Chapter 11: The Weasleys
September 1st at King's Cross Station had never been a pleasant memory.
To her, this place was an eternal monument to the stench of Muggle sweat, cheap synthetic perfumes, and a suffocating, claustrophobic crush of mundane bodies. Tamara Riddle stood wedged between Platform 9 and Platform 10, her slender arms trembling slightly as she pushed a brass-railed luggage trolley that was entirely too heavy for her current, infuriatingly fragile physique.
Inside a cramped wicker carrier perched atop her trunk, a remarkably stupid black cat named Nagini was relentlessly clawing at the metal latch, the sharp scratching grating against Tamara's already fraying nerves.
"Be quiet," Tamara hissed under her breath. She tucked a stray lock of dark, curly hair behind her ear, her jaw tight with irritation.
How she missed her Death Eaters right now. Yes, they were sniveling, incompetent fools, but at least they were useful for carrying heavy objects. Now, the greatest Dark Lord of the age was reduced to hauling her own oversized trunk, struggling to carve a path through a sea of oblivious Muggles. Internally, she was flaying every single person in her path with the most inventive, agonizing curses imaginable. Outwardly, she maintained a mask of distant, aristocratic politeness.
Just as Tamara calculated the optimal moment to slip through the magical barrier unnoticed, a gratingly loud voice shattered her concentration.
"Hurry up, Percy, or we'll miss the train!"
Tamara froze. She turned her head a fraction of an inch.
A chaotic, swarming mass of fiery red hair assaulted her vision.
The Weasleys.
The wizarding world's most notorious blood traitors. Even though they possessed one of the oldest pure-blood lineages in Britain, they had willingly let themselves rot, fraternizing with Muggles and bellowing at the top of their lungs in a Muggle transit hub, utterly disgracing wizardkind.
Tamara's cold, calculating gaze swept over the short, plump matriarch with the booming voice—Molly Weasley. A flock of chattering children swarmed around her. Percy Weasley marched with his chest puffed out so far he looked deformed, his silver Prefect badge polished to such a blinding sheen it seemed he wanted to fuse it directly to his forehead. Behind him, Fred and George were actively attempting to drop a massive, hairy-legged spider down the back of Ron's collar. The youngest, a little red-haired girl named Ginny, clung to her mother's sleeve, her face pale with nervous excitement.
Tamara sneered internally, a deep, soul-deep revulsion rising in her chest.
[Ding! Key plot character group detected: The Weasley Family.]
[Triggering Side Quest: An Elder's Care.]
[Quest Description: As a first-year little girl traveling far from home alone for the first time, it's normal to feel lost and helpless when facing a solid wall. At this moment, a warm-hearted mother is right before your eyes. Why not go and ask for help?]
[Quest Objective: Gain Molly Weasley's favor and accept her help.]
[Quest Reward: Love +5.]
[Failure Penalty: Fall flat on your face while passing through the barrier and be disgraced in front of all the new students.]
Tamara's fingers clamped down on the trolley handle. Her knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white.
'What did you just say?'she demanded in her mind, her mental voice dripping with venom.'You want me to beg that filthy blood traitor? To find a way to make her... like me?'[Yes, host. Mrs. Weasley is famously warm-hearted in the wizarding world. Gaining her approval will help you establish a good public image.]'...Damn thing.'
Tamara closed her eyes for a long, slow breath. When her dark, obsidian eyes fluttered open a second later, the icy, murderous disdain had vanished entirely.
In its place was the trembling, wide-eyed gaze of a timid, utterly lost child. She pushed her trolley forward, deliberately dragging her feet, and parked herself just a few yards away from the bustling Weasley clan. She let her gaze dart nervously between the solid brick archway and the red-haired family, her small fingers anxiously twisting the hem of her oversized cardigan.
[Harmless (Basic) skill activated—]
It took less than three seconds for Molly Weasley's maternal radar to lock onto the isolated, pitiful-looking little girl.
"Oh, dear."
Molly shoved past her bickering twins and bustled over, her face radiating a suffocating maternal glow that made Tamara's skin physically crawl.
"Dear, are you going to Hogwarts too?" Molly asked, her voice dropping to a gentle coo as she took in the massive trunk and the glaring black cat. "Is it your first time? Where are your parents?"
Tamara looked up. On command, a glistening layer of unshed tears pooled in her large eyes.
"I'm an orphan, ma'am." Her voice was a fragile, trembling whisper, engineered to shatter the hardest of hearts. "Professor Dumbledore gave me the ticket, but I... I don't know how to get in. I can't find the platform."
