On Christmas morning, the Slytherin dungeon was even quieter than usual.
There was no noise from early-rising lower-year students, nor were there upper-years loudly debating Quidditch tactics in the common room. Only the faint crackling of embers in the fireplace suggested that the place was not entirely deserted.
Tamara Riddle woke with a suffocating sensation.
It wasn't that someone was attempting to murder her. Rather, the idiotic cat named Nagini had sprawled across her face like a black fur scarf, completely indifferent to proper sleeping posture and entirely invested in blocking her airway.
"Get off."
Tamara grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and unceremoniously dropped it at the foot of the bed.
She sat up, pushing her long, disheveled hair away from her face, and reached automatically for the wand on her bedside table.
Her hand touched something else.
A pile of something.
Tamara froze. Slowly, she pulled aside the heavy green velvet bed curtains.
The next second, the Dark Lord's expression solidified into something dangerously blank.
At the foot of her bed, atop the previously empty black walnut nightstand, and even scattered across the carpet, were piles upon piles of brightly wrapped gift boxes.
The sheer volume made it look as though someone had looted an entire gift shop in Diagon Alley and dumped the contents into her dormitory.
"…What is this?"
Tamara stared at the mountain of presents in disbelief.
In her past life, she had also received gifts. But those had been Dark Arts artifacts, rare poisons, or the severed heads of enemies respectfully offered by Death Eaters.
These, however…
Pink bows.
Gold star-patterned wrapping paper.
And that lumpy, suspiciously soft package.
[Ding! Merry Christmas, host!]
The system's sickeningly cheerful voice rang out with impeccable timing.
[It appears your good deeds this semester have won over many hearts! Please enjoy the fruits of your labor!]
Tamara's expression darkened.
She picked up the topmost black package.
Draco.
Inside was a set of finely crafted pure silver potion maintenance tools and a large assortment of premium sweets from Honeydukes.
"To dear Miss Riddle — I hope you like it. My mother specially ordered this from France."
"Tasteless," Tamara commented coolly.
Nevertheless, she placed the silver tools aside with care. They were undeniably practical.
Next came a silk scarf from Pansy, followed by a towering stack of cakes from Goyle and Crabbe.
Then she noticed a somewhat roughly wrapped package.
Signed: Hagrid.
Inside lay a crudely carved wooden figure. It was meant to resemble a Hippogriff, though in reality it looked more like a winged pig suffering from structural confusion. There was also a bag of his infamous, tooth-shattering rock cakes.
"…Unforgivable."
Tamara tossed the rock cakes aside with visible disdain.
Beneath that sat a neatly wrapped brown paper parcel.
Cedric Diggory.
Inside was a copy of Detailed Explanation of Basic Healing Spells and a short note:
"This might be useful to you. Also, keep warm."
"Meddlesome fool," Tamara muttered.
What unsettled her most, however, was the grotesquely bloated soft package at the bottom of the pile.
She picked it up between two fingers as though it were potentially contagious.
After unwrapping it, she fell into silence.
A thick, dark green sweater.
A large silver "T" was knitted prominently across the chest.
Mrs. Weasley's handiwork.
Clearly, the twins had betrayed her name to Molly Weasley.
Tamara stared at the sweater, saturated with motherly affection, and felt her aesthetic sensibilities suffering grievous injury.
"I am the Dark Lord," she informed the garment coldly.
"I am not some red-haired Weasley brat."
At the very bottom of the stack, she found a small box of ordinary Chocolate Frogs.
No signature.
But the unmistakable Gryffindor-level cheapness made the sender obvious.
Harry Potter.
"Disgusting sentimentality."
Tamara sat amid the mountain of gifts, a headache blooming steadily behind her temples.
She had intended to sleep in and later investigate the trapdoor.
Instead, her path was obstructed by… this avalanche of emotional clutter.
"System," she asked coldly, "is there a one-click destruction function?"
[No, host.]
The system's tone abruptly turned serious.
[Not only may you not destroy them, but you must also observe proper social etiquette.]
[Triggering Holiday Limited Mission: Reciprocity.]
Tamara's eye twitched.
[Mission Description: Accepting gifts without reciprocation is rude and arrogant. While this aligns with your persona, it is not recommended for long-term development.]
[Mission Requirement: Prepare and deliver a return gift to each sender.]
