Chapter 131: Gentle Words
Ron's voice broke the suffocating standoff in the bathroom.
Tamara's fingers twitched slightly.
The oppressive aura that had enveloped her body cracked because of the sudden intrusion of this red haired Weasley.
A good opportunity.
Taking advantage of the moment Harry was distracted by Ron's voice, Tamara's eyes sharpened, and the fingers pressed against the cover suddenly tightened.
It was the precursor to the Dark Lord forcibly seizing her prey.
With one hard pull, she could snatch the diary from the savior's hands.
However, at the very instant her muscles tensed, that damned blue pop up window plastered itself across her vision again.
[Warning! Host's intent to commit robbery detected!]
[System logic under judgment...]
[Item Traceability: This item was originally voluntarily entrusted by Lord Voldemort to Lucius Malfoy, and later gifted by Lucius to Ginny Weasley.]
[Status Determination: Although Ginny Weasley has abandoned it, making it an unowned lost item, Harry Potter, as the first finder, possesses current temporary ownership.]
[Conclusion: Although the item does not yet fully belong to Harry Potter, forcibly seizing an item held by a classmate is still judged as a malicious act of robbery.]
[Forcibly snatching an item found by a classmate will trigger the mandatory Public Apology punishment.]
Tamara's exertion froze midway.
Even when she had been a wandering soul in Albania, she had not felt this frustrated.
She could not snatch it, and she could not use curses.
Was she supposed to simply watch helplessly as Harry took the diary away?
[System Suggestion: Please attempt to influence the other party using gentle language.]
[Task Updated: Retrieve the diary.]
[Gently request that the other party give you this item, and fabricate a reason that is impossible to refuse.]
[Failure Penalty: The system will automatically control the host's vocal cords to recite the contents of the diary on the spot.]
Tamara's pupils shook violently.
Recite the diary's contents?
Recite those statements written late at night by the sixteen year old Tom Riddle about I am Lord Voldemort, I will rule the world, and I will fly from death and become the only eternal being in this world?
If the system truly read that out, she, as the Dark Lord, might as well resign.
"...You win."
To avoid becoming completely unable to survive at Hogwarts, she had to endure this humiliation, which was even more terrifying than the Cruciatus Curse.
She took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the killing intent in the depths of her eyes, and struggled to mobilise facial muscles that were nearly dead and stiff.
The hand that had been pressed against the diary, sharp as an eagle's claw, suddenly released its force.
That heart stopping cold touch vanished.
In its place was a slight trembling, a cautiousness that seemed to come from fear of losing something.
Tamara slowly raised her head, her dark eyes looking directly into Harry's green ones.
Under the passive blessing of [Harmless], her originally icy gaze actually managed to squeeze out a hint of moisture, even carrying a trace of pleading.
"...Harry."
The moment that name left her mouth, Tamara felt as though she had swallowed a spiny Flobberworm.
The disgust made her stomach cramp.
But Harry Potter, opposite her, looked as though he had been struck by lightning. His entire body stiffened instantly, and even his pupils dilated.
Tamara had called him Harry.
Although she had occasionally called him that once or twice before, it had usually been with impatience, or with a certain condescension and inexplicable mockery.
It had never been like this.
Her voice was soft, brushing gently past his eardrums with a gentleness he had never heard from her before.
Combined with those eyes that now seemed faintly wet, the immense contrast struck Harry so hard that he felt as though he had been hit by Crucio.
Harry's mind went blank, and he even forgot to breathe.
"Could you... give it back to me?"
Tamara softened her voice. It no longer sounded like a threat, but more like a careful discussion.
She did not take her hand away. Instead, she gently covered the back of Harry's hand, her fingertips brushing against the black cover as if by chance.
"This is... mine."
Tamara lowered her head, her long eyelashes trembling as they concealed the flash of violence in the depths of her eyes.
"I accidentally lost it a while ago. I have been looking for it for a long time."
"To me, this is a very important... diary."
If anyone else had said this, Harry might have been suspicious.
But this was Tamara.
The Slytherin who was always proud, cold, and never bowed her head to anyone.
At this moment, she was actually showing such a fragile expression because of this small diary.
She was even asking him in such a tone.
Harry felt a certain string in his heart snap.
All suspicion and curiosity suddenly seemed unnecessary.
"It's... yours?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, then seemed to remember something and withdrew his hand slightly.
"But... you just said it was very dangerous, didn't you? That it had a vicious curse on it and could burn someone's brain out?"
Now this was awkward.
It was simply shooting herself in the foot.
Tamara felt her facial muscles twitch uncontrollably.
To maintain the lie, she had to grit her teeth and swallow her pride.
"I lied to you."
She turned her head away, her voice stiff as though she were reciting from a textbook. Yet to Harry's ears, it sounded more like she was too embarrassed to look at him.
"If I had not made the consequences sound serious, a Gryffindor with excessive curiosity like you would definitely have been unable to resist opening it."
Tamara took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to hit Harry with a Memory Charm, and whispered with a kind of gentleness forced through clenched teeth.
"There are some... private things written inside that I do not want others to see."
"Especially... I do not want you to see them."
Harry felt the scar on his forehead burn. He stammered, "I didn't know. I just... of course! I mean, of course I can give it back to you!"
