After the Christmas holidays ended, the return train carried the students back to Hogwarts. The carriages were filled with noise and laughter, but for one boy, the journey back felt heavier than usual.
In the Slytherin common room that evening, Draco Malfoy stood stiffly before Tamara, his head lowered. The usual arrogance in his posture was gone. He looked less like the proud heir of the Malfoy family and more like a scolded child awaiting judgment.
"I'm sorry, Tamara."
His voice was small—almost fragile.
"I tried. I really did. But my father… he's sealed off the underground chamber. It's restricted now. Even I'm not allowed inside." He hesitated before continuing. "He said the Ministry of Magic has been conducting stricter inspections lately. Some things need to be hidden more carefully."
He swallowed.
"I couldn't get the diary."
Tamara sat comfortably in an armchair near the fireplace, idly twirling her holly wand between her fingers. The flames reflected faintly in her dark eyes, but her expression showed no disappointment.
After all, the object in question was a Horcrux.
Even if Lucius Malfoy did not fully understand what it truly was, he certainly knew it was a dangerous Dark artifact. It was only natural that he would guard it carefully. Expecting an eleven-year-old boy to steal such an item from Malfoy Manor had always been an ambitious request.
"It's fine, Draco," Tamara replied calmly.
Her tone carried neither reproach nor irritation—only quiet certainty.
"You did what you could. If you had actually succeeded, your father would have grown suspicious. That would have created unnecessary complications."
She rose gracefully from her seat and stepped closer to him. Reaching up, she straightened his slightly crooked tie with gentle precision.
"Don't worry," she said softly. "That diary isn't going anywhere."
Her voice lowered, but the confidence within it was unwavering.
"One day, I will visit Malfoy Manor personally. When that time comes, I believe Uncle Lucius will gladly present it to me as a small gift."
Draco blinked in surprise. Then relief flooded his face, followed by renewed admiration.
"Of course!" he said eagerly. "My father will definitely like you!"
Tamara offered him a faint, knowing smile.
"Of course he will."
The following afternoon, although the holidays were over, the snow at Hogwarts remained thick and untouched in many places. The grounds looked as though winter itself had decided to linger.
Perhaps in celebration of the new term—or simply as an excuse to expend excessive energy—the Weasley twins organized a massive snowball fight on the open grounds outside the castle.
They dramatically named it the "First Hogwarts All-School Free-for-All Snowball Fight Championship."
Fred Weasley stood atop a large rock, raising his wand like a general rallying troops.
"The rules are simple!" he announced loudly. "As long as you're still standing, you win! Gryffindor is destined for victory!"
"For glory! And to avoid being buried alive in snow!" George shouted in agreement.
Within seconds, the playground dissolved into chaos.
Gryffindors hurled snowballs at Hufflepuffs. Ravenclaws retaliated. Even a few Slytherins who had come merely to observe were dragged into the frenzy. Laughter, shouting, and the sharp thud of compacted snow filled the air.
Tamara stood quietly beneath the shadowed corridor of the castle, observing the commotion with cool detachment.
"Childish," she muttered under her breath.
She tightened her cloak and turned to leave. She had no interest in such meaningless displays of exuberance.
But before she could retreat, a discordant sound cut through the noise.
"Get up, Longbottom! Is that all you've got?"
"Stop curling up like a slug! You're a Gryffindor—show some courage!"
Tamara paused.
Her gaze shifted toward the edge of the battlefield.
There, curled miserably in the snow, was Neville Longbottom. He trembled as snowballs struck him repeatedly. Several Gryffindor boys surrounded him, laughing as they continued their assault.
"Be brave, Neville!" one boy called mockingly. "Only by facing attacks can you learn to fight back! Don't be such a coward!"
Neville covered his head with his arms, tears mixing with melting snow. He made no attempt to retaliate.
Tamara's eyes narrowed slightly.
Useless, she thought coldly.
She had no intention of interfering in other houses' affairs. Neville's weakness was his own burden to overcome.
Unfortunately, the system had other plans.
[Ding! Detected a weak classmate being subjected to unfair treatment.]
[Daily Quest Triggered: True Courage.]
[Description: Courage does not mean trampling the weak. Some Gryffindors appear to misunderstand bravery. Correct them.]
[Reward: Courage +2. Neville Longbottom's favorability increased.]
[Penalty for Failure: Partner with Neville in the next Potions class.]
Tamara stared at the notification blankly.
