Astronomy at eleven o'clock at night gave Tamara a physiological sense of revulsion.
Not only because it required climbing the tallest tower during what should have been sleeping hours, but also because late September nights in the Scottish Highlands were so bitterly cold it felt like kissing a Dementor.
As the Slytherin first-years wrapped themselves tightly in thick cloaks and panted their way up the final stretch of the spiral staircase to the top of the Astronomy Tower, a biting gust of wind instantly poured down their collars the moment they emerged.
Goyle hunched his shoulders, his teeth chattering loudly.
"Why can't we have this class during the day? Or use magical projections indoors?"
"Because the stars don't come out during the day," Pansy Parkinson replied, shivering as she tried to shrink into Goyle's broad shadow to shield herself from the wind.
Tamara stood near the edge of the tower, her black robes snapping sharply in the night air.
Under the pale moonlight, her face appeared even paler—almost blending into the surrounding stone walls.
This body was too weak. Long-term malnutrition had made her more sensitive to the cold than ordinary children. The wind cut across her cheeks like a blade, stripping away what little warmth she possessed.
Yet she stood perfectly straight.
It was pride engraved into her soul—belonging to the Dark Lord. Even if she froze to death, she would die like a statue, upright and unyielding. She would never huddle together for warmth like that group of Hufflepuffs nearby.
Yes. This class was shared with Hufflepuff.
The little badgers in black-and-yellow robes were clustered together on the other side of the tower like a flock of cold-stricken penguins, chirping complaints about the weather and sharing hot biscuits clearly smuggled from the kitchens.
Just then, Professor Aurora Sinistra, who taught Astronomy, walked toward them.
She was a dark-skinned, stern-looking witch dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with silver constellations.
"Alright, stop complaining."
Her voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly across the open tower.
"Astronomy is a discipline that demands patience and precision. Set up your telescopes and adjust the focus."
"Tonight's task is to observe Jupiter's moons and map their orbital trajectories. Everyone will submit one completed chart before class ends."
The students immediately began to move.
Metal tripod legs scraped harshly against stone. Adjustment knobs clicked in uneven rhythms. A few muttered curses floated through the wind.
Tamara assembled her brass telescope with efficient precision.
For someone well-versed in obscure and miscellaneous studies, star charts were child's play.
In her past life, while researching the connection between the Dark Arts and celestial phenomena, she had spent countless nights atop this very tower. She knew the name of every prominent star. She knew when each would burn brightest. She knew the omens whispered through their alignments.
In less than ten minutes, Tamara completed her observation.
With swift, controlled strokes, she sketched Jupiter and its surrounding moons onto parchment, carefully marking their relative positions.
"Perfect."
She set down her quill and exhaled softly, rubbing warmth back into her stiff fingers.
Just as she prepared to move to a sheltered corner and wait for the end of class, a suppressed sob drifted across the wind.
"Ugh… I can't see it… where is it…"
The voice came from the Hufflepuff side.
Tamara turned her head.
A small girl with two golden braids—Hannah Abbott—stood before her telescope in visible distress. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. Her hands were beet-red from the cold and shaking so violently that she could not adjust the focus properly.
The more she trembled, the more the telescope vibrated. The more it vibrated, the less she could see.
To make matters worse, the cold had thickened her ink. Her quill scratched uselessly against parchment, leaving no mark.
A few nearby Slytherins snickered under their breath.
Hearing the laughter, Hannah's shoulders shook harder. Her face was streaked with tears and mucus. She looked utterly miserable.
A few Hufflepuffs attempted to help, but they were struggling with their own telescopes.
Tamara observed the scene with detached indifference.
[Ding! Detected a classmate in distress.]
[Current Attribute Panel: Wisdom 19/20.]
[Hint: You are one point away from unlocking the next spell.]
[Triggered Mission: Warm Sun on a Winter Night.]
[Mission Description: A true leader does not merely gaze at the stars but also extends a hand to those who stumble in the mud. Though Hufflepuffs are mediocre, they are the cornerstone of loyalty.]
[Mission Requirement: Help Hannah Abbott complete her observation without using magic.]
[Reward: Wisdom +1.]
"Wisdom +1…"
Tamara's gaze sharpened instantly.
Every ten attribute points unlocked a spell. She was one point short.
Without hesitation, she straightened her robes and walked toward the Hufflepuff cluster.
The moment she approached, conversation died.
The little badgers fell silent, staring warily at the Slytherin girl as though expecting trouble.
Hannah startled so badly she hiccupped, staring at Tamara through tear-blurred eyes.
"Move."
