Chapter 60: Isn't It All Mine?
The relentless April rain lashed against the castle grounds, causing the murky waters of the Black Lake to swell. Beneath the surface, heavy currents pressed against the enchanted glass windows of the Slytherin dungeons, casting a sickly, undulating green glow across the stone walls of the common room.
Tamara Riddle sat in a high-backed leather chair, bathed in that eerie light. Resting on her lap was a heavy, moldering tome borrowed from the Restricted Section—'Moste Potente Potions'. Her slender fingers traced the cracked parchment, her dark eyes scanning the dense runes as she searched for a very specific, highly illegal methodology: a way to make the main soul dissipate completely.
A sudden fluttering sound broke her concentration. A clumsily folded paper crane jerked through the air, vibrating violently before nose-diving straight onto the open pages of her ancient book.
Tamara picked it up by the wing. She unfolded the damp parchment to find a single, frantic line of ink:
"Hagrid's hut, emergency! Only you can help us! —Harry"
One delicate eyebrow arched upward.
'Only I can help?'A cold, mocking sneer curled in the depths of her mind.'What catastrophic idiocy has this gaggle of Gryffindors managed to orchestrate now? Did they finally burn down the Forbidden Forest? Or did they simply get bored and transfigure the oaf's beard into a nest of venomous snakes?'
Despite her utter disdain, Tamara closed the heavy tome with a soft thud.
[Ding! Triggered Quest: The Giant's Secret.]
[Quest Description: The simple-minded half-Giant seems to be raising something he shouldn't. As a member of Hogwarts, you have a responsibility to handle this potential danger.]
[Quest Reward: Unlock Passive Skill—Magical Creature Affinity increased by 20%.]
Tamara paused. Her fingertips lingered on the embossed leather cover of the potion book.
'Magical Creature Affinity?'
A dark, calculating light flickered in her eyes. For an ordinary, pathetic wizard, such a reward might only mean avoiding a nip from a temperamental Kneazle, or perhaps coaxing a Bowtruckle out of a tree.
But for her, this attribute carried a vastly different, far more intoxicating implication. It meant absolute dominance. It meant enslavement.
'Basilisks. Dementors. Even the Giants hiding in the northern mountains...'Her mind raced, weaving a mix of future conquests.'If I can naturally project an aura of innate suppression, rebuilding that terrifying Dark Creature Army will require a fraction of the effort. It seems this irritating little system isn't entirely useless after all.'
She stood, sweeping her dark cloak over her shoulders. She slipped her wand into her sleeve and slipped out of the castle, melting into the stormy night.
The moment Tamara pushed open the heavy oak door of Hagrid's hut, a suffocating wave of heat hit her face. The interior felt like a boiling cauldron. The thick curtains were drawn completely shut against the rain, and a massive fire roared in the hearth, spitting embers onto the stone floor.
The massive wooden table in the center of the room was a chaotic mess. An empty bottle of cheap chicken blood brandy sat next to a grotesque slab of raw, dripping meat. And right in the middle of it all squatted a small, pitch-black, leathery-winged monstrosity that had clearly just burst from its shell.
A dragon.
A Norwegian Ridgeback, to be exact.
At that very second, the hatchling snapped its jagged jaws, exhaling a sharp puff of orange sparks directly onto Harry's index finger.
Harry yanked his hand back, hissing in pain and shaking his scorched digits.
"Oh, bless him, look! He recognizes his mummy!" Hagrid cooed, his beetle-black eyes swimming with thick, emotional tears. He reached out a massive, calloused hand to stroke the creature.
"Hagrid! It nearly incinerated Harry's finger!" Hermione shrieked, her bushy hair practically standing on end from the humidity and stress. "You cannot keep it! It is strictly illegal!"
"But... it's Norbert!" Hagrid hunched over the table, shielding the snapping hatchling with his massive arms like a fiercely protective hen. "He's only a baby!"
The sudden creak of the door hinges froze the room.
