Chapter 18: Actively Participate in School Activities
"Alright, no dessert for you then." Goyle shrugged, scooping a massive mountain of chocolate sponge cake onto his own plate. "You really don't know how to enjoy the finer things, Tamara. This is a House-elf specialty."
Finally, the last lingering crumbs of dessert vanished from the golden platters, leaving them polished and gleaming once more. Tamara let out a quiet sigh of relief. She felt as though she couldn't look at another morsel of food for the next three days... no, a whole week.
Just then, Albus Dumbledore rose from the center of the High Table. The buzzing chatter filling the Great Hall died down instantly, replaced by an expectant silence.
"Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention," Dumbledore said. His gaze swept across the four long tables, appearing to linger for a fleeting, piercing moment as it passed over the Slytherins.
"I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes flickered toward the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
"A very painful death?" Harry Potter muttered at the Gryffindor table, leaning toward his neighbors. "Is he serious?"
"He's a madman, who knows?" Ron mumbled, his mouth still occupied by a stray piece of uneaten pie.
Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, Tamara merely allowed a scornful smirk to curl her lips. The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side. She knew exactly what was hidden there: the Philosopher's Stone. She also knew perfectly well who had placed it there, and precisely whose benefit it was meant to serve.
"A very painful death..." Tamara sneered inwardly. "A warning meant only for the weak."
Though her current body was pathetically frail, it didn't stop her from mentally dismissing Dumbledore's theatrics.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried.
Tamara's face instantly lost its color. If there was anything more unbearable than being stuffed with food, it was the prospect of singing that unrhythmic, aesthetic nightmare of a song amidst a crowd of cheering fools.
Dumbledore gave his wand a sharp flick. A long golden ribbon soared from the tip, rising high above the tables and twisting itself into shimmering words that writhed like snakes.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," Dumbledore commanded. "And off we go!"
The entire school began to bellow. Tamara sat like a statue, her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression vacant. She hoped that by refusing to open her mouth, she could shield herself from this collective mental pollution.
However.
[Ding! Collective activity detected.]
[Virtue Quest triggered: Integrate with the Group.]
[Quest Description: The school song is a symbol of the Hogwarts spirit. How can a good student who loves their school not sing along?]
[Quest Requirement: Sing out loud! Even a single syllable will suffice!]
[Failure Penalty: The system will randomly broadcast a recording of the host humming in the shower at the orphanage.]
"You wouldn't dare!" Tamara's knuckles whitened as she nearly crushed the silver goblet in her hand. This wretched system actually kept recordings?
Taking a deep breath and feeling her dignity crumble piece by piece, Tamara opened her mouth. Her lips moved with extreme reluctance, her voice barely a whisper:
"...Hogwarts, Hogwarts..."
Though her voice was so soft that even Draco Malfoy sitting beside her couldn't hear it, the system registered her participation. The song finally reached its ragged, discordant conclusion as everyone finished at different times.
"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, dabbing at his eyes with a silk handkerchief. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
The Slytherin first-years rose, following their prefect, Gemma Farley. Just as Tamara was about to leave her seat, a wave of biting cold swept over her from behind. The temperature in the Great Hall seemed to plummet.
Several silvery, pearly-white figures glided through the stone walls—the ghosts of the various Houses. At the end of the Slytherin table, a terrifying figure drifted forward. He was gaunt and spectral, his robes splattered with silver bloodstains. His empty, vacant eyes stared fixedly ahead, and heavy iron chains wrapped around his frame clinked and rattled with every movement.
The Bloody Baron.
He was the Slytherin ghost and the most feared presence in Hogwarts, second perhaps only to Peeves the Poltergeist. Even Draco flinched, instinctively shrinking back behind Tamara as the specter approached.
"Merlin, I don't like him," Draco whispered, his voice trembling. "Look at the blood... is it real?"
The Baron ignored the living world around him, drifting directly through a group of Hufflepuff first-years who shrieked and scrambled out of his path. He floated toward the head of the Slytherin line.
Gemma Farley gave a stiff, nervous bow. "Good evening, Baron."
The ghost did not acknowledge her. His dead-fish eyes swept across the crowd, finally locking onto the black-haired girl in dark green robes.
Tamara Riddle.
Fifty years ago, when that name belonged to a handsome, brilliant boy, the Baron had seen him. He had watched that boy wandering the halls late at night, seen him unlock the Chamber of Secrets that even spirits feared, and sensed the pure, serpentine aura that belonged only to a true descendant of Salazar Slytherin.
Tamara stood her ground. She did not show the fear that gripped her peers. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, a flash of crimson vanishing in the depths of her dark pupils. She was exerting a pressure—a subtle, cold authority perceptible only to spirits and serpents—on a Parseltongue frequency.
The Baron stopped a single pace away from her. He stared at Tamara for a long time, as if peering through her skin to confirm the soul beneath.
"...Ancient blood," the Baron rasped. It was his first utterance of the evening, his voice sounding like two tombstones grinding together. "...Still flows."
He did not betray her identity. He merely acknowledged her right to be there. Having spoken, the Baron stood aside like a silent, macabre statue, waiting for Tamara to pass first.
A deathly silence fell over the Slytherin first-years. Even the prefect stood with her mouth agape, her expression one of utter disbelief. The Baron rarely yielded the path to anyone, not even Dumbledore.
"My goodness..." Pansy Parkinson whispered, her eyes wide. "The Baron... he's making way for her?"
Draco Malfoy was stunned into silence. "Ta... Tamara?" he stammered, finally finding his voice. "Do you know him?"
Tamara smoothed the sleeve Draco had crumpled in his fright. She showed no sign of being flattered; she carried herself as if this were the natural order of things.
[System Notification: Detection of reverence from an ancient spirit.]
[Evaluation: It seems in Slytherin, some things are more effective than virtue—such as bloodline supremacy.]
Tamara snorted inwardly. She turned to Draco, a mysterious, knowing smile playing on her lips.
"In this world, Draco, some rules transcend life and death," she said softly, her voice carrying clearly in the silent corridor. "When your bloodline is pure enough, and your power is strong enough..."
She glanced back at the Baron, who remained floating silently by the wall.
"...even the dead will yield the path to you."
With that, she took the lead, striding toward the dungeons.
At that moment, though she was only a first-year on her very first night, Tamara Riddle had already planted a seed of profound awe within House Slytherin.
"So cool," Blaise Zabini whistled, a grin spreading across his face. "I think I like her."
"Shut up, Zabini," Draco snapped, shaking off his daze to hurry after her. "She's my friend! I knew she was special the moment I saw her!"
.....
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