Although Tamara's speech in the Slytherin common room had been flawless—skillfully transforming a brewing crisis of trust into something resembling unwavering devotion—it could not erase one unavoidable reality.
The points had been deducted.
And detention was inevitable.
That evening, after dinner had concluded, five figures stood in Professor McGonagall's office: Tamara, Draco, Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
The air was heavy, almost suffocating.
Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk, her expression stern as ever, though there was a trace of fatigue in her sharp eyes. Beside her stood the diminutive Professor Flitwick, perched atop a stack of books, watching Tamara with visible concern.
"I believe you all understand the gravity of your mistake," McGonagall said coldly. "At eleven o'clock tonight, you will serve your detention."
She paused briefly before adding, "Mr. Filch will be waiting for you in the Entrance Hall."
At the mention of Filch, both Draco and Ron visibly shuddered.
The caretaker's infamous threats—particularly his fondness for describing how he would hang students by their ankles—had made him a nightmare for everyone at Hogwarts.
"Minerva…"
Professor Flitwick suddenly interjected, his high-pitched voice carrying a note of urgency.
"For first-year students, isn't handing them over to Filch… a bit excessive?"
He turned toward McGonagall with a hopeful expression before glancing meaningfully at Tamara.
"Especially Miss Riddle."
It was obvious he favored her.
"She has been assisting me with organizing some very important Ancient Runes materials. If possible, perhaps she could serve her detention in my office instead. It would be an excellent opportunity to complete that work."
The favoritism was blatant.
Compared to trailing Filch through unpleasant tasks—or worse, patrolling dangerous areas—working in Flitwick's warm office sounded like a reward rather than a punishment.
Ron looked openly envious.
Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised glances.
Only Draco appeared smug.
Even in punishment, their leader was given preferential treatment. That, in his mind, was the natural order of things.
Professor McGonagall frowned slightly, clearly hesitant.
"Filius, while I do appreciate Miss Riddle's talents, rules are rules…"
"This isn't merely punishment—it's protection!" Flitwick insisted. "Tonight's detention involves… that place. Allowing a top student to face such danger—if anything were to happen…"
That place.
Tamara's eyes flickered.
With Filch involved and such a tone being used, there was only one possibility.
The Forbidden Forest.
Why there?
Her mind raced, piecing together fragments of knowledge from her previous life.
Late spring.
Recent reports.
Hagrid mentioning injured creatures…
Unicorns.
The realization struck like lightning.
The main soul—possessing Quirrell—was hunting unicorns. Weak and desperate, it was feeding on their blood to sustain itself.
Tamara's pupils contracted.
If that continued, it would only grow stronger. The curse of unicorn blood meant nothing to Voldemort. Once it regained sufficient power, Quirrell would become significantly more dangerous—perhaps even accelerating his plans for the Philosopher's Stone.
Or worse.
It might begin targeting her.
"I cannot allow that," she concluded instantly.
She had to go to the Forbidden Forest. She needed to confirm the situation personally—and if possible, interfere.
"Very well, Filius," McGonagall said slowly. "Since you insist, perhaps Miss Riddle could—"
"No, Professor."
Tamara stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute.
Flitwick looked startled. "Tamara? This is a rare opportunity. You don't need to—"
"Thank you for your kindness, Professor," she said, bowing slightly with impeccable etiquette. "It would be an honor to assist you, and I would gladly do so in my free time."
She straightened and glanced at Draco, Harry, and Hermione.
"But this time, I cannot accept special treatment."
"Why?" Flitwick asked, puzzled.
"Because we made this mistake together," she replied quietly, yet firmly.
Her voice carried weight—each word deliberate.
"Whether as a member of Slytherin, or as… their friend."
She placed a hand lightly on Draco's shoulder. He immediately stiffened with pride.
"If I seek comfort while they face punishment and danger, then I am unworthy of the name Slytherin."
Her gaze sharpened.
"If we are a team, then we bear the consequences together. Whatever lies ahead, I will stand with them."
The conviction in her words was undeniable.
Harry stared at her, admiration shining in his eyes.
Hermione looked equally impressed.
Even McGonagall seemed momentarily taken aback.
Through her spectacles, she studied the girl carefully. The severity in her expression softened slightly.
Responsibility. Leadership. Integrity.
Qualities she valued deeply.
"Well, Miss Riddle," she said at last, her tone gentler, "since you insist, I will respect your decision."
"Your sense of responsibility is commendable."
"Thank you, Professor," Tamara replied calmly.
Inside, however, she sneered.
Main soul… I'm coming.
At eleven o'clock, the Entrance Hall was dim and cold.
Filch stood waiting, holding a flickering oil lamp. A twisted smile spread across his lined face.
"Follow me," he rasped. "I expect this will cure you of wandering at night. Where we're going… you'll regret it."
"Where?" Draco asked nervously.
"The Forbidden Forest," Filch replied with obvious relish. "If I were you, I'd pray you don't run into a werewolf."
They followed him out of the castle, across the dark grounds, toward the looming forest.
Hagrid was waiting at the edge, his massive crossbow slung over his shoulder. Fang lay at his feet, unusually quiet.
"You're late," Hagrid grumbled.
"Don't rush me," Filch said dismissively, shoving the students forward. "Enjoy yourselves, if you make it back alive."
With a harsh laugh, he turned and left.
Hagrid sighed.
"Right, listen carefully. We've got a serious problem. Something's been attacking unicorns."
He lifted his lamp, illuminating the forest floor.
There, among the damp leaves, lay a pool of shimmering silver.
Unicorn blood.
Even in the dim light, it gleamed with an eerie beauty.
"That's the second one this week," Hagrid said grimly. "Something's out there."
Harry and Hermione gasped.
Draco clutched Tamara's sleeve tightly.
Tamara, however, simply observed the silver blood.
This was confirmation.
The trail of the main soul.
Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed in her mind.
[Ding! High-risk mission triggered: Pure Guardian.]
The system's tone was unusually serious.
[An extremely malevolent entity is hunting sacred unicorns within the Forbidden Forest. This act is both cruel and destabilizing to the natural order.]
[This is a desecration of life.]
[As a future leader, you cannot allow such evil to persist.]
[Mission Objective: Enter the Forbidden Forest, stop the entity if possible, or protect your companions.]
[Reward: Courage +10.]
Tamara raised an eyebrow.
Ten points.
That was far higher than usual.
Which meant one thing—the system recognized the danger level as extreme.
Or perhaps it recognized the true nature of the enemy.
"I don't need you to tell me," she thought.
Her hand tightened around her wand.
Her gaze pierced into the darkness, as if seeing something beyond.
A presence.
A threat.
"That old relic wants to return?" she mused coldly.
A faint smile curved her lips, sharp and dangerous.
"In this world… there can only be one Dark Lord."
Her eyes gleamed.
"And that will be me."
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