The next morning, the entrance hall of Hogwarts was in complete uproar.
Students passing through stopped in shock when they noticed the giant hourglass that held Slytherin's house points. The emerald gems inside had dropped dramatically overnight, leaving only a pitiful pile at the bottom.
Gryffindor's rubies were in even worse condition. Their hourglass had nearly reached empty.
In a single night, the two houses had lost a combined total of two hundred and fifty points.
Naturally, the entire school was buzzing with rumors and speculation.
Meanwhile, inside the Slytherin common room, the atmosphere was tense—like the heavy stillness before a storm breaks.
The fire in the fireplace flickered softly, casting red light over a room full of grim faces.
When Tamara and Draco walked in, every gaze in the room snapped toward them instantly.
Those looks wrapped around them like venomous snakes.
Anger. Confusion. Blame. Hostility.
"Fifty points…"
Marcus Flint stood in front of them with his arms crossed, his large buck teeth clenched so tightly they almost rattled.
"Fifty points each," he continued coldly. "That means the two of you lost us a hundred points in one night."
The surrounding students slowly began to close in, forming a circle around them.
"We've been working hard the whole year for the House Cup!" another upperclassman shouted.
"And you idiots lose a hundred points wandering around after curfew?"
Someone else sneered.
"Or were you sneaking off to have a midnight party with that idiot Potter?"
Draco had never experienced anything like this before.
Being scolded by Professor McGonagall had been unpleasant, but this… this was far worse.
Being isolated.
Being despised.
Being judged by his own house.
The pressure made his chest tighten.
"Ta… Tamara…" he whispered helplessly.
He instinctively looked toward the girl beside him for help.
Tamara stood calmly in the center of the crowd, facing countless accusing fingers.
She didn't apologize.
She didn't explain.
She didn't even look guilty.
Instead, she slowly lifted her head.
Her black eyes swept calmly across the angry crowd.
A faint smile curled at the corner of her lips—almost mocking.
"Move."
Her voice was quiet.
But it carried a strange, penetrating authority that instantly silenced the noisy room.
For a moment, the entire common room fell still.
"What did you say?" Flint glared at her in disbelief. "You cost us our honor and you still dare to act arrogant?"
"Honor?"
Tamara let out a small laugh, as though she had just heard the greatest joke in the world.
She walked slowly toward the fireplace.
Without realizing it, the students in her path stepped aside.
When she reached the hearth, she turned around.
The firelight behind her cast a long shadow that stretched across the room.
Her shadow seemed to loom over everyone present.
"You call that pile of glass beads 'honor'?"
Her voice sharpened.
"Those are just biscuits teachers use to train pets."
"They're the dog chains Dumbledore uses to maintain his ridiculous little order."
She looked around at the silent crowd.
"And yet you're all acting cautious and obedient over a few shiny stones, following rules like a bunch of house-elves waiting for praise."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is that really the ambition of Slytherin?"
The room exploded with outrage.
Several students immediately tried to argue back.
But before anyone could raise their voice properly, Tamara suddenly spoke again—louder this time.
Her voice cut through the noise like a blade.
"Last night, it's true—we had points deducted."
She suddenly grabbed Draco by the collar and dragged him forward.
The startled boy stumbled into the center of the room.
"But do you know why those points were deducted?"
Her gaze swept across the crowd.
"Because a Weasley insulted Slytherin."
Her voice turned icy.
"That red-haired pure-blood disgrace mocked our house."
"Draco didn't swallow his pride."
"He didn't act like a coward just to protect those pathetic points."
"He drew his wand and fought to defend the dignity of Slytherin."
Draco froze.
For a moment, his mind went completely blank.
Was that… really what happened?
Last night, Ron had mocked him.
But it had been something like—
Calling him Tamara's house-elf.
Yet under Tamara's dramatic description, the situation suddenly sounded completely different.
Stronger.
Nobler.
Draco felt something inside his chest swell.
"That's right!" Draco suddenly shouted.
He straightened his back and raised his chin.
"I couldn't let him insult us!"
Tamara glanced at him with clear satisfaction.
Then she turned back toward the crowd.
"Professor McGonagall deducted our points because we broke school rules."
Her voice became calm again.
"But in my opinion…"
"Breaking rules is exactly what a Slytherin should do."
She slowly raised her chin.
"The truly powerful are never defined by rules."
"If the only thing you care about is whether there are a few more or a few fewer gems in that hourglass…"
"Then you will never defeat Dumbledore."
