Chapter 255: Change of Strategy
Even though the rampaging beasts had been temporarily subdued, the lingering traces of that strange magic left them exceptionally restless. The moment the Petrificus Totalus curses were lifted, low, guttural growls echoed across the grounds. Their eyes remained a bloodshot, feverish red; no one dared guarantee they wouldn't snap back into a mindless, aggressive frenzy at any given second.
Given the sheer severity of the situation and the unfortunate reality that these highly expensive magical creatures could not simply be culled en masse, the Hogwarts professors and the Board of Governors convened an emergency consultation. The result was a strict, immediate lockdown order.
All outdoor activities were suspended. Hagrid was ordered to remain in his pumpkin patch, forced to cooperate with the Ministry of Magic investigators who had swarmed the grounds to determine the exact cause of the animals' violent loss of control. Meanwhile, the student body was confined strictly within the castle walls, forbidden from stepping a single toe past the main oak doors.
Naturally, this meant that the detention labor originally scheduled at the edge of the Forbidden Forest had to be relocated entirely indoors.
Harry was assigned to assist Professor Lupin, tasked with organizing towering mountains of neglected homework and dusty documents. Luna remained in Professor Flitwick's office, happily sorting through precarious stacks of ancient, moldering books to help with categorization. As for the perpetually unlucky Weasley twins, they were dragged off by Argus Filch to scrub away decades-old, stubbornly magical stains festering throughout the castle corridors.
And Tamara, naturally and logically, remained confined to Professor Snape's Potions office.
The sharp, bitter scent of medicinal herbs permeated the gloomy chill of the dungeons. Tamara's movements were a picture of elegant precision. She unhurriedly processed a fresh batch of newly picked aconite, her slender fingers expertly stripping the toxic leaves required for brewing next month's Wolfsbane Potion.
A few paces away, Snape sat behind his heavy oak desk, the harsh scratching of his quill against parchment the only sound cutting through the damp air.
Ever since his last probing interrogation, a bizarre, suffocating silence had persisted between the two of them. It was a quiet contest of wills. Clearly, in this unspoken psychological warfare, whoever broke the silence to show they cared would instantly lose the upper hand. Therefore, as long as Snape kept his mouth shut, Tamara was more than happy to act as if absolutely nothing had happened, thoroughly enjoying the dead, crypt-like tranquility belonging to the dungeons.
By the time she finally concluded her afternoon labor and glided into the Slytherin common room, the eerie green flames roaring in the hearth were casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls.
"Tamara. I think you might need this right now."
Draco, lounging on the plush leather sofa nearest the fireplace, immediately sat up and offered her a steaming cup of black tea. His pale eyes shone with undisguised, almost reverent admiration.
"I heard all about what happened down in the pumpkin patch. Is it true? Did you really hold all those brutes down by yourself with an Oppugno jinx?" Draco's voice carried a distinct edge of youthful excitement. He always, entirely unconsciously, tried to puff himself up and act far more familiar whenever he was in her presence. "Exactly as expected of a true Slytherin. Your wandwork must have scared those pathetic Gryffindors completely out of their wits."
Tamara accepted the fine china teacup, her pale fingers absorbing the comforting warmth radiating through the porcelain wall. Draco's eager flattery was a soothing balm, allowing her dark heart, previously stifled and irritated by her thoroughly disrupted plans, to settle slightly.
"They were merely a pack of mindless beasts that had lost their senses," she replied smoothly, taking a delicate sip of the dark tea. Her tone dripped with an effortless, natural arrogance.
"Tsk. Because of those filthy brutes, that idiot Hagrid has ruined it for everyone. No one can go to Hogsmeade Village now. All weekend trips have been entirely canceled," Draco complained, his face twisting into a petulant scowl of dissatisfaction. "It seems this whole mess will have to wait for Dumbledore to return before it can be completely resolved."
Tamara's hand paused a fraction of an inch from her lips. She slowly lowered the teacup, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer. She lifted her dark eyelashes, her gaze locking onto Draco. "Dumbledore isn't here?"
