Hermione's entire body stiffened.
A cool, pleasant fragrance clung to Tamara—like cedarwood in winter, crisp and distant.
"Too stiff," Tamara said in a low voice, sounding more like a strict mentor than a classmate. "The wand is your arm, not a baton. You guide the magic—you don't fling it."
"Watch closely."
Tamara drew her holly wand.
She didn't shout the incantation as Hermione had, nor did she swing her wand as though she were hacking at an invisible enemy. Her movements were minimal. Her wrist turned in a smooth, elegant arc, as if sketching an unseen sigil in the air.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The words left her lips softly, almost like a sigh. The pronunciation was flawless—precise, textbook-perfect.
The next second—
The candy wrapper that had lain on the seat, limp and lifeless, suddenly stirred.
It rose lightly into the air.
Not wobbling. Not jerking.
It hovered—steady and graceful, suspended as if it had always belonged there.
Guided by the subtle motion of Tamara's wand, the wrapper began to move. It folded once. Then again. Crisp edges formed midair, each crease sharp and deliberate. Within moments, the wrapper transformed into a delicate paper crane.
The tiny crane circled Hermione's head once before drifting downward and landing gently on the tip of her nose.
"Whoa…"
Harry and Ron stared in stunned silence.
This was nothing like Hermione's earlier, strained attempt.
This was magic.
Artistic magic.
Hermione Granger felt as though her breathing had stopped entirely.
She stared cross-eyed at the paper crane balanced on her nose, then slowly lifted her gaze to the black-haired girl holding the wand.
Calm.
Composed.
Untouchable.
In that instant, the small pride Hermione had carried all her life shattered into pieces.
Strangely, she didn't feel jealous.
She wasn't angry.
Instead, as she looked at Tamara's refined profile and elegant posture, something inside her heart skipped.
So strong.
So beautiful.
This—
This was what she wanted to become.
The scrutiny in Hermione's brown eyes melted away, replaced with a glittering, almost fanatical admiration.
"How… how did you do that?"
Her voice trembled. She jumped to her feet and leaned far too close to Tamara, completely forgetting about personal space.
"Was the origami part still the Levitation Charm? Or was that Transfiguration? Was there a specific wrist angle? Did you channel your magic differently? Can you teach me?"
Faced with the suddenly fervent Hermione, Tamara took a subtle step back.
[Ding! Task completed: Fond of Teaching Others.]
[Intelligence +5. Current Intelligence: 15.]
[Extra Reward: Hermione Granger's Favorability Task unlocked.]
[Current Favorability: 10/100.]
Tamara glanced at the system panel and felt her mood improve slightly.
At least she gained the points.
"This is only the basics, Granger," she said coolly, lowering her wand. "If you could close that incessant mouth of yours and feel the flow of magic instead of analyzing it to death, you might manage it too."
If anyone else had spoken to her like that, Hermione Granger—proud and sharp-tongued—would have flushed red and argued immediately.
But now?
Looking at the perfectly folded crane resting in her palm, Hermione found she couldn't even muster anger.
"I will do it."
She bit her lip, a determined fire igniting in her brown eyes as she met Tamara's gaze directly.
"If you can do it, then I definitely can too."
Tamara raised an eyebrow, faintly amused by the stubbornness of this Muggle-born girl.
"Then prove it," she said lightly, returning to her seat.
Hermione didn't launch into another lecture.
Instead, she carefully tucked the paper crane into her pocket as if it were something precious. Then she glanced at the empty seat beside Tamara.
"May I sit here?" she asked.
The haughty, commanding tone she once used was gone. In its place was a hopeful expectation she hadn't even realized she felt.
Tamara suppressed a sigh.
Her compartment had practically turned into a gathering point for Gryffindor's future pride of lions.
"Suit yourself."
She reopened her book.
Hermione's eyes brightened instantly. She abandoned the search for Neville's toad without hesitation and sat beside Tamara.
The compartment fell quiet at last.
Only the rhythmic clatter of wheels against tracks filled the air.
Outside the window, twilight deepened. Purple shadows blanketed the rolling hills and forests, distant lights flickering faintly in the darkness.
"We're almost there," Harry murmured, peering outside. Nervous excitement tightened his voice. He had never been this close to the magical world before.
A crackling announcement echoed through the train.
"Please change into your school robes. We will be leaving our luggage on the train."
Hermione stood immediately. She glanced critically at Harry and Ron, who still wore their Muggle clothes, and frowned.
"You'd better change quickly. We must be nearly there."
Then her eyes shifted to Tamara.
Tamara remained seated, still wearing her dark green silk robes. In the dim compartment light, her profile seemed softer—but the quiet coldness surrounding her remained unmistakable.
Hermione hesitated.
She wanted to compliment the robes.
Or ask what she was reading.
But the words tangled awkwardly in her throat and emerged only as a stiff, "See you in a bit."
The train screeched to a halt soon after.
The moment they stepped onto the platform, a sharp, freezing wind struck their faces.
It was pitch-black.
Only a single lantern swayed in the distance.
"First years! First years over here!"
A booming voice thundered above the crowd.
It was Rubeus Hagrid.
Tamara's gaze settled on the massive half-giant standing like a small mountain, lantern raised high. His wild beard nearly obscured his entire face.
She knew him far too well.
It was because of her former self that he had been expelled from Hogwarts. Only Dumbledore's intervention had saved him from complete ruin, granting him the position of gamekeeper.
Seeing that familiar, foolish face stirred an odd sense of nostalgia in her chest.
Nothing more than a half-giant mongrel.
Tamara suppressed the strange emotion. This new body sometimes dragged unfamiliar sentiments to the surface.
"C'mon now, follow me, first years! Watch yer step!"
Hagrid led them down a steep, narrow path.
Dark woods loomed on either side. The wind rustled through unseen leaves, whispering like distant ghosts.
No one spoke.
The new students were awed into silence by the solemn, mysterious atmosphere.
"Ye'll get yer first sight o' Hogwarts in a moment!" Hagrid called back.
Then—
The path opened.
A collective gasp rose from the group.
Stretching before them lay the vast Black Lake, its waters dark and glassy under the night sky.
Beyond it, perched high upon a cliff, stood the castle.
Towering spires pierced the heavens. Hundreds of windows glowed warmly, golden light flickering against ancient stone.
Hogwarts.
The place with the densest concentration of magic in all of Britain.
To others, it was merely a school.
To Tamara Riddle—
It was the first territory she would conquer.
She stood by the Black Lake, the cold wind whipping her long black hair around her face.
Her dark eyes fixed on the illuminated castle.
Slowly, something ignited within them.
A flame.
Ambition.
A desire to dominate and possess—unyielding, unextinguished by death itself.
She had died once.
She had died twice.
And yet the fire still burned.
[Ding! Host's Ambition Level detected as off the charts.]
[System Tip: Conquering the world is exhausting. Perhaps focus first on not being sorted into Hufflepuff?]
Tamara clenched her fist.
"Shut up," she muttered internally. "I will go nowhere except Slytherin."
[What about Azkaban?]
Tamara's expression darkened.
"…That won't happen either. Both times I died directly. I never even made it to Azkaban."
The system fell silent.
The boats waited at the water's edge.
Around her, children whispered in excitement and fear.
But Tamara Riddle only stared at the castle across the lake.
Hogwarts.
This time—
She would not merely pass through its halls.
She would stand at its peak.
And no one would ever cast her down again.
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