Chapter 127: Christmas and Polyjuice Potion
On Christmas morning, thick snowflakes drifted past the window.
Tamara awoke in her Slytherin dormitory.
The moment her eyes opened, her hand went straight to the wand beneath her pillow.
Even before the holidays began, she had publicly declared, or rather, threatened everyone in the Common Room. Anyone who dared fill the space beside her bed with foolish, sickeningly sweet gifts this year would be spending New Year in the Hospital Wing.
Tamara swept a wary gaze across the foot of her bed.
Good.
Empty.
No towering piles of parcels, no colourful wrapping paper, and certainly none of those anonymous chocolates.
The air was fresh and pleasant.
A satisfied smirk curled Tamara's lips as she got out of bed.
It seemed her reign of terror at Hogwarts remained secure. These people might be fools, but at least they understood what it meant to fear the Dark Lord.
However, her footsteps paused slightly when she reached her desk.
On its otherwise tidy surface lay a single parcel, tightly wrapped in brown paper.
No bows, no ribbons, and none of that nauseating perfume.
Only a neatly trimmed piece of parchment had been placed on top.
Tamara raised an eyebrow and picked up the note.
If some reckless fool had dared send her a Christmas present, she would not mind hanging them from the Astronomy Tower for a little fresh air right now.
The handwriting on the note was neat.
[Repayment in kind for the Moonstone Powder consumed that day, plus overdue payment for Potions tutoring hours. Hermione Granger]
Tamara unwrapped the brown paper.
Inside was a slightly worn copy of The Evolution of Defense Against the Dark Arts in the Fifteenth Century.
It was not some priceless treasure, but it was certainly not something one could buy in an ordinary bookshop.
No well wishes. No cheap Merry Christmas.
This was purely a debt settlement.
"...Heh."
Tamara let out a soft chuckle, her fingers tracing the rough spine of the book.
That Gryffindor Miss Know It All was a little smarter than she had imagined.
She knew Tamara hated owing favours and despised sticky emotional entanglements, so she had deliberately framed this as a transaction.
"We are even."
Tamara set the book aside casually, her mood unspoiled by the surprise.
On the contrary, she found this sort of transactional relationship far more comfortable than so called friendship.
The fire in the Slytherin Common Room burned fiercely, driving back the perpetual chill of the Dungeons.
Tamara sat in the high backed armchair closest to the hearth, flipping through the old book Hermione had sent.
Across from her, Draco Malfoy was waving a newspaper clipping, his expression indignant.
"Look at this! If I were them, I would be too ashamed to show my face!"
Draco pointed to a moving picture in The Daily Prophet. Arthur Weasley was being investigated for violating the Muggle Artifacts Act.
"Using magic on Muggle items? The Weasley family is a disgrace to pure blood heritage!"
Tamara did not look up. She merely turned a page of her book absentmindedly.
Just then, the stone wall slid open.
Two tall, dull looking Slytherin boys walked in.
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
"Where have you two been?"
Draco frowned in displeasure.
"Stuffing your faces in the Great Hall the entire time? I told you to bring pastries back from there. Why are you empty handed?"
The two hulks, who usually only knew how to grunt, looked particularly stiff today.
They exchanged a glance, then lumbered over and sat down on the sofa.
"Useless gluttons."
Draco shot them a disdainful glare, then immediately changed to an ingratiating expression as he turned back to Tamara.
"Ignore them, Tamara."
Draco leaned forward slightly. He picked up an exquisite silver tray from the table, on which several pieces of crystallised violet chocolate had been arranged.
"Try these. My mother specially ordered them from Madam Puddifoot's."
His tone carried a showy sense of superiority, but his movements were careful and fawning.
"I noticed you did not eat much at dinner. Did those Mudbloods ruin your appetite?"
Tamara's gaze never left her book. She merely extended a slender finger, picked up a piece of crystallised violet chocolate, and placed it in her mouth.
"Acceptable."
She gave a bland assessment, making no move to refuse Malfoy's offering.
Watching Draco's expression, so eager for praise, Tamara felt a strange sense of familiarity rise in her heart.
It was almost like an instinct engraved into the Malfoy family's blood.
