Chapter 14: Fond of Teaching
After that little interlude, the atmosphere in the compartment turned subtly awkward.
To pass the time, Tamara pulled out a textbook and began to read, turning pages with calm, measured movements. Harry and Ron kept eating, but their eyes kept drifting back to the girl in the corner.
In their minds, Tamara was no longer simply pretty and fragile. The way she had dismissed Malfoy had been… impressive. Almost unreal.
When the silence began to feel too heavy, Ron snatched up the wand beside him and said to Harry, "I learned a spell from my brother that can turn this rat yellow."
"Really?" Harry leaned forward, intrigued. This was the first time he had seen someone try a proper spell. He did not count what Hagrid had done to his cousin.
"Of course," Ron said, full of confidence. He raised his wand, pointed it at Scabbers, and chanted, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"
Nothing happened.
Scabbers remained stubbornly grey in Ron's hands.
Tamara pinched the bridge of her nose. If that counted as being a wizard, she sincerely hoped Ron would stop insulting magic.
Harry opened his mouth, about to say something reassuring, when the compartment door was pulled open for the third time.
There was no knock. No arrogant sneer. Just a bustle of movement as someone stepped straight inside.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."
A young girl stood in the doorway with thick, bushy brown hair and rather prominent front teeth. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes. Her tone was brisk and urgent, with the officious air of someone who had appointed herself responsible for the entire train.
Tamara's brow tightened.
Another one.
Was this train a torture device designed specifically to torment her? Did someone have to interrupt her thoughts every ten minutes?
"Haven't seen it," Ron said, a little too sharply. He was still stinging from his failed spell.
The girl did not leave. Her gaze dropped to the wand in Ron's hand.
"Oh, are you doing magic?"
Before anyone could stop her, she marched in and sat down in the empty seat next to Harry as if she belonged there.
"Let's see it then."
Ron looked embarrassed, but he cleared his throat anyway. He lifted the old wand that looked as if it might snap in half, and recited loudly once more, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"
He flicked his wand.
Scabbers squeaked in alarm, then went limp again, as grey as ever.
"Are you sure that spell is actually real?" the girl said bluntly. "It doesn't seem very good, does it?"
Ron's ears reddened. He muttered that maybe George had taught him a fake one.
"I've tried a few simple spells at home, just for practice," the girl went on, lifting her chin. "They've all worked for me."
Then the words began to pour out of her, quick and relentless, as though she were reading from a page she had memorised.
"Nobody in my family knows magic, so I was ever so surprised when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, because, I mean, it's the very best school of magic I've heard of. I've learned all our set books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough…"
A Muggle born.
Tamara labelled her instantly.
What she despised most were Muggles, and people like this. Muggle borns who spoke as if magic were a subject to be crammed, rather than an instinct, a power carried in the blood.
Of course, Tamara herself was technically not pure blood either. But Lord Voldemort had already killed her biological father, who had been of impure blood. No one could prove she was a half blood now.
And magic was not clauses learned by rote. It was talent. It was will. It was something that answered to you.
"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said at last, taking a breath as if she had been swimming, "and who are you, by the way?"
Harry and Ron gave their names.
The moment Harry said his, Hermione launched straight into another barrage, quoting passages she had read about him in A History of Modern Magic and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.
Finally, her gaze slid to Tamara.
"And you?" Hermione asked, studying the girl who had barely spoken, but whose presence felt sharply out of place in the compartment. "You look… very special. I mean, your robes fit very well. Were they custom made too?"
"Tamara Riddle," Tamara replied, short and flat.
"Riddle?" Hermione frowned, searching her mental library. "I don't think I've seen that name in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century."
"Because I haven't started writing my history yet," Tamara said, without expression.
Hermione blinked, clearly not expecting that.
Then her attention snapped to the book beside Tamara.
"You like reading too? Is that Intermediate Transfiguration? That's a third year textbook," Hermione exclaimed, genuinely impressed.
"I was just practising the Levitation Charm," Hermione continued, eager again. "Although the book says the movement is a swish and flick, I always find it hard to control the force. Look, I'll show you."
She pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed at a Chocolate Frog wrapper on the table.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Hermione flicked her wand sharply. The wrapper trembled as if a breeze had caught it, floated a few centimetres in a wobbly, uncertain way, then dropped back onto the table.
"See?" Hermione lifted her head with a little pride, clearly expecting praise. "It's not perfect yet, but I can already make it move."
Ron and Harry did look surprised. They had not even properly tried their wands yet.
Then a soft chuckle drifted from the window.
It carried the faintest edge of contempt, yet it was oddly pleasant to hear.
"You call that floating?"
Tamara set her book down. Her dark eyes raked over Hermione with a cold, appraising look.
[Ding! Teaching opportunity detected.]
[Triggered Daily Task: Fond of Teaching.]
[Task Description: Since you cannot stand this clumsy novice, why not show her what real magic looks like?]
[Task Reward: Wisdom +5.]
Tamara frowned. She was not kind enough to guide a Muggle born.
[Host, you do not really plan on relying on just two spells to conquer the world, do you?]
Tamara's expression tightened for a fraction of a second. One day, she would drag this system out into the open and use Crucio on it day and night.
Hermione's cheeks flushed at Tamara's tone. "This is already very difficult. The book says…"
"The book says, the book says," Tamara cut in, drawing a slow breath. Her voice was controlled, icy.
"If all you do is chant what you read, you will never become a true witch, Miss Granger."
Hermione's mouth opened, then closed again.
"Your pronunciation is too heavy," Tamara continued. "Why did you drag out that gar syllable for so long? And your wrist."
Tamara stood and walked over.
She reached out, a long pale finger pressing lightly against Hermione's wrist where she held the wand.
.....
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