It was the weekend, and the November wind carried shards of bone-chilling cold across the castle grounds.
The stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch roared with excitement, banners snapping sharply in the freezing air. Students bundled in scarves and gloves stomped their feet for warmth while shouting themselves hoarse.
Wrapped in a thick scarf and clutching a hand warmer, Tamara still felt the cold seeping into her bones.
"A barbaric sport."
Seated in the Slytherin stands, she watched the figures streaking through the sky on wooden sticks, chasing a few battered balls as though their lives depended on it. Her eyes were filled with disdain.
"A group of wizards flying around like headless flies in the freezing wind just for a few pitiful house points. They would be better off spending this time researching two new spells in the warm library."
Beside her, Draco was cheering himself hoarse for the Slytherin team, not forgetting to mock Gryffindor at every opportunity.
"Look! That idiot Potter—he's flying like a drunken duck!"
Tamara didn't even bother responding.
To her, this spectacle was beneath contempt.
Halfway through the game, however, an accident occurred.
Harry's Nimbus 2000 suddenly began to shake violently, as if it had come alive. It bucked like a wild horse trying to throw off its rider, jerking up and down in sharp, erratic motions.
The crowd erupted into chaos.
Gasps turned into screams.
"Ha! I knew it!" Draco shouted excitedly, nearly leaping off the stands. "He's going to fall! He's going to break his neck!"
Tamara narrowed her eyes.
As a former master of the Dark Arts, she was intimately familiar with unnatural magical disturbances. The fluctuations radiating from the broom were not mechanical.
"That's not a malfunction," she judged coldly. "It's a jinx."
While the rest of the spectators stared at Harry in panic, Tamara calmly lifted her Omnioculars and turned her gaze toward the staff stands.
She located the source almost instantly.
Professor Quirrell was staring fixedly at Harry, his unblinking eyes locked on the struggling boy. His lips moved rapidly, whispering an incantation without pause.
Tamara lowered the binoculars slowly, contempt curling at the corner of her mouth.
"Low-level methods."
She spoke to her foolish main soul within her mind.
"The dignified Dark Lord attempting to assassinate an eleven-year-old child in public with such a crude spell?"
To Tamara, this was no different from dropping a banana peel at the school gates in hopes of tripping Harry Potter to death.
"Truly pathetic."
If Quirrell were truly loyal, he would have used Avada Kedavra and ended it cleanly.
Her gaze shifted slightly.
Seated a few rows behind Quirrell was Snape, eyes fixed just as intently on Harry. His lips were also moving, whispering a counter-incantation.
"A counter-curse."
Tamara understood immediately.
"It seems this so-called loyal servant doesn't want the savior to die so soon. Is he protecting the school's reputation… or does he have other plans?"
Snape's behavior gave her pause.
In her previous life, she had heard rumors—whispers about Snape and a certain woman.
Lily Evans. Or rather, Lily Potter.
That woman had died by her own wand.
Snape had appeared utterly devastated at the time, as though he might die himself from grief. Yet later events had not reflected such lingering despair.
Could it be that he wanted to protect that woman's son?
Tamara dismissed the thought almost instantly.
She had used Legilimency on Snape before. She had found nothing abnormal in his mind.
No.
This was likely about Hogwarts' reputation. Nothing more.
Meanwhile, the situation in the sky grew increasingly dire.
Harry had been thrown about so violently that he was now clinging to the broom handle with only one hand. His body swung wildly beneath it. One slip—
—and he would fall.
"Fall, then," Tamara thought indifferently.
"It would save me the trouble of doing it myself later."
She watched without emotion, prepared to witness the savior's demise.
However—
That cursed mechanical voice suddenly echoed inside her mind.
[Ding! Emergency Alert!]
[Detected that key figure 'Harry Potter' is in extreme mortal danger.]
[Warning: This character is the Child of Destiny of this world. His premature death will cause the world line to collapse, severely affecting the host's future plans—and this system's performance.]
[Forced Mission: Save the savior.]
Tamara's expression darkened instantly.
"Are you insane?" she roared internally. "You want me to save him? Save the arch-enemy destined to kill me?"
She had been generous enough not to add another jinx.
Now she was being ordered to save Potter?
[Mission Description: Although you despise him, he cannot die yet. Set aside your arrogance and lend a hand. This is the mark of a leader who considers the bigger picture.]
Tamara's knuckles turned white around her wand.
Disgust churned in her stomach.
Being forced to save Harry Potter was even more revolting than eating one of Hagrid's rock cakes.
[System Notification: Given the host's current first-year magic level, which is insufficient to counter an adult wizard's jinx from a distance, the system has temporarily unlocked an auxiliary spell.]
[Unlocked: Sectumsempra… Sorry, wrong one.]
[Unlocked: Finite Incantatem (Simplified Version).]
[Description: A universal counter-curse enhanced by the system. It can remotely target and dispel persistent malicious magical effects on a target.]
[Please use immediately.]
A faint electric current pulsed at her fingertips.
Tamara's expression grew colder.
If she refused, the system would escalate.
She had no doubt it would shock her into submission.
"…Go to hell," she muttered under her breath.
Taking a slow, steady breath, she suppressed the boiling fury within her chest. Concealing her wand within her wide sleeve, she subtly aimed it toward the struggling figure in the sky.
She summoned every drop of magic she could access.
The long-lost sensation of power surged through her veins.
"Finite Incantatem."
Her whisper was barely audible.
An invisible ripple of magic shot through the icy air like a silent arrow, striking the violently thrashing Nimbus 2000.
For a brief moment—
—the broom's bucking faltered.
Though Quirrell continued his curse, Tamara's interference disrupted the flow. It created a vital opening for Snape's counter-curse.
The two opposing spells collided and reached a tense stalemate.
Harry seized the opportunity.
He tightened his grip and hauled himself upright, now clinging with both hands.
Below, chaos continued.
Then—
Blue flames suddenly erupted within the staff stands.
Quirrell was knocked sideways in the resulting panic. His line of sight broke.
The curse shattered instantly.
Harry's broom stabilized.
Tamara withdrew her wand.
Using a high-level spell in her current restricted state was unpleasant. While simple incantations were effortless, something like Finite Incantatem strained her limited reserves.
A faint pallor colored her face.
But the physical exhaustion was nothing compared to her irritation.
"I actually… saved him."
Watching Harry regain control of his broom felt like swallowing a live fly.
[Ding! Forced Mission Completed: Save the savior.]
[Evaluation: Although reluctant, your intervention was crucial. This demonstrates commendable strategic foresight.]
[Reward: Designated Skill Book ×1. Allows the host to bypass Virtue Point restrictions and forcibly learn one standard first- or second-year spell.]
Tamara snorted softly.
At least there was compensation.
There would be plenty of time to kill the savior later.
She had no interest in watching the remainder of the match. The nausea from saving Harry lingered unpleasantly in her chest.
Not until—
Harry dove suddenly.
A blur of gold flashed near his mouth.
Moments later, he landed hard on the pitch—and spat the Golden Snitch into his palm.
The crowd exploded.
Gryffindor had won.
A collective groan rose from the Slytherin stands.
Draco nearly jumped in fury. "Cheating! He swallowed it! That doesn't count!"
Tamara rose calmly from her seat.
She brushed imaginary dust from her robes and cast one final glance toward Quirrell, who was now pretending to look bewildered and concerned amid the commotion.
"Stupid people, doing stupid things," she thought coldly.
Without another word, she turned and left the stands.
The freezing wind felt far less irritating than the aftertaste of what she had just done.
Saving Harry Potter.
How utterly disgusting.
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