Chapter 49: Gifts
On the final day before the Christmas holidays, a restless, buzzing energy infected every corner of Hogwarts Castle. Thick garlands of holly and mistletoe draped heavily along the stone corridors, filling the air with a sharp, piney scent. Down in the entrance hall, Hagrid was busy dragging massive, frost-covered fir trees through the heavy oak doors, leaving thick trails of melting slush smeared across the pristine marble floors. Nearby, Professor Flitwick stood on his tiptoes, waving his wand to conjure shimmering little icicles onto the branches. Though the tiny Charms master looked a bit flustered as he dodged rogue pine needles, a delighted smile stretched across his face.
"Sign-up sheet! Quiet down and listen to the sign-up sheet!" Professor McGonagall's crisp voice cut through the chatter of the joint Gryffindor and Slytherin Transfiguration class. She stood at the front of the room, a long roll of parchment unfurled in her hands, her sharp eyes scanning the rows of students to take a tally of those remaining at the castle for the holidays.
"Potter, are you staying?" she asked, her quill hovering over the parchment.
"Yes, Professor," Harry answered without a second of hesitation. To him, the ancient, drafty castle of Hogwarts was practically paradise compared to the stifling, miserable cupboard waiting for him back on Privet Drive.
Ron immediately thrust his hand into the air. "I am staying too, Professor. A few of my brothers are staying as well."
A sharp, derisive snort echoed from the Slytherin side of the room. Draco Malfoy leaned back in his chair, a nasty sneer twisting his pale features. He deliberately pitched his drawl loud enough to carry across the stone walls.
"Look at that. Some people are staying because nobody wants them. I suppose their families are just too poor to even afford a simple train ticket home. Or perhaps they just do not have a real home to return to at all?"
His pale grey eyes swept over Harry and Ron with absolute contempt. The sheer, suffocating arrogance radiating from the Malfoy heir was enough to make anyone's knuckles itch.
Ron's ears instantly flushed a violent, mottled red. His jaw locked, and he gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white, his body tensing as he prepared to vault over the table and strangle the Slytherin boy.
"I will be staying as well, Professor."
A cool, perfectly modulated voice sliced through the rising tension like a silver blade.
Tamara calmly closed her textbook, the heavy thud of the cover drawing every eye in the room, and looked up at Professor McGonagall with a serene expression.
"What?!" Draco yelped, his arrogant sneer shattering instantly. He whipped his head around, staring at Tamara with wide, disbelieving eyes. "You... you are not going back? But everyone is leaving! Almost no one from Slytherin is staying behind! Even Goyle and Crabbe are going home!"
"Then I suppose I shall see you all after the holidays." Tamara's tone remained entirely flat, her dark eyes completely unbothered by his panic, as if it were no big deal.
In reality, Tamara's reason for staying was incredibly simple. Winter at Wool's Orphanage was absolute hell on earth. There was zero heating, only shattered, drafty windows that let the freezing London wind howl through the halls, and damp, mold-infested blankets that smelled of rot. By comparison, even the dampest, gloomiest corner of the Hogwarts dungeons felt a hundred times warmer.
also, only when the castle was emptied of everyone would she finally have the chance to do things that weren't convenient to be seen—like exploring the Restricted Section, or checking out that forbidden third-floor corridor.
"If you are staying, then I will..." Draco gritted his teeth, his pale cheeks flushing slightly as he seemingly wanted to say he would stay to accompany her.
"Do not be silly, Draco," Tamara interrupted him, her tone remaining entirely flat. "While you still have your family, you should spend more time with them."
"And..." she added. "Do not forget to bring me that book."
Draco's expression twisted in a brief, painful struggle. Seeing that Tamara would not budge, he had no choice but to compromise. Deflated, he slumped back into his seat. "Fine... then... have a Merry Christmas, Tamara."
"Merry Christmas," she replied calmly.
...
The day the holidays officially began, the sky above the Scottish Highlands was a heavy, overcast grey. Down at Hogsmeade Station, the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express stood waiting on the tracks, puffing thick clouds of white steam into the freezing air. Massive crowds of students dragged their heavy brass-bound trunks through the snow, their excited, high-pitched chatter echoing across the grounds as they swarmed toward the train cars.
Tamara stood alone on the high stone steps at the castle entrance. She wrapped her thick winter cloak tighter around her shoulders, watching the departing masses, feeling only a deep sense of pleasure called peace and quiet.