Tamara's voice was cold and clear as she stepped in front of the telescope.
Hannah instinctively shuffled aside like a frightened rabbit.
Tamara's pale fingers—slightly reddened from the cold—gripped the adjustment knob.
Her movements were steady. No tremor betrayed her discomfort.
"Adjust elevation by thirty degrees. Pull the focus back two notches."
She spoke in an even tone as she worked.
"Your tripod isn't level. In this wind, even slight vibration distorts star positioning."
She leaned forward and looked through the eyepiece. After a brief pause, she straightened.
"Look now."
Hannah blinked, stunned. Slowly, she leaned in.
"W–wow… I see it! It's so clear!"
Her voice carried across the tower in astonishment. She turned toward Tamara, eyes shining.
"Thank you! Riddle!"
Tamara glanced at the ink bottle in Hannah's trembling hands.
"It's frozen."
"Y–yes…" Hannah sniffed, embarrassed. She hid her red hands behind her back. "And my fingers are… stiff."
Tamara studied those frozen hands.
This Hufflepuff had clearly underestimated how cold the tower would be at night. She was dressed far too lightly.
What a nuisance.
With quiet resignation, Tamara reached up and unwound the thick Slytherin scarf from around her own neck—a dark green length embroidered with silver serpents.
The moment she removed it, the wind struck her throat like ice water. She suppressed a shiver by sheer force of will. Her expression did not change.
She stepped forward and wrapped the scarf around Hannah's neck before the girl could protest, tightening the knot neatly.
"Put your hands inside your sleeves," Tamara instructed flatly. "Use this."
She placed her own self-warming quill into Hannah's grasp.
Hannah froze.
Warmth spread across her neck and fingers. A faint, cool fragrance lingered in the air.
She stared at Tamara—the pale, black-haired girl now standing in only a thin robe, lips slightly colorless from the cold, yet gaze unwavering and proud.
In that instant, Tamara Riddle transformed in her eyes from "terrifying Slytherin" to something entirely different.
"Ta–Tamara…" Hannah's voice trembled again, though for another reason now. "Aren't you cold?"
"No."
The lie came effortlessly.
"I am accustomed to maintaining clarity under harsh conditions."
"It is called willpower."
Around them, the Hufflepuffs stared in disbelief.
Was this truly the aloof Slytherin rumored to look down on everyone?
She had given away her scarf?
Even on the Slytherin side, Draco and Pansy stood with mouths slightly open.
"What is she doing?" Pansy whispered incredulously. "How could Tamara give her scarf to someone like that?"
Draco narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he watched Tamara's back.
"This is a matter of class, Pansy."
"A true noble must be ruthless toward herself… and capable of mercy toward others."
He hesitated, searching for the right word.
"The art of leadership."
"Chivalry?" Goyle offered blankly.
"Shut up. That's a Gryffindor term," Draco snapped. "I said leadership."
Tamara ignored them.
She watched Hannah begin drawing, still clumsy but now steady enough to complete the task.
A soft chime echoed in her mind.
[Ding! Mission Completed: Warm Sun on a Winter Night.]
[By the simplest method, you have earned the most sincere gratitude.]
[Reward: Wisdom +1.]
[Current Wisdom: 20.]
[Milestone reached.]
[System reward issuing…]
[Unlocked Passive Skill: Elementary Occlumency.]
[Skill Description: Your thoughts are no longer an open book. You may now construct basic mental barriers to resist external probing and Legilimency.]
[Insufficient against monsters at Dumbledore's level, but effective against common intrusion.]
Tamara's pupils contracted slightly.
Finally.
For so long, her mind had felt exposed—laid bare to invisible scrutiny. Now she sensed a thin, fragile membrane forming around her consciousness.
It was weak.
But it was hers.
A long-forgotten sense of security returned.
The scarf had been a worthwhile trade.
Back on the Slytherin side, Draco abruptly removed his own thick cashmere scarf and strode toward her.
"Here, Tamara," he said quickly. "It's not as refined as yours, but it's warm."
Tamara looked at him.
Then at the scarf.
The wind cut sharply against her unprotected throat.
This time, she did not refuse.
"Thank you, Draco."
She accepted it.
And though her expression remained calm, the faintest flicker of approval passed through her eyes.
On the other side of the tower, Hannah Abbott tightened her grip on the silver-embroidered scarf and resolved silently that she would never forget this night.
Above them, Jupiter shone brilliantly—its moons gliding through silent, eternal arcs.
And for the first time since her return, Tamara Riddle felt that the future had shifted—ever so slightly—under her control.
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