"You didn't know?" Draco blinked in surprise, before his features quickly morphed into a smug expression of being in the know. "My father received news from the school board. Dumbledore has been incredibly busy lately, his feet barely touching the ground. He's currently working with Ministry of Magic officials and the Headmasters of the other two major schools to discuss the final preparations for the Triwizard Tournament. He likely won't be back at school for an entire month."
Dumbledore was not at school.
For Tamara, this was always nothing short of brilliant news.
That meddlesome, ancient wizard who was always watching her from the shadows with a scrutinizing gaze was actually gone. The single biggest, most dangerous variable in this entire castle had temporarily vanished from the board.
A cold, cruel arc curled at the very corner of Tamara's mouth.
Since Dumbledore was conveniently out of the picture, she could absolutely take this golden opportunity to poison The Boy Who Lived a few more times.
Twenty minutes later.
Tamara was strolling down the third-floor corridor, a chilled bottle of pumpkin juice in her hand. Her pace was measured and perfectly elegant. She had timed the end of Harry's detention down to the exact second, fully intending to pose as the perfect image of a deeply concerned classmate arriving to comfort the poor savior who had just finished his grueling labor.
However, just as she approached the stone corner of the corridor, her sharp hearing caught the muffled cadence of a conversation drifting through a half-ajar wooden door.
Clearly, Lupin hadn't been able to restrain himself. He was actively revealing his deepest speculations regarding Sirius Black and Peter to the golden boy.
Tamara halted instantly, melting into the heavy shadows of the corridor. Her dark gaze gradually turned to chips of glacial ice.
Given how this particular Gryffindor idiot usually operated, hearing such a candid, dramatic deduction from a trusted elder would undoubtedly make the blood rush straight to his head. He would get hot-headed, open his mouth, and spill absolutely everything about their private alliance to catch the rat, even exposing her clandestine meeting with Sirius.
Her brilliant mind immediately began to race, calculating contingencies, already preparing a web of lies to handle Lupin's subsequent, wary interrogation.
But to her immense surprise, when the heavy door finally creaked open, Harry's expression was a picture of deep conflict.
He stood in the doorway, looking back as if he desperately wanted to say something, yet his jaw remained tightly clenched. He clearly wanted to blurt out the truth, but did not seem entirely at ease doing so. Ultimately, he merely stammered a quiet goodbye, turned on his heel, and stepped out into the corridor, looking heavily preoccupied.
Looking up, Harry's green eyes widened as he spotted Tamara standing quietly by the corner.
His face instantly lit up. He hurried over, his steps quick and urgent, completely failing to even notice the bottle of pumpkin juice she was holding out for him.
Glancing around the empty corridor with exaggerated paranoia, Harry leaned in close to Tamara, dropping his voice to a hushed whisper.
"Tamara, you will never guess what Professor Lupin just told me." Harry's eyes were shining with suppressed adrenaline. "Based on these two attacks against me, he speculated that the person who betrayed my parents might not have been Sirius at all! He thinks Peter is still alive, and that he's hiding right here in the school!"
"Oh?" Tamara raised a single eyebrow slightly, maintaining a flawless surface of mild calm. "And then?"
"And then I didn't say anything."
Harry shook his head, his youthful features settling into a surprisingly serious expression. "I originally wanted to tell him directly. But I remembered your warning from before. I felt like I couldn't just blurt everything out on impulse, so I planned to come and discuss it with you first."
Hearing this utterly unexpected answer, Tamara's fingers tightened slightly around the glass bottle.
She gave Harry a long, deep look, a genuine flash of surprise rippling through her heart.
This foolish boy had actually learned how to be smart. He had genuinely managed to resist his innate, blinding impulsivity.
"I see, Potter," Tamara replied faintly, the icy murderous intent in her dark eyes thawing just a fraction.
Harry hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help adding with earnest conviction, "But Tamara, I really do think Professor Lupin is trustworthy. If we had his help, maybe we could catch that rat so much faster..."
"You do not need to worry about that."
Tamara interrupted him smoothly but unceremoniously. A faint, knowing smile curled at the corner of her lips as her gaze drifted past Harry's shoulder, fixing on the tightly closed door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
"Leave it entirely to me. I will find a proper time to have a good talk with Professor Lupin myself."
