Early spring had arrived at Hogwarts. Though the snow was melting, the damp chill in the air clung stubbornly to the ancient stone walls, seeping into robes and bones alike.
But what irritated Tamara Riddle far more than the weather was the endless, foolish conflict between Slytherin and Gryffindor—a rivalry that resembled children squabbling over sweets.
She had already delivered a speech in the Slytherin common room. Calm, calculated, elegant. She had told them that indifference was the highest form of contempt, that true superiority lay not in open confrontation but in strategic utilization.
Unfortunately, for eleven-year-old boys, profound philosophy could never compete with a simple insult like, "Your father is a pauper."
And so, the fighting continued.
Lunchtime – Outside the Great Hall
After lunch, students gathered in the Stone Courtyard, enjoying the brief freedom before afternoon classes.
Draco Malfoy's sharp, sneering voice cut through the air.
"What's the matter, Weasley? Why's there a hole in your sweater?"
His pale lips curved upward with malicious delight.
"Did your rat chew through it? Or did you pick it out of a rubbish heap?"
Ron Weasley's face turned the color of overripe tomatoes. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles went white.
"Shut up, Malfoy!"
Draco laughed.
"Angry because you're embarrassed? Honestly, if I were you, I wouldn't wear that thing outside. It looks like a dishcloth."
Crabbe and Goyle snickered obediently at his sides.
Ron trembled with rage. Suddenly, he yanked out his wand.
"Eat Slugs!"
Draco reacted instantly, drawing his own wand.
The air tightened. A duel was seconds away.
Neville Longbottom stood beside Ron. Though clearly frightened, he swallowed hard and raised his wand anyway.
"Don't bully Ron!"
Draco sneered. "Oh? Longbottom wants to fight too? What is it? Tamara saved you once, so now you think you're a hero?"
"Tamara wouldn't act like you!" Neville shot back.
"Don't say her name!" Draco snapped, eyes flashing. "You're not worthy."
The situation exploded.
Students scattered to form a circle. Some retreated. Others leaned forward eagerly, anticipating chaos.
Under the Cloister
Not far away, beneath the stone arches, Tamara Riddle leaned against a pillar, a book resting loosely in her hand. Her black eyes observed the brewing disaster with icy detachment.
"Pathetic," she muttered.
She closed the book.
Even watching such childish behavior felt like a waste of time. Draco had potential, yes—but once provoked, he behaved like any other immature child. As for Ron and Neville? Utterly unimpressive.
If wood was rotten, carving it was pointless. Better to find sturdier timber.
She turned to leave.
Then—
[Ding! A serious campus conflict is escalating.]
The system's overly cheerful voice rang inside her mind.
[Maintaining a harmonious school environment is the duty of an exemplary student. Host, although you disdain this behavior, if this fight escalates, Slytherin will lose points. Your image as a perfect leader may also suffer.]
[More importantly… if your subordinates are publicly defeated, it would reflect poorly on you, wouldn't it?]
Tamara paused.
She glanced back toward the courtyard.
If a full fight broke out, Slytherin might not necessarily win. And once Professor McGonagall arrived, both sides would lose points—but Slytherin would certainly lose more.
She exhaled slowly.
"…Incompetent fools."
Her eyes sharpened.
"System. May I kill them?"
[You may not. Please resolve the conflict with love and peace.]
[Task: Messenger of Peace.]
[Reward: Courage +2.]
[Task Penalty: Praise Dumbledore for an entire day.]
Silence.
Tamara's lips twitched faintly.
She drew her wand.
"Fine," she murmured. "I'll give them peace."
The Courtyard
Several poorly pronounced spells were already flying through the air. Sparks fizzled uselessly. One tickling charm ricocheted into a wall.
It would have been laughable—if not so noisy.
Then—
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The cold, decisive voice rang out like a blade slicing through chaos.
White light streaked across the courtyard.
Neville.
Goyle.
Seamus Finnigan, who had been preparing a sneak attack.
