Chapter 11: The Weasleys
First of September at King's Cross Station had never been a pleasant memory for her.
In Tamara's mind, this place was always the same, thick with Muggle sweat and cheap perfume, packed shoulder to shoulder with bodies that moved without magic and somehow still managed to be unbearable about it. The air itself felt cramped, as though the station had decided to press its weight down on her lungs.
Tamara Riddle stood between Platform 9 and Platform 10, gripping the handle of a trolley that was far too heavy for her current body. Her trunk wobbled with every bump in the tiles. The cage on top rattled as the stupid cat named Nagini threw itself at the lock again and again, scratching with tireless enthusiasm and producing an infuriating metallic screech.
"Be quiet," Tamara said under her breath.
With a small flick of irritation, she tucked a loose curl back behind her ear. She missed her Death Eaters. Foolish, yes, but at least they could carry luggage. At least they could stand behind her like a shadow and make people step aside.
Now the great Dark Lord had to push her own trunk through a sea of Muggles like an ordinary child, smiling politely while she cursed every last one of them in her heart.
She was watching the crowd, waiting for a gap, calculating the exact moment she could slip straight into the barrier without being noticed.
Then a loud, bustling voice cut through the noise.
"Hurry up, Percy, or we'll miss the train!"
Tamara paused and turned her head slightly.
A cluster of red hair filled her vision like a warning sign.
The Weasleys.
The infamous blood traitors.
They carried one of the oldest pure blood lines in Britain and still chose to live like this, shouting in a Muggle station, blending in with Muggles, behaving as though wizarding dignity was something you could toss away and laugh about later.
Tamara's gaze moved coldly across the short, plump woman commanding the chaos.
Molly Weasley.
Around her swarmed the children, a whole litter of them.
Percy puffed out his chest so far his polished Prefect badge looked as if it might detach and float up to his forehead. Fred and George were attempting to drop a large, long legged spider down Ron's collar, laughing as Ron squirmed and tried to swat them away. The youngest girl, Ginny, clung to Molly's hand, staring at the crowds with wide eyes and the nervous look of someone about to be thrown into the sea.
Tamara snorted quietly inside her mind. The disdain rose from somewhere deep, old, and sharp.
Then the system chimed, cheerful as a bell at a funeral.
[Ding! Key plot character group detected: The Weasley Family.]
[Triggering Side Quest: An Elder's Care.]
[Quest Description: As a first year little girl travelling far from home alone for the first time, it is normal to feel lost and helpless when facing a solid wall. At this moment, a warm hearted mother is right before your eyes. Why not go and ask for help?]
[Quest Objective: Gain Molly Weasley's favour and accept her help.]
[Quest Reward: Love +5.]
[Failure Penalty: Fall flat on your face while passing through the barrier and be disgraced in front of all the new students.]
Tamara's fingers tightened on the trolley handle until her knuckles whitened.
"What did you say?" she demanded in her head, each word squeezed through clenched teeth. "You want me to beg that blood traitor? You want me to make her like me?"
[Yes, host. Mrs Weasley is famously warm hearted in the wizarding world. Gaining her approval will help you establish a good public image.]
"…Filthy thing."
Tamara shut her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, the cold disdain had vanished as neatly as if someone had wiped it away.
In its place sat a timid uncertainty, a carefully crafted helplessness. Her gaze darted from the barrier to the Weasley family and back again. Her fingers twisted the edge of her clothing as if she had no idea what to do with them.
She pushed the trolley forward, slower now, hesitant, stopping just near enough to be noticed but not so near as to seem bold.
[Harmless (Basic) skill activated.]
Molly Weasley noticed her almost instantly.
"Oh, love."
Molly pushed past the bickering twins and hurried over, wearing a glow of motherly concern that made Tamara's skin crawl.
"Are you going to Hogwarts too, dear?" Molly asked, eyes flicking over Tamara's enormous trunk and the black cat's cage. "Is it your first time? Where are your parents?"
Tamara looked up.
Her large, obsidian like eyes filled quickly with mist, perfectly timed, perfectly controlled.
"I'm an orphan, ma'am," she said softly.
Her voice carried that fragile, heartbreakingly brave note that made adults feel heroic for listening.
