Draco stood frozen, his gaze locked onto the slender figure in front of him.
At that moment, Tamara's back seemed impossibly tall—unyielding, untouchable—like a war goddess who had descended into the mortal world. The chaotic winds whipped around her, lifting strands of her long hair into the air, turning them into dark banners that danced violently in the storm of magic gathering at her command.
Her presence alone was suffocating.
"System," Tamara called inwardly, her thoughts calm despite the chaos surrounding her.
"Use the basic mana potion."
[Ding! Potion used.]
[Within ten minutes, your magic will be restored to 100% of its peak. Enjoy the revelry, host.]
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Then… can I kill Potter while I'm at it?"
Her gaze shifted slightly, landing on the boy lying helplessly on the ground. Harry clutched his head in agony, his face pale, his breath uneven—completely vulnerable.
[Oh, no.]
The system's reply came almost regretfully.
Tamara clicked her tongue softly.
Then—
Boom!
A terrifying surge of magic erupted from her body like a volcanic explosion. The ground trembled beneath her feet as a violent gust of wind spiraled outward, sweeping fallen leaves into a raging vortex centered around her.
Her black pupils flickered—and for a brief instant, a streak of crimson flashed through them.
The oppressive aura of a Dark Lord was no longer restrained.
It flooded outward, heavy and absolute.
Harry forced his eyes open through the pain, just enough to catch a glimpse of her.
And what he saw…
…etched itself into his memory forever.
The Tamara he knew—cold, distant, elegant—was gone.
In her place stood something far more terrifying.
"Join you?"
Tamara's voice cut through the air like a blade.
She looked at the dark shadow before her, a sneer curling across her lips—mockery in its purest form.
"You think you're worthy of that?"
Her tone dropped, each word dripping with contempt.
"You're nothing more than a failed remnant. A parasite clinging to life, surviving on scraps and borrowed blood."
"I am Lord Voldemort!"
The dark shadow roared, its voice shrill with fury and wounded pride.
"I am eternal—!"
"No."
Tamara raised her wand.
The tip pointed straight at the shadow.
"You're just a failed past."
Her eyes gleamed with cold certainty.
"Reducto."
A beam of blinding blue light shot forward like a cannon blast.
The shadow barely had time to react. It hastily raised a shield—
Rumble!
The impact exploded outward.
The shadow was sent flying, slamming violently into a large tree behind it. The trunk cracked under the force, splintering as the figure collapsed onto the ground.
"How… is this possible…?"
The shadow's voice trembled, disbelief creeping in.
"This kind of power…"
"Already surprised?"
Tamara stepped forward, her movements unhurried, almost leisurely.
Her wand traced a smooth arc through the air.
"Incendio."
But what emerged was no ordinary flame.
Fueled by her restored magic and amplified by her heightened Wisdom, the spell transformed—twisting, expanding—until a massive serpent of fire roared into existence.
It surged forward, blazing with ferocity.
The ground blackened in its wake. Leaves disintegrated. Branches curled into ash before they could even fall.
The shadow scrambled away, rolling across the forest floor in a pitiful attempt to evade the attack.
Quirrell's body—fragile, exhausted—was never meant to endure such a battle. And though the soul within was powerful, it was shackled by its failing vessel.
"Cruciatus Curse!"
Desperation overtook restraint.
A streak of crimson lightning shot toward Tamara, writhing with malice and agony—a spell meant to tear apart both body and mind.
And yet—
Tamara didn't move.
She didn't dodge.
Instead, a smile spread across her face.
Wide. Unrestrained.
Mad.
It was a smile of pure exhilaration.
The long-forgotten thrill of absolute power surged through her veins.
Her magic circuits—dormant for so long—came alive, roaring with energy, singing with joy.
This was the Forbidden Forest.
There were no witnesses who mattered.
No consequences worth fearing.
So why hold back?
Her wand flicked upward, elegant yet ruthless—like the swing of a reaper's scythe.
"Avada Kedavra."
A flash of green light burst forth.
Cold. Absolute.
Death itself, given form.
Boom—!
The crimson lightning and the green beam collided midair.
The forest was consumed by blinding light.
The two forces clashed violently—not collapsing, not yielding—but tearing into one another like opposing tides born from the same source.
The air screamed.
The ground shook.
Magic twisted and warped the space around them, illuminating the forest as if it were midday—yet everything felt wrong, distorted, unreal.
Harry covered his eyes, gasping for breath as a powerful shockwave slammed into him.
He couldn't see.
He couldn't think.
All he could feel… was fear.
At the center of it all, Tamara stood unmoving.
And she was enjoying every second.
Finally…
Finally…
She could use it again.
That intoxicating sensation—the power to decide life and death with a single thought.
The way the green light consumed everything in its path.
It was perfection.
A low laugh escaped her lips.
"Hahaha…"
Her magic surged even further.
"The current you… is too weak."
The shadow staggered back, its form flickering, unstable.
"Who… are you…?"
Fear crept into its voice.
It could feel it.
The connection.
The similarity.
And yet—the difference.
The soul before it shared the same origin… but was more complete.
More refined.
More powerful.
It was what it could have been.
"What I am doesn't matter," Tamara replied, her voice filled with exhilaration.
"What matters…"
Her eyes gleamed.
"…is that it's time for you to die."
The shadow let out a furious, unwilling roar.
But it knew.
It couldn't win.
Not tonight.
Not like this.
Dumbledore could arrive at any moment.
And the girl standing before it…
…was an even greater threat.
With one last venomous glare, the shadow's form dissolved into black mist, retreating rapidly into the depths of the forest.
And just like that—
The battle ended.
Silence fell.
Tamara remained where she stood, her wand still raised.
She didn't chase.
Didn't move.
The wind slowly died down.
And then—
The dizziness hit.
Her vision blurred as the effects of the potion began to fade. Her magic ebbed away, leaving behind a hollow, draining sensation.
But that wasn't what startled her most.
It was her returning clarity.
Her reason.
Her expression froze.
"…Damn it."
She had lost control.
In the heat of the moment… she had used the Killing Curse.
In front of Harry.
In front of Draco.
If she wanted to remain at Hogwarts—
She needed an explanation.
A believable one.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her wand.
A faint glint of killing intent flickered in her eyes.
Should she erase their memories?
The thought came naturally.
Efficient. Clean.
But her magic was nearly depleted.
Whether she could successfully cast Obliviate… was uncertain.
Just as she turned, preparing to assess the situation—
[Ding! A friendly reminder from the system.]
The cheerful electronic voice echoed in her mind.
Tamara's eye twitched slightly.
"Now what?"
[Detected that the host has just used an extremely uncivilized, discordant, and restricted-level spell.]
Her expression darkened.
[To safeguard the physical and mental health of teenagers and promote a positive campus environment, the system has automatically activated an all-ages harmony filter during the battle.]
Tamara blinked.
"…Harmony filter?"
[Yes.]
The system sounded oddly proud.
[From the perspective of all bystanders except you and the target, the violent green light has been replaced with a standard fire-making spell.]
Tamara went silent.
[Additionally, the incantation has been masked as harmless electronic interference.]
A pause.
Then—
[Please rest assured, host. Although your methods are questionable, the system has thoroughly sanitized them.]
Tamara stared ahead, expression blank.
[No need to thank me. This is simply the duty of the Virtue System.]
A long silence followed.
Then she exhaled slowly.
"…You might actually be useful."
For once.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Jackssparrow