[Special Restriction: As each gift was heartfelt, your return gifts must also demonstrate sincerity. Recommended: handmade or magically blessed items.]
[Time Limit: Before midnight tonight.]
[Mission Reward: Love +2]
[Failure Penalty: Forced to wear the sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley and perform a tap dance in the Great Hall.]
Tamara's face paled instantly.
She glanced at the sweater.
There was no scenario in which she would emerge dignified from that punishment.
"…How many?"
Her voice trembled — not with fear, but with rage compressed to a molecular level.
[Twelve individuals in total.]
"Twelve?!"
Tamara nearly snapped her wand in half.
Handmade gifts.
For twelve people.
In one day.
"I despise Christmas."
She squeezed the words through clenched teeth.
Thus began Tamara Riddle's unexpected Christmas labor reform.
She skipped the lavish Christmas feast in the Great Hall. She ignored the snowy courtyard and festive decorations.
Instead, she locked herself in her dormitory, sent Nagini out to hunt mice, and emptied her storage of usable materials onto the table.
"Handmade… magical blessing…"
Her gaze settled on a pile of wooden blocks — scraps she had gathered from the edge of the forest near a Bowtruckle habitat for Transfiguration practice.
"Ancient Runes," she decided.
Efficient. Elegant. Acceptable.
She picked up a carving knife and began her work.
Had anyone in the Wizarding world witnessed the scene, they would have fainted on the spot.
The most feared Dark Wizard in history sat hunched over a desk like a diligent artisan, carefully carving amulets symbolizing peace, wisdom, and courage.
"For that idiot Draco… Ehwaz. Trust. Perhaps it will encourage brain development."
Her tone was venomous, her craftsmanship meticulous.
"For Pansy — Kenaz. Fire and light. Maybe she'll do something besides stare at me."
"For Hagrid…"
She paused briefly.
"Uruz. Strength. It's his only defining trait."
"And Granger…"
Tamara selected a finely grained piece of wood.
After a moment's hesitation, she carved Ansuz — the rune of wisdom and communication.
"Don't misunderstand," she muttered. "I simply hope she'll argue more logically."
Finally, Harry Potter.
Tamara stared at the last wooden piece with narrowed eyes.
A flicker of murderous intent flashed across her expression.
She very much wished to carve something… permanent.
But the system's electric warning crackled at her fingertips.
"Fine."
She carved Sowilo — Sun, victory.
"Consider it a wish for my own inevitable triumph."
By the time she finished carving and infused each rune with magic, night had fully descended.
Tamara slumped back in her chair, utterly drained.
Twelve wooden amulets lay across the desk, glowing faintly.
The materials were ordinary.
The magic embedded within them was not.
Each contained a high-level blessing personally infused by the Dark Lord herself.
Quite possibly the most valuable batch of protective charms in the entire Wizarding world.
"If they knew who crafted these…" she murmured with a cold laugh.
"They would probably burn them in terror."
She summoned the school owls and sent each package into the night.
The next day.
Malfoy Manor.
Draco received the wooden charm engraved with Ehwaz. It lacked elaborate packaging, yet he could feel the steady magical resonance within it.
"Father! Look! Tamara made this herself!"
Lucius Malfoy examined the plaque carefully. Ever since hearing the name Riddle, he had been uneasy.
"Is that so?" Lucius said thoughtfully. "Then you must express your gratitude properly, Draco."
Hufflepuff common room.
Hannah received her Berkana rune — Birch, healing.
The moment she wore it, warmth flowed gently through her.
"Tamara is so kind…" she whispered, touched.
Gryffindor Tower.
Harry sat beside the fireplace, chewing Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans when an owl dropped a small parcel onto his lap.
Inside was a wooden charm tied with a green ribbon, engraved with Sowilo.
There was no note.
There didn't need to be one.
Harry closed his fingers around the warm wood and looked out into the snowy night.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Back in the Slytherin dormitory.
[Ding! Mission complete: Reciprocity.]
[Congratulations, host, for successfully spreading warmth!]
[Reward: Love +3. Bonus +1 for exceptional sincerity.]
[Current Attributes: Love 18, Life 14, Wisdom 30, Courage 12.]
[All favorability ratings have increased significantly!]
Tamara lay flat on her bed, incapable of moving even a finger.
She stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes.
In her heart, she made a solemn and deeply malicious vow:
"Next Christmas… if anyone dares to send me a gift again…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"I will kill them."
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