Molly Weasley melted on the spot.
"Oh, you poor little thing!"
Molly let out a cry of pure, unfiltered sympathy. Without a single second of hesitation, she threw her arms wide and engulfed Tamara in a bone-crushing hug.
The moment she was trapped against those two soft, overly warm arms, Tamara's spine locked into rigid paralysis. A heavy, overwhelming wave of cheap floral soap, leftover onion soup, and musty knitting yarn flooded her senses. The scent wasn't foul; it carried the distinct, domestic signature of a loving home. But to Tamara, it was like dragging a cave-dwelling goblin out by the throat and forcing it to stare directly into the midday sun. It was agonizingly uncomfortable.
'Let go of me... you filthy...' Tamara screamed internally, her magical core flaring as she desperately wanted to draw her wand and cast a point-blank Crucio on the woman.
[Warning! Rejection reaction detected, please endure it.]
Tamara swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Trapped in that suffocating embrace, she forced her stiff, trembling arms upwards and delivered two incredibly awkward pats to Molly's back.
"Thank you... thank you, ma'am."
Her voice was muffled against Molly's thick wool sweater, sounding thick with emotion. She really was on the verge of tears—tears of sheer, unadulterated physical revulsion—but the outward effect was flawlessly convincing.
"What a polite, good child." Molly beamed, finally releasing her captive and warmly ushering Tamara into the Weasley formation.
The twins immediately flanked her, peering down with unabashed curiosity.
"Whoa, this cat is cool," one of them grinned, pointing a finger at the hissing feline in the cage. "Looks like it wants to bite someone."
"What's its name?" The other twin reached out to scratch its ears, only to snatch his hand back as Nagini snapped at his fingers.
"Nagini," Tamara murmured softly, keeping her eyes downcast.
"Cool name," the second twin whistled. "I'm Fred, and this is George. Welcome to Hogwarts, little beauty."
"Tamara Riddle," she replied, keeping her introduction as brief as possible. She had zero desire to entangle herself further with this chaotic brood. Besides, she couldn't tell the two identical idiots apart, nor did she care to try.
"Alright, stop your babbling, you two." Molly delivered a swift smack to the back of her son's head. "Go on! Get moving!"
She turned back to Tamara, her hand resting warmly on the girl's shoulder. "Don't be afraid, dear. Just walk straight toward the ticket barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10. If you're nervous, just follow behind Ron."
The youngest boy shifted awkwardly, his ears turning a violent shade of pink as he looked at Tamara. He spent his entire life surrounded by his boisterous brothers and rarely interacted with girls his own age. Seeing her wide, tear-stained eyes, Ron felt his breath quicken.
"You... you can go first," he stammered, gesturing to the wall.
"Thank you." Tamara offered him a fragile, polite smile. She squared her shoulders, gripped her trolley, and pushed it directly into the solid brick.
The next second, the deafening roar of the Muggle station vanished.
In its place stood a magnificent scarlet steam engine, parked beside a platform packed shoulder-to-shoulder with witches and wizards. The Hogwarts Express.
Thick white smoke billowed over the heads of the crowd. Cats of every conceivable color darted between people's feet, various magical creatures scurried about the luggage stacks, and the sharp, excited shrieks of reunited friends cut through the heavy rumble of the train.
This was the wizarding world.
This was the realm she had once conquered, and the realm she would conquer all over again.
[Ding! Quest completed: An Elder's Care.]
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Love +5.]
[Current Attributes: Love: 10, Life: 0, Wisdom: 10, Courage: 0.]
[Evaluation: Although your heart is full of resistance, you have to admit that hug was quite warm, wasn't it?]
[Spell Unlocked: Scourgify]
'...To hell with warmth,'Tamara cursed viciously in her mind. She looked down at the sleeve of her cardigan, which Molly's aggressive embrace had left horribly wrinkled.'This is a greasy disaster.'
She flicked her wrist, and her pale holly wand slid smoothly into her palm.
"Scourgify."
A brief glimmer of light flashed over the fabric. The cuff instantly smoothed out, looking freshly pressed, and the lingering station grime vanished into thin air.
Tamara grabbed her trolley once more, steering it toward the very rear of the train. "Let me find a compartment without any idiots and get some rest," she muttered to herself.
Just as she hauled her heavy trunk up the iron steps of the carriage, a scrawny, black-haired boy wearing round, tape-repaired glasses stumbled onto the platform entrance, panting heavily as he pushed his own trolley.
Harry Potter.
The boy who had survived at her hands.
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