As if holding a hot potato, he hurriedly tried to shove the diary into Tamara's hands.
However, just then, that damned diary seemed to sense that something was wrong.
Tom Riddle inside heard those words and immediately felt an unprecedented sense of crisis.
As an extremely arrogant memory, he would never allow himself to be devoured by the original body like a piece of rubbish.
He would resist.
He would expose this liar.
The diary suddenly vibrated violently in their hands.
On the originally pitch black cover, a line of pale ink slowly began to emerge.
[She is lying! I am not...]
The handwriting had only just appeared.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise.
"Eh? There seem to be words on it..."
Slap!
A crisp, loud sound rang out.
Tamara was quick eyed and nimble handed. Her other hand slammed down, striking the cover of the diary hard.
The force of the slap was so great that Harry even felt as though the bones in his hand were about to shatter.
Those few words that had only just appeared were forcibly slapped back into the paper pulp by that single blow.
"Ta... Tamara?"
Harry was startled by the sudden violence.
"It's nothing."
Tamara looked up. Her expression twisted for a moment, but she quickly recovered that fragile look.
She pressed down hard on the diary, which was still trying to vibrate. Her knuckles were white from the effort, but in Harry's eyes, it merely looked like excitement from recovering a lost item.
"Just... too excited."
Tamara explained through gritted teeth while simultaneously using her immense mental power to ruthlessly crush the soul fragment attempting to cause trouble.
Perhaps sensing the original body's terrifying mental power, enough to crush him outright, the Tom in the diary finally cowered.
The vibration stopped.
The handwriting disappeared.
The book returned to being an ordinary, soggy diary.
Tamara snatched the diary from Harry's hand and gripped it tightly, as if someone might steal it the next second.
"Thank you... Harry."
The last name was said extremely quickly, blurred like a cough.
Then, she did not dare look at Harry's expression, nor did she want to face Ron, who was standing at the door with a dazed face.
She turned around, her black robes cutting a sharp arc through the air.
"I need to go back... and dry the water off it."
Even her retreating back revealed a sense of fleeing in panic.
Until Tamara's figure disappeared at the end of the corridor, a bizarre silence still lingered in the girls' bathroom.
After several seconds, Ron finally swallowed with difficulty, pointed in the direction of the door, and looked at Harry as if he had seen a ghost.
"Mate... am I dreaming?"
Ron rubbed his eyes.
"Was that Tamara just now? The Tamara who can make Malfoy cry just by scolding him in tutoring class?"
"Did she just... call you Harry? And... look a bit embarrassed?"
Harry was still in the posture of handing something over, standing blankly in place.
The cold and delicate touch of Tamara's fingertips seemed to still linger on the back of his hand.
Hearing Ron's words, Harry's face instantly flushed red all the way to the roots of his ears. He wiped his hand haphazardly on his robes, his gaze wandering slightly.
"She just... just wanted her diary back."
Harry defended her in a small voice.
"She's actually not as cold as she seems on the surface. She has things that are very important and cherished too."
"Oh, come off it."
Ron rolled his eyes. Seeing his friend's love struck, foolish look, he could not help throwing a bucket of cold water over him.
"Though... all right, I admit she's actually quite good at teaching spells."
Ron muttered somewhat awkwardly, clearly unwilling to admit it. But he soon changed the subject, his tone regaining that deep rooted alertness.
"But that doesn't change the fact that she's a Slytherin! And a cold blooded, terrifying Slytherin at that."
Ron gave an exaggerated shudder, as though it were some kind of bodily disgust.
"Have you forgotten? The way she usually looks at us. Like she's watching a few Flobberworms dancing."
"What kind of decent privacy would someone like that have?"
Ron pointed to the hand Harry had just used to hold the diary and said with conviction, "I bet there was absolutely no girl's heart to heart written in there. It's probably all Dark Arts recipes for how to boil us and feed us to the Giant Squid."
"Don't talk nonsense, Ron," Harry countered seriously. "That's her privacy."
Meanwhile, in the girls' dormitory of the Slytherin Dungeons.
Bang!
The dormitory door slammed shut.
With a gloomy face, Tamara threw the soggy diary onto the table.
"Harry..."
She recalled her affected and artificial behaviour just now.
The Dark Lord leaned against the corner of the table and finally could not help letting out a dry heave.
This was absolutely the greatest humiliation she had suffered since her rebirth.
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for successfully completing the task! Successfully retrieved the key item!]
[Facts prove that this kind of friendly communication is truly excellent. It not only solved the problem but also brought classmates closer together. It is simply killing two birds with one stone!]
The system's cheerful voice rang out at the perfect time, as though it had completely failed to see the murderous gaze of its host.
Tamara took a deep breath and stared at herself in the mirror, a red light of slaughter flashing in her eyes.
She swore.
One day, she would dismantle this broken system.
Then she would give Harry Potter a real Avada Kedavra.
But before that...
Tamara turned her head, her crimson eyes fixed on the diary lying on the table, pretending to be dead.
"As for you..."
She let out a cold laugh, her slender fingers slowly stroking the name on the cover.
"What were you trying to say just now? You did not want to come back?"
The diary trembled slightly, then became completely still.
"Very good."
"It seems we need to have a proper talk about who is the master and who... is merely a lowly projection."
.....
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