Chapter 62: use
Saturday night blanketed the Hogwarts grounds in a heavy, clinging mist. The air hung thick with the sharp scent of damp earth and crushed pine needles left in the wake of a passing rainstorm. Only a few precious hours remained before the grand operation to move Norbert would commence.
Tamara Riddle had just concluded her final, careful inspection of Hagrid's hut. She now strolled back toward the towering silhouette of the castle, handling the muddy path that skirted the treacherous edge of the Forbidden Forest. She had left Harry and Hermione behind to assist the half-giant with the agonizing preparations. Stuffing a highly combustible, thrashing baby dragon into a wooden crate was hardly a task fit for a Dark Lord, after all. Let the Gryffindors singe their eyebrows.
A rare, genuine smile graced Tamara's lips. Her mood was exceptionally bright. Once this chaotic night concluded, that magnificent beast would be secretly diverted to the deep forests of Albania. Norbert would not be a mere pet; he would become the very first tangible asset in her glorious, inevitable campaign of restoration.
Her boot was just about to cross the threshold from the suffocating shadows of the tree line onto the manicured lawn leading up to the castle doors.
Snap.
The sharp, brittle crack of a dry branch fracturing underfoot echoed like a gunshot in the dead silence of the night.
Tamara froze. The muscles in her back coiled tight. She did not whip around in a panic. Instead, she shifted her weight, tilting her body just enough to minimize her profile. Beneath the heavy fabric of her robes, her slender fingers had already slid down her sleeve, wrapping in a lethal, familiar grip around the smooth wood of her wand.
"Who is there?" Her voice was a soft, dangerous whisper that cut through the mist.
The shadows shifted. A shock of pale blonde hair slowly emerged from the gloom, followed by a pointed, aristocratic face. Usually haughty and composed, the boy's features were currently twisted into a grotesque mask of pure, malicious glee.
Draco Malfoy.
He had clearly been crouching in the damp underbrush for an extended period. His expensive, custom-tailored robes were ruined, plastered with wet grass clippings and heavy with dew, but the physical discomfort did absolutely nothing to dampen his manic energy.
"I knew it!" Draco hissed, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. His tone vibrated with the sheer ecstasy of a boy who had just unearthed a world-shattering scandal.
"I knew that lumbering oaf was hiding something dangerous! I saw the whole thing!" He jabbed a trembling finger back toward the distant shape of Hagrid's hut. Through a narrow, careless gap in the heavy window curtains, occasional bursts of orange sparks illuminated the darkness.
"That is a dragon! A real, actual dragon!"
Draco was vibrating on the balls of his feet, his words tumbling out in an incoherent rush of spiteful joy. "Potter and Weasley are in there too! I saw them! They are all in on it together!"
Tamara stared down at the boy trembling before her. He looked exactly like a hyperactive squirrel that had just stumbled upon a particularly large, shiny nut. She did not flinch. Her grip on her wand relaxed just a fraction, though her eyes remained dead and cold.
"So?" she asked, her voice entirely devoid of inflection.
"So?" Draco gaped at her, his pale eyes widening in disbelief. "I am going to report them, of course! I am going to find Professor McGonagall this very second! No, wait, I am going to find Professor Snape!"
He punched the damp air with a clenched fist, his face glowing as though he were already watching the glorious spectacle of Harry Potter being dragged out of the Hogwarts gates by his collar.
"Breeding a dragon in secret is a massive violation of the law! That brainless idiot Hagrid will definitely be shipped off to Azkaban! And Potter... Potter will be expelled! This is the absolute perfect chance to get them thrown out of Hogwarts forever!"
Riding the high of his own vindictive fantasy, Draco spun on his heel, his boots digging into the mud as he prepared to sprint toward the castle doors.
"Stop."
Tamara did not shout. She did not raise her voice above a conversational murmur. But the sheer, freezing command laced into that single syllable acted like a physical tripwire, snapping taut around Draco's ankles.
Draco froze in his tracks. He turned his head, blinking through the mist in utter confusion.
"Tamara? Do you not want to see Potter expelled?"
Tamara closed the distance between them with slow, measured, predatory steps. She stopped mere inches from him, using every fraction of her height advantage to look down her nose at the pathetic heir of the Malfoy family.
"Stupid."
She let the word drop from her lips like a shard of ice, entirely devoid of mercy.
Draco recoiled as if slapped. The manic, triumphant smile froze and shattered on his pale face. "Wh... what?"
"I said you are acting like a stupid, shortsighted child, Draco."
Tamara reached out. With agonizing slowness, her pale fingers pinched a damp, rotting leaf clinging to the fabric of Draco's shoulder and flicked it away. The gesture was the picture of elegant, aristocratic grace, but the dark, crushing pressure radiating from her eyes pinned him in place like a biological specimen on a corkboard.
"Do you honestly believe you will reap any tangible benefit from running to the professors right now?"
"Of course I will!" Draco stammered, his defensive pride flaring up. "Potter will be expelled, Gryffindor will lose hundreds of house points..."
"And then?" Tamara sliced through his pathetic list of grievances. "Hagrid is Dumbledore's loyal dog. Do you truly believe the Headmaster would allow his pet groundskeeper to rot in a cell over a mere dragon? At the absolute worst, the oaf would face a temporary suspension, and the Ministry would simply confiscate the beast."