"Professor Dumbledore gave me the ticket, but I… I don't know how to get in. I can't find the platform."
Molly's expression melted at once.
"Oh, you poor little thing!"
She did not hesitate. She opened her arms and pulled Tamara into a hug that was far too tight, far too warm, far too real.
"Don't worry," Molly said firmly. "Just follow us. Everyone here is going to Hogwarts."
The moment those soft, warm arms closed around her, Tamara went rigid.
Soap. Onion soup. Cheap yarn. A scent like a crowded kitchen and worn jumpers and something called home that she had never agreed to understand.
It was not unpleasant.
That was the problem.
Tamara's stomach twisted with discomfort, as if someone had dragged her out into bright sunlight after a lifetime underground.
Let go of me.
She nearly snarled the words aloud.
In her mind, she was screaming. She wanted to lash out, to punish, to make the world stop touching her like this.
[Warning! Rejection reaction detected. Please endure it.]
Tamara forced the impulse down with raw will.
She lifted one stiff hand and patted Molly's back twice, awkward and mechanical.
"Thank you… thank you, ma'am," she said, voice muffled against Molly's shoulder.
It sounded like she was about to cry from gratitude. In truth, she was about to cry from pure discomfort. The result, unfortunately, looked identical.
Molly released her, beaming.
"What a polite, good child."
Then she guided Tamara straight into the Weasley family cluster as if she belonged there.
Fred and George wandered over at once, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Blimey, that cat's brilliant," one of them said, pointing at Nagini's cage. "Looks like it wants to bite someone."
"What's its name?" the other asked, reaching towards the cage before the cat dodged away with offended grace.
"Nagini," Tamara said quietly.
"Cool name," the twin whistled. "I'm Fred, and this is George. Welcome to Hogwarts, little beauty."
"Tamara Riddle," she replied, keeping it brief. She had no intention of entangling herself with this family more than necessary. Worse, she truly could not tell which twin was which. They were identical in the most irritating way.
"Alright, stop your nonsense," Molly snapped, cuffing one of them on the back of the head.
She turned back to Tamara, voice softening again.
"Don't be afraid, dear. Just walk straight towards the barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10. If you're nervous, follow behind Ron."
Ron Weasley looked at Tamara, suddenly shy. He had grown up surrounded by brothers, constantly shoved around and shouted over, and now a girl his age was standing beside him, neat and composed and far too pretty for his brain to handle calmly.
"You can go first," Ron blurted.
"Thank you," Tamara said, offering a polite smile.
Then she pushed her trolley straight into the wall.
The noisy Muggle station vanished in an instant.
Scarlet steam billowed. A massive train stood waiting beside a platform crowded with witches and wizards.
The Hogwarts Express.
Thick white smoke rolled over the heads of the crowd. Cats of every colour darted between feet. Cages clinked. Trunks thudded. Children shouted. Parents called instructions and warnings over the din. A whole world moved with the familiar, chaotic pulse of magic.
This was the wizarding world.
This was the place she had once conquered.
And would conquer again.
[Ding! Quest completed: An Elder's Care.]
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Love +5.]
[Current Attributes: Love: 10, life: 0, wisdom: 10, Courage: 0.]
[Evaluation: Although your heart is full of resistance, you have to admit that hug was quite warm, wasn't it?]
[Spell Unlocked: Scourgify.]
"…To hell with warmth," Tamara muttered in her mind.
She looked down at her sleeve, wrinkled where Molly had grabbed her, as if the fabric itself had been tainted.
"This is a greasy disaster."
She raised her hand and the holly wand slid into her palm.
"Scourgify."
Light flashed. The cuff smoothed instantly, crisp and clean, as if it had never been touched. Even the faint grit of station dust vanished.
Tamara pushed her trolley towards the rear of the train, speaking under her breath.
"Now let me find a compartment without any idiots and get some rest."
She hauled her trunk up the steps and onto the train with a final, annoyed heave.
And then, at the far end of the platform entrance, she saw him.
A thin boy with messy black hair and round rimmed glasses, panting as he pushed his trolley forward.
Harry Potter.
The boy who had survived her.
.....
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