All struck simultaneously.
Their bodies snapped stiff mid-motion and crashed to the ground with dull thuds.
Silence fell instantly.
Ron and Draco froze, wands half-raised.
They turned slowly.
Tamara Riddle walked forward.
Dark green robes flowed behind her. Her face was expressionless, but her black eyes carried a glacial intensity that made breathing difficult.
She stepped calmly between them, stepping over Goyle's rigid form.
"If you insist on pointing wands at others," she said softly, her voice colder than the lingering snow, "at least acquire the competence to avoid being incapacitated in a single strike."
She glanced at the fallen students.
"How does it feel to lie on the ground and be looked down upon? This," she said quietly, "is the perspective of the weak."
Her gaze was merciless.
"You cannot dodge a basic Body-Bind Curse, yet you wish to duel?"
"A disgrace to Hogwarts."
Draco swallowed and instinctively hid his wand behind his back.
"T-Tamara… he insulted me first."
"Silence."
One word.
He obeyed immediately.
"What did I teach you?" she continued. "If a dog bites you, do you bite it back?"
Ron flushed violently.
"Who are you calling a dog?!"
Tamara turned to him.
Her gaze was calm. Detached. As if observing something small and noisy.
"Weasley," she said evenly, "if your wand exists solely to cast inaccurate tickling charms, I suggest reserving it for stirring cauldrons."
"At least then you might avoid injuring yourself."
Ron's mouth opened—then closed.
"And you, Potter."
Harry stiffened.
"You stand aside while your friends quarrel. Is this your leadership? Or do you find such barbaric scuffles entertaining?"
"I—I just—"
"Enough."
She flicked her wand.
"Finite Incantatem."
Neville and Goyle collapsed back into themselves, freed from the curse.
Tamara surveyed the crowd.
"Disperse."
Her voice was not loud.
Yet no one questioned it.
"If I see you here again, shrieking like baboons…" She tapped her wand lightly against the stone. "I will petrify every one of you and arrange you in this courtyard as decorative statues."
"Until next semester."
No one doubted her.
Students scattered immediately—Slytherins and Gryffindors retreating with surprising unity.
Dungeon Corridor
Draco followed silently until they were alone.
"Draco."
He snapped upright. "Yes!"
"Next time you wish to humiliate Weasley," she said coolly, "use your grades. Use your family's influence. Use strategy."
She turned slowly.
"Do not resort to this… primary school behavior."
Draco frowned. "Primary school?"
"A species of particularly unpleasant creature," Tamara replied flatly.
Her gaze darkened faintly, recalling a noisy, crowded building near Wools Orphanage—sticky floors, shouting children, petty cruelty.
"They lack magic. So they resolve disputes by pulling hair, reporting each other to teachers, scribbling insults on desks."
She looked directly at him.
"Like you did."
Draco froze.
"That," she finished, "is the behavior of lower beings."
Silence stretched.
Then Draco nodded vigorously, eyes bright.
"I understand, Tamara! Slytherin nobility must be demonstrated with dignity!"
Tamara suppressed a sigh.
He understood in theory.
Practice was another matter.
She still had much work to do.
System Notification
[Ding! Task Complete: Messenger of Peace.]
[System Evaluation: Though your methods relied heavily on intimidation, you successfully prevented further conflict and preserved campus order.]
[Reward: Courage +1.]
[Current Courage: 17.]
Tamara slid her wand back into her sleeve.
Her mood improved slightly.
"Peace?" she mused inwardly.
She gave a faint, humorless smile.
"Peace is merely absolute order."
"When violence reaches its highest refinement, resistance disappears."
"And when others become cautious even about breathing…"
She walked forward through the dim dungeon corridor.
"The world becomes quiet on its own."
If you would like, I can also:
Strengthen psychological tension
Increase emotional intensity
Adjust prose toward darker literary style
Or polish it to a more traditionally published fantasy tone
Just tell me the direction you prefer.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Jackssparrow