She absolutely refused to risk being paired with Neville in Potions. Professor Snape's glare alone would be unbearable.
"…Troublesome," she sighed.
Drawing her wand, she stepped out into the snow.
"Stop."
Her voice was not loud, but it cut sharply through the uproar like a blade.
The Gryffindors turned in unison.
"A Slytherin?" one sneered. "Isn't this Riddle? What, planning to interfere in Gryffindor family matters?"
"I have no interest in your 'family matters,'" Tamara replied calmly.
She walked straight to Neville and extended a hand, pulling him to his feet.
"Stand up, Longbottom," she instructed in a low voice. "Tears are not meant to entertain those who bully you."
Neville sniffed and wiped his face. Though still shaking, he forced himself upright.
The leading Gryffindor scowled.
"Oh? Playing hero now? Then try this!"
With a dramatic sweep of his wand, a large pile of snow rose into the air, dividing into dozens of snowballs that shot toward Tamara and Neville.
Tamara did not flinch.
She raised her wand slightly and rotated her wrist in a smooth, elegant circle.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
But this was no ordinary levitation charm.
The snowballs halted midair—precisely one meter from her position.
Then something extraordinary happened.
The loose snow scattered across the playground began to stir. It trembled as if awakened. Under Tamara's precise magical control, it gathered itself into countless perfectly formed snowballs.
The air seemed to grow colder.
"Since you enjoy this method of training," Tamara said softly, a faint smile curving her lips, "I shall grant your wish."
With a sharp flick of her wand—
The sky erupted.
Snowballs shot forward like a relentless hailstorm. Each projectile avoided Neville with flawless precision while striking the surrounding Gryffindors.
"Ah! That hurts!"
"Merlin's beard—what is this?!"
The boys scrambled in panic, unable to defend themselves. Their earlier bravado dissolved into chaos.
Even students from other houses froze in astonishment.
At the center of the snowfield stood a first-year girl controlling the wind and winter itself.
"Slytherin!" Tamara called clearly. "Are we going to let Gryffindor think we're afraid of a little cold?"
The Slytherins, stunned only moments before, erupted into cheers.
"Charge! For Slytherin!"
Draco was the first to sprint forward, hurling snowballs with renewed enthusiasm. Others quickly joined.
What had begun as a chaotic free-for-all transformed into a coordinated offensive. Under Tamara's field control and Draco's leadership, Slytherin swiftly overwhelmed the combined forces of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw.
Defeat came swiftly.
At last, a white scarf was raised in surrender.
When the battle ended, silence gradually settled over the snow-covered grounds.
Tamara stood atop a mound of snow, cloak billowing dramatically behind her. Her wand remained loosely in hand, her expression calm and unreadable.
Around her lay defeated opponents, groaning and dusted in snow.
Neville stood a few steps behind her.
He gazed at her small figure with an intensity unfamiliar even to himself.
This was the second time she had saved him.
The first time, she had repaired his injured wrist without hesitation.
The second time, she had defended his dignity when his own housemates mocked him.
Compared to the suffocating pressure he often felt under Gryffindor's expectations of bravery, Tamara's strength felt different.
It was controlled. Quiet. Protective when necessary.
"Thank you… Tamara," Neville said timidly.
He hesitated before adding, "If… if I were in Slytherin… would I stop being bullied?"
Tamara glanced at him, momentarily surprised by the question.
She could see something new in his eyes—not just gratitude, but longing.
A desire for strength.
"A house does not determine whether you'll be bullied, Longbottom," she replied evenly.
"In this world, the weak are humiliated by the strong. Instead of waiting for mercy, make yourself strong."
Neville nodded slowly, though confusion still lingered in his expression.
He did not understand how someone so powerful could refrain from bullying him herself.
[Ding! Quest Completed: True Courage.]
[Reward: Courage +2.]
[Current Courage: 16.]
[Neville Longbottom's admiration has surpassed the threshold. Follower tendency detected.]
Tamara's lips curved faintly.
"So easily gained," she murmured. "Gryffindor friendship is remarkably inexpensive."
She studied the rising favorability levels thoughtfully.
"If loyalty can be harvested this efficiently," she mused, "then what was the point of my earlier use of the Cruciatus Curse?"
[Host lacks understanding of sustainable resource management.]
Tamara rolled her eyes slightly.
Perhaps.
But for now, the snow still hadn't melted.
And neither had her ambitions.
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