Chapter 4: The Virtue System's Newbie Gift
It was the humiliating truth. In her current, pathetic state, Tamara's magical reserves were so pitifully shallow that the most she could manage was tripping a passing orphan down the stairs.
Albus Dumbledore stared at her. Those piercing blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles seemed to bore directly into her skull, silently weighing the authenticity of her words. He clearly didn't feel the need to employ Legilimency on a mere child, even if this particular child possessed a face that looked hauntingly identical to the young Voldemort.
After what felt like an eternity, Dumbledore finally withdrew his heavy gaze. The oppressive atmosphere in the cramped room lifted slightly.
"Protecting oneself is entirely understandable," Dumbledore said, his expression softening into something resembling grandfatherly warmth. "But at Hogwarts, we will learn how to properly control this power. Magic is a gift, Tamara, not a tool for venting negative emotions."
As he spoke, however, his eyes drifted sideways, landing squarely on the battered wooden wardrobe in the corner.
"Is there anything special inside that wardrobe? I get the distinct impression that you care for it quite a bit."
Tamara sneered inwardly. You really are a cunning old fox. Nothing escapes those blasted eyes of yours.
Outwardly, she blinked with wide, innocent eyes. "Nothing at all, Professor." She stood up, taking the initiative to walk toward the rickety piece of furniture. "If you don't believe me..."
She grabbed the brass handle and pulled the door open with a sharp jerk.
There were no roaring flames. No stolen trinkets hoarded from the other orphans. Inside the musty interior lay only a few pitifully worn, neatly folded second-hand clothes.
Dumbledore blinked in mild surprise, the tension bleeding out of his posture as a genuine smile touched his lips. "It seems you are lacking in suitable attire. But do not worry, we will arrange for all the necessary materials and garments before your term begins."
He had, perhaps, overreacted. Merely sharing a surname and a striking resemblance did not definitively prove that the fragile girl standing before him was the reincarnation of the darkest wizard of the age.
[Ding! Mission Complete: First Impression.]
[Evaluation Received: S.]
[Reward issued to system inventory: Newbie Gift Pack.]
A surge of dark ecstasy rippled through Tamara's chest. She hadn't expected this ridiculous system to actually grade her performance, let alone award her an 'S'. As for the so-called 'Newbie Gift Pack', she would dissect its contents the moment the old wizard vacated her territory. Right now, she had a role to play.
She lowered her head, letting her dark hair fall to frame her face in a picture of utter destitution. "But Professor, I don't have any money," she said, her voice small and trembling just the right amount. "I can't possibly afford those materials and clothes."
"That brings me to the second reason for my visit." Dumbledore reached into the inner pocket of his plum-colored robes and withdrew a thick parchment envelope, placing it gently on the small wooden table.
"The school maintains a Financial Aid Fund for students in special circumstances. These Galleons will be more than enough for you to purchase second-hand textbooks, robes, and a brand-new wand." He tapped the envelope lightly. "However, you will need to visit Gringotts Wizarding Bank to exchange some of it first. Do not fret; someone will accompany you when the time comes."
Financial Aid Fund.
Tamara stared at the heavy envelope. A suffocating wave of humiliation clawed at her throat. The great, terrifying heir of Slytherin, the Dark Lord who had once brought magical Britain to its knees, was now being forced to survive on institutional charity.
Her jaw locked. She forced her facial muscles into a grateful smile. "Thank you," she squeezed out, the words tasting like ash behind her gritted teeth.
"You are most welcome." Dumbledore stood, smoothing out his robes. He walked toward the exit, but just as his hand grasped the doorknob, he paused. He turned his head, looking back at her over his half-moon spectacles.
"Tamara. If you happen to encounter any difficulties while shopping in Diagon Alley... or if you ever hear any strange voices whispering to you... perhaps something that sounds like a snake..."
Tamara's heart violently seized in her chest. The blood roared in her ears.
"...remember to tell me," Dumbledore finished, his tone heavy with unspoken meaning. "Hogwarts always extends a helping hand to those who seek it."
With that final, chillingly precise remark, he stepped out into the hallway and clicked the door shut. The rhythmic tapping of his dragon-hide boots gradually faded down the corridor.
Tamara remained frozen, her senses straining. Only after she confirmed that the suffocating magical aura of the Headmaster had completely vanished from the orphanage grounds did her knees buckle. She collapsed heavily onto the lumpy mattress, her lungs gasping for air as if she had just sprinted a mile. Her thin cotton shirt was plastered to her back, drenched in a cold, clammy sweat.
"Damn that meddlesome Old Bee..." she cursed at the cracked plaster ceiling. Her voice was soft, breathless, and utterly devoid of its former terrifying authority.
The first, most lethal hurdle had been cleared.
Yet, she wasn't foolish enough to believe she had won. Dumbledore didn't fully trust her. The seed of suspicion had been firmly planted in the old man's mind. It only failed to sprout today because of the deceptive innocence of her new body and the glaring absence of stolen trophies in that wardrobe.
