Chapter 15: I'm Back (Part 1)
Hermione's whole body went rigid.
Up close, she caught a clean, cool scent on Tamara, pleasant in a way that felt almost wintry, like cedar carried on cold air.
"Too stiff," Tamara said quietly, the way a strict tutor might correct a student without raising her voice. "The wand is your arm, not a baton. You have to guide the magic, not throw it."
She tilted her chin slightly.
"Watch closely."
Tamara drew her holly wand.
She did not bark the incantation like Hermione had. She did not slash her wand through the air as if she were trying to chop something in half.
Her movement was barely there. Just a small, elegant turn of the wrist, subtle enough that it looked like she was tracing an invisible symbol.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The words left her mouth as softly as a sigh, every syllable clean and precise, like something lifted straight from a perfect pronunciation lesson.
The very next second, the wrapper on the table, which had been as lifeless as a dead fish a moment before, seemed to wake up.
It rose lightly, not wobbling, not fighting for balance, but floating steady and poised in mid air.
Following the guidance of Tamara's wand, it began to move through the small space of the compartment like it had learned how to dance.
It folded, flipped, and refined itself in the air, creasing into a neat shape until it became a paper crane. The crane circled Hermione's head once, then settled gently on the tip of her nose.
"Whoa…" Ron breathed.
Harry and Ron stared, half dazed.
Hermione's earlier effort had been strained and clumsy by comparison. This was on an entirely different level.
This was magic.
Not merely functional, but artful.
Hermione Granger felt as if she had stopped breathing.
She stared at the paper crane balanced on her nose, then lifted her eyes to the black haired girl holding a wand as if it were nothing.
In that instant, the pride Hermione carried so carefully cracked and fell apart.
Strangely, she did not feel jealous.
She did not feel angry, either.
Instead, as she took in Tamara's smooth profile and her composed, effortless posture, something in Hermione's chest tightened in a way she had never felt before.
So strong.
So beautiful.
This was what she wanted to become.
Hermione's brown eyes, which had been sharp with scrutiny and self assurance, turned bright and starry, shining with a near fanatical admiration.
"How… how did you do that?"
Her voice trembled. She stood up so fast her knee bumped the seat, and she leaned close to Tamara, forgetting manners, forgetting personal space, forgetting everything but the spell.
"Was the origami part of the Levitation Charm too? Or was it Transfiguration? Was there some trick to the angle of your wrist? Can you teach me?"
Faced with Hermione's sudden intensity, Tamara took a small step back, almost instinctively.
[Ding! Task completed: Fond of Teaching Others.]
[Intelligence +5. Current Intelligence: 15.]
[Extra Reward: Hermione Granger's Favourability Task unlocked.]
[Current Favourability: 10/100.]
Tamara glanced at the system panel, and her mood lifted slightly.
At least she got the points.
"This is just the basics, Granger," Tamara said. She tucked her wand away, her tone still faintly aloof. "If you could close that incessant mouth and pay attention to the flow of magic, you might manage it too."
If anyone else had spoken to Hermione Granger like that, she would have flushed and snapped back on principle.
But with the paper crane still fresh in her mind, Hermione found she could not even summon proper outrage.
"I will do it."
Hermione bit her lip, and a stubborn fire lit her eyes as she looked straight at Tamara.
"If you can do it, I definitely can too."
Tamara lifted an eyebrow, mildly surprised by the Muggle born girl's nerve.
"Then prove it to me," she said, casually, and sat back down.
Hermione did not launch into another speech. She carefully tucked the paper crane into her pocket as if it were something precious, then looked at the empty seat beside Tamara.
"Can I sit here?" she asked.
Her tone had changed. The command was gone. In its place was something that sounded almost like hope, though Hermione did not seem to notice it herself.
Tamara felt a headache coming on.
Her compartment had practically become a gathering spot for the Gryffindor reserve of foolish lions.
"Suit yourself." She reopened her book.
Hermione's face brightened immediately. She abandoned the corridor and the missing toad without a second thought and dropped into the seat beside Tamara.
At last, the compartment went quiet.
Only the steady rhythm of the wheels over the tracks remained.
Outside the window, the sky deepened. Purple darkness settled over hills and woods, and distant lights appeared like scattered sparks.
"We're almost there," Harry said, staring out. He sounded nervous and excited at the same time, as if his chest could not decide which feeling to hold.
A voice crackled over the speaker.
"Please put on your robes. We will be leaving your luggage on the train over there."
Hermione stood. Her gaze swept over Harry and Ron, who had not changed out of their old clothes yet, and she frowned.
"You'd better change quickly," she said. "I think we're nearly there."
Then she looked at Tamara.
Tamara was still wearing dark green silk robes. In the dim light of the compartment, the line of her profile looked softer than before, but the cold distance around her remained, like a thin layer of frost.
Hermione watched her, and that strange feeling bubbled up again.
She wanted to say something, perhaps to compliment the robes, perhaps to ask about the book, but the words caught in her throat and came out dry instead.
"See you in a bit."
The train finally slowed and came to a stop.
As soon as they stepped onto the platform, a blast of cold wind hit them full in the face.
The station was pitch black, with only a single lamp swaying in the distance.
"First years! First years over here!"
A booming voice cut through the darkness and the crowd.
It was Rubeus Hagrid.
Tamara's eyes found him at once.
He stood like a small mountain, holding a large lantern. His beard swallowed most of his face.
She knew this pathetic oaf far too well. Because of her, he had been expelled from Hogwarts, and only Dumbledore's mercy had kept him from starving, giving him work as gamekeeper.
Looking at Hagrid's familiar, foolish face, Tamara felt something bizarre flicker in her chest.
Nostalgia.
Nothing but a half giant mongrel.
Tamara pushed the feeling down. This new body came with inconvenient emotions that rose at the wrong times.
"C'mon now, follow me, first years! Watch your step!"
Hagrid called, leading them down a steep, narrow path.
On either side was darkness and unknown woods. Wind rattled through leaves with a soft, restless sound, like whispers from unseen mouths.
No one spoke. The new students were caught in the solemn, mysterious atmosphere, half frightened and half enchanted.
"Ye'll get yer first sight o' Hogwarts in a moment," Hagrid called back over his shoulder.
When the path opened suddenly, the entire group gasped.
Ahead lay a vast black lake.
On the opposite shore, perched high on a cliff, stood a towering castle.
Its spires rose sharp against the night, and warm light flickered in its windows beneath a star filled sky.
Hogwarts.
The place where magic gathered thickest in all of Britain, the holy place in the hearts of young witches and wizards.
To everyone else, it was a school.
To Tamara Riddle, it was the first place she would conquer.
She stood by the black lake, cold wind whipping her long black hair.
As she looked at the castle, a fire began to kindle in her dark eyes, slow and hungry.
Ambition.
A need to take everything, a desire that death itself had failed to extinguish.
[Ding! Host's Ambition Level detected as off the charts.]
[System Tip: Conquering the world is too exhausting. Why not first think about how to avoid being sorted into Hufflepuff?]
"Shut up," Tamara muttered, clenching her fist. "I'm not going anywhere except Slytherin."
[What about Azkaban?]
Tamara paused.
"…That won't happen either. Both times I died directly. I never even made it into Azkaban."
.....
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