The golden trio jumped out of their skins. Hagrid let out a panicked squeak that did not suit a man of his size and desperately threw a tattered, soot-stained cloth over the baby dragon.
"Who is it?" Hagrid stammered, grabbing a heavy pink umbrella.
"It is me."
Tamara stepped fully into the hut. A gust of freezing April wind swirled in behind her, momentarily cutting through the sweltering, foul-smelling air. She reached up and gracefully pulled back her hood, revealing her pale, aristocratic features.
Her dark, unreadable gaze bypassed the three Gryffindors entirely, locking instantly onto the violently twitching cloth on the table.
"Riddle!" Ron blurted out, his face pale. "What are you doing here?"
"Potter called me." Tamara shifted her gaze to Harry, her voice cool and perfectly measured. "Well? I left my studies for this. What is the emergency?"
Harry rubbed his burned finger against his robes, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "That... Tamara, look at this."
He nodded toward the table. Hagrid hesitated, his massive shoulders trembling slightly, before he reached out and pinched the corner of the tattered cloth. He pulled it back.
The little dragon immediately whipped its spiky head around. It stretched its long, reptilian neck and let out a vicious, rattling hiss directly at Tamara.
Tamara's eyes narrowed into dark slits.
What did the others see? A dangerous, illegal pet. A mistake.
What did Tamara Riddle see?
She saw a walking vault of priceless, premium ingredients. She saw magic-infused dragon hide that could deflect Unforgivable Curses. She saw reptilian eyes that, when properly harvested and preserved, served as the ultimate catalyst for top-tier Polyjuice Potion. She saw veins pumping with thick, volatile dragon blood, thrumming with raw, untamed energy.
'Truly beautiful...'Tamara sighed softly. To the others, it sounded like a gasp of wonder. In her mind, it was the chilling greed of an apex predator admiring a fresh kill.'A Norwegian Ridgeback. Twelve distinct uses for its blood alone. The hide can resist most mid-level hexes, and a single heartstring is worth a small fortune on the wand-making black market...'
Hagrid shuddered violently, as if a sudden draft had frozen the sweat on his neck. "Er... Miss Riddle, he's a pet. Not... not materials."
"Of course he is."
Tamara blinked, instantly withdrawing the cold, anatomical dissection from her eyes. She replaced it with a flawless mask of gentle, deep concern.
"But Hagrid, do you truly understand what raising a dragon entails?"
She stepped closer to the table, her movements fluid and utterly silent. She extended one slender, pale finger toward the snapping beast.
The little dragon, which had spent the last ten minutes acting like a vicious, irritable terror, suddenly froze. Its slitted yellow eyes fixed on Tamara's approaching finger.
Deep within its primitive, magical instincts, an alarm bell rang. It sensed something ancient. Something infinitely darker and more dangerous than itself. It sensed the aura of a true monster.
Instead of snapping its jaws or breathing fire, the young Ridgeback shrank back. It lowered its spiky head flat against the wood and, with a pathetic little whimper, obediently nuzzled the tip of Tamara's finger.
"Look at that! He likes you!" Hagrid bellowed, clapping his massive hands together in delight.
'He is terrified of me, you colossal buffoon,' Tamara thought, her face remaining perfectly serene.
"Listen, Hagrid," Ron interrupted, his voice tight with panic. "We've already come up with a plan. My brother Charlie studies dragons in Romania. We can send Norbert to him!"
"Charlie?"
Tamara pulled her hand back and turned to Ron. "You mean the Weasley who works at the dragon sanctuary?"
She shook her head slowly, her tone dripping with absolute dismissal. "That is a terrible idea."
"Why?" Ron demanded, his ears turning red.
"Because the sanctuary is Ministry of Magic territory," Tamara stated, her voice calm, logical, and utterly ruthless. She let the words hang in the air, watching the color drain from their faces.
"Once this dragon crosses their borders, it will no longer belong to Hagrid. It will become Ministry property. It will be tagged, numbered, and heavily monitored. And if it shows even a hint of aggression—if it is judged to be an uncontrollable danger—it will be executed."
