Early mornings in the Hogwarts dungeons weren’t as sunny as those in the towers.
Through the green curtains and windows, one could only see the dim, murky light from the depths of the Black Lake, along with the occasional giant shadow swimming by.
For most people, this might be a bit depressing.
But for a soul accustomed to lurking in the darkness, this sense of claustrophobia brought a strange sense of security instead.
Tamara Riddle woke up to the sound of a noisy argument.
She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was that stupid cat named Nagini.
It was lying on her chest, its big furry face pressed right against Tamara’s nose, its warm breath carrying the smell of the dried fish it had stolen last night.
“Get down.”
Tamara pushed the heavy black mass away expressionlessly and sat up.
A shrill female voice came from outside the bed curtains.
“Out of the way, Bulstrode! Your back is as wide as a Troll’s, it’s blocking the entire mirror!”
It was Pansy Parkinson’s voice.
This was followed by a low, almost crude grunt, as if someone had been shoved.
“I… I was just combing my hair.”
The speaker was Millicent Bulstrode.
She was large-framed with a square jaw, and her features were certainly not delicate—one might even say they were quite rugged.
In the circle of Slytherin girls, where elegance, pure-blood status, and nobility were the standards, she was clearly at the bottom of the food chain.
“Combing your hair? With a rake?” Pansy let out a piercing laugh.
“Don’t bother, Millicent. Some things are innate. Even if you poured a whole bottle of shampoo on your head, it wouldn’t change the fact that you look like an unevolved…”
The other two girls, Daphne and Tracy, sat nearby watching, neither joining in nor stopping it.
This was very Slytherin.
Survival of the fittest, winner takes all.
If it were the Voldemort of his past life, he would probably have ignored this, or even felt that Pansy was right—the weak should be trampled underfoot.
But the current Tamara Riddle had a different plan.
She pulled back the green velvet curtains and stepped onto the carpet with bare feet.
The arguing stopped abruptly.
Several girls turned their heads at the same time, looking at Tamara as she stepped out from behind the curtains.
She was wearing a black silk nightgown, her long hair draped loosely over her shoulders.
Although she had just woken up and her face even carried a hint of laziness, that naturally-born aura of a superior caused the air in the dormitory to instantly fall silent.
“Good morning, everyone.”
Tamara’s voice was a bit raspy, yet still elegant.
She walked slowly to the dressing table.
Pansy Parkinson subconsciously took a step back, giving up the prime spot she had been fighting for.
“G-good morning, Tamara.” Pansy adjusted her nightgown a bit guiltily.
Tamara didn’t look at herself in the mirror, but instead turned around, her gaze falling on Millicent in the corner.
The tall, sturdy girl was currently like a wounded bear, her head lowered, her hand tightly clutching a comb with broken teeth.
Her face was flushed red, and her eyes were brimming with tears.
“Lift your head up, Millicent.”
Tamara commanded softly.
Millicent trembled and hesitantly raised her head, her square face filled with low self-esteem and unease.
Indeed, her hair was tangled like wild grass, and her teeth protruded slightly, making her look not particularly bright.
“Did Pansy’s words upset you?” Tamara asked.
Millicent bit her lip, not daring to speak, and simply nodded.
Tamara turned her head to look at Pansy.
Pansy immediately straightened her back, trying to defend herself: “She was being too slow! And she really is…”
“That isn’t wise, Pansy.”
Tamara interrupted her, her tone calm, as if discussing today’s weather rather than reprimanding someone.
This intimate gesture made Pansy feel flattered, and her face suddenly turned red.
“As a young lady of the Parkinson Family, your aesthetics and taste are beyond doubt.”
“However, the act of elevating yourself by belittling others is cheap.”
Tamara’s voice was soft, yet it carried a logical power that was impossible to refute.
“On the contrary, if the people standing beside you look terrible, it only lowers your own grade and makes outsiders think Slytherin has no one capable to use.”
Pansy was stunned.
She had originally thought Tamara would give her a lecture or simply ignore it all.
But Tamara’s words gave her a whole new perspective—yes, if she was always living with a Troll, what did that make her?
“We want everyone in this dormitory to represent the perfection of Slytherin when they walk out.”
Tamara turned and walked back toward Millicent.
“Sit down.” She pointed to the chair.
Millicent sat down obediently, her whole body as stiff as a rock.
Tamara picked up the comb from the table.
“Watch, Pansy,” Tamara said as she gently tapped her wand against the comb.
“In this world, there are no useless chess pieces, only players who don’t know how to place them.”
With a faint flash of light, Millicent’s messy hair instantly became smooth and shiny, resting neatly behind her head.
“Scourgify.”
Another spell hit Millicent’s teeth.
The yellowish stains instantly vanished, leaving them as white as jade.
She lowered her wand and placed her hands on Millicent’s shoulders, looking at the girl in the mirror.
