Being a passerby in HP female protagonist fanfiction

"No."

"Are you sure there are no problems?" The system's voice was as gentle as its current physical form, coaxing him gently. "After all, Claire is so smart, she must know that we are not enemies, and in some sense we are even on the same side."

He put his hand on my shoulder, so I could see his smiling eyes at the clearest angle.

To someone unfamiliar with him, this is a rather offensive posture. The young man's physique itself gives him an imposing presence. His eyes are positioned high, while mine are low. This unequal eye contact only makes one wary. His large hands are pressing down on my shoulders, and he will notice any slight movement of my body.

Even if you already have a guess in your heart, a guess is a guess. Wouldn't it be better to get a definite answer from me?

A voice so close at hand is no different from a seduction.

"..."

I pushed the system away expressionlessly.

Faced with such an inhuman being, whether I am truly confident or not, I have to pretend that everything is under control. He is a typical example of someone who will take an inch if I back down, so I have to be tough and proactive enough to avoid being suppressed.

Communicating with him is like walking a tightrope; every step is precarious and unstable.

Fortunately, I'm not an acrobat, and the system isn't a real audience with the power to judge. The tightrope I'm on is at most ten centimeters off the ground, so I'm not afraid of falling and getting hurt, and the system won't really watch me have fun.

“Since you put it that way, then I’ll gladly accept your offer.” I replied in the same gentle tone, “You’re the one who found Little Barty for me.”

This is an affirmative sentence. The system blinked and made a sound of agreement.

This conclusion has actually been verified by Astra, but I'll ask again, just like the system says, don't miss a sure chance.

Little Barty's early appearance is an event that goes beyond the original work and the fanfiction featuring Willow. It is strongly connected to me, and he assumes the role of my guardian. This aligns with the system's need to advance the plot. Among the beings that have appeared so far, only the system can do this, so it's quite easy to guess.

Besides...

I glanced again at the system's face, which looked remarkably similar to mine.

The plot that will unfold next will most likely be related to my family background, which is full of loopholes but, strangely enough, hasn't revealed anything that shouldn't have been revealed so far.

It's really amazing. Even though I've patched it myself, no one has noticed that this is a non-existent family, including little Barty who is part of it.

Perhaps this is the true power of setting up a backdrop.

"The plot you're pushing forward revolves around me."

There's a point that needs clarification. The system needs to advance the plot, but what exactly does this plot refer to? Is it the original plot, the fanfiction plot involving Willow? Or the plot involving me, who is also recognized as a protagonist? Or perhaps all three...? I need a definite answer.

"Yes," the system readily acknowledged. "Claire, you'll love it."

In other words, I shouldn't try to predict what will happen based on the original story or the fanfiction featuring Willotte. Just like this inexplicable dream, I can't possibly know the plot I'm going to experience, and the system won't kindly remind me.

Ignoring the system's claim of liking me, I uttered the next sentence.

"That dream within a dream between me and Willotte just now was something you deliberately created."

"It's just a small argument," the system corrected me. "You see, many novels have similar plots where the new protagonist and the old protagonist argue about which is more important. We can discuss this directly through dreams, isn't that much more convenient?"

"And I know Claire won't be fooled; those things can't affect you."

I squinted.

It's as if you're doing this for my own good. There are losers in a competition, but the dream within a dream cleverly equates Slytherin's loss with Willow's failure, and then directly extrapolates from Willow's failure to the point that I had a negative impact on her.

If Willotte herself knew this, she would be full of question marks. Unless her brain was stuffed with reeds, how could anyone think that she would stand there motionless, devastated by losing Quidditch? Well, this might be a symbolic technique, but it is precisely because it does not conform to common sense that the loophole is particularly glaring.

In fact, Willotte failed many times, which is not mentioned much in fan fiction, because it is generally believed that failures in the process can only be considered as attempts.

Willow and Snape worked together to develop a breakthrough in Wolfsbane Potion. The unfinished and discarded potions alone could fill an entire room. She and Dumbledore worked together to improve Hogwarts' defense system, but it took a lot of time to persuade the school board to agree and allocate funds.

Willow doesn't actually like Divination and Astronomy classes, but she still spends time on subjects she doesn't like in order to maintain straight A's. She is Snape's student, but she also steals... oh no, she steals her own headmaster's treasured potions. She also sends letters to her cheap teacher in faraway Nurmengard, and they exchange sarcastic remarks.

Under the overemphasis on the protagonist's halo and stereotypes, Willotte's complexity is obscured, and she becomes the representative of "never losing, competitive, and emotionally extreme".

But I know that's not true.

Willotte is not easily out of control; she can accept failure; and she is very patient.

What Willotte desires most is not victory, but power; she is willing to give up some less important things for a high position.

How could someone like her possibly experience a dream within a dream, collapsing because of a single failure? When I tried to call out to her and received no response, I realized that this was definitely a hallucination.

A poorly made illusion created by an entity keen on creating stereotypes.

"So I should thank you?" I responded to the system, shrugging. "Well, I should thank you, after all."

Regarding Willow's illusion, the second half is rather rough, but the first half does reveal some of my true thoughts. At least in the first year, I held the belief that Willow was in front of me while I was hiding behind her.

The prospect of enjoying peace and tranquility without doing anything is an irresistible temptation for me.

If I want to be best friends with Willotte for life, I'd better realize this sooner rather than later and adjust my mindset to avoid hurting each other.

From this perspective, the system did a good thing—why?

"Can't I do this because I like Claire?" The system felt very innocent.

"Please remember the time we blew me into the medical wing with fireworks." I wasn't buying it and didn't believe the system's explanation. "If you really like me, please let me relax and be safe, okay?"

“Okay, you can see this as my… compromise with Willott Gaunt.” The system smiled, but didn’t explain its words in detail. “It’s almost time. It’s a pity, but Claire, you should wake up.”

As he spoke, he pinched my hair as if it were a beloved doll, and then tentatively rubbed it.

I:?

What are they trying to do?

I snatched my hair back and glared at the system with the look of someone who's crazy.

If someone unaware of the situation were to witness this scene, they would surely believe it to be a loving brother and sister engaging in friendly interaction. If it were Little Barty present, he would likely be tempted to kill.

Forget it, let's just get out of here quickly.

How can I leave?

"Look up." The system pointed upwards.

As he wished, I looked up. The gray sky was exceptionally gloomy, and the ambient lights, resembling Dementors, seemed to float around the stadium, turning it into an open refrigerator with freezing rain.

They didn't actually serve any purpose; it was as if they were just there to create an atmosphere.

It turned out to be the case.

I solemnly raised my wand.

"Treator Muhammad—"

There were countless Dementors, but in my dream I could unleash my magic to the fullest without considering any consequences. A silver mist swept across the entire stadium. If this place was a refrigerator before, it was now more like a washing machine. All the Dementors were pulled back by the Patronus and then flung away like dirt.

The dream, already fragile, shattered under the impact of the silver mist.