Passing through the hidden entrance behind the damp stone wall, the Slytherin common room unfolded before everyone.
It was a long, narrow basement located at the bottom of the Black Lake.
The walls and ceiling were made of rough stone, round green lamps hung from the ceiling, and several exquisitely carved ebony tables and chairs were placed by the fireplace.
Through the windows, one could see the murky waters of the Black Lake, with the occasional giant squid tentacle or a fish gliding slowly past, casting dappled shadows in the dark green light.
For most eleven-year-old little Wizards, this cold, eerie atmosphere might make them feel afraid, or perhaps worry about the possibility of suffering from rheumatism in the future.
But for Tamara Riddle, the old scent in the air, carrying the smell of moisture and magic, felt just like coming home.
“Welcome to the Slytherin common room.” prefect Gemma Farley, a senior girl with a sharp look but a weary expression, turned around in front of the fireplace and tried to quiet the chattering first-year freshmen.
“The password is ‘Pure-blood.’ It changes every two weeks, so don’t forget to check the noticeboard.”
“In here, we are a family. No matter what the other houses think of us, within Slytherin, we must stand united…”
However, her speech didn’t have much effect.
The freshmen were in the excitement of just being sorted; a prefect couldn’t possibly dispel such enthusiasm.
The surroundings were chaotic.
Gemma Farley shouted “Quiet” a few times, but it had little effect.
She clearly lacked the authority to command the room, especially when facing troublemakers like Malfoy.
Tamara stood quietly behind the crowd, the firelight reflecting on her pale face.
She was observing.
Experience from her past Life told her that Slytherin was a place that valued power and order.
If you acted too weak, you would be stepped on; but if you acted too aloof, you would be isolated.
While her previous coldness had established authority, it had also created distance.
This wouldn’t do.
A true Dark Lord must not only possess the power to make enemies tremble but also the charisma to make followers fanatical.
She needed these young Wizards.
They were the future Death Eater reserves, the foundation for her resurgence in the wizarding world.
Putting on a facade that everyone liked was what she did best.
Tamara chuckled inwardly, and those originally cold black eyes instantly changed.
In their place was a deep, gentle, and captivating light.
She smoothed her skirt and stepped toward the center of the fireplace.
Tamara walked up to prefect Gemma Farley’s side.
Gemma was taken aback.
Looking at this exceptionally beautiful freshman, she instinctively took a step to the side.
“Just as the prefect said.”
Tamara spoke.
Her voice was no longer the prickly coldness from before; instead, it became soft and elegant, carrying clearly throughout the common room.
“We are a family.”
She turned around to face all the freshmen, an impeccable smile appearing on her face.
There was no mockery or contempt in this smile, only a confidence and composure that seemed to embrace everything.
Draco Malfoy was stunned, and Pansy Parkinson stared blankly.
Even the few half-blood Wizards who had been noisy just moments ago involuntarily fell silent.
“I know what you are worried about.”
Tamara paced slowly, her gentle gaze sweeping across every face.
“People outside say that Slytherin is the cradle of Dark Wizards, that we are cunning, devious, and evil.”
“Just now at the Sorting Ceremony, when Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, they cheered, but when we were sorted into Slytherin, they whispered.”
“It sounds very unfair, doesn’t it?”
The freshmen’s emotions were stirred.
“That’s right! That Weasley was just glaring at me!” Goyle said indignantly.
“They’re just jealous!” Draco shouted loudly.
“Jealous that we’re pure-bloods!”
Tamara did not scold Draco for interrupting; instead, she gave him a slight nod of approval.
“Malfoy is right.”
“But it’s not just because of bloodline.”
Tamara shifted her tone, her voice rising slightly with a touch of infectious energy.
“It’s even more because we are excellent.”
“Salazar Slytherin chose students for their shrewdness, ambition, and thirst for power. We are not satisfied with mediocrity. We disdain being as unremarkable as Hufflepuff, nor do we possess only the reckless bravado of Gryffindor.”
“We pursue excellence.”
She reached out a hand, pointing to the green tapestry embroidered with a silver snake on the common room wall.
“Because we are excellent, we are envied; because we are powerful, we are misunderstood.”
“This is the fate of Slytherin.”
The common room was pin-drop silent.
Everyone was captivated by these words; even the hesitant upper-year students put down their books to look at this first-year freshman.
This speech was incredibly inflammatory.
It cleverly transformed the ostracization Slytherin faced into a sense of superiority born from others fearing their excellence, instantly soothing the freshmen’s unease and igniting their collective sense of honor.