"As for Potter..." Tamara let out a soft, derisive sneer. "Unless the boy murders a student in the Great Hall in broad daylight, Dumbledore will always find a loophole to protect him. He is the golden boy."
She took a half-step closer, forcing Draco to lean back.
"When the dust settles, what will you have achieved? You will have gained absolutely nothing, save for the unified, burning hatred of the entire Gryffindor House, and a pathetic reputation as a sniveling little tattletale."
Draco opened his mouth, his jaw working as he searched for a counterargument. Nothing came out. The cold, brutal logic of Tamara's words poured over him, extinguishing the fire of his excitement.
"Then... what?" he asked, his voice dripping with bitter reluctance. "Are we just supposed to stand here and watch them get away with it?"
"This is where you must apply the true philosophy of our house, Draco."
Tamara let her tone drop into a low, hypnotic cadence. She sounded like an ancient, dark mentor guiding a hopelessly naive apprentice through the first steps of a grand conspiracy.
"Remember this well. Attempting to destroy an enemy through direct, loud confrontation is a tactic reserved for reckless, brainless Gryffindors."
"A true Slytherin understands the art of use."
"use?" Draco repeated the unfamiliar concept, his brow furrowing.
"Exactly."
Tamara leaned in, her lips hovering just inches from his ear.
"Right now, this explosive secret rests entirely in the palms of our hands. As long as we choose to remain silent, that giant will forever owe us his freedom. Potter and Weasley will be forced to study our expressions and beg for our mercy before they dare make a single move against us."
"If you run crying to the professors tonight, that use vanishes into thin air."
She pulled back just enough to hold his gaze. A dark, calculating gleam flickered in the depths of her eyes.
"But if you swallow your pride and keep this secret... it is the absolute equivalent of locking an invisible iron collar around their miserable necks. No matter what humiliating tasks you demand of them in the future, or what rare, restricted potion ingredients you wish to extort from Hagrid's private stores in the Forbidden Forest..."
She slowly curled her fingers into a fist, mimicking the motion of pulling a leash.
"You will only ever need to give that chain a gentle tug."
She let the silence stretch for a heartbeat.
"That, Draco, is true control."
Draco stood perfectly still, utterly dumbfounded.
His young, sheltered mind had never once processed conflict from such a terrifyingly pragmatic perspective. In his narrow world, if you hated someone, you threw a tantrum and demanded your father ruin them immediately.
But Tamara's soft, venomous words had just kicked open the heavy doors to an entirely new universe of malice.
Control. Utilization. use.
The concepts echoed in his skull. It sounded infinitely more sophisticated, more deliciously wicked, than a simple, boring expulsion!
"That is... that is brilliant."
Draco stared up at Tamara. The petty, vindictive excitement that had previously animated his pale gray eyes melted away, replaced entirely by a deep, almost reverent awe.
"I never even considered looking at it that way..."
'Idiot,' Tamara sneered coldly in the privacy of her own mind.
Beneath the grand, philosophical lecture on Slytherin cunning, there was only one actual, pressing reality. If she failed to stop this blonde brat from running his mouth, the Ministry of Magic would swarm the grounds before midnight, and the dragon would be confiscated by the authorities.
That was her dragon!
There was absolutely no way she was going to allow a spoiled, sniveling little fool like Draco Malfoy to ruin her carefully crafted heist.
Naturally, she kept that particular truth locked tightly behind her teeth.
"So, as far as you are concerned, absolutely nothing happened tonight."
Tamara straightened her posture, the dark mentor persona vanishing as she smoothed her features back into a mask of polite indifference.
"You did not see a dragon. You did not see Potter sneaking around. Do we have an understanding?"
"Understood!" Draco nodded vigorously. His blood was practically boiling with the thrill of this new, sophisticated conspiracy. "This is our secret weapon against them, right?"
"Exactly." Tamara offered him a single, approving nod. "Now, go back to the dungeons and get some sleep, Draco. Be a smart Malfoy. Do not reduce yourself to a brat who only knows how to tattle to the adults."
"I will! Goodnight, Tamara!"
She watched in silence as Draco turned and jogged back toward the castle, his posture practically radiating the joy of a boy who had just experienced a deep spiritual awakening. Only when his pale blonde head disappeared completely into the gloom did Tamara finally allow a slow, measured sigh of relief to escape her lips.
[Ding! Detected that the host successfully prevented a malicious reporting incident.]
[System Evaluation: You not only protected that poor, misunderstood half-giant from the absolute disaster of wrongful imprisonment, but you also took the time to teach a misguided classmate the true meaning of tolerance and long-term vision.]
[This was a perfect display of quality moral education!]
[Reward: Wisdom +1.]
[Current Wisdom: 31.]
Tamara stared at the glowing blue text floating in the damp air before her. Her lips curled upward, forming a sharp, deeply mocking arc.
'Tolerance?''Vision?''System, you really ought to check yourself into St Mungo's and demand to see a specialist in severe delusions.'
Dismissing the holographic panel with a mental flick of her wrist, she turned her back on the castle and looked out toward the warm, glowing windows of Hagrid's hut.
The rain began to fall again, a fine, freezing mist that clung to her eyelashes.
In just a few short hours, that magnificent, fire-breathing beast would belong entirely to her.
'Everything,'she thought, her dark eyes gleaming in the night,'is proceeding exactly according to plan.'
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