'Finally gone. This entire flock of noisy sparrows.'
Just as she was about to turn back into the warm castle to enjoy her solitude, a figure came running over, panting heavily.
"Tamara! Wait!"
It was Hermione Granger.
The Gryffindor girl was sprinting up the icy path, bundled up in a thick, lumpy brown coat and a garish red scarf. She was clutching a beautifully wrapped box against her chest. Her cheeks and nose were flushed a bright, stinging red from the biting winter wind, but her brown eyes were shining brightly.
"Huff... puff..." Hermione skidded to a halt in front of Tamara, bending over slightly to catch her breath. "Glad I caught you."
She straightened up, her cheeks darkening with a sudden bout of shyness, and awkwardly handed over the box.
"This... this is a Christmas gift for you."
Tamara stared down at the little package, raising an eyebrow.
"A gift?" She was a bit surprised.
Although she had spent a few agonizing hours tutoring the girl in the library and had saved her once, Tamara never thought this Gryffindor bookworm would actually seek her out with a present.
"Yes!" Hermione nodded vigorously, her bushy hair bouncing around her face. Her eyes were full of sincerity and attachment. "Thank you for your help this term. Even though... well, even though you always say I'm stupid, I know you do it so I'll improve."
"My dad brought this book back from the Muggle world," Hermione continued, babbling slightly from nerves. "It is all about logic and mind mapping. I thought... well, I thought you might like it."
Tamara stared into those bright, hopeful brown eyes and felt as if she were getting goosebumps all over. This kind of pure, untainted kindness directed at her felt entirely alien. Honestly, enduring it was almost more uncomfortable than being struck by the Cruciatus Curse.
"I do not—" Tamara instinctively wanted to refuse, her voice dropping into a cold, hard register.
But her hand did not push the box away.
Because the System's notification sound had already chimed.
[Ding! Sincere gift of friendship detected.]
[Task: Reciprocity.]
[Since you have received a gift, how can you not return the favor? Even if it is just a simple 'thank you'. Accept the gift and give the other party a warm farewell.]
[Reward: Love +1.]
'...What a pain,' Tamara sighed heavily in her mind, suppressing the urge to grind her teeth.
Forcing her stiff muscles to obey, she reached out and took the box.
"Even though I do not typically read Muggle books," Tamara forced the words out, accepting the box, "since it is a text on logic... I suppose I can use it to pass the time."
Hermione's eyes lit up instantly, practically glowing like two little light bulbs being switched on. "That is wonderful! Oh, and I even tucked a bookmark inside. I made it myself!"
"Train is leaving!" Hagrid's booming shout echoed from the distance, cutting through the icy wind.
"I have to go!" Hermione hurriedly adjusted her thick red scarf, and then, while Tamara was completely and utterly off guard, she suddenly rushed forward and gave Tamara a big hug.
"Merry Christmas, Tamara!" Hermione squeaked into her shoulder. "I will miss you!"
The hug was very short, lasting only a second. Before Tamara's paralyzed brain could even react and push her away, Hermione had already let go. She spun around and sprinted down the path toward the train like a happy little bird.
Leaving Tamara standing there stiffly by herself.
She remained locked in that exact posture of holding the box, her face darkening until it resembled the charred bottom of a pot.
"She... hugged me?" Tamara slowly lowered her gaze, staring down at her robes in absolute disbelief. She looked at the fabric as if it had just been contaminated by some terrible virus.
'That mudblood actually dared to hug me?!'
Her inner voice roared frantically, a tempest of dark fury tearing through her mind. She desperately wished she could cast Scourgify on herself ten times over, and perhaps throw an Incendio at the departing figure for good measure.
But the small box still sat heavy in her hands.
And... the body heat and heartbeat belonging to another person that had been transmitted during the hug did not dissipate immediately into the freezing winter air.
Tamara stood completely still in the biting cold wind, watching the scarlet train recede. Finally, a helpless and complex sigh escaped her lips, vanishing into a puff of white mist.
"Whatever."
She turned on her heel and strode back into the castle, the heavy oak doors slowly closing behind her.
'She is just a... slightly noisy mudblood, anyway,' she told herself, her grip on the little box tightening just a fraction as she disappeared into the shadows of the entrance hall.
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