Hagrid let out a strangled gasp, his face turning the color of old porridge. "Exe... executed?"
"," Tamara continued, smoothly twisting the psychological knife, "smuggling an illegally bred Class A Non-Tradeable Material out of the country will not only land you in Azkaban, Hagrid, but the students helping you transport it will face immediate expulsion."
She let her dark eyes drift over Harry and Ron. "Do you want your wands snapped? Do you want to be expelled?"
The trio fell into a suffocating silence. Only the crackle of the fire filled the room.
"Then... then what do we do?" Hagrid sobbed, burying his face in his massive, dirt-stained hands. "I can't just throw him out in the forest! He'll die of the cold!"
An imperceptible, razor-thin smile graced the corners of Tamara's mouth.
"Actually... I have a friend."
She spoke the words slowly, her voice dropping into a soft, seductive cadence that demanded absolute attention.
"He owns a vast, private magical creature habitat deep in the forests of Albania. It is entirely secluded. The Ministry has no jurisdiction there, and they cannot touch his land. He is a true, dedicated expert. If Norbert is sent to him, he will receive the absolute best care in the world."
It was a beautiful, flawless lie.
In reality, the 'habitat' was a heavily warded, subterranean secret base Voldemort had carved out of the Albanian mountains decades ago to breed his dark army. It was currently guarded by a fanatically loyal Dark Wizard named Peritus. Though the Dark Lord had fallen, Peritus remained at his post, breeding and raising a terrifying menagerie of lethal magical beasts in the dark.
"He is a master of his craft, and he loves dragons above all else." Tamara looked directly into Hagrid's tear-filled eyes. "If you send Norbert there, he will be safe. And..."
She paused, preparing to set the final, inescapable hook.
"Because it is private land, you can visit him whenever you like. You could even, if you truly wanted, fly on his back once he is fully grown."
Hagrid's head snapped up. His eyes widened to the size of brass galleons.
"Really?! I can go see him?!"
"Of course," Tamara nodded, her smile warm and reassuring. "As long as you are careful not to be tracked by the Ministry."
The giant was practically vibrating with joy. But before he could agree, a sharp, suspicious voice cut through the heavy air.
"Wait a minute, Tamara."
Hermione Granger stepped forward, her brow deeply furrowed. Her sharp, analytical mind had immediately snagged on a glaring inconsistency.
"You grew up in a Muggle orphanage, didn't you? How on earth do you know a... an international magical creature expert with private land in Albania?"
Harry and Ron blinked, the realization suddenly dawning on them. They turned to look at Tamara, a flicker of doubt finally piercing through their panic. It was a fair question. Where would an eleven-year-old first-year, raised entirely in the Muggle world, acquire such high-level, international black-market connections?
Tamara did not flinch. Her heart rate did not even spike.
She slowly turned her head to look at Hermione. Instead of defensiveness, a look of genuine, aristocratic appreciation bloomed on her face.
"A very astute question, Granger."
Tamara reached down and elegantly smoothed the cuffs of her robes, buying herself a fraction of a second to construct the trap.
"Tell me, have you read Newt Scamander's 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'?"
"Of course I have!" Hermione answered instantly, her chin lifting a fraction.
"Then you should be well aware that on page 342 of the standard edition, in the secondary footnote regarding the breeding habits of Chimeras, Scamander mentions a senior, reclusive scholar living in the Albanian forests who possesses unique, highly controversial insights into ancient magical creatures."
Tamara spun the web effortlessly, lacing the lie with such extreme, academic professionalism that it sounded like absolute gospel.
"When I read that specific passage in the Library last month, I found myself disagreeing with his Theory of Magical Decay in Hybrid Creatures. So, using the extremely obscure contact methodology referenced in the appendix, I took a chance and wrote him a letter."
"You... you wrote a letter to a scholar mentioned in a footnote?" Hermione's jaw went slack. Her eyes widened, staring at Tamara as if she were witnessing a mythological event.