Once her racing pulse finally settled into a steady rhythm, Tamara shifted her focus inward, analyzing the bizarre entity squatting in her mind. This so-called 'Virtue System'.
She pushed herself off the bed and marched over to the cracked vanity mirror. "If I want to cast actual spells, I have to increase these ridiculous points?" she demanded, glaring at the reflection of the delicate little girl staring back at her.
[That's right, Host! While other wizards have to study and work hard to learn spells, you only need to perform good deeds to master them instantly!]
[Additionally, there are other attribute points running in the background—such as Health Points, Mana Points, Sanity Points, and Charisma Points. But to avoid overwhelming your fragile new mind, I've simplified the interface! I will automatically distribute rewards when you reach certain hidden milestones.]
[Honestly, where else could you find such a considerate and amazing system like me?]
Tamara took a long, slow breath through her nose, suppressing the urge to strangle the air. She forced a tone of icy politeness. "Then, as an all-powerful system, you must know exactly what is going to happen next in the wizarding world, correct?"
It was a critical question. During the first three years of the boy named Harry Potter's schooling, her previous self had been reduced to a wretched, spectral shadow, hiding like a rat in the forests of Albania. She had virtually no concrete intelligence on the specific events that had transpired at Hogwarts during that time. If this system possessed future knowledge, she could easily manipulate the board and thrive.
[I don't know! This system is strictly designed to provide the Host with virtue missions and rewards. Specific world events and timeline progressions must be explored by the Host independently!]
Tamara stared blankly at the mirror for a full half-second. Useless piece of garbage, she snarled internally. Rubbing her temples to ward off an impending headache, she snapped her mental command. "...System. Open that damn Newbie Gift Pack before I lose my temper."
[Alrighty! Opening the Newbie Gift Pack for you now—]
[Congratulations to the Host for obtaining: Basic Mana Potion x 1 (Consuming this allows you to experience the magical reserves of a standard adult wizard for exactly ten minutes. Please use responsibly and do not hurt anyone!)]
[Designated Skill Book x 1 (Consuming this item allows you to bypass Virtue Point restrictions and forcibly master one standard first-year spell of your choice!)]
[Passive Skill Unlocked: Harmless (Beginner). Effect: When you widen your eyes and look directly at a target, their psychological alertness and hostility toward you automatically decreases by 10%.]
Reading the floating text of the three rewards—especially that final, mocking line—Tamara Riddle fell into a deep, deadly silence.
"Harmless..." she whispered, the word tasting like poison on her tongue.
She leaned closer to the cracked glass of the mirror. Slowly, experimentally, she widened her dark eyes.
The reflection shifted. The little girl staring back at her instantly looked impossibly innocent. Her eyes shimmered with a fragile, doe-like vulnerability that practically begged the world to protect her. She looked utterly, disgustingly cute.
Bang!
She snatched the lumpy orphanage pillow off the bed and hurled it violently at the mirror. The glass rattled against the wall but miraculously held.
"This is my grand weapon for conquering the wizarding world?!" she shrieked, her hands gripping the edges of the vanity until her knuckles turned white. "A pair of clear, stupid, pitiable eyes?!!"
The furious roar of the former Dark Lord echoed off the peeling wallpaper of the cramped room. It was an insult of the highest order. She, who had commanded armies of Death Eaters and struck terror into the hearts of millions, simply could not accept this pathetic, saccharine reality.
But the fiery rage burned out as quickly as it had flared. Her chest heaved as she stared at the fallen pillow, and a cold, calculating calm washed over her. She looked back at her reflection. Even if she was trapped in the body of a fragile little girl, even if she was shackled to a patronizing Virtue System, her mind remained razor-sharp. Her soul was still that of Lord Voldemort.
Magic always demanded an equivalent exchange. Everything in this miserable world had a price, so how could true resurrection be any different?
As long as she drew breath, as long as she had the opportunity to wipe the slate clean and start over, what did such a humiliating disguise truly matter? It was merely a new mask to wear.
, this absurd system wasn't entirely a curse. The instant spell mastery and attribute boosts offered a terrifyingly efficient path to power. She still possessed a very real, very tangible chance to claw her way back to the absolute pinnacle of the wizarding world.
Taking a slow, measured breath, Tamara picked up the heavy parchment envelope of Galleons from the table. She weighed it in her small palm, a chilling, serpentine sneer curling the corners of her delicate lips.
She had the funds. She had successfully bypassed Albus Dumbledore's legendary paranoia. The next step was to step back into the magical society that rightfully belonged to her.
And this time, she would personally ensure that the so-called Savior, the boy named Harry Potter, would lose absolutely everything in this grand, twisted game of hers.
"Just you wait, Potter," she whispered to the empty room.
She bent down, picked up the discarded pillow, and fastidiously patted the dust from its casing. As she placed it neatly back onto the bed, a smile bloomed across her face—a deeply unsettling expression that perfectly married angelic sweetness with pure, unadulterated malice.
"Big sister is coming for you very soon."
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