She glanced coolly at Harry. "So. What catastrophe requires my presence?"
Harry gestured awkwardly toward the table.
Hagrid hesitated—then lifted the cloth.
The dragon stretched its thin neck and hissed.
Tamara's eyes narrowed.
What a magnificent specimen.
She was not seeing a pet.
She was seeing dragon hide resistant to most hexes. Eyes suitable for superior Polyjuice refinement. Blood—twelve documented magical applications. Heartstring material worthy of wandcraft.
"Exquisite," she breathed softly.
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. "Er… Miss Riddle, he's not… ingredients."
"Of course," she replied smoothly, replacing her clinical gaze with mild concern.
She approached the table and extended one slender finger.
The dragon stiffened.
Instead of snapping, it lowered its head.
It sensed it.
A deeper predator.
Rather than breathe fire, the hatchling pressed its snout timidly against her fingertip.
"See?" Hagrid cried in delight. "He likes you!"
In truth, it was instinct.
Submission.
"Listen," Ron said urgently, "Charlie works with dragons in Romania. We can send Norbert to him!"
"Charlie Weasley?" Tamara interrupted calmly. "At the sanctuary?"
Ron blinked. "Yeah."
"That is an appallingly poor decision."
"Why?" Ron demanded.
"Because sanctuaries are monitored by the Ministry of Magic," she explained. "The moment this dragon is registered, it will be catalogued, regulated—and possibly destroyed if deemed unstable."
"Destroyed?" Hagrid whispered faintly.
"And," Tamara continued evenly, "smuggling an illegally raised dragon internationally would result in imprisonment. Expulsion for accomplices."
She looked pointedly at Harry and Ron.
"Do you enjoy Hogwarts?"
Silence followed.
"Then what do we do?" Hagrid choked. "I can't abandon him!"
Tamara's smile was subtle.
"I have… a contact."
Her voice lowered slightly, rich and persuasive.
"He owns private magical creature territory in Albania. Isolated. Beyond Ministry jurisdiction. A specialist."
This, of course, was fabrication.
The land was an old stronghold once prepared by Voldemort—guarded still by a loyal dark wizard named Pyrites, who bred dangerous creatures in secrecy.
"He detests bureaucratic interference," Tamara continued. "Norbert would be safe. Unregistered. Properly raised."
"And I could visit?" Hagrid asked desperately.
"Freely," she said smoothly. "If discreet."
Hermione frowned sharply.
"Wait. You grew up in a Muggle orphanage. How do you know an Albanian magical specialist?"
Harry and Ron exchanged uncertain looks.
Tamara did not hesitate.
"Have you read Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"
"Of course," Hermione replied instantly.
"Page 342," Tamara said calmly. "A footnote regarding Chimeras references an Albanian scholar researching magical hybrid decay theory."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"I disagreed with his hypothesis," Tamara continued. "So I wrote to him. Academic discourse is not age-restricted."
"You wrote to a scholar?" Hermione whispered.
"He responded," Tamara said lightly. "We've corresponded for months."
Hermione flushed red—half envy, half awe.
"Reading," Tamara added coolly, "should involve thought, not mere memorization."
Ron blinked. "Blimey…"
Harry's admiration deepened visibly.
"So this is safer?" he asked.
"Infinitely safer than Romania," Tamara confirmed.
She stroked the dragon again. It purred faintly.
"Even Norbert agrees."
After a long pause, Harry nodded firmly.
"Let's do it."
Ron reluctantly agreed.
Hagrid's massive face crumpled with relief.
"Thank yeh, Tamara! Yeh're a good girl!"
She avoided the attempted embrace with elegant precision.
"This Saturday night," she said calmly, "at the Astronomy Tower. My contact will collect him."
Her eyes gleamed faintly.
The trap was complete.
Later, as she stepped back into the cool night air, moonlight silvered the grounds.
A notification echoed in her mind.
[Ding! Quest Completed: The Giant's Secret.]
[Reward: Magical Creature Affinity +20%.]
[System Evaluation: Motives questionable. Outcome acceptable. Dragon successfully intercepted.]
Tamara inhaled slowly.
The air tasted cleaner out here.
Above her, the moon hung pale and watchful.
She allowed herself a small smile.
A dragon.
Her first.
Not gifted.
Not borrowed.
Acquired.
Soon it would grow beneath dark skies, fed carefully, conditioned properly. It would recognize only one master.
And this was merely the beginning.
The Weasleys had nearly handed it away.
How foolish.
Power was not something to relinquish.
It was something to gather.
To cultivate.
To own.
Tamara lifted her gaze toward the castle windows glowing warmly in the distance.
"They truly believe I helped them," she murmured.
Trust was a far sharper weapon than fear.
Harry believed in her completely.
Hermione respected her intellect.
Ron envied her confidence.
Hagrid adored her kindness.
And each thread of belief wove tighter into her design.
She turned, cloak sweeping softly behind her.
"With this dragon," she whispered to the night, "my army has its cornerstone."
The moonlight shimmered across the lake.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
Just as she preferred.
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