September 1st at King's Cross Station had never been a pleasant memory for her.
In her recollections, this place was always suffocating—thick with the smell of Muggle sweat and cheap perfume, crowded with noisy bodies moving without order or purpose. It was a place that pressed in on her from all sides, oppressive and vulgar.
Tamara Riddle stood between Platform 9 and Platform 10, both hands gripping the handle of a trolley that was far too heavy for her current eleven-year-old body. The trunk wobbled as she pushed, its wheels squeaking faintly in protest.
Inside the cage perched atop the trunk, the stupid black cat named Nagini scratched relentlessly at the latch, sharp claws scraping against metal in a repetitive, grating rhythm.
"Be quiet," Tamara muttered under her breath.
She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, her expression tight with irritation.
How she missed her Death Eaters.
Fools, all of them—but at least they had been useful. They would have scrambled over one another for the privilege of carrying her luggage. And now, the great Dark Lord was reduced to shoving a trolley through a sea of Muggles like some ordinary child.
In her mind, she cursed every single Muggle who blocked her path with language vicious enough to curdle milk. Outwardly, however, her face remained distant and composed, the picture of quiet politeness.
Just as she prepared to dart through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 when no one was looking, a burst of noisy chatter caught her attention.
"Hurry up, Percy, or we'll miss the train!"
Tamara slowed and turned her head slightly.
A large cluster of redheads came into view.
The Weasleys.
The notorious blood traitors of the wizarding world.
Despite their ancient and pure bloodline, they had willingly debased themselves—associating with Muggles, defending them, even shouting openly in the middle of a Muggle train station. The disgrace.
Her gaze swept across the short, plump woman with the booming voice—Molly Weasley. Around her swarmed a flock of chattering children.
Percy Weasley stood stiffly upright, chest puffed out, his prefect badge polished to such a shine it practically screamed for attention. Fred and George were attempting to slip a long-haired spider down Ron's collar while he squirmed in horror. The youngest girl, Ginny, clutched her mother's hand, wide-eyed and nervous.
Tamara felt a cold sneer curl inside her chest.
Then—
[Ding! Key plot character group detected: The Weasley Family.]
[Triggering Side Quest: An Elder's Care.]
[Quest Description: As a first-year little girl traveling alone for the first time, it is natural to feel lost when facing a solid wall. Fortunately, a warm-hearted mother stands before you. Why not ask for help?]
[Quest Objective: Gain Molly Weasley's favor and accept her assistance.]
[Quest Reward: Love +5.]
[Failure Penalty: Trip and fall while passing through the barrier, humiliating yourself in front of new students.]
Tamara's fingers tightened around the trolley handle until her knuckles turned white.
"What did you just say?" she hissed internally. "You expect me to beg that blood traitor? And make her… like me?"
[Yes, host. Mrs. Weasley is known for her warmth. Gaining her approval will help establish a favorable public image.]
"…Damned system."
She closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, every trace of disdain had vanished.
In its place: timidity. Hesitation. Vulnerability.
She pushed the trolley forward slowly and stopped a short distance from the Weasley family. Her gaze shifted nervously between the barrier and the redheaded group. Her fingers twisted the edge of her sleeve as if uncertain what to do.
[Harmless (Basic) skill activated—]
Molly Weasley noticed her almost immediately.
"Oh, dear."
She gently pushed the twins aside and hurried over, maternal warmth radiating from her like heat from a hearth.
"Are you going to Hogwarts, sweetheart?" Molly asked kindly, glancing at the oversized trunk and the restless cat. "Is it your first year? Where are your parents?"
Tamara looked up.
Her large, obsidian eyes shimmered as a fine layer of tears formed.
"I'm an orphan, ma'am," she said softly.
Her voice trembled just enough to sound brave despite the sadness. "Professor Dumbledore gave me the ticket, but… I don't know how to get in. I can't find the platform."
Molly's expression melted instantly.
"Oh, you poor thing!"
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Tamara in a tight embrace.
"Don't worry, dear. Just follow us! We're all heading to Hogwarts."
The moment she was engulfed in that soft, warm hug, Tamara's entire body stiffened.
The scent hit her at once—soap, onion soup, warm wool, and something unmistakably domestic. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, it carried the strange comfort of a lived-in home.
But to Tamara, it was suffocating.
It was like dragging a creature raised in darkness out into blinding sunlight.
"Let go of me…" she screamed silently. "You filthy—"
For a fleeting, dangerous second, she considered casting Crucio.
[Warning! Rejection response detected. Please endure.]
Her fingers twitched.
With monumental effort, she suppressed the impulse to shove Molly away. Instead, she awkwardly raised her hands and patted the woman's back twice—stiff, mechanical gestures.
"Th-Thank you… ma'am."
Her voice came out muffled and shaky. It sounded as if she were crying from gratitude.
In reality, she was nearly crying from discomfort. The effect, however, was identical.
"What a polite child," Molly said warmly as she released her. She guided Tamara toward the rest of the family.
Fred and George approached at once, curiosity blazing in identical faces.
"Blimey, that's a cool cat," one said, pointing at Nagini. "Looks like it wants to murder someone."
"What's its name?" the other asked, reaching out—only for Nagini to dodge with an offended hiss.
"Nagini," Tamara replied quietly.
"Brilliant name," one twin said with a grin. "I'm Fred."
"And I'm George."
"Welcome to Hogwarts, little beauty."
"Tamara Riddle," she answered evenly.
She had no desire for extended interaction. And she certainly could not tell which twin was which.
They were disturbingly identical.
"Enough chatter," Molly scolded, lightly smacking one twin on the head. "Go on, Percy!"
Percy marched forward with exaggerated dignity.
Molly turned back to Tamara and gently patted her head. "Don't be afraid. Just walk straight at the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. If you're nervous, follow Ron."
Ron glanced at Tamara shyly. He wasn't used to girls his age speaking to him, especially ones who looked like her.
"You can go first," he stammered.
"Thank you," Tamara replied with a polite smile.
She pushed the trolley forward and walked straight into the wall.
In an instant, the noise of the Muggle station vanished.
Before her stood a magnificent scarlet train billowing thick steam into the air.
The Hogwarts Express.
White smoke swirled overhead. Cats darted between legs. Owls hooted impatiently. Students laughed and called to one another as trunks rolled over cobblestone.
Magic saturated the air.
This was the wizarding world.
This was the world she had once conquered.
And would conquer again.
[Ding! Quest Completed: An Elder's Care.]
[Reward: Love +5.]
[Current Attributes: Love: 10 | Life: 0 | Wisdom: 10 | Courage: 0]
[Evaluation: Though resistant, you must admit—the hug was warm, wasn't it?]
[Spell Unlocked: Scourgify]
"To hell with warmth," Tamara muttered.
She glanced down at her wrinkled sleeve.
"This is a greasy catastrophe."
With a smooth motion, she drew her holly wand.
"Scourgify."
A faint shimmer of magic passed over the fabric. Instantly, the sleeve straightened, pristine and spotless, every speck of dust erased.
Satisfied, she lifted her chin and began walking toward the rear carriages.
"Let me find a compartment without idiots," she muttered, "and enjoy some peace."
Just as she hauled her trunk onto the train, movement at the platform entrance caught her eye.
A thin boy with messy black hair and round glasses hurried forward, pushing his trolley awkwardly as if unused to the task.
Harry Potter.
The boy who had once survived her killing curse.
Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable.
The game was about to begin.
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