As for why they were ostracized, best not to ask.
“So, my friends.”
Tamara’s gaze became soft yet firm.
She looked at everyone as if looking at her closest comrades-in-arms.
“Do not pay attention to the finger-pointing of those people; that is merely the bluster of the weak.”
“In the next seven years, we only have one thing to do—”
“Prove our superiority.”
“We will take the house cup, we will achieve excellence in every subject, and we will use our strength to show everyone why Slytherin is the greatest house at Hogwarts.”
Having said this, she paused briefly, then looked at Draco and asked with a smile:
“Draco, are you willing to prove the excellence of the House of Malfoy to everyone for the glory of Slytherin?”
Being called upon, Draco felt his blood rush to his head.
“Of course!” Draco shouted excitedly, his voice cracking slightly.
“I’ll definitely show them! I’ll show Potter what a real Wizard is!”
“Very good.”
The smile on the corners of Tamara’s mouth deepened.
She looked around, and wherever her gaze landed, every freshman showed a look of fanaticism.
“Then, let us do it for Slytherin.”
She said softly.
“For Slytherin!”
Someone shouted first, and then the entire common room erupted in a rhythmic and enthusiastic cheer.
“For Slytherin!”
[Ding! Highly inflammatory speech detected.]
[Achievement Triggered: Junior Leadership Charisma.]
[System Evaluation: Although your rhetoric is full of brainwashing techniques from pyramid schemes, it is undeniable that you have successfully united your classmates, eliminated the freshmen’s fear, and motivated their ambition.]
[This is Positive Energy! This is the spirit of collectivism!]
[Rewards: Charisma +3, Wisdom +2.]
Listening to the system’s silly praise in her head, the smile on Tamara’s face became even more gentle and moving.
“Positive Energy?” she sneered inwardly.
“This is called the Art of Manipulation, you idiot.”
…After the speech, Tamara’s popularity in Slytherin instantly reached its peak.
Those students who had originally been somewhat intimidated by her cold aura now crowded around, vying to introduce themselves to her.
Tamara dealt with them patiently.
She memorized everyone’s name; even for those inconspicuous half-blood Wizards, she would nod with a smile and offer a compliment like “Your robes are very neat” or “Your gaze is very focused.”
This “approachable” attitude made the little snakes, who were used to ranking themselves by family status, feel overwhelmed by the favor.
“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Pansy Parkinson said with a blush to Daphne Greengrass beside her.
“Powerful, elegant, and so… gentle.”
Finally, the crowd gradually dispersed, and everyone began returning to their dormitories to rest.
Tamara walked into the corridor of the girls’ dormitory.
Pushing open the door, she found a spacious circular room with five four-poster beds draped with green velvet curtains.
Besides Tamara, there were Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, and a girl named Tracy.
When Tamara walked in, the girls who had been chatting immediately stopped and looked at her somewhat stiffly.
“Goodnight, everyone.”
Tamara gave them a slight smile, that perfect mask still fixed on her face.
“I hope we can spend a pleasant seven years together.”
“Good… goodnight, Tamara,” Pansy replied with a slight stutter.
Tamara walked to the innermost bed by the window—it was the best spot, clearly left for her specially by her roommates.
Her luggage was already by the bed, and that stupid cat named Nagini was sprawled out on the pillow, fast asleep.
Tamara flicked her wand lightly, pulling the heavy green curtains shut.
The world was finally quiet.
In that small, private space.
The gentle, elegant, and infectious smile on Tamara’s face vanished without a trace, like a melting wax figure.
In its place was a deep exhaustion and a touch of inescapable gloom in the depths of her eyes.
“A bunch of easily manipulated fools,” she murmured under her breath.
She murmured softly, throwing herself into the soft blankets.
Acting is so tiring.
Especially having to play a girl full of Positive Energy under the surveillance of that damn system.
She turned her head, looking at the black cat sleeping defenselessly by her pillow.
Nagini II seemed to feel its owner’s presence.
Half-asleep, it opened its eyes, reached out a paw to grab Tamara’s finger, rubbed its furry head against her, and let out a meow.
“Meow.”
Tamara’s finger stiffened.
She had intended to shake it off.
But feeling the slight, real warmth coming from her fingertip, she ultimately didn’t move.
“At least you don’t have to act.”
She looked at the cat, a trace of envy she hadn’t even noticed herself flickering in her eyes.
“Goodnight, Nagini.”
The Dark Lord closed her eyes.
And in her dreams, there was no Hogwarts, no system, only a flash of green light and herself lying in a pool of blood.