"Why wouldn't I?" Tamara asked, her tone laced with casual arrogance. "Academic exchange knows no age limit, Granger. I honestly did not expect a reply, but to my surprise, he was fascinated by my counter-arguments."
She took a slow step toward the Gryffindor girl. "We have been corresponding via international owl for several months now. He is a brilliant, eccentric old man who utterly detests the Ministry of Magic's suffocating bureaucracy, which is why he lives in isolation. We have become... in a sense, academic pen pals."
Tamara stopped, looking down at the completely stunned Hermione, and offered a slight, patronizing smile.
"Granger, reading a book shouldn't just be an exercise in rote memorization. It is meant to provoke thought. To develop exchange. To challenge the masters."
The explanation was an impenetrable fortress of logic.
Hermione's face instantly flushed a deep, violent crimson. A chaotic mix of deep shame, burning envy, and obvious admiration washed over her features. She looked down at her shoes.
"My goodness... you actually correspond with a scholar of that level..." Hermione murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I thought it was just a footnote..."
"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, not understanding a word of the academic jargon but thoroughly convinced by Hermione's defeat. "I knew Tamara would have a way out of this!"
Harry looked at her, his green eyes shining with absolute trust. In his mind, Tamara Riddle was a genius capable of solving any problem the world threw at her.
"So," Tamara said, smoothly pivoting back to Hagrid and perfectly reclaiming total control of the room. "Sending Norbert to Albania is the safest, most logical option. That old gentleman would rather die than report a dragon to the Ministry."
"Really?! I can visit him anytime?!" Hagrid asked again, desperate for the reassurance.
"This..." Hermione bit her lip, still wrestling with her bruised pride. "Is it truly safe?"
"A hundred times safer than shipping him off to a Ministry-monitored camp in Romania."
Tamara reached out and stroked the little dragon's spiky head one last time. The creature let out a low, submissive purr, pressing its scales against her pale skin.
"See? He seems to agree."
Watching the dangerous beast act like a tame kitten under Tamara's touch pushed Harry's trust past the point of no return.
"I think Tamara's way is the best way!" Harry declared firmly. "This way, Hagrid won't lose Norbert forever!"
Ron rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the dragon warily. "Alright... yeah. As long as we don't get expelled, I'm in."
"Then it is settled."
Tamara straightened her posture, a dark glint of absolute triumph flashing in her eyes.
"This Saturday night. I will arrange for my friend's associates to pick him up. Bring the dragon to the very top of the Astronomy Tower at midnight."
"Thank you! Oh, Tamara! You're such a wonderfully good person!"
Hagrid burst into a fresh wave of noisy sobs. He lunged forward, a mess of tears and snot, attempting to pull Tamara into a bone-crushing embrace.
Tamara took a swift, graceful step backward, smoothly evading the massive arms that smelled strongly of wet dog, cheap alcohol, and Giant sweat.
"You are quite welcome, Hagrid," she said, her voice a picture of gentle humility.
'Idiots,'she sneered in the dark theater of her mind.'After all... such a magnificent, lethal beast would be entirely wasted if handed over to that pathetic bunch of poverty-stricken Weasleys.'She turned toward the door.'With this dragon... my new army finally has its first foundation.'
[Ding! Quest Completed: The Giant's Secret.]
[Reward: Passive Skill—Magical Creature Affinity increased by 20%.]
[Detected that you have successfully intercepted the ownership of a dragon.]
[System Evaluation: Although your motives are deeply impure and highly concerning, from a purely objective standpoint, you have indeed found a safe and permanent home for this poor little fellow... probably.]
Tamara ignored the system's cheerful, patronizing voice. She pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped out of the sweltering hut, taking a deep, slow breath of the freezing, rain-washed Scottish air.
The storm had broken. The heavy clouds parted, allowing a sliver of pale silver light to pierce the darkness.
The moonlight tonight was truly beautiful.
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