Tamara knew perfectly well that rather than letting these Gryffindor fools stumble around blindly in the dark until they eventually messed everything up, it was vastly superior to keep the rhythm of the entire board firmly in her own hands.
Since Lupin had already deduced that Peter was still alive, the werewolf would absolutely find ways to press Harry for more details next. Once that guileless savior finally cracked under the gentle questioning, the massive secret of her private Unbreakable Vow with Sirius would be completely exposed.
, if they really managed to catch Peter first, that filthy rat possessed the Diadem. Under interrogation, Pettigrew might spill absolutely anything, and her true identity would face a catastrophic risk of exposure.
She had to get ahead of everyone. She had to completely deal with this troublesome rat herself.
And before she could do that, she needed to thoroughly stabilize Lupin first.
Two evenings later, when Professor Snape once again instructed Tamara to deliver the nightly dosage of medicine to Lupin, she decisively took a slight, unobserved detour along the way.
Stepping into a pitch-black corner of the corridor, Tamara expressionlessly uncorked the wooden goblet. The Wolfsbane Potion inside bubbled thickly, emitting an unpleasant, acrid blue smoke. Without a flicker of hesitation, she slid a small crystal vial from her sleeve. It contained a potent Confusion Potion, heavily spiked with a few drops of her own golden blood.
Under normal circumstances, introducing a foreign potion would violently clash with the toxicity of the Wolfsbane, completely affecting its efficacy. But under the absolute, dominating influence of her golden bloodline, the magical properties were forced into submission. Even when mixed directly into the Wolfsbane potion, the effects of the two would not interfere with one another.
She poured the vial into the goblet. The color of the potion churned violently for a brief second before settling right back into that nauseating, grayish-blue sludge.
When Tamara knocked on the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and pushed it open, she found Lupin slumped behind his desk. He looked utterly exhausted, his skin a sickly pallor, with deep dark circles carved under his eyes.
With the full moon rapidly approaching, the violent restlessness of the werewolf bloodline coursing through his veins was causing his bones and muscles immense, tearing pain.
"Good evening, Professor Lupin. Professor Snape asked me to bring you your medicine." Tamara wore her absolute perfect mask of a diligent, sweet-natured student as she approached the desk, gently placing the goblet down before him.
"Thank you, Tamara," Lupin offered a weak smile. He picked up the goblet with a slightly trembling hand and drained the foul concoction in one massive gulp.
The moment the thick potion slid down his throat, Lupin frowned slightly.
Tonight's medicine seemed to taste a bit strange. There was a bit less of the usual, gag-inducing bitterness, replaced by a strange, indescribable warmth.
But as this mysterious warmth rapidly spread outward through his entire body, Lupin's tired eyes widened in sheer astonishment the very next second.
Despite the full moon being imminent, the agonizing, tearing ache deep within his bones miraculously subsided. That frantic, animalistic bloodlust was firmly, gently suppressed into a quiet corner by an unseen force. He actually felt a long-lost sense of physical ease and mental clarity belonging to a normal person, despite being so close to a forced transformation.
However, while the physical agony had vanished, the covert influence of the spiked Confusion Potion was already taking root. Lupin's mental reactions became imperceptibly sluggish, his sharp instincts dulled by a heavy, invisible fog.
He rubbed his brow, blinking away a wave of lethargy, and looked up at Tamara, who was already preparing to turn and leave. He finally couldn't hold back the burning question in his chest.
"Miss Riddle, please wait a moment." Lupin stood up, leaning his weight against the desk. His tone carried a distinct, heavy hint of probing.
"Regarding that night in the fourth-floor corridor... you were tracking a jinx, weren't you?"
Tamara paused, turning back to face him. She nodded frankly, her expression open and innocent. "Yes, Professor."
Lupin took a deep breath, his voice becoming unconsciously serious, trying to pierce through the fog in his mind. "Then... how much do you know about the thing that jumped out of the window and escaped?"
He stared intently into Tamara's dark eyes, desperately trying to find a single flaw in the Slytherin girl's perfectly calm face.
Facing this indirect, dangerous line of questioning, Tamara showed absolutely no panic whatsoever.
She looked directly back at Lupin, tilting her head slightly, and asked softly in return.
"Professor, you're a werewolf, aren't you?"
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