Although her features were still not delicate, with the smooth hair and neat appearance, Millicent’s sense of clumsiness had vanished, replaced by a powerful, heroic aura.
“Look.”
Tamara pointed at the mirror.
“Millicent has a large frame, which makes her look less soft, but it also means she possesses a sense of strength and deterrence that other girls don’t have.”
“If anyone dares to bully a Slytherin girl, Millicent will be our strongest shield.”
“Not the object of your ridicule.”
Millicent looked at herself in the mirror, unable to believe that the capable, formidable-looking girl was her.
Her tears finally couldn’t be held back and flowed down.
She turned around, looking at Tamara with eyes as if she were looking at a goddess.
“Thank you… thank you, Tamara!”
[Ding! Detected that the host has not only resolved dormitory bullying but also performed an image makeover and psychological counseling.]
[This is a textbook example of mutual aid!]
[Reward: Charisma +2.]
[Obtained Passive Skill: Bestie’s Trust (Basic).]
[Skill Description: Within female groups, your right to speak and your affinity are increased by 20%.]
Tamara sneered in her heart.
What ‘bestie’?
This was called the carrot and the stick.
She had won over a most loyal enforcer while also warning and recruiting a most influential follower.
“Do you understand, Pansy?”
Tamara turned her head, looking at the still-dazed short-haired girl with a faint smile.
Pansy Parkinson looked at the transformed Millicent, then at the composed and elegant Tamara.
The tiny bit of jealousy in her eyes completely transformed into admiration.
This was the gap between them.
While she was mocking others for being ugly, Tamara could turn ugliness into strength.
This was a true ‘Big Sister’!
“I understand, Tamara.” Pansy lowered her head, her voice carrying a sincere respect for the first time.
She looked awkwardly at Millicent: “Hey, Bulstrode… about earlier… sorry.”
Millicent shook her head, feeling a bit overwhelmed: “I-it’s okay.”
“Good.”
Tamara clapped her hands, breaking the somewhat sentimental atmosphere.
“Now that the problem is solved, hurry up and get ready. Time waits for no one.”
…Half an hour later.
When the five first-year Slytherin girls walked into the Great Hall, they drew many sideways glances.
Walking right in the center was Tamara Riddle.
She was as perfect as ever, her dark green silk robes complementing her pale skin.
That black cat named Nagini was lying on her shoulder, lazily flicking its tail.
On her left was Pansy Parkinson, her head held high with a look of pride, diligently helping Tamara carry her textbooks.
On her right was the tall and serious-looking Millicent Bulstrode, scanning the surroundings alertly like a bodyguard, as if she would rush up and punch anyone who dared to look at Tamara more than once.
Daphne and Tracy followed behind, enjoying the attention of others.
“Merlin’s pants…”
At the Gryffindor table, the bread in Ron’s hand dropped into his milk.
“Wasn’t that Tamara alone yesterday? How does it look like… like she’s recruited them all today?”
Harry took a bite of toast, looking at the girl surrounded like a star by the moon.
“Because she’s very amazing,” Harry said quietly, the image of her standing in front of him in the train carriage yesterday surfacing in his mind again.
“And… it seems like she was naturally meant for that position.”
Tamara took her seat at the Slytherin table with her group.
Draco Malfoy immediately leaned over, with Goyle and Crabbe squeezing in after him.
“Good morning, Tamara!” Draco glanced at Millicent, looking a bit surprised.
“Bulstrode looks… much more presentable today.”
“Naturally.”
Tamara took a sip of the pumpkin juice Pansy handed her.
“Slytherin always pursues perfection.”
Just then, countless owls flapped their wings and flew into the Great Hall, bringing a flurry of chaos to breakfast time.
A gray owl dropped a copy of The Daily Prophet.
Tamara didn’t subscribe to the newspaper; this was Malfoy’s.
She casually glanced at the front-page headline.
“Gringotts Break-in Latest: Goblins Claim Vault Was Empty.”
Tamara’s hand holding the cup paused slightly.
Quirrell did that.
That is to say, that noseless Main Soul did it.
As expected, although history had slight deviations, the general direction hadn’t changed.
Lord Voldemort was still searching for the Philosopher’s Stone.
“Someone tried to steal something? From Gringotts?” Draco looked at the paper and let out a sneer.
“That’s insane. It’s the safest place in the world, except for Hogwarts.”
“Safest?”
Tamara gave a light chuckle, though the mirth didn’t reach her eyes.
“There is no such thing as absolute safety in this world, Draco.”
She set down her cup, her gaze passing through the crowd to look at the figure on the staff table with the large purple turban—Professor Quirrell.
“As long as there is enough desire, there is no door that cannot be opened.”
“And…”
She added silently in her heart.
How could that fool possibly steal it?
After all, that Philosopher’s Stone had long since been moved by Dumbledore to the school’s fourth floor.
Tamara cut into the fried egg on her plate.
The yolk flowed out, golden and bright, just like that legendary stone that could grant immortality.