From Abraxas Malfoy in the past, to the later sleek and calculating Lucius, and now to this little peacock before her who only knew how to show off, three whole generations had always been accustomed to clinging to the shadow of the strong.
They used expensive money, exquisite sweets, and a semblance of respectable loyalty to buy protection and superiority.
This tacit understanding of offering and being offered had been established half a century ago.
For Tamara, accepting Malfoy's fawning was as natural as breathing.
Seeing Tamara accept his offering, a proud smile spread across Draco's face.
That was precisely the scene that painfully stung the "Goyle" sitting opposite them.
Harry Potter watched everything before him, feeling his stomach churn.
In his eyes, this was nothing short of bullying.
That hypocritical little git Malfoy was taking advantage of Tamara's silence and loneliness, buzzing around her like a fly as he tried to curry favour.
And Tamara, the girl who carried a dark secret alone, could only endure this harassment in silence.
She must be suffering, but to avoid exposing the plan, she has to pretend she is on Malfoy's side...
A powerful urge to rush over and shove Malfoy away made Harry almost forget his disguise.
He shifted closer to Tamara without realising it.
Noticing the oddity, Tamara's fingers paused slightly as she turned a page.
She lifted her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the two lackeys.
Normally, Crabbe and Goyle would never dare sit so close to her while she was reading. They would usually be huddled in a corner, eating cake.
But today...
Tamara keenly sensed a gaze.
It came from "Goyle."
That usually vacant eyed hulk, with intelligence on the level of a Troll, was now staring fixedly at her.
And the look was completely wrong.
Those small eyes, which ought to have been full of dullness, were now filled with a baffling complexity.
Nervousness, scrutiny, and something else that gave Tamara a physical sense of discomfort.
A strange familiarity.
Clearly, that was not a look belonging to the real Goyle.
Tamara narrowed her eyes slightly and met that gaze directly.
"Goyle."
Her voice was cold.
"If you keep looking at me with those Troll in heat eyes, I will pluck them out and pickle them in wine."
"Goyle" jolted as if he had been electrocuted. He quickly lowered his head, but the hands resting on his knees clenched tightly in his robes.
Tamara's suspicion deepened.
That look was too familiar.
It was exactly the same way Harry Potter, that so called saviour, usually looked at her.
It was the thing Tamara despised most.
In that gaze, she did not read the slightest reverence for strength. Instead, there was a nauseating, self righteous concern.
As though she, the formidable Dark Lord, was merely a little girl who needed protection in his eyes.
"What is going on?"
Tamara snorted inwardly.
Had the saviour's saintly aura grown so strong that it could infect people across Houses?
Had even an idiot like Goyle caught it?
"What's wrong, Tamara?" Draco asked in puzzlement, glancing at Goyle. "Did this oaf eat too much and disgust you?"
"Thoroughly disgusting."
Tamara withdrew her gaze in revulsion.
She no longer had the patience to endure that physical discomfort.
That gaze was like a piece of gum stuck to the sole of her shoe, making even the chocolate in her mouth taste bland.
Tamara's fingers tapped the cover of her book twice.
It was a signal that her patience had run out.
She rapidly considered ways to expel them.
Should she directly order Draco to throw these two idiots out into the cold?
Or should she hit them with Locomotor Mortis and let them roll out of the Common Room like barrels?
Either way, she was not going to allow these air polluting Trolls to remain for another second.
Just as Tamara's face turned cold, and she was about to issue that humiliating order of expulsion, "Goyle" and "Crabbe" suddenly shot up from the sofa as if their backsides were on fire.
Their faces were visibly changing. Their skin began to bubble, and their features started to contort.
"We have to go!"
"Crabbe" roared indistinctly, then grabbed "Goyle" and dragged him toward the exit.
"Hey! Wait! What is wrong with you two tonight?" Draco called after them.
But the two paid him no mind, stumbling out through the stone wall.
Watching their fleeing figures, Tamara slowly closed her book.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Those two were not Crabbe and Goyle at all.
Tamara's thoughts moved rapidly.
Considering that little bookworm had been studying Polyjuice Potion a few days ago...
Understanding dawned on Tamara.
"I have something to attend to."
Tamara stood, ignoring Draco's attempt to stop her, and followed them directly.
.....
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