Chapter 155: Scapegoat
The Slytherin long table.
Today's breakfast seemed unusually long.
Tamara sat at the far end of the table, a glass of barely touched pumpkin juice in front of her.
Her hand remained inside her robe pocket, clutching the crystal vial.
She was waiting.
However, time ticked by, second by second.
Students came and went around her, the noise rising and falling.
But that little girl, the one who always wore a silly grin while carrying a greasy sandwich, never appeared.
"Damn it..."
Tamara stared at the empty plate before her, her brow furrowing tighter and tighter.
Beside her, Draco Malfoy was slowly slicing a sausage while muttering complaints.
"Why hasn't that silly girl from the Weasley family come to bother you today? I was looking forward to seeing her embarrass herself... Tamara, are you listening?"
"Shut up, Draco."
Tamara suddenly stood, sweeping her gaze across the hall.
Given Ginny's persistence after being deeply influenced by the remnant soul, she would have shown up on time even if knives were raining from the sky.
Unless...
The remnant soul had sensed danger and acted first.
Ignoring Draco's surprised gaze, she quickly walked toward the entrance of the Great Hall.
Draco froze for a moment, then hastily dropped his knife and fork and chased after her like a loyal follower.
"Wait for me! Where are you going?"
Just as Tamara stepped through the main doors, preparing to check the second floor, a figure sprinted over from the other end of the corridor. The rush of air nearly knocked over the portrait beside the entrance.
It was Harry Potter.
He was running hard, drenched in sweat, his glasses askew on his nose, and his robes in a mess.
This time, he did not hesitate as usual. Instead, he charged straight toward the Slytherin crowd.
"Potter?"
Draco instinctively stepped in front of Tamara, raising his chin and preparing to mock him out of habit.
"What? Rushing around like a headless fly this early in the morning..."
"Get out of the way, Malfoy!"
Harry did not even glance at him. He rushed straight up to Tamara, breathing heavily.
"Ginny is missing."
Tamara's brow twitched slightly.
Although she had anticipated it, the moment she heard the news, her fist still clenched instinctively.
"What happened?" she asked coldly. "Explain clearly."
"Ginny disappeared this morning. No one knows where she went."
Harry swallowed and spoke rapidly.
"Just now, Ron and I were on the second floor... we saw a trail of blood."
"Blood?"
"Yes. The blood led from the Gryffindor Common Room all the way to that abandoned girls' bathroom."
"We suspect... it's Ginny's blood, and her disappearance is connected to that bathroom."
Tamara narrowed her eyes.
Just as expected.
The remnant soul had smelled the Soul Separation Potion and knew it had been exposed.
It was no longer playing at an Heir's demonstration. Instead, like a cornered mad dog, it had dragged its hostage into its lair, attempting to forcibly drain Ginny's life force to complete its resurrection.
It was racing against time.
Of course, Tamara could not let the remnant soul succeed.
Not to save Ginny, but for her own sake.
That was sixteen year old Riddle, the most arrogant period in her memory.
If that thing drained Ginny's life force and reshaped a physical body, then there would be two Lord Voldemorts in the world.
One would possess a complete body and young, peak magical power.
The other would be a little girl bound by that damned moral system, unable to cast even the most basic Unforgivable Curses.
According to the Dark Lord's logic of singularity and absolute authority, the first thing the resurrected Riddle would do would absolutely not be to thank her, the original body.
It would be to devour her.
To devour her, the constantly restricted main soul, and complete his own soul puzzle.
"You want to step on my corpse to rise?"
Tamara gripped her wand, a chilling killing intent flashing in her eyes.
"Dream on."
Just as the three of them stood in that tense atmosphere, preparing to rush to the second floor, a series of hurried, messy footsteps came from around the corner of the corridor, accompanied by the friction of suitcase wheels.
Immediately after, a figure dressed in gorgeous light purple robes, with hair slicked back until it shone, hurried over.
He was carrying two huge leather suitcases and looked as though he were fleeing. Yet the moment he saw the students, the expression on his face instantly switched to his signature false smile.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
Although he wanted to sneak away due to the successive attacks in the school, Lockhart, as a national idol, habitually stopped to boast a little when he saw students.
"Oh dear, isn't this Harry? And... oh, Miss Riddle and Mr Malfoy."
Lockhart stopped, trying to hide the luggage behind his voluminous cloak. His tone sounded especially flustered and exaggerated.
"It's truly terrifying, isn't it? The atmosphere is so tense right now... I was just about to go... ah, inspect the castle's defensive vulnerabilities. Yes, that's it!"
As he spoke, his eyes darted toward the main doors, and his feet had already begun turning away.
"Well... if there's nothing else, I'll just be going..."
The air suddenly fell silent for a second.
Tamara stopped, her pitch black eyes sweeping coldly over Lockhart's face, which was practically carved with the desire to flee.
Then she slowly turned her head and looked at Harry beside her.
Harry happened to turn his head at the same time, looking toward Tamara.
Their gazes met in the air.
In that instant, the two who shared the same soul reached a strange and subtle tacit understanding.
They needed to find an adult who could bear the risk.
In Harry's view, although Lockhart was useless, he was an adult wizard after all. He might still be able to help at a critical moment.
In Tamara's view, the reason was colder and more pragmatic.
If she were at her peak, she certainly would not need any dead weight.
But not now.
The aftereffects of last night's potion had not completely faded. Her current casting strength was less than half of its usual level.
Harry could not die under the system's maintenance, and the Malfoy family was one of her pillars of support.
In this state, if Ginny went mad after being completely controlled by the diary's remnant soul, Tamara needed a meat shield.
A brightly coloured, obvious target.
A high level meat shield sufficient to attract firepower.
More importantly, Tamara looked at Lockhart's flamboyant purple and gold robes, a hint of mockery flashing in her eyes.
She could not be the hero.
She was sick of the days when everyone stared at her, when Dumbledore scrutinised her with a magnifying glass.
Tamara knew very well that Dumbledore's departure was temporary. That old man would return sooner or later. The people at the Ministry of Magic could not hold him back.
She needed a fool to attract the spotlight, to fill the empty role in the story of who defeated the monster.
Or...
If things went wrong, if Ginny Weasley died, she needed an adult to serve as the scapegoat for command errors and inadequate rescue efforts.
Perfect material had just delivered itself to her doorstep.
The corners of both their mouths curved into chilling arcs almost simultaneously.
"Professor."
Tamara suddenly spoke, her voice as sweet as honey laced with poison.
She stepped forward, directly blocking Lockhart's path.
"What a coincidence. We happen to need a... brave, powerful, and internationally renowned Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts like yourself."
"Wh, what?" Lockhart froze, and the suitcases in his hands nearly dropped to the floor.
"Ginny has been taken. She's in the girls' bathroom on the second floor."
Harry immediately understood and followed up, looking at Lockhart with admiration, even reaching out to help him lift a suitcase.
"Since you were just about to inspect the defences, why not come with us directly to the source? After all... you're the hero who wrote Gadding with Ghouls!"
"I... well, actually, I..."
Cold sweat instantly broke out on Lockhart's forehead. He looked at the two students with terrifying eyes before him and suddenly realised that he seemed to have fallen into a trap more dangerous than the Chamber of Secrets.
"Don't be modest, Professor."
Tamara smiled slightly, her wand deliberately pointed toward Lockhart's lower back.
"Lead the way."
.....
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