"And you will never surpass those self-righteous Gryffindors."
Her eyes gleamed.
"What I want to give you is not some dusty trophy sitting on a shelf."
She stretched out her hand, fingers closing slowly in the air.
Her eyes burned with an almost fanatical ambition.
"I want to give you real power."
"The kind of fear and awe that makes others afraid to even meet your eyes."
She looked directly into the crowd.
"So tell me."
"Do you want a few candies handed out by teachers?"
"Or do you want the whole world?"
The common room fell silent.
But this time, it was not the silence of anger.
It was the silence of thought.
Slytherin students admired strength.
They worshiped ambition.
Tamara's speech was arrogant, even outrageous—but it struck something deep inside them.
Yes.
Being obedient just to protect a few points felt… humiliating.
But breaking rules to defend Slytherin's pride?
That sounded bold.
Ruthless.
Very Slytherin.
The anger on Marcus Flint's face slowly faded.
In its place appeared a complicated expression.
Admiration.
He took a step back and lowered his head slightly.
"That… actually makes sense."
Someone nearby murmured in agreement.
Another student nodded.
Soon more voices followed.
The hostility that had once been directed toward Tamara slowly vanished.
In its place grew something far more dangerous.
Admiration.
Even worship.
She had lost a hundred points.
But somehow that no longer seemed important.
What mattered was that she had stood in the center of accusations and still spoken confidently, turning black into white without hesitation.
That level of confidence—
That level of control—
It was the quality of a leader.
At that exact moment, a familiar mechanical voice echoed in Tamara's mind.
[Ding! A highly successful speech has been detected.]
[Mission Accomplished: Speech in the Darkest Hour.]
[System Evaluation: Through skillful manipulation of concepts, redirection of conflict, and the painting of grand ambitions, you have successfully transformed a crisis of trust into a spectacle of personal worship.]
[Although the logic of the speech contains many flaws, as long as the momentum is strong enough, the audience will believe it.]
[Reward Obtained: Passive Skill — Dictator's Sophistry.]
[Effect: During speeches, the audience's IQ temporarily decreases by 10%, while their fanaticism increases by 20%.]
Tamara looked around the common room.
The students' eyes were no longer filled with anger.
Instead, they burned with excitement.
With admiration.
A satisfied smile slowly appeared on her lips.
"Very good."
She spoke silently in her mind.
"Points?"
"I can earn those back anytime."
Then another thought appeared.
"…But does this count as a virtue?"
Tamara had never cared much about morality.
She understood even less about so-called virtues.
Deception.
Sophistry.
Manipulating human weaknesses.
If those things counted as virtues…
Then why had Voldemort been hated by the entire wizarding world?
Before she could think further, the system immediately answered.
[Of course it counts, Host.]
[The ability to unite a chaotic crowd under your leadership—regardless of the methods used—is an important leadership virtue.]
[As for their confusion caused by your logic…]
[That only proves they are not intelligent enough and require a great leader like you to guide them.]
"…I see."
A faint flicker of suspicion passed through Tamara's eyes.
But she said nothing more.
Instead, she casually patted Draco on the shoulder.
"Let's go, Draco."
She spoke in her usual calm tone.
"Since everyone understands our good intentions…"
"Let's go have breakfast."
Draco stared at Tamara's back as she walked away.
For some reason, his throat suddenly felt tight.
He knew he had made a mistake.
He had lost Slytherin a hundred points.
He had embarrassed the house.
Even those who used to flatter him had just looked at him with contempt.
According to Slytherin's ruthless survival rules, someone who failed should be discarded without hesitation.
Tamara should have blamed him.
She should have abandoned him.
Thrown him out as a scapegoat.
After all, he had been the one who started the fight.
But…
She hadn't done any of that.
She hadn't scolded him once.
She hadn't told him to get lost.
She hadn't said the words he feared most:
"I'm disappointed in you."
Instead, she had stood in front of him.
Using flawless lies and overwhelming presence to crush all accusations.
She had stepped on the flames meant to burn him.
And then—
As if nothing had happened—
She simply told him to go eat breakfast.
"She didn't abandon me…"
Draco sniffed quietly, forcing the tears in his eyes back.
He hurried forward and caught up with her.
As always, he walked half a step behind her.
Looking at that not-particularly-tall figure ahead of him, Draco made a silent decision in his heart.
For this kindness…
For the fact that she didn't abandon him…
Even if one day Tamara ordered him to burn down Malfoy Manor